reet, but we can enter here. Come!"

I followed him into a narrow, winding passage which led to an old
court, surrounded by rubble walls, with little moss-covered galleries
under the roof and a weathercock upon the peak, as in the Tanner's Lane
in Strasbourg. To the right was the brewery, and in a corner a great
wheel, turned by an enormous dog, which pumped the beer to every story
of the house.

The clinking of glasses was heard coming from a room which opened on
the Rue de Tilly, and under the windows of this was a deep cellar
resounding with the cooper's hammer. The sweet smell of the new March
beer filled the air, and Zimmer, with a look of satisfaction, cried:

"Yes, here I came six years ago with Ferre and stout Rousillon. How
glad I am to see it all again, Josephel! It was six years ago. Poor
Rousillon! he left his bones at Smolensk last year! and Ferre must now
be at home in his village near Toul, for he lost his left leg at
Wagram. How everything comes back as I think of it!"

At the same time he pushed open the door, and we entered a lofty hall,
full of smoke. I saw, through the thick, gray atmosphere, a long row
of tables, surrounded by men drinking--the greater number in short
coats and little caps, the remainder in the Saxon uniform. The first
were students, young men of family who came to Leipzig to study law,
medicine, and all that can be learned by emptying glasses and leading a
jolly life, which they call _Fuchs-commerce_. They often fight among
themselves with a sort of blade rounded at the point and only its tip
sharpened, so that they slash their faces, as Zimmer told me, but life
is never endangered. This shows the good sense of these students, who
know very well that life is precious, and that one had better get five
or six slashes, or even more, than lose it.

Zimmer laughed as he told me these things; his love of glory blinded
him; he said they might as well load cannon with roasted apples, as
fight with swords rounded at the point.

But we entered the hall, and we saw the oldest of the students--a tall
withered-looking man with a red nose and long flaxen beard, stained
with beer--standing upon a table, reading the gazette aloud which hung
from his hand like an apron. He held the paper in one hand, and in the
other a long porcelain pipe. His comrades, with their long, light hair
falling upon their shoulders, were listening with the deepest interest;
and as we entered, they shou