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sham? 6. How do legend and reality blend at Woodstock? 7. For what is Henley famous ? 8. For what purposes were Manchester, Keble, and Mansfield Colleges built? 9. What associations have some of the oldest colleges ? What distinctive features have some of the fourteenth century colleges ? II. Describe New College and Magdalen. What famous colleges came in with the Tudors ? 13. What special claims to distinction has Christ Church? 14. What does the Martyrs Memorial commemorate? 15. What memories of other reformers does Oxford cherish? 16. What is the origin of the Encaenia ? 17. What ceremonies attend the conferring of degrees? 18. Who are some of the famous graduates of Oxford ?

BURNE-JONES AND THE PRE-RAPHAELITES : When and by whom the Pre-Raphaelite movement originated ? 2. What was the meaning of the term? 3. What genuine unconventional work had already been done in the field of English painting? 4. What great work in landscape art was being done in France? 5. How were the Pre-Raphaelites regarded at first? 6. Compare the work of Millais with that of Holman Hunt. 7. How did Rossetti's work differ from that of the others ? 8. How were Burne-Jones and Morris drawn into the movement? 9. Why were_they especially susceptible to Rossetti's influence? 10. How was Burne-Jones affected by his visit to Italy? II. How did the political and social atmosphere of the times contrast with the Pre-Raphaelite spirit?

SEARCH QUESTIONS. OXFORDSHIRE: Which Oxford College is King Edward VII's? 2. What is said to be the only college that did not melt its plate for Charles I? 3. Of what famous book was Thomas Day the author? 4. What college has contributed six archbishops to the See of Canterbury? 5. Where is Holman Hunt's "Light of the World ?" 6. For what was William of Wykeham famous ? 7. What library at Oxford contains the "old yellow book" which figures in Browning's “The Ring and the Book ?” 8. How many strokes does “Great Tom" ring every night at Oxford and why? 9. What university in this country has copied Magdalen Tower and the Hall of Christ Church College ?

End of the April Required Reading, pages 19-78.

I.

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By "Filius"

TH
HERE is a robust prejudice against resorting to the

family album as a means of diverting one's acquaintances, and only sincere and persistent urging on their part warrants a host in bringing forth the books of kodaks which record his voyages. This tradition is one of the protective devices by which society seeks to escape from being bored. Like the ban against “talking shop” it is a prejudice to be cherished with diligence. The collectors of miscellaneous information are quite as resourceful in their wearisomeness as are the gatherers of stamps, or spoons, or picture postcards. Against these and their like it behooves mankind to raise bulwarks of defense.

But any sweeping policy may go too far at times, and even thwart us. Now and then we are actually eager to see those views of the Yellowstone, or of Cuba, or of the Nile. There are even rare occasions when we gaze with satisfaction on portraits of our host's Aunt Sally or Uncle John if we happen to have some point of contact with their lives. When the interest of those who look and listen determines the behavior of him who shows and talks, the rigor of prohibition may be for a time relaxed, although the exhibitor does well to be alert for signs of apathy and listlessness. The only excuse, then, for bringing to light these somewhat faded kodaks of England lies in the fact that CHAUTAUQUAN readers are just now genuinely interested in all aspects of British life. These pictures have none of the distinction and charm of Mr. Howell's "London Films.” They were taken long ago by the crude camera of a boyish mind. The lens focussed badly, and was "chromatic” with callowness and prejudice; it brought out certain details, however, with some vividness. Let those who will, have a look at these prints; anyone is free to turn away as soon as he

grows weary; he who fondly exhibits his pictures will-unhappily perhaps—be none the wiser.

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For three days the ocean-greyhound Celtic--she would be a dachs-hund now—had wallowed through the tumultuous North Atlantic. The Pater dozing and docile was supine in his lower berth. On the sofa opposite lay the Presbyterian parson, a famous yachtsman, who “had never been sick in his life,” now limp and pallid, and void even of his Calvinistic creed, for he sometimes mustered strength to bewail his predestined fate. The human camera was stowed away collapsed and futile in the upper berth, where he slept fitfully, or repeated verse to ease his misery, or berated the unheeding form below for bringing a son, innocent and unsuspecting, into distress so unspeakable. All was heaving instability; land, terra firma—what a wealth of meaning there was in the word firmaseemed a mere dream of a far past. To make matters quite unbearable, there appeared now and again a youth of affronting health, a schoolinate and companion who painted vivid pictures of the scene on deck, the long rollers, the dashing spray, the running scuppers. Not to see these things was to miss the experience of a lifetime! The Pater had crossed before and was not to be moved; the Calvinist was deaf to all appeals, but the camera made a mighty effort. By slow stages, with long intervals of harrowing doubt, his garments were one by one resumed. Supported on either side he climbed, swaying dizzily, to the stair-head, and gazed bewildered out over the weltering sea. The long rollers broke only to have their crest whipped away in blinding mist by the gale; the ship rolled until it seemed she could never right herself; great green seas, surging over her bows came running aft in torrents, and then the camera collapsed, was ignominiously carried below, and refusing to be molested was put back on his shelf where he lay in boots and ulster for full four-and-twenty hours. It was a snap-shot; the camera was not equal to a time exposure.

The Irish coast and Queenstown had been the first proof that land still held its head above the sea. The captain's dinner-now abandoned by the British lines—was celebrated in calm weather the last night of the voyage. The procession of twenty stewards bearing aloft with much ceremony blazing spheres of plum pudding, the great pyranids of pastry and spun-sugar topped by English and American flags, the toasts to “The Queen” and to “The President,” the effusive address to the captain, and the brief and bluff reply of that bronzed, gold-braided hero,-finally that odd chorus in which to the same tune Briton and American vociferously strove each to drown the words of the other all served to stir patriotic emotions and to tax digestive processes only recently resumed. Then came an early morning on the Mersey with its odd-looking tugs and swift paddlesteamers,—and Liverpool, gray and grimy emerged from the mists. The courteous custom officers seemed a welcoming committee rather than a detective corps. The "four wheeler" piled high with luggage trundled away and let down Pater, parson, camera, and chum at the old Adelphi Hotel. Quiet reigned in the thick carpeted corridors; a real “boots” in livery and other servants were deft and deferential. Instead of a lordly, overbearing clerk, appeared a stately and gracious woman to receive her guests.

About the "lift” the bumptious boys were contemptuous and derisive. Heavy iron gates were at each floor painfully unlocked to admit or release prisoners who rode slowly up and down in a small cell twilighted by a smoky lamp. The arrogant young Americans talked largely of swift, gasilluminated elevators and insulted the lift attendant who, true to his traditions, was acquiescent and duly impressed for the sake of the expected “tip”—an institution of which the adolescent barbarians still had much to learn.

That first English luncheon-typical and satisfying! The crown-loaf, the inevitable boiled potatoes and green beans, the choice of cold fowl, ham, and beef wheeled about from table to table, on a mobile serving machine. Finally a

gooseberry tart cavernous and without bottom crust, and a big Stilton cheese with silver scoop for excavation. At many tables in the handsome, darkened coffee-room people were sitting in small groups. Certain passengers from the Celtic, loud-voiced and strident or convulsed with unbridled mirth, contrasted with the low, undistinguishable tones of the English men and women who glanced now and then with some disdain at their explosive and aggressive cousins from over-sea.

The camera and the chum felt their first misgiving about American manners.

“Who? What? That quiet Englishman with the greyish hair and beard yonder at a little table?"

"That is James Russell Lowell."

It must be owned that the youths knew him chiefly if not wholly as the author of "The Courtin'"-a favorite school recitation,—but their national pride was flattered to note that the American poet was “as good as an Englishman" and quite offset the unconscious vulgarity of the demonstrative Celtic passengers.

*

The guard locked the carriage door, while the porter rang his hand-bell; a penny whistle sounded from the engine, and quickly gathering headway the train sped through tunnels, over viaducts, past factories and long rows of depressing cottages, and through pleasant suburbs into rural England. Green fields, hedges, walls, white roads, groves and woods, village spires, picturesque cottages, glimpses of stately manor-houses—everything finished, well-kept, beautiful-one continuous park. What a contrast with the waste lands, neglected buildings, hopeless highways, staring houses, disorderly farm-yards, unsightly rubbish piles then to be seen from any car window on the suburban lines outside New York! Once more the young patriots felt a pang as they gazed at the fast flying panorama. They were, to be sure, scornful about the toy train with its compartment carriages opening at the side. They grew merry over a sign which hung above a glass-covered aperture behind which in

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