FETE WEEK AT CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY.

The last week in May at Cambridge University happening after the great test examinations of the year is given up to revel and gaiety. The annual races of the colleges are then held. Balls, parties and social meetings fill up the week. He who should suggest the abolition or curtailment of either of the university carnivals, says a recent writer in Chamber's Journal, would be regarded as a revolutionary innovator, no less dangerous than if he had proposed to pull down "Tom Quad," or to let out as building-plots the university cricket-ground. The great "bumping" races that occur at this time are thus described by the same writer: Though the pleasure is largely dependent on genial sky and favorable breezes there is something very alluring to strangers in the series of struggles to be witnessed in the Gut, the Plough and the Long Reach, from the vantage-ground of Grassy Corner or Ditton Meadows. Long lines of eager young gownsmen, each in the bright uniform of his college club, rush panting up the tow-path, uttering a babel of discordant but exhilarating cries of encouragement to their champions on the water. One by one the graceful craft appear in sight, the oarsmen swinging like a piece of perfect mechanism, the blades flashing in the evening sun, the coxswain anxiously calculating how closely he dare shave the awkward corner looming in the distance, and how soon he shall venture to call upon stroke for that final spurt which shall bring the taper bow within bumping distance of the boat which they pursue. Stroke by stroke the interval is lessened; the cries on the bank grow louder and more excited, as the partisans of each urge them on to greater efforts. The pursuers pull themselves together in obedience to their coach's warning voice, as their boat showed a tendency to roll when it meets the wash thrown from the oars of the leading crew. Another twenty yards, and the word is given. The bow of the pursuing craft overlaps the stern of the pursued; a moment more, and with a fresh impetus of a final spurt, "cox" ventures to edge over to the side of the vanquished; and amid a turmoil of shouts and splashing, up goes the hand of the steersman of the leading boat. The bump is acknowledged, and each crew ceases from its exertions; the vanquished to mourn over their futile efforts, the victors to receive the congratulations of their friends on having carried the college colors one place higher on the river. But "the cry is still they come." One after another follow the rest of the boats, some repeating the scene already enacted, others more happy in being able to row easily over the course, unpressed by their antagonists. And so the day's racing draws to a close; and the crowd of spectators return, some by road, others by water, to prepare for the evening entertainments, wherein the rejoicings of the successful are to be celebrated, and the chagrin of the conquered forgotten.

So the week passes in a constant round of festivity. Garden-parties in the college grounds, picnics up the Granta and the Isis; concerts and balls at night; and not least, the glorious music and impressive services of Sunday, in time honored chapels, whose walls exhibit great names of those who in their turn have studied and worshipped in those sacred precincts - such are the attractions which the universities hold out to their summer visitors, and which are little likely to be forgotten by those who have the good fortune to take part in them.