Wadham had gone to Worcester for change of


[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 43]

air. Lincoln had migrated from near Exeter to Pembroke; and
Brasenose had its nose quite put out of joint by St. John's. In
short, if the maps of Oxford are to be trusted, there had been a
general ~pousset~ movement among its public buildings.

But if such a shrewd and practised observer as Sir Walter Scott,
after a week's hard and systematic sight-seeing, could only say of
Oxford, "The time has been much too short to convey to me separate
and distinct ideas of all the variety of wonders that I saw: my
memory only at present furnishes a grand but indistinct picture of
towers, and chapels, and oriels, and vaulted halls, and libraries,
and paintings;" - if Sir Walter Scott could say this after a week's
work, it is not to be wondered at that Mr. Green, after so brief and
rapid a survey of the city at the heels of an unintelligent guide,
should feel himself slightly confused when, on his return to the
Manor Green, he attempted to give a slight description of the
wonderful sights of Oxford.

There was ~one~ lion of Oxford, however, whose individuality of
expression was too striking either to be forgotten or confused with
the many other lions around. Although (as in Byron's ~Dream~)

"A mass of many images
Crowded like waves upon"