A few ladies are seen, in care of papas in caps and gowns, or mammas, who look as if they were Doctors of Divinity, or deserved to be.  The Oxford female is only of two kinds—­prim and brazen.  The latter we will not describe; the former seem to live in perpetual fear of being winked at, and are indescribable.

From these street scenes, where the ridiculous only is salient, for the quiet and gentlemanly pass by unnoticed, while pompous dons and coxcombical undergraduates are as certain of attention as turkeycocks and bantams, we will turn into the solemn precincts of a few of the colleges.

At the head stands Christchurch in dignity and size, founded by Cardinal Wolsey, Pope Clement VII. consenting, in 1525, on the revenues of some dozen minor monasteries, under the title of Cardinal College.  The fall of Wolsey—­England’s last Cardinal, until by the invitation of modern mediaeval Oxford, Pius IX. sent us a Wiseman—­stopped the works.  One of Wolsey’s latest petitions to Henry was, “That his college at Oxford might go on.”  And by the King, after some intermediate changes, it was finally established as Christchurch.

The foundation now consists of a dean, eight canons, eight chaplains, a schoolmaster, an organist, eight choristers, and 101 students, of whom a considerable number are exhibitioners from Westminster School.  It is in symbolism of these students that the celebrated Great Tom of Christchurch clangs each evening 101 times.  Besides these students, there are generally nearly 1000 independent members, consisting of noblemen, gentlemen commoners, and commoners.  To be a gentleman commoner of Christchurch, all other advantages being equal, is the most “correct thing” in the University; none can compete with them, unless it be the gentlemen commoners of Magdalen.  The Christchurch noblemen, or tufts, are considered the leaders of fashion, whether it be in mediaeval furniture, or rat hunting, boating, or steeple-chase riding, old politics or new religions.

Among the illustrious men it claims as pupils are, Sir Philip Sydney and Ben Jonson, Camden and South, Bolingbroke and Locke, Canning and Sir Robert Peel, whom Oxford rejected.  The front is in Aldate’s-street, for which consult Mr. Spier’s pretty guide card, the entrance under the lofty clock tower, whence, at ten minutes past nine every evening, the mighty tom peals forth his sonorous summons.  The “Tom Gateway” leads into the quadrangle familiarly termed “quad,” 264 feet by 261, the dimensions originally planned by Wolsey; but the buildings which bound it on three sides were executed after the destruction of the old edifice in the great civil wars from designs by Sir Christopher Wren in 1688.

The Hall on the south side is ancient; we ascend to it by a flight of steps under a handsome groined roof supported by a single pillar.  The Hall is 115 feet long, 40 wide, and 50 high.  The open roof of oak richly carved, decorated with the arms of Wolsey and Henry VIII.  Other carvings adorn the fire-place and a fine bay window.