war. The students of one of the women's colleges, expelled from their
own modern buildings, which had been turned into a hospital, became
tenants of half of one of the oldest colleges. It was very romantic
thus to gain admission to the real Oxford, but the students soon
found that it was very uncomfortable to have their baths in an out-
of-the-way corner of the college. And baths themselves are but a
modern institution at Oxford; at one or two colleges still the old
"tub in one's room" is the only system of washing. Perhaps this
instance may be thought frivolous, but it is typical of Oxford, which
has been described, with some exaggeration in both words, as a home
of "barbaric luxury."

But after all, comfort in the material sense is the least important
element in completeness of life. Oxford has everything else, except,
it is true, a bracing climate. She has society of every kind, in
which a man ranks on his merits, not on his possessions; he is valued
for what he is, not for what he has; she gives freedom to her sons to
live their own life, with just sufficient restraint to add piquancy
to freedom, and to restrain those excesses which are fatal to it; she
has intellectual interests and traditions, which often really affect
men who seem indifferent to them; life in her, as a rule, is not
troubled by financial cares--for her young men, most of them, either
through old endowments or from family circumstances, have for the
moment enough of this world's goods. In view of all this, and much
more, is it not natural that Oxford has a charm for her sons? And
this is enhanced with many by all the force of hereditary tradition;
the young man is at his college because his father was there before
him; the pleasure of each generation is increased by the reflection
of the other's pleasure. What traditional feeling in Oxford means
may, perhaps, be illustrated by the story of an old English worthy,