emphatically styled. This accomplished antiquary was one of the brightest stars in our literary hemisphere, during the reign of the Eighth Harry; who, although not handed down to us as a distinguished patron of letters or of learned men, bestowed upon Leland encouragement of the most liberal kind. The admirable work which, under that monarch's auspices, Leland began and completed, is well known; a work which, if due allowance be made for the quaint phraseology of the age, will be found no less elegant than accurate. As a faithful record of the condition of towns, the state of property, and the appearance of the country, at the time in which it was written, it cannot be too highly estimated. It is a fountain from which all succeeding topographers and tourists have drawn so plenteously, that we question whether there be in the whole Itinerary a dozen lines that have never been quoted. As the bust before us shews a countenance emaciated, furrowed with wrinkles, and bearing every indication of premature decay, it probably represents Leland at that calamitous period, in which the affliction of losing his royal patron having been superadded to the extreme grief with which he had witnessed the barbarous destruction of conventual libraries, his corporeal and intellectual faculties sunk into ruins beneath the stroke. After languishing for some time in a state of hopeless insanity, he expired at the early age of thirty-nine. Another bust represents Linacre, a celebrated physician of the 15th century, first Professor of Greek at Oxford, one of the founders of the College of Physicians, London, and founder of the Physic Lectures at Merton College. In addition to the embellishments already noticed, the Hall contains portraits of the Founder, of Colonel Codrington, and of Sir Nathaniel Lloyd; having enumerated which, and just hinted to our friend, that, if he be indeed an antiquary, he will find in the roof of the College-buttery some gratification for his taste, we proceed into the grand quadrangle, in which the triumph of appropriate college-architecture may almost be deemed complete. We would recommend our stranger to take his first station in front of the Common Room, between the two splendid towers that grace the eastern side of the square; and then to give himself up to the delighted emotion, with which, if he possess a taste for the beauties of architecture, he cannot but contemplate an assemblage, to equal which search would perhaps be vain. z In the buttery is a bust of Hawksmoor the architect. On the right hand and on the left are long ranges of building, embattled, pierced with pointed windows, and at regular intervals supported by slender graduated buttresses, which terminate in lofty knotted pinnacles. The western side of the court is formed by an arcade of light, though rather plain, architecture, having in the centre a gateway, through which is the entrance from Radcliffe Square. From the angles of the gateway spring four lofty spiral pinnacles, flanking a turret of much elegance, nearly in the shape of an imperial crown. The spaces between the ribs of the crown are filled up with masonry, the ribs themselves richly studded with floral knots, and the point at which they all unite is surmounted by a well-sculptured acorn. Just beyond the gate, the proud dome of the Radcliffe Library rises in graceful magnificence, seeming as if placed there on purpose to give a splendid finish to the scene; while, over the left hand corner of the area, the delicately taper spire of St. Mary's Church shoots up into the air, displaying, as if in conscious pride, the singularly beautiful cluster of pinnacled and canopied enrichment that ornaments its base. It is here that Oxford (in the words of her poet, who probably had this very prospect in his mind when he wrote the stanza) may preeminently be seen to |