l relic of the days
when Austria, together with the small independent states, strove to
shake off the Napoleonic yoke. In those days students formed secret
societies; societies full of strange ritual, which pushed devotion
to fanaticism, which stopped at nothing, not even assassination. To
exterminate the French, to regain their ancestral privileges, to rescue
their country from its prostrate humiliation, many sacrificed their
lives and their fortunes.

Napoleon found no means of reaching these patriots, for they could not
be purchased. This convinced Napoleon of their earnestness, for he could
buy kings and princes. The students were invisible, implacable, and many
a brilliant officer of the imperial guard disappeared, never to return.

This historic relic of the Konigstrasse had been the headquarters of one
of the branches of these numerous societies; and the students still held
to those ancient traditions. But men and epochs pass swiftly; only the
inanimate remain. This temple of patriotism is simply an inn to-day,
owned by one Stuler, and is designated by those who patronize it as "Old
Stuler's." It is the gathering place of the students. It consists of a
hall and a garden, the one facing the street, the other walled in at the
rear.

The hall is made of common stone, bald and unadorned save by four dingy
windows and a tarnished sign, "Garten," which hangs obliquely over the
entrance. At the curb stands a post with three lamps pendant; but these
are never lit because Old Stuler can keep neither wicks nor glass beyond
the reach of canes.

Old Stuler was well versed in the peculiarities of students. In America
they paint statues; in Austria they create darkness. On warm, clear
nights the students rioted in the garden; when it rained, chairs and
tables were carried into the hall, which contained a small stage and a
square gallery. Never a night passed without its animated scene.

Here it was that the evils of monarchical systems were discussed, the
army service, the lack of proper amusement, the restrictions at the
stage entrance to the opera; here it was that they concocted their
exploits, fought their duels, and planned means of outwitting Old
Stuler's slate.

Stuler was a good general; he could keep the students in order, watch
his assistants draw beer, the Rhine wine, and the scum (dregs of the
cask, muddy and strong), and eye the accumulating accounts on the
slate. This slate was wiped out once the month; th