by that non-pareil of generals, J.G.  MACK!—­into the power of Bonaparte... almost without pulling a trigger on either side—­the place itself being considered, at the time, one of the strongest towns in Europe.  These things, I say, rushed upon my memory, when, on the immediate descent into Ulm, I caught the first view of the tower of the MINSTER ... which quickly put Marlborough, and Mack, and Bonaparte out of my recollection.

I had never, since quitting the beach at Brighton, beheld such an English-like looking cathedral—­as a whole; and particularly the tower.  It is broad, bold, and lofty; but, like all edifices, seen from a neighbouring and perhaps loftier height, it loses, at first view, very much of the loftiness of its character.  However, I looked with admiration, and longed to approach it.  This object was accomplished in twenty minutes.  We entered Ulm about two o’clock:  drove to an excellent inn (the White Stag—­which I strongly recommend to all fellow-travellers) and ordered our dinner to be got ready by five; which, as the house was within a stone’s cast of the cathedral, gave us every opportunity of visiting it before hand.  The day continued most beautiful:  and we sallied forth in high spirits, to gaze at and to admire every object of antiquity which should present itself.

You may remember my mentioning, towards the close of my last despatch, that a letter was lying upon the table, directed to one of the Professors of the University, or gymnase, of this place.  The name of that Professor was VEESENMEYER; a very respectable, learned, and kind-hearted gentleman.  I sought his house (close to the cathedral) the very first thing on quitting the hotel.  The Professor was at home.  On receiving my letter, by the hands of a pretty little girl, one of his daughters, M. Veesenmeyer made his appearance at the top of a short stair case, arrayed in a sort of woollen, quilted jacket, with a green cloth cap on, and a pipe in his mouth—­which latter seemed to be full as tall as himself.  I should think that the Professor could not be taller than his pipe, which might be somewhere about five feet in length.  His figure had an exceedingly droll appearance.  His mode of pronouncing French was somewhat germanized; but I strained every nerve to understand him, as my valet was not with me, and as there would have been no alternative but to have talked Latin.  I was desirous of seeing the library, attached to the cathedral.  “Could the Professor facilitate that object?” “Most willingly—­” was his reply—­“I will write a note to * * the librarian:  carry it to him, and he will shew you the library directly, if he be at home.”  I did as he desired me; but found the number of the house very difficult to discover—­as the houses are numbered, consecutively, throughout the town—­down one street and up another:  so that, without knowing the order of the streets through which the numbers run, it is hardly possible for a stranger to proceed.