poor theological students.  Both ladies asked me, in a breath, if respectable people lodged in the Hotel de Bruebach.  I assented to this question with a clear conscience, and as the charming trio drove away I waved my hand to them many times from the window.  The landlord of The Sun laughed, however, in his sleeve, being probably aware that the Hotel de Bruebach was a name bestowed by the students of Goettingen upon their university prison.

Beyond Nordheim mountain ridges begin to appear, and the traveler occasionally meets with a picturesque eminence.  The wayfarers whom I encountered were principally peddlers, traveling to the Brunswick fair, and among them there was a group of women, every one of whom bore on her back an incredibly large cage nearly as high as a house, covered over with white linen.  In this cage were every variety of singing birds, which continually chirped and sung, while their bearers merrily hopped along and chattered together.  It seemed droll thus to behold one bird carrying others to market.

The night was as dark as pitch when I entered Osterode.  I had no appetite for supper, and at once went to bed.  I was as tired as a dog and slept like a god.  In my dreams I returned to Goettingen and found myself in the library.  I stood in a corner of the Hall of Jurisprudence, turning over old dissertations, lost myself in reading, and, when I finally looked up, remarked to my astonishment that it was night and that the hall was illuminated by innumerable over-hanging crystal chandeliers.  The bell of the neighboring church struck twelve, the hall doors slowly opened, and there entered a superb colossal female form, reverentially accompanied by the members and hangers-on of the legal faculty.  The giantess, though advanced in years, retained in her countenance traces of severe beauty, and her every glance indicated the sublime Titaness, the mighty Themis.  The sword and balance were carelessly grasped in her right hand, while with the left she held a roll of parchment.  Two young Doctores Juris bore the train of her faded gray robe; by her right side the lean Court Councilor Rusticus, the Lycurgus of Hanover, fluttered here and there like a zephyr, declaiming extracts from his last hand-book of law, while on her left her cavalier servente, the privy-councilor of Justice Cujacius, hobbled gaily and gallantly along, constantly cracking legal jokes, himself laughing so heartily at his own wit that even the serious goddess often smiled and bent over him, exclaiming, as she tapped him on the shoulder with the great parchment roll, “You little scamp, who begin to trim the trees from the top!” All of the gentlemen who formed her escort now drew nigh in turn, each having something to remark or jest over, either a freshly worked-up miniature system, or a miserable little hypothesis, or some similar abortion of their own insignificant brains.  Through the open door of the hall many strange gentlemen now entered, who announced themselves as the remaining