The Donaldsonville chief. [volume] (Donaldsonville, La.) 1871-current, 1882-04-15
Notes of Summer Travel.

l
Excursions to Oxford, Kenilworth, War
wick and Stratford- on Avon-Tle Wax
Works and other London sigIlts-Home-
ward Bound.
| LONDON, Sept. 80, 1881.
Ny DEAR NELL;
We have had most charming e2cur-
sion and one ever to be remembered. A
| visit to the old, grey colleges of Oxford,
| visit to Kenilworth in ruins, and to
Warwick Castle, hoary with age, yet
proudly defying Time and Decay; and
visit to the birthplace and home of
Shakespeare We accomplished it all in
two days. As if to enhance the exqui-
| site charm Of English scenery, the sun
| shine burst gloriously over hill and dale,
| flooding the glad earth i'll golden light.
Old manor-houses, sentineled by stately
trees, green sloping nleadow-lands with
their lazy, browsing herds, thrifty cot
tage homes and pleasant villages, wind
ing country roads and shady ~ trout
streams-all combined to form a shifting
| panorama, ever varying i'll our rapid
transit, yet ever presenting some fresh
| attractiyeness.
Now, Nell, think for moment; what
is the idea your mind has vaguely formed
of the great University Of Oxford! l
| AM sure mine was greatly different from
the reality. The colleges do not stand
alone OH a vast extent Of the University
! grounds but built among and around
them are the dwellings and shops Of the
town of Oxford. A dreamy, absent
| minded old town it is, too; not active
and bustling, but as if buried always i'll
| profound thought. Certainly, it has long
since passed the hey-day Of youth, for it
is associated, traditionally, with King
Arthur and the Knights of the Round
Table, and it is said that here King Ca
| mute held his court. The brooding spirit
Of the venerable University seems to
hover over the place like an abiding in
tluence, reproving lightness and friyolity,
and lifting the thought to the serious
and earnest aspect Of life. How solemn
and awe-inspiring are these hoary col
leges, even to tho casual visitor who is
brought but for the moment under their
spell. From these grey, Wondering walls
have gone forth how many of the great
est Of our race, to shape the destlnies of
mankind! We went first into tho oldest
college of them all-the original Univer-
sity of Oxford, founded by King Alfred
the Great. Thence, we passed on to
Christ College, All Souls College, Lin
coin College and others. They are con-
structed somewhat after the manner of
ancient palaces-bnilt around an open
court, which is entered through a stone
archway. At Lincoln College we saw
the small, bare room that John Wesley
occupied when he was Fellow here, and
tho garden where he and Whiteield used
| to walk and talk together before they
be gan their evangelical work.
Back to the train again in the early
afternoon, and onward to Kcnilworth.
| A conveyance brought lis from the sta
| ton to tue ruins Of the old castle. There
is something inexpressibly pathetic, yet
very beautiful, in its grim decay; the
more so since its crumbling walls plead
the ruthlessness of u human foe, not the
slow, insensible touch Of time. The fierce
soldicry of Oliver Cromwell destroyed
the fair castle that had dared mock their
arms. Portions of the massive structure
stand yet, defiant of decay, and the pity
ing ivy has crept lovingly over the dis
mantled towers and clothed them in
perennial beauty. For few,
dreamy moments we became obliyious of
the scene around US as we gazed far back
into the brilliant and eventful Past
kenilworth, i'll its pride and strength,
kenilworth, with its grand tournaments
and magnificent pageantry and royal
hospitality, with Queen Elizabeth in
naughty splcndor grazing its festive
days, and the brilliant Leicester, her
princely host, and poor Amy Robsart the
mistress Of this fair castle, yet anguish
ing away her sad young life, its much
wronged prisoner. 0, woful story! l
look up with a start, and the nournful
ruins about me seem to echo my pitying
thought. The stiffness and the gloom
Cypress me. Let us hasten away from a
spot whose vanished grandeur can never
be so we'll remembered as the dire tragedy
that lives only in romance.
We reached Warwick when the echoes
of marriage bells had scarcely died ont
upon the air. Lord Brooke, the eldest
son of the Earl, had just brought his
bride home to the old baronial castle,
and the whole town had risen up to bid
them welcome. Gay banners were afioat,
Wreaths, festoons and various devices
decked the streets, and elaborate ever
green arches, erected at intervals, marked
the triumpaal procession of the weddi ing
company. l could not have had more
pleasing glimpse into the old baronial
life of England. The towns people were
full Of the great event, and eager to tell
us what Z" thorough nobleman" Lord
Brooke is, so much respected and adj
nlired; how the young lady has an income
of $25o,00o, which does not come amiss,
as the Warwick family, the highest in
the kingdom with the exception of the
Queens only, has found it difficult to
keep up, in fitting style, its vast estab-