A confused sound of voices came from the inn, as we drew near; groups of students were standing around the door.  In the entry we saw the Red Fisherman, one of the most conspicuous characters about the University.  He is a small, stout man, with bare neck and breast, red hair, whence his name, and a strange mixture of roughness and benevolence in his countenance.  He has saved many persons at the risk of his own life, from drowning in the Neckar, and on that account is leniently dealt with by the faculty whenever he is arrested for assisting the students in any of their unlawful proceedings.  Entering the room I could scarcely see at first, on account of the smoke that ascended from a hundred pipes.  All was noise and confusion.  Near the door sat some half dozen musicians who were getting their instruments ready for action, and the long room was filled with tables, all of which seemed to be full and the students were still pressing in.  The tables were covered with great stone jugs and long beer glasses; the students were talking and shouting and drinking.—­One who appeared to have the arrangement of the meeting, found seats for us together, and having made a slight acquaintance with those sitting next us, we felt more at liberty to witness their proceedings.  They were all talking in a sociable, friendly way, and I saw no one who appeared to be intoxicated.  The beer was a weak mixture, which I should think would make one fall over from its weight before it would intoxicate him.  Those sitting near me drank but little, and that principally to make or return compliments.  One or two at the other end of the table were more boisterous, and more than one glass was overturned on the legs below it.  Leaves containing the songs for the evening lay at each seat, and at the head, where the President sat, were two swords crossed, with which he occasionally struck upon the table to preserve order.  Our President was a fine, romantic-looking young man, dressed in the old German costume, which is far handsomer than the modern.  I never saw in any company of young men, so many handsome, manly countenances.  If their faces were any index of their characters, there were many noble, free souls among them.  Nearly opposite to me sat a young poet, whose dark eyes flashed with feeling as he spoke to those near him.  After some time passed in talking and drinking together, varied by an occasional air from the musicians, the President beat order with the sword, and the whole company joined in one of their glorious songs, to a melody at the same time joyous and solemn.  Swelled by so many manly voices it rose up like a hymn of triumph—­all other sounds were stilled.  Three times during the singing all rose up, clashed their glasses together around the tables and drank to their Fatherland, a health and blessing to the patriot, and honor to those who struggle in the cause of freedom, at the close thundering out their motto: 

    “Fearless in strife, to the banner still true!”