3. Roc to Q. R. sq. checking.

4. Rey to Q. 3rd sq.

5. Roc to Q. Kt. sq.

6. Roc to adv. Q. Kt. 4th sq. and
gives check-mate.

Rey to adv. Q. Kt. 4th sq.
Rey to his Q. B. 4th sq.
Rey to Q. 4th sq.

Another kind of game, similar to the above, was that called "Li Mcruelious:"-whether the Mate will now be considered marvellous is rather problematical; it was evidently thought so during the thirteenth century, for the writer says,

2. Ferce at adv. K. B. 4th sq.

3. Ferce at adv. K. Kt. 4th sq.

Two Pouns at adv. K. 3rd and 4th squares.

White to mate the Black at the fifth move in the middle of the Board.

1. 2. Ferce to his K. 4th square.

2. 1. Ferce to adv. K. 2d sq.

3. Roc to adv. K. Kt. sq.

4. Roc to adv. K. Kt. 2d sq.

5. Roc to adv. K. 2d sq. giving check

White to check-mate Black at the fourth move in the middle of the board.

1. 1. Ferce to adv. K. B. 2nd square,

checking.

1. Roc to adv. Q. sq. checking.
3. Ferce to adv. K. R. 3rd sq.
4. Roc to adv. K. B. sq. and gives
check-mate.

Rey to B. square.

Rey takes the Ferce.
Rey takes the Poun.

"Le guy de couenau't" was the name of the next species of play most generally used, and was so called from a covenant or agreement entered into between the players, that the one should not take, nor the other be permitted to move, a particular piece. There are several of these games in Chess MSS.; but, as they possess very little (if any) merit, I shall pass them by unnoticed. There is also a game of covevant, called "couenau't fet ley," which is no otherwise remarkable than from its being mentioned in the Romance of Sir Tristram under the appellation of the long Assise. In this game the whole of the chess-men are placed on the board, and on the black agreeing to move none of his men, the white engages to mate him at the eleventh move: as it affords, however, no specimen of good play, it is needless to dwell longer on it.

A SUMMER'S DAY AT OXFOrd.

I INVITE the reader to pass a summer's day with me, in exploring a few of the beauties of the most beautiful city in Europe-beautiful on all accounts-actual as well as fanciful-natural as well as artificialimmediate and present, as well as remote and associate. But it would ask a volume even to glance at all these beauties; and I can reckon on but a few pages. I must, therefore, in this our first walk together, notice but a few; and these merely external ones: and if my companion, the reader, relishes these, and my manner of bringing them before him (or rather of bringing him before them), he may command my future services as a cicerone; for, to point out to others the good, of whatever kind, with which I have long been familiar, is almost as pleasant to me as it was to discover it for myself.

We will, if the reader pleases, contrive to reach Oxford rather late over-night; and after having received the civil greetings of kind Mrs. Peake, at the Mitre, and taken an egg and a glass of cold sherry negus in her snug coffee-room, will retire to our comfortable nests, and, rising from them in the morning, (not long after the lark eaves his,) will sally forth, and never look behind us till we reach the little elevation on the Henley road, to the east of the city. How delicious is this prime of the morning! It is to a summer's day what the spring is to the year, or childhood to human life. The dew hangs, like a blessing, on the glittering leaves; and the mists are rising from the grass, like the smoke of an acceptable sacrifice, steaming up to the heavens. Hark to those heifers cropping the crisp herbage. I know of no sound more purely pastoral: it is as refreshing to an ear sick of the talk of towns, as a draught of ice-cold water is to a parched palate: And how sweetly it meets and harmonises with the rich melody that comes down from yonder mounting lark! There are no other sounds stirring;-for the sun has not yet awakened the breezes the bee is still wrapped in its honey-heavy slumbers, and the "hum of men" is a thing of memory only.

Turn we now to the most beautiful view of its kind in existence. At the extreme left and right, but not extending far into the distance, lie cultivated lands, laid out in small fields surrounded by hedgerows, and undulating into hill and dale in a manner peculiar to English scenery. In the immediate front these fields take the form of a rich plain, through which wind the two roads from London, till they join and lose themselves in the city. And then (at a distance of about half a mile from where we stand) rises the lovely city itself-steeped in the stillness of the morning, and crowned with the beauty of the clouds, that hang suspended above it, leaving an interval of grey sky between. Follow with your eye the road which runs at our right hand, till it reaches the bridge at the entrance of the city. Here rises the solemn and stately tower of Magdalen college-every where a conspicuous ornament in the general view, but here its principal individual feature. Immediately to the right of this tower stands "Maudlin's learned grove;" bearing from this point of view the appearance of a uniform mass of verdure, rising like a living wall, to shut out all the external world, its idle pleasures and senseless cares. Immediately to the left

of Maudlin an open space presents itself, confusedly peopled with spires and towers, which, retiring behind each other, do not satisfy the imagination, but lead it into the heart of the city, as it were through an open portal cut through a wall of trees. The most conspicuous objects in this part of the view are the two sister towers of All Souls, and the knotted pinnacles of the schools. Finally, still farther to the left, and exactly matching to the groves of Maudlin on the right, rises a similar, but more rich and extensive mass of trees; and from the midst of this lofty mass look forth, in a line, six buildings of various construction, all beautiful in their kind, and all totally different from and contrasting with each other. First on the left stands the rich mosque-like tower of Christ's church gateway, and by its side the plain sober spire of the Cathedral; next comes the light, airy, and elegant spire of All Saints church, which is finely contrasted to the low venerable old knotted pinnacles of Merton, which stand next to it; then rises, in unrivalled loveliness, the sweetest of all spires-that of Saint Mary's church; and by its side, clothed in a solemn gravity, the dome of the Radcliffe Library. To those who are not acquainted with the objects which make up this scene of unparalleled beauty, and who see it for the first time, I should conceive it must bear the semblance of a fairy vision, rather than of a real tangible scene, chiefly raised by human hands-so abstracted and poetical an air does it carry with it. I speak now of this particular portion of the view before us, where the above-mentioned six objects seem to rise out of that solid mass of verdure formed by the magnificent elm grove belonging to Christ church college. To me this part of the view invariably suggests the vision of that enchanted city we read of in fairy lore, which the remorseless ocean had swallowed up; but, touched by the beauty of a few of her spires, pinnacles, and domes, had left them uncovered, peering above its green waters. But we must quit this enchanting, if not enchanted scene, or we shall lose the sweet stroll I propose to take before breakfast, through the water-walk of Magdalen. Proceed we, then, to cross the elegant modern bridge over the Cherwell (which we have no time to admire as it deserves); delaying a moment, however, in the centre of it, to notice the charming views formed by the emerald meadows on each side; on the left stretching away into the distance, and bounded at the end by richly-wooded rising ground, and at the sides by the Gardens of a modern mansion, the fine ivy-bound walls of the Botanic garden, &c.; and on the right by a light eminence crowned with an Italian villa, and the stately elms of Maudlin, affording, between their massy stems, glimpses of that almost sacred grove which we are about to explore the river winding about in graceful negligence through both the scenes, and giving to them a life and motion which nothing else can.

Before passing from this spot, let us not neglect to pay "honour due" to the stately beauty of the front which Maudlin here presents to the public way, Nothing can be more pure, chaste, and noble, in its detail as well as in its general effect. Here she stands, to greet and usher in our first footsteps to this magnificent city-an earnest and a foretaste of what we are to meet with as we proceed. Time, you see, has steeped her all over in the warm glow of maturity; but without adding a single touch or hint of decay. The lichens that every where

"

cling about her are not grey, but yellow-like the sun-freckles on the face of a matronly beauty. As a single whole-an object to be looked at by itself, and at once-I think this tower and front of Maudlin is among the very finest things we shall see; and the view altogether, from this spot, is most rich and enchanting; but of a more modern character than any other that we shall meet with here.

To convey, by description, any thing like the effect produced by wandering in what is called the water-walk belonging to Magdalen college (passing into its rich shades, from the city, during the glow of a brilliant summer's day) is more than I shall attempt; but the heart and mind, in whatever state they may have previously been, which are not subdued by it to a condition of calm, contemplative peace, " that passeth all understanding," may be pitied indeed, for they are past the influence of all external things. This walk is entirely artificial, and is formed round a rich meadow, which is insulated by a branch of the Cherwell; so that its whole course is by the side of a clear stream. On first entering it from the court of the New Buildings, and turning to the left, we find ourselves in an embowered shade, completely closed. in by shrubs of various kinds on each side, with the higher forest-trees shooting up from among them at intervals, and forming arch above arch overhead. On the right side of the walk, for some distance, the screen thus formed is almost impervious, except to the broken patches of sunshine which fall on the footpath; but on the left little openings are made, which, as you proceed, afford glimpses into a small park or grove, also belonging to this college, planted with noble elms, and stocked with deer. For some distance this walk winds so continually that you are not able at any point to see before you for twenty yards. Presently, however, the arch above grows somewhat higher, and you arrive at an opening, through which is seen a water-mill at work, the wheel of which is entirely covered and hid by an elegant weeping willow, so as to give the effect of a water-fall. This is an exquisite object, no doubt;, but, to say the truth, though the mill is a real one, the whole picture (for it looks like one) has rather too much the appearance of a scene on the stage-so prettily has every thing about it been contrived to aid and mingle with the general effect. At this point the river makes an angle, and the walk, following it, takes the form of a straight line for a considerable distance; so that, on turning the angle, you look along a low and apparently interminable arch of green; the footway being a firm red gravel, fringed on each side with smoothshaven turf. This, though very pretty as a variety, is not my favourite part of the walk. Proceed we therefore at once to the end of this vista, and, turning another angle, we shall find ourselves in a part of the walk that suddenly widens, and affords a passage through a doublę line of lofty elms, the interstices between which are, on the left, filled up with shrubs, but on the right they are open, offering a rich view of different parts of all the buildings belonging to this magnificent endowment: tower, chapel, hall, all "bosomed high in tufted trees.” At proper intervals of the walk there are seats. At the end next the public road there is a fine view of the bridge and the open country; and to complete the effect of the whole, beautiful cattle of different kinds (they almost seem to have been selected for their beauty) are constantly feeding in the meadow round which the walk runs.