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my pen, for the night, by saying-that Oxford is just the place in which I could have wished to have received an education. And at which I should, even now, were it possible, delight to seclude myself a year or two, for reading and study, in better preparation for usefulness, in my office and sphere.

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COUNTRY BETWEEN

LETTER XXIV.

CHESTERTON LODGE, MIDDLETON PARK, AND STOWE,

Country between Oxford and Bicester-Farm-house at Chesterton-Chesterton Lodge-Taste of a Farmer's Son-The Vicarage and Lady of the Clergyman-Cottage of Lord Jersey's Steward Grounds and Apartments at Middleton House-Stowe Park-The Saloon and State Rooms-Private Apartments Beauty and varied ornaments of the Grounds-Arrival at Newport.

DEAR VIRGINIA,

Saracen's Head, Newport Pagnell,
July 7th, 1832.

TO-DAY has been a more busy day with us, if possible, than yesterday was at the university.

Oxford was made our first point, in leaving London, from the determination, in passing through it on our way from Liverpool, that we would pay it a second and special visit. Another spot, which I felt unwilling to leave England without seeing, was Weston Underwood, long the residence of my favourite poet, Cowper. In tracing the route on the map from Oxford to this, while still in London, it was perceived that we should pass within two or three miles of the village of Chesterton, in the vicinity of which my friend Mr. Rotchfort Clarke has a Lodge. He was desirous that I should take a peep at it, en passant, though himself and Mrs. Clarke were in town; and in leaving Oxford we made ar

OXFORD AND BICESTER.

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rangements to stop at Bicester, twelve miles distant, the nearest post-town to Chesterton.

The intervening country is more uninteresting than any we have yet passed over, being one unvaried level, with a poor and cold soil, principally of clay. With the exception of the hedges intersecting it, it has scarce a redeeming feature. It was not yet ten o'clock when we reached Bicester. We took a postchaise for Chesterton Lodge, three miles west of it, without a moment's delay, having learned that the cholera was raging in the town with great malignity. There had been seven deaths, in a small population, within the few hours preceding our entrance to the place; and we felt little disposition to linger within its precincts.

Mr. Clarke was desirous that the observations of the day might be as general and diversified as possible; and gave us letters by which we could have access, on the direct route to Weston and Olney, to a series of establishments, commencing with the dwelling of the common farmer having charge of his seat, and terminating in Stowe, the magnificent paJace of the Duke of Buckingham. The Lodge is just at the entrance of Chesterton from Bicester; but we drove past it a short distance to deliver to Mr. Phillips, the farmer, a note from Mr. Clarke for our admission to it, and to the grounds and gardens by which it is surrounded.

. On driving through a lane to the farm-house, we came upon a substantial, well-built, and well-kept dwelling; but closely surrounded, even to the very entrance door, by cow and stable yards, well per

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fumed by odours peculiar to them, and which extended to the choicest apartments. I have been struck with this arrangement in the farm-houses in general here, even in those of individuals of the class of independence and respectability. And am as much at a loss to understand the advantage, as the desirableness, of such a juxtaposition in these appendages to a farm, and the family residence.

The master was not at home. But his son, a healthy, well-looking young man of twenty, received the note of Mr. C. and very kindly invited us to alight. Seconded very soon by the wife and mother— a stout, ruddy and striking specimen, in her class of life, of a Mrs. John Bull. She regretted that her husband was not at home; but that her son "should do all as in his power" to show us the Lodge and grounds. While he was making some little preparation for this, we walked into the parlour, a neat and comfortable apartment, in which she kindly offered to prepare for us a luncheon. Not needing any refreshment, however, we declined the civility, and soon followed her son to the Lodge, across an adjoining field.

Oxfordshire is celebrated as a sporting country, and the lodge was originally a hunting-box of the family. Mr. Clarke's desire, and my own wish to see it, in passing by, arose from considerations distinct from any particular attraction in the house itself, or in the beauty of its situation. It is what, in America, would be called a genteel and pretty residence, consisting of a conservatory, forming the entrance to the passage-a breakfast parlour, a dining and draw

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ing-room, on the first floor-and bed, and dressingrooms, with a boudoir, on the second. There is an extensive lawn in front; and shrubbery, flower, and kitchen gardens-grapery, fish-ponds, &c. in the rear, surrounded by groves, and clumps of trees.

We viewed all these with an interest for which our cicerone seemed at a loss to account; and, of which, as he had learned we were in haste to proceed, he appeared a little impatient-from a fear, as we soon discovered, that the object, most worth seeing in his view, attached to the premises, should be passed over in our call. The first moment there was an opportunity, he gave us a hint of his particular taste-where there was any enthusiasm to be expended-by saying, with a very beseeching look, "And now, please your honours, as you have seen the house and gardens, you will surely like to see the colt?" "What colt ?" "Oh! my colt, in the stables just out here a bit," was the reply, as he hurried us on with a look of great satisfaction, that we put no veto upon the proposition.

To the stables, therefore, we went; and, in a beautiful young horse, found that it was not without reason, that his master was unwilling not to have him seen. And not only beautiful, but of no small value too, where the fox-hunt and the race-course are among the prominent sports of the country. In making some inquiries of the post-boy on this point, in crossing from Bicester, he told us that his master had recently sold a hunter for four hundred and fifty guineas.

Our next call was at the vicarage, a comfortable,

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