of his success. It seemed at once contrary to good taste, and discordant with the magnanimous spirit of true greatness, to place at the foot of the staircase, like a captive bound for ever to the wheels of his triumphant chariot, the colossal image of Napoleon, and to spread before his eyes the picture of his own successful battlefield. These may well be garnered, with the banners and regalia of the conquered foe, in the national halls, but to make them the familiar adornments of the soldier's house, appeared rather the dictate of self-complacency than self-respect. When I surveyed this apotheosis of self-esteem, while the cockneys were absorbed in criticising Grant's "Melton Hunt," or looking through their eye-glasses, with many a chuckle, upon the marble brow of the devastating genius whose power was crushed under the supervision of their victorious duke, I recognised in his abode the epitome and ideal of an Englishman. The paramount good sense, the stern loyalty, the thorough conservatism, the systematic habits, vital integrity, practical but calm zeal, and native moderation, of the duke, were a sublimation and concentration of those qualities which insure the material well-being, and the respectability of the nation. There was more pride than poetry, however, in the scene, more of the prestige of success than the romance of genius; and it was difficult for the mind of the spectator to combine, in one person, the indefatigable young soldier of the East, the man who stemmed the torrent of war in the peninsula, and who stood firm, patient, judicious, and resolved, at Waterloo, with the venerable object of daily observation and record for such a long series of years, in London. It was still the lion versus the hero. A DAY AT OXFORD. Oxford, ancient mother! hoary with ancestral honors, and haply, it may be, time-shattered power. DE QUINCEY. VI. A DAY AT OXFORD. Ir was new-year's morning when I awoke in Oxford, but the anniversary so hilarious in my native land, there had what Byron calls an "old feel." The fashion of the upholstery seen from the canopied observatory of the stately bed, the profound stillness, a certain musty odor peculiar to venerable chambers, and the very design of the grate in which the remains of a huge coal-fire smouldered, betokened a conservative locality. A glance from the window confirmed the impression. The plaster had fallen, in many places, from the front of the opposite house, and the gray slates on the quaint gable-roofs were broken; the shops of stationer, tobacconist, and chemist, displayed their wares meagrely, as if too well known to require advertisment; and near by rose the wide court walls, gray pillars, statues, and cornices, of Queen's college. A gownsman, with square, silk cap, passed |