tleness is written in their quiet gait! Yet,
see! as each bar of the distant waltz is heard beating on the ear, how
their footsteps keep time and mark the measure! Alas! the summer hours
have fled, and with them those calm nights when by the flickering moon
the pathways echoed to the steps of lingering feet now homeward turning.

I never can visit a University town in Germany without a sigh after the
time when I was myself a Bursche, read myself to sleep each night with
Ludwig Tieck, and sported two broadswords crosswise above my chimney.

I was a student at Goettingen, the Georgia Augusta; and in the days I
speak of--I know not well what King Ernest has done since--it was
rather a proud thing to be ein Goettinger Bursche.' There was considered
something of style to appertain to it above the other Universities;
and we looked down upon a Heidelberger or a Halle man as only something
above a 'Philister.' The professors had given a great celebrity to
the University too. There was Stromeyer in chemistry, and Hausman in
philology; Behr in Greek, Shrader in botany; and, greater than all, old
Blumenbach himself, lecturing four days each week on everything he could
think of--natural philosophy, physics, geography, anatomy, physiology,
optics, colours, metallurgy, magnetism, and the whale-fishery in the
South Seas--making the most abstruse and grave subjects interesting by
the charm of his manner, and elevating trivial topics into consequence
by their connection with weightier matters. He was the only lecturer I
ever heard of who concluded his hour to the regret of his hearers, and
left them longing for the continuation. Anecdote and illustration fell
from him with a profusion almost inconceivable and perfectly miraculous,
when it is borne in mind that he rarely was known to repeat himself in
a figure, and more rarely still in a story; and when he had detected
himself in this latter he would suddenly stop short, with an 'Ach Gott,
I'm growing old,' and immediately turn into another channel, and by some
new and unheard-of history extricate himself from his difficulty. With
all the learning of a Buffon and a Cuvier, he was simple and unaffected
as a child. His little receptions in the summer months were in
his garden. I have him before me this minute, seated under the
wide-spreading linden-tree, with his little table before him, holding
his coffee and a few books--his long hair, white as snow, escaping
beneath his round cap of dar