appearance. Milkmaids occasionally passed, as did also donkey-drivers
with their gray pupils. Beyond Weende I met the "Shepherd" and "Doris."
This is not the idyllic pair sung by Gessner, but the duly and
comfortably appointed university beadles, whose duty it is to keep watch
and ward so that no students fight duels in Bovden, and, above all, that
no new ideas (such as are generally obliged to remain in quarantine for
several decades outside of Göttingen) are smuggled in by speculative
private lecturers. Shepherd greeted me as one does a colleague, for he,
too, is an author, who has frequently mentioned my name in his
semi-annual writings. In addition to this, I may mention that when, as
was frequently the case, he came to cite me before the university court
and found me "not at home," he was always kind enough to write the
citation with chalk upon my chamber door. Occasionally a one-horse
vehicle rolled along, well packed with students, who were leaving for
the vacation or forever.

In such a university town there is an endless coming and going. Every
three years beholds a new student-generation, forming an incessant human
tide, where one semester-wave succeeds another, and only the old
professors stand fast in the midst of this perpetual-motion flood,
immovable as the pyramids of Egypt. Only in these university pyramids no
treasures of wisdom are buried.

From out the myrtle bushes, by Rauschenwasser, I saw two hopeful youths
appear ... singing charmingly the Rossinian lay of "Drink beer, pretty,
pretty 'Liza!" These sounds I continued to hear when far in the
distance, and after I had long lost sight of the amiable vocalists, as
their horses, which appeared to be gifted with characters of extreme
German deliberation, were spurred and lashed in a most excruciating
style. In no place is the skinning alive of horses carried to such an