The only local manufactures of Oxford, except gentlemen, are boots, leather-breeches, and boats; these last in great perfection.  The regattas and rowing-matches on the Isis are very exciting affairs.  From the narrowness of the stream, they are rather chases than races; the winners cannot pass, but must pursue and bump their competitors.  The many silent, solitary wherries, urged by vigorous skilful arms, give, on a summer evening, a pleasing life to river-side walks, although that graceful flower, the pretty pink bonnet and parasol, peculiar to the waters of Richmond and Hampton, is not often found growing in the Oxford wherry.  Comedies, in the shape of slanging matches with the barges, are less frequent than formerly, and melodramatic fistic combats still less frequent.

But old boatmen still love to relate to their peaceable and admiring pupils how that pocket Hercules, the Honourable S—–­ C—–­, now a pious clergyman, had a single combat with a saucy six foot bargee, “all alone by they two selves,” bunged up both his eyes, and left him all but dead to time, ignorant then, and for months after, of the name of his victor.

Oxford sometimes contends with Cambridge on neutral waters in an eight-oared cutter match, but is generally defeated, for a very characteristic reason—­Cambridge picks a crew of the best men from the whole University; Oxford, more exclusive, gives a preference to certain colleges over men.  Christchurch, Magdalene, and a few others, will take the lead in all arrangements, and will not, if they can help it, admit oarsmen from the unfashionable colleges of Jesus, Lincoln, or Worcester!

It is worth knowing that in the long vacation, commencing on July 6, there is no place like Oxford for purchasing good dogs and useful horses.  Oxford hacks have long been famous, and not without reason.  Nothing slow would be of any use, whether for saddle or harness; and although the proportion of high-priced sound unblemished animals may be small, the number of quick runners is large.  There is an establishment in Holywell Street which is quite one of the Oxford sights.  There, early in winter mornings, more than a hundred stalls are to be found, full of blood cattle, in tip-top condition, and on summer afternoons no barracks of a cavalry regiment changing quarters are more busy.

We must not leave Oxford without visiting Blenheim, the monument of one of our greatest captains and statesmen, with whom, perhaps, in genius and fortune, none can rank except Clive and Wellington.  Blenheim should be seen when the leaves are on the trees.  The House is only open between eleven o’clock and one.  The better plan is to hire a conveyance, of which there are plenty and excellent to be had in the city, at reasonable charges.  When we remember this splendid pile—­voted by acclamation, but paid for by grudging and insufficient instalments by the English Parliament—­was finished under the superintendence of that beautiful fiery termagant,