ngs is
increased by the glowing colours of the light, that finds its way
through stained-glass windows, it is hard to say. These windows are so
numerous and so beautiful that it is difficult to imagine what many a
chapel, hall, and library would be without them. They are of every date,
from ancient fragments, such as may be seen in the windows of the
Library at Trinity, to the great Sir Joshua Reynolds' window in New
College Chapel, and the still later examples of Burne-Jones' art, which
are among the chief beauties of the Cathedral; and they include such
splendid instances of old Flemish art as may be found in Lincoln College
Chapel.

[Illustration: IFFLEY MILL]

Of carved work in wood and stone there is much that is precious, though
many of the larger statues are not examples of the highest form of art.
Still there are traceries and capitals of exquisite design to be found
everywhere, and of statuary there is at least Onslow Ford's pathetic
figure of the poet Shelley to be seen at University College, beneath a
dome which does its best to mar the whole effect.

Of wood carvings the most beautiful are Grinling Gibbons' work at
Trinity and Queen's, and the most interesting the old oak altar at
Wadham, brought there from Ilminster, the home of Nicholas and Dorothy
Wadham, the founders of the College.

New College and Corpus each can boast the possession of their founder's
pastoral staff, silver gilt, and in the former case both jewelled and
enamelled; while Exeter and Magdalen prize among their chief treasures
tapestry hangings of great beauty, the former designed by Burne-Jones,
and executed by William Morris (both Hon. Fellows of the College), the
latter of considerable antiquity, having been presented to the College
by Prince Arthur, son of Henry VII. But so innumerable are the artistic
delights hidden in every corner of Oxford that it is impossible to do
more than thus suggest their existence.

And now, before it is quite time to turn away, we will out into the
sunshine once again. There is one memory of Oxford to which expression
has not yet been given. It is connected with the sparkle, the gladness,
the sunshine of the place: it is the music of the sound of Oxford--the
song, if you will, it always used to sing. To-day there is a difference.
The rumble of the tramcar, the hoot of the motor, are heard in her
streets, and since the era of much married fellows, the wail of the
infant rises from the solid phalanx o