The lovely waters of Lake George are known to the Catholics by the prettier and more appropriate name of Lake Sacrament. Its singular transparency, surpassing that of all other lakes in the world, probably suggested some tradition of its sacredness; and its water was carried to great distances to supply the consecrated fonts. The singular seclusion of its position, far aside from the general current of population, has assisted to preserve its character.

Loch Katrine, at the Trosachs, is a miniature-likeness of Lake George. It is the only lake in Europe that has at all the same style or degree of beauty. The small green islands, with their abrupt shores,—the emerald depths of the water, overshadowed and tinted by the tenderest moss and foliage,—the lofty mountains in the back-ground,—and the tranquil character of the lake, over which the wind is arrested and rendered powerless by the peaks of the hills and the lofty island summits,— are all points of singular resemblance. Loch Katrine can scarce be called picturesque, except at the Trosachs, however; while Lake George, throughout all the mazes of its three hundred and sixty-five islands (there are said to be just this number), preserves the same wild and racy character of beauty.

There are few places in the University of Cambridge more interesting than the Chapel of Trinity College. Not that the building itself possesses any striking excellence; there is nothing in the style of the architecture, nor in the decorations of the interior, which challenges admiration; it is perhaps, as a building rather below the dignity of its purpose, when considered as the place of worship for the most distinguished of our Colleges. And yet there are few places more full of interest to the resident in the University, or to the stranger, than Trinity Chapel. It is a powerful rival, to say no more, to the Chapel of King's College with all its riches of architectural skill.

The interest which belongs to Trinity Chapel is of an higher order than that which is due to the powers of art; it is one of religious feeling and association; it is a matter of heart and mind and soul. In no other place does there exist so impressive a demonstration of the religious spirit of our academic institutions. The large number of Students, the great body of resided Fellows, many of them distinguished in various walks of learning, the ancient names of glory connected with the College, combine to render the celebration of Divine Worship in this Chapel more than usually solemn and affecting.

This beautiful town stands between the two lakes Winipiseogee and Sullivan and is deeply surrounded on every side with the most luxuriant rural beauty. The neighbourhood of these exquisite lakes, studded throughout with small green islands, burdened with foliage,—the lofty mountains, near and distant,—the fertility of the soil, and the healthiness of the spot, form a nucleus of attraction which gives Meredith great preference over other towns in New Hampshire. The Winipiseogee communicates, by the river of the same name, with the Merrimack River, and is near five hundred feet above the level of the sea.

This is the only part of New England, as far as we are aware, in which Indians were regularly hunted by parties who went out for the purpose, and received a bounty for their scalps. We have alluded elsewhere to Captain Lovewell, who surprised and killed a large party of sleeping Indians, and was killed himself afterwards, in the famous “Lovewell fight.” The following tragedy, which took place on the Merrimack, in what was, in those days, the neighbourhood of Meredith, shows the provocation to this apparent inhumanity. In the year 1697, a party of Indians, arrayed in their war dresses, approached the house of Mr. Dustan. This man was abroad at his usual labour.

Of two attempts to obtain a view from the summit of Mount Washington, the MS. Journal from which we have already made extracts, gives an interesting account of one which the weather rendered unsuccessful.

“The morning opened with every symptom of a fine day for the ascent. We had an early breakfast, and started a little before six, with the intention of first ascending Mount Clinton, and afterwards Mount Washington. Before we came to the peak of Clinton, however, a thick mist had swept over the mountains, which grew heavier and heavier. At the beginning of the granite pile that caps Mount Washington, a heavy wind with violent rain came on, and, as we climbed upwards, the storm increased, and the cold became every moment more intense. In four hours we reached the summit, thoroughly drenched, and stiff as icicles. The rain beat across the peak with tremendous force, and it was with difficulty we could stand. Below us was a sea of mist, around us a howling tempest, and our only resource was to seek the shelter of a rock, and seek consolation in the guide's knapsack.[…]

If, a little before sunrise on the first Friday after the 13th of January, a stranger happened to find himself in front of the Senate-House, he would see a sight to arrest his attention. He would observe a cluster of gownsmen closely packed around the bolted doors and the railings which fortify the entrance;–others he would notice pacing backward and forward in the cold street, and some intently gazing in one particular direction, as if in expectation. The greater number appear animated and cheerful, but some there are whose countenances wear less of excitement than anxiety, yet such an air as shews that they have at least as much to do with the scene as the rest. Presently one or two persons, who by their dress and demeanour are known to be dons, are seen advancing up the street. The crowd condenses round them so rapidly and closely, that they have some difficulty in forcing their way. But at length the doors are reached–passed–and closed again. A few minutes elapse, and they are suddenly thrown open. There is a simultaneous rush into the building; and in a moment is heard an indistinct sound of voices blending confusedly with some single voice which holds on a regular and uninterrupted course.

II. THE CONTENTS OF THE MUSUEM

The original collection made by Dr. Woodward, is contained in five walnut-tree cabinets, of which the two marked A and B were the only ones bequeathed to the University, the rest having been purchased from the executors.

The contents of these cabinets formed the nucleus around which all the more modern additions have collected, and our survey of “the museum as it is”, must accordingly commence with an allusion to a few of the more remarkable and interesting specimens found among them.

As they are at present arranged, the first and part of the second of the cabinets are devoted to mineralogy, and the drawers contain a multifarious collection of sands and stones, specimens of polished marble, and odd shaped stalactites, the native ores of the various metals, and a few minerals of considerable value. On the whole, however, this must be looked upon as the least interesting of Dr. Woodward's collections, and omitting more particular description, we would rather direct attention to two drawers in cabinet B, filled with echini, fishes' teeth and palatal bones, a few shells, and some ingenious and very well executed metallic casts of the interior of shells. With regard to the latter, it is deserving of notice, that after an interval of more than a century, during which such internal casts have been quite neglected by Conchologists, Professor Agassiz has lately taken up the subject and succeeded, after overcoming some very considerable difficulties, in executing a set of models likely to be extremely useful in determining fossil species of shells.

The county of Cambridge, however barren in the picturesque, is rich in historical interest. Plentiful testimony to this character exists in the descriptions that have been put on record of remains belonging to the Romans Britons and Saxons, found in various parts. Of these descriptions the Bowtell MSS. furnish many, accompanied with well executed drawings.

The Ancient Brick of which a plate is presented, is one of the objects there noticed. It was one of six representing scenes in the story of Susannah and the Elders: this, the fifth in the series, is described thus—

The writer describes them as done “in a correct and animated style”: he had seen as many as 22 besides. They were found in 1777, in repairing a chamber of Trinity Hall: many were secreted by the workmen as treasures. Subsequently they came into different hands, and the possessors inserted them in the walls of their houses as rare ornaments, having for a foil blackened the figures. Duplicates had been found in a field-pit not far from the first mile-stone ‘near the rill of water called the Vicar's Brook which crosses the London road at Pratt's Pitts,’ amongst a great quantity of other specimens of Roman pottery; which makes it probable that on that spot was once a manufactory of such ware.

The annexed drawing is from one of the ten busts by Roubiliac in the Library of Trinity College. Upon the pedestal are these words:

E. Coke

Summus Judex

Posuit Comes Leicestriæ

1757.

It appears to have been presented in the same year in which it was executed, two years before the death of the donor who was fifth in descent from the judge and his last surviving descendant in the male line. It represents the Chief Justice with the coif of lawn or silk, the ermine tippet and gold collar of SS; which may by some be considered as justifying the remark of Allan Cunningham, “If Roubiliac's busts must be censured for any thing it is for excess of action and flutter of drapery.” Opposite stands the bust of his contemporary Sir Robert Cotton, the friend and patron of Camden and founder of the Cottonian Library.

In its representation of the features of Sir E. Coke, this bust most nearly resembles the engraved head by I. Payne, 1629; but Corn. Jansen's portrait, which represents him at a less advanced age, agrees better with Fuller's description of him—‘the Jewel of his Mind was put into a fair case, a beautiful body with a comely countenance.’

Beyond the reach of authentic history, we find from scattered notices and half extinct tradition, that a consciousness of the debateable nature of things first dawned in the minds of a few students of Caius College. They were sitting once upon a time, as was their wont, in friendly conversation, when it was proposed that they should form themselves into a club and begin their proceedings with a debate; and so the club was formed and the debate proceeded: but its subject and its result are lost. Nor has it been found possible to ascertain the name of the society, though it would perhaps be hardly too rash if we were to suggest as its probable appellation “The Gonville and Caius Debating Society.” Now, about the same time arose, perhaps under circumstances not dissimilar, a Society at St. John's, named the Fustian, an ill-omened title which argues but little taste or foresight in its founders. Bad judgment, which seldom confines itself to words, seems at an early period to have brought the Fustian into decay; but from utter dissolution it was preserved by a timely and happy coalition with the ‘Gonville and Caius Debating Society;’ which now with the united resources of St. John's and of Caius increased rapidly in vigour and reputation, and proceeded to secure for its purposes a room in the neighbourhood of Trinity Church, instead of holding its meetings in succession at the rooms of the members.

Neville's Court is the most beautiful specimen of the collegiate quadrangle in Cambridge. The noble façade of the Library on one side—the Hall opposite to it, and the fair ranges of building which connect them—with the smooth grass plot in the midst unencroached on by gravel path, form a picture which gladdens the heart of every son of Trinity as he looks upon it, and is stored up in the memory amongst his recollections of the loveliest scenes it has been his lot to behold.

In Neville's Court there is nothing garish; there is no gay display of pinnacle and turret; its magnificence is sober and majestic. He therefore who would see it aright, should choose such time as the uneasy throng of students has ceased to pour through its cloisters, and the noise of mirth and revelry to sound from its chambers; when the moon softly beams on its grey walls, spangling the broad windows of the Library and throwing the cloisters into the deepest shade;—and the yellow light here and there shining from a casement tells of the midnight toils of those who still outwatch the Bear

The echoing steps of a solitary student are heard as he paces slowly along the gloomy pavement, to cool the blood burning in his temples after a long and arduous struggle with some occult problem.

Most of the College Chapels have not an organ; in Emmanuel College the instrument is silent, as well as in Pembroke College. The following notices respecting the organs that are in use will be considered valuable for their authority and technical character.

The organ in the Chapel of Trinity College, which is justly considered the finest in Cambridge, and ranks among the first in England, was built originally by Father Schmidt in the year 1706 when Bentley was Master of the College, at a cost of £1500. It has since that time received many additions and improvements; the most considerable of which was made three years ago by Gray and Son of London. The compass of the great organ is from CCC the 16 feet pipe to F in alt. throughout all the stops. The swell, which is exceedingly fine, extends from gamut G to F in alt., and contains the following stops: open Diapason, stopped Diapason, double stopped Diapason, Principal, three rank Sesquialtra, Hautboy, Trumpet and Clarion. The choir organ is much admired for its sweetness of tone, and possesses a remarkably fine Cremona. There are two octaves of pedal pipes and many coupling stops, by means of which the power of the organ is much increased and great variety is obtained.