Worcester daily spy. [volume] (Worcester [Mass.]) 1850-1888, 1872-02-28

The BoDLEIAN-But the building itself with
Its approaches, is as interesting as its inhabi.
tans. Here it is, the low Tudor archway, the
heaYy oallen door swung back upon its hinges
and beyond it the stairs, cool in the utmost heat
OF summer and pervaded with that mingled fra
GRANGE OF books and old oak, which is one of
the most subtle and suggestive of scents. Pass
up them, resting on the way, if you will on the
broad window seats whence the quad is visible.
with its quaint mistaken tower of the Five Or
ders, and its memory -haunted examination
schools. Here are portraits of John Ballot and
Deyorguila his wife, pair of ancient radicals
vigorous and unconventional, 6t prOgenitors of
the modern Ballot. Here are maps. old and su
perseded, side by side with pictures of forgot
ten nOhOdies-~old worlds and the inhabiters
thereof Yonder are the steps into the gallery
an enchanted place, long and spacious hung
with portraits, old and newt marvellous Mary
OF Scots, from whose exquisite pale face sorrow
has refined away the vanity and hardness of
youth, pranked out in no ruff, no peaked head.
dress, no pearls, but shrouded in black folds of
drapery, which suit with the long years of i'm
prsonmcnt behind, the inevitable death in
rom; a Cfanmer, by Holbein, with full weak
red lpsi buns Seotus, gaupt and unkempt.
representative of the fossil race of the school.
men; a solemn Lord Burleigh riding solemnly
upon beast, less than q mule--more than an
ass~zstrange and laughable conception Here
Is Guy Fawkes' lantern, poor innocent acces.
9O' VI " iVh- 7Pdel Sllue, sOle relic OIL many men
and many passions; here is q chair made from
tle snip ~ which Sir Francis Drake sailed round
the world and, us you touch it, the forests nm
iaihomablc and creeper-twined Eof The new
world spring up before you, and you catch i'm
the oiing the salls Of the Spanish treasure shin.
lying the pursuit Of English hate. In a ittle
octa9onal chamber, lit by windows, over whose
bright pure lints the becoming dmness of are
has crept, stands tho stronghold or chest of Sir
Ihomas Bodey; it has a marvellous lock truly:
puzzle out its intricaCies Of polished steel
wrought here and there into mockinr liltenesseS
OF leaves and flowers, il you can--the burglar of
past centuries tried a shorter method, and in
the bottom of the chest you NAV still see tho
square hole he cut, blessing the elaborate STU
pldity Of owner and maker the while In wonder
case are tue fruit trenchers of Queen Elizabeth:
tley belong surely TO the old are of the yirgin
queen, so cynical are the maxlms, SO bitter tbe
would be love poems inscribed upon them. II
Is pleasant place, this gallery. AT every turn,
without or pain on our part, the PAST floods In
upon ns--lhe dry bones liye--sthe vast library
beneath our teet seems to take voice and speak
IRON these faces, these varied relics from the
holes and corners Of bygone life.
But let us press on This gallery after all is
but full OF symbols-ls but itself d great sym-
boil through that green door lies the reality. A
great cruciiorm space opens before you. Right
and left, before, behind, above, beneath, books =
nothing but books. Over your head, Il beained
and arched root, the fire OF whose bosses and