Oxford is indeed one of the finest located places in the kingdom, and every inch of ground about it seems hallowed by interesting associations.  The University, founded by the good King Alfred, still throws its shadow upon the side-walk; and the lapse of ten centuries seems to have made but little impression upon it.  Other seats of learning may be entitled to our admiration, but Oxford claims our veneration.  Although the lateness of the night compelled me, yet I felt an unwillingness to tear myself from the scene of such surpassing interest.  Few places in any country as noted as Oxford is, but what has some distinguished person residing within its precincts.  And knowing that the City of Palaces was not an exception to this rule, I resolved to see some of its lions.  Here, of course, is the head quarters of the Bishop of Oxford, a son of the late William Wilberforce, Africa’s noble champion.  I should have been glad to have seen this distinguished pillar of the Church, but I soon learned that the Bishop’s residence was out of town, and that he seldom visited the city except on business.  I then determined to see one who, although a lesser dignitary in the church, is nevertheless, scarcely less known than the Bishop of Oxford.  This was the Rev. Dr. Pusey, a divine, whose name is known wherever the religion of Jesus is known and taught, and the acknowledged head of the Puseyites.  On the second morning of my visit, I proceeded to Christ Church Chapel, where the rev. gentleman officiates.  Fortunately I had an opportunity of seeing the Dr., and following close in his footsteps to the church.  His personal appearance is anything but that of one who is the leader of a growing and powerful party in the church.  He is rather under the middle size, and is round shouldered, or rather stoops.  His profile is more striking than his front face, the nose being very large and prominent.  As a matter of course, I expected to see a large nose, for all great men have them.  He has a thoughtful, and somewhat sullen brow, a firm and somewhat pensive mouth, a cheek pale, thin, and deeply furrowed.  A monk fresh from the cloisters of Tintern Abbey, in its proudest days, could scarcely have made a more ascetic and solemn appearance than did Dr. Pusey on this occasion.  He is not apparently above forty-five, or at most fifty years of age, and his whole aspect renders him an admirable study for an artist.  Dr. Pusey’s style of preaching is cold and tame, and one looking at him would scarcely believe that such an apparently uninteresting man could cause such an eruption in the Church as he has.  I was glad to find that a coloured young man was among the students at Oxford.