sse was filled with two
lines of flame, as the procession passed down it; when they reached the
extremity of the city, the hearse went on, attended with torch-bearers,
to the Cemetery, some distance further, and the students turned back,
running and whirling their torches in mingled confusion. The music
struck up a merry march, and in the smoke and red glare, they looked
like a company of mad demons. The presence of death awed them to silence
for awhile, but as soon as it had left them, they turned relieved to
revel again and thought no more of the lesson. It gave me a painful
feeling to see them rushing so wildly and disorderly back. They
assembled again in the square, and tossing their torches up into the air
cast them blazing into a pile; while the flame and black smoke rose in a
column into the air, they sang in solemn chorus, the song "_Gaudeamus
igitur_," with which they close all public assemblies.

I shall neglect telling how we left Heidelberg, and walked along the
Bergstrasse again, for the sixth time; how we passed the old Melibochus
and through the quiet city of Darmstadt; how we watched the blue summits
of the Taunus rising higher and higher over the plain, as a new land
rises from the sea, and finally, how we reached at last the old
watch-tower and looked down on the valley of the Main, clothed in the
bloom and verdure of summer, with the houses and spires of Frankfort in
the middle of the well-known panorama. We again took possession of our
old rooms, and having to wait for a remittance from America, as well as
a more suitable season for visiting Italy, we sat down to a month's rest
and study.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

FREIBURG AND THE BLACK FOREST.

_Frankfort, July 29, 1845._--It would be ingratitude towards the old
city in which I have passed so many pleasant and profitable hours, to
leave it, perhaps forever, without a few words of farewell. How often
will the old bridge, with its view up the Main, over the houses of
Oberrad to the far mountains of the Odenwald, rise freshly and
distinctly in memory, when I shall have been long absent from them! How
often will I hear in fancy as I now do in reality, the heavy tread of
passers-by on the rough pavement below, and the deep bell of the
Cathedral, chiming the swift hours, with a hollow tone that seems to
warn me, rightly to employ them! Even this old room, with its bare
walls, little table and chairs, which I have thought and studied in so
long, that