hich I used to think one of the most beautiful in the world.

Upon finance I must note that the expense of travelling has mounted
high. I am too old to rough it, and scrub it, nor could I have saved
fifty pounds by doing so. I have gained, however, in health, spirits, in
a new stock of ideas, new combinations, and new views. My
self-consequence is raised, I hope not unduly, by the many flattering
circumstances attending my reception in the two capitals, and I feel
confident in proportion. In Scotland I shall find time for labour and
for economy.

[_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