[Cheltenham,] November 21.—­Breakfasted with Charles in his chambers [at Brasenose], where he had everything very neat.  How pleasant it is for a father to sit at his child’s board!  It is like an aged man reclining under the shadow of the oak which he has planted.  My poor plant has some storms to undergo, but were this expedition conducive to no more than his entrance into life under suitable auspices, I should consider the toil and the expense well bestowed.  We then sallied out to see the lions—­guides being Charles, and friend Surtees, Mr. John Hughes, young Mackenzie (Fitz-Colin), and a young companion or two of Charles’s.  Remembering the ecstatic feelings with which I visited Oxford more than twenty-five years since, I was surprised at the comparative indifference with which I revisited the same scenes.  Reginald Heber, then composing his Prize Poem, and imping his wings for a long flight of honourable distinction, is now dead in a foreign land—­Hodgson and other able men all entombed.  The towers and halls remain, but the voices which fill them are of modern days.  Besides, the eye becomes satiated with sights, as the full soul loathes the honeycomb.  I admired indeed, but my admiration was void of the enthusiasm which I formerly felt.  I remember particularly having felt, while in the Bodleian, like the Persian magician who visited the enchanted library in the bowels of the mountain, and willingly suffered himself to be enclosed in its recesses,[415] while less eager sages retired in alarm.  Now I had some base thoughts concerning luncheon, which was most munificently supplied by Surtees [at his rooms in University College], with the aid of the best ale I ever drank in my life, the real wine of Ceres, and worth that of Bacchus.  Dr. Jenkyns,[416] the vice-chancellor, did me the honour to call, but I saw him not.  I called on Charles Douglas at All-Souls, and had a chat of an hour with him.[417]

Before three set out for Cheltenham, a long and uninteresting drive, which we achieved by nine o’clock.  My sister-in-law [Mrs. Thomas Scott] and her daughter instantly came to the hotel, and seem in excellent health and spirits.

November 22.—­Breakfasted and dined with Mrs. Scott, and leaving Cheltenham at seven, pushed on to Worcester to sleep.

November 23.—­Breakfasted at Birmingham, and slept at Macclesfield.  As we came in between ten and eleven, the people of the inn expressed surprise at our travelling so late, as the general distress of the manufacturers has rendered many of the lower class desperately outrageous.  The inn was guarded by a special watchman, who alarmed us by giving his signal of turn out, but it proved to be a poor deserter who had taken refuge among the carriages, and who was reclaimed by his sergeant.  The people talk gloomily of winter, when the distress of the poor will be increased.