CHAPTER III. "Tax not the prince or peer with vain expense, Of white-robed scholars only) some immense So says (O! si sic omnia !) a great living poet; and, in truth, a very prosaic animal must he be, who for the first time traverses that noble and ancient City of the Muses, without acknowledging the influences of the GENIUS LOCI; and never was man or youth less ambitious of resisting such influences than Reginald Dalton. Born and reared in a wild sequestered province, he had never seen any great town of any sort, until he began the journey now just about to be concluded. Almost at the same hour of the preceding evening, he had entered Birmingham; and what a contrast was here! No dark narrow brick lanes, crowded with waggons-no flaring shop-windows, passed and repassed by jostling multitudes-no discordant cries, no sights of tumult, no ring of anvils -every thing wearing the impress of a grave, peaceful stateliness-hoary towers, antique battlements, airy porticos, majestic colonnades, following each other in endless succession on either sidelofty poplars and elms ever and anon lifting their heads against the sky, as if from the heart of those magnificent seclusions-wide, spacious, solemn streets-every where a monastic stillness and a Gothic grandeur. Excepting now and then some solitary gowned man paeing slowly in the moonlight, there was not a soul in the High-street; nor, excepting here and there a lamp twinkling in "some high lonely tower," where some one might, or might not, be "unsphering the spirit of Plato," was there any thing to shew that the venerable buildings which lined it were actually inhabited. Reginald, in the hurry at Woodstock, had forgot to say anything to Chisney about what inn he should put up at in Oxford, so he entered, along with Mr Macdonald and the Harveys, the one where the coach stopped. It is one of the oldest in the town, the same indeed, if tradition may be trusted, where erst the Swan of Avon used sometimes to roost, when Sir William D'Avenant's mother's husband was the innkeeper. Major Harvey complained of his leg a little, for it was a sharp frost, and he, with his son, retired almost immediately from the public room. And Reginald, although his spirits were far too much excited for him to be thinking of weariness, was desirous to be early in his bed, that he might be able to rise early and walk about the city before breakfast; so he also, having swallowed a cup of coffee, was about to go up stairs, but Macdonald arrested his steps."Hoots, hoots," quoth he; "this is no neighbour-like behaviour at all, man. Dog on it, we've been three days companions, and now ye're at the end of your journey, and I'm off for Lunnun in the morning, and we'll maybe ne'er meet other again, man. Just sit your ways down, Mr Dalton, for we maun have ae mair crack thegither ere we part." Reginald could not, of course, resist this invitation, and he instantly resumed his chair over against his Scottish friend. " By and bye," said Macdonald, "I'm expectin' a very auld acquaintance o' mine that's in this town, to come and talk over a little business wi' me, but a very little time will be enough for all we've gotten to say as to that matter; and if he's no a changed man since I saw him last, he'll mak no mouths at a drap of something warm, this frosty night. Od, we'll have something comfortable for supper, and keep it up cheerily for ance, man." Reginald touched the bell, and the bill of fare being produced," Od, save us," quoth the Scot," it's as weel I had mind of that, though. 'Tis Friday night, and we maun have a bit fried fish for Mr Keith. Gae away, my lad,"-addressing the waiter -" and ask if there's ne'er such a thing as a haddock or a whiting about the house, for we've gotten a Roman to supper wi' us." "I'm quite sure," replied the waiter, "that there is not a single bit of fish, else it would have been in the fare." 66 Ay," quoth Macdonald, "that's vera unlucky, man; but stop, here's snipes, I see, and they'll do weel eneugh at a pinch, for langnebbit water-fowl's nae flesh meat, I trow; and a marrow pudding's i' the bill, too. Od, ye may e'en send it ben for the remove; but be sure ye swear it's only eggs and butter, if there's ony questions speered. Gae your ways now, and see that 'tis a' right set about. Gae away, you lazy chieldtramp, I say. Od, ye stap about as grave like as if ye were some Principal yoursel, I think." "A jolly-looking old fellow, Mr Macdonald." "Na, saw ye ever such a kyte, Mr Dalton? Gude save us a'!—a waiter wi' a belly !—He's no fed on deaf nuts yon chiel, i'faith." Mr Macdonald now called for pen and ink, and having written and dispatched a very brief note, he again turned to Reginald. "You must know, my young friend," he said, "that 'tis not ony common sneak of a priest body I'm sending for. Mr Keith's a gentleman born—no a man in braid Scotland come of a better family than he is.Faith, if he hadna been a Roman priest, he would have been a very good laird this day." "Don't suppose I have any prejudice against a Roman Catholic clergyman, merely because he is one," said Reginald. "My own mother, sir, was of that persuasion." "Na, I ken naething about that, Mr Dalton; but, my troth, though Archy Keith might have |