scenery have been touchingly depicted by Dean Alford in the following lines:

"A vision of the bright Shiraz, of Persian bards the theme:
The vine with bunches laden hangs o'er the crystal stream;
The nightingale all day her notes in rosy thickets trills,
And the brooding heat-mist faintly lies along the distant hills.

About the plain are scattered wide, in many a crumbling heap,
The fanes of other days, and tombs where Iran's poets sleep;
And in the midst, like burnished gems in noonday light, repose
The minarets of bright Shiraz-the City of the Rose.

One group beside the river bank in rapt discourse are seen,
Where hangs the golden orange on its boughs of purest green ;
Their words are sweet and low, and their looks are lit with joy;
Some holy blessing seems to rest on them and their employ.

The pale-faced Frank among them sits: what brought him from afar?
Nor bears he bales of merchandise, nor teaches skill in war:
One pearl alone he brings with him-the Book of life and death-
One warfare only teaches he-to fight the fight of faith.

And Iran's sons are round him-and one, with solemn tone,
Tells how the Lord of glory was rejected by His own;
Tells, from the wondrous gospel, of the trial and the doom---
The words Divine of love and might-the scourge, the cross, the tomb.

Far sweeter to the stranger's ear those eastern accents sound,
Than music of the nightingale that fills the air around;
Lovelier than balmiest odours sent from gardens of the rose,
The fragrance from the contrite soul and chastened lip that flows.

The nightingales have ceased to sing, the roses' leaves are shed,
The Frank's pale face in Tocat's field hath mouldered with the dead:
Alone, and all unfriended, midst his Master's work he fell,
With none to bathe his fevered brow-with none his tale to tell.

But still those sweet and solemn tones about him sound in bliss,
And fragrance from those flowers of God for evermore is his ;
For his the meed, by grace, of those who, rich in zeal and love,
Turn many unto righteousness, and shine as stars above."

After the name of Henry Martyn we mention that of another distinguished ornament of St. John's College, Henry Kirke White.

With very few previous advantages, except as he created them by his own assiduity and self-denial, he entered St. John's in 1804, and soon arrested attention by the rapidity with which he advanced in his studies. It seems incredible, yet we find it written in Southey's "Memoirs," "every University honour was thought to be within his reach. He was set down as a medallist, and expected to take a senior wrangler's degree;" but, "goaded to fresh exertions when his strength was spent," he fell a martyr to excessive study. Yet he did not live for the attainment of fame and the indulgence of ambition. He felt that nothing could fortify against the contingencies of the future in this world but faith in Christ and the love of God-adding, with regard to the life to come: "Men may reason about the Divine benevolence, the certainty of a future state, and the probable means of propitiating the great Judge; but their speculations will only entangle them in the mazes of doubt, perplexity, and alarm, unless they found their hopes on that basis which shall outstand the tide of ages. If we take this away, the poor bark of mortality loses its only stay, and we steer at random we know not how, we know not whither; the religion of Jesus Christ is strength to the weak, and wisdom to the unwise. It requires no preparation of learning nor study, but is, if possible, more obvious and casy to the illiterate than to the crudite. No man, therefore, has any excuse if he neglect it. plain before him, and he is invited to enter. He has only to kneel at the foot of the cross, and cry with the poor publican, 'Lord, have mercy upon me, a miserable sinner."" Thus he wrote in June, 1806, to his sister, from his study at St. John's, which he describes as on the top storey of the farthest court, near the cloisters; and the letter indicates how, amidst all his mathematical and classical studies, his faith was clinging to the anchor of life. Amongst hints jotted down in his private memoranda is one to the following effect: "The love of Christ

The way is

is the only source from whence a Christian can hope to derive spiritual happiness and peace. Now the love of Christ will not reside in the bosom already preoccupied with the love of the world, or any other predominating affection. We must give up everything for it, and we know it deserves the distinction; yet upon this principle, unless the energy of Divine grace were what it is, mighty and irresistible, who would be saved?"

Within a few months after expressing these sentiments, Henry Kirke White was in his grave. He died October 19,

1806.

"Unhappy White! whose life was in the spring,

And thy young muse just waved her joyous wing.
The spoiler came: and all thy promise fair

Has sought the grave to sleep for ever there.
Oh! what a noble heart was here undone,

When science self destroyed her favourite son!"

The memory of this remarkable youth is dear to all who have any sympathy with him in his poetic tastes--dearer still to those who think and feel with him in his Christian sentiments. His "Star of Bethlehem" is a popular favourite-a specimen alike of the genius of the early bard and of the spiritual convictions of the youthful believer:

"When marshalled on the nightly plain,

The glittering host bestud the sky,

One Star alone of all the train

Can fix the sinner's wandering eyc.

Hark! hark! to God the chorus breaks,
From every host, from every gem;
But One alone, the Saviour, speaks-
It is the Star of Bethlehem."

UNIVERSITY SYSTEM AND LIFE.

ANY readers may be interested in hearing something of the Universities in general, and especially of their interior life.

We will first of all endeavour to trace the history of an imaginary undergraduate. It often becomes a question of great interest and importance as to which University and which college a young man should enter. In a great number of instances no perplexity arises. In many families Christ Church follows Eton in natural progression, or New College follows Winchester, or a Merchant-Taylers' man goes to St. John's, or a Welshman to Jesus College. Still, with numbers of the public and grammar schoolmen the choice of the University, or, at least, the choice of a college, is a matter of some embarrassment.

The present writer, having experience of both Oxford and Cambridge, may be permitted to offer some observations on what appear the main differences between them. Oxford is considerably the more expensive of the two. The difference may be set down as being at least one-third greater. Where the Cambridge tutor ordinarily charges seven pounds, the Oxford tutor charges ten guineas. Where the caution-money in the one

case is fifteen pounds, in the other case it averages thirty pounds. There is hardly any difference in the commons. The rent of college rooms is, on the whole, lower at Oxford than at Cambridge, and very frequently the rooms are much better. It is much more usual at Oxford than at Cambridge to find an undergraduate with two handsome sitting-rooms. The general style of living and expense involves a rather larger outlay at Oxford than at Cambridge. As a counterbalance to the increased expensiveness of Oxford, it is to be said that the competition for academical prizes is more limited there than at Cambridge. For instance, the Goldsmiths' Company give a set of Exhibitions both at Oxford and Cambridge, which are competed for by examination. But the number of candidates for prizes of equal value is twice or three times as large at Cambridge as at Oxford. It is also to be said that the amount of real work done at Cambridge for the most part exceeds that at Oxford. The reading men at Oxford constitute a minority. But at Cambridge the reading men and the non-reading men are, speaking roughly, very much on a numerical par.

In making choice of a University for a young man of high promise, very careful regard ought to be paid to his intellectual character. It would be a mistake to send a young man of great mathematical ability to Oxford; and this is said with the full knowledge that Oxford has possessed mathematical teachers whose attainments can hardly be surpassed. But the value of

a Cambridge mathematical degree is fully understood, while that of Oxford mathematical honours is by not means equally well defined. An Oxford man may have sufficient knowledge and abilities to be senior wrangler, or within the first six, yet all he can hope for is a name in an alphabetical first class, which is very different in the eyes of the world, and in matters of distinction and reward, from the highest mathematical distinctions