and each man keeps his own count—­usually by laying aside a lucifer match for each mud he empties.  The election is soon decided.  When the candidates can hold no more, a count is instituted and the one who has drank the greatest number of pints is proclaimed king.  I was told that the last beer king elected by the corps—­or by his own capabilities—­emptied his mug seventy-five times.  No stomach could hold all that quantity at one time, of course—­but there are ways of frequently creating a vacuum, which those who have been much at sea will understand.

One sees so many students abroad at all hours, that he presently begins to wonder if they ever have any working-hours.  Some of them have, some of them haven’t.  Each can choose for himself whether he will work or play; for German university life is a very free life; it seems to have no restraints.  The student does not live in the college buildings, but hires his own lodgings, in any locality he prefers, and he takes his meals when and where he pleases.  He goes to bed when it suits him, and does not get up at all unless he wants to.  He is not entered at the university for any particular length of time; so he is likely to change about.  He passes no examinations upon entering college.  He merely pays a trifling fee of five or ten dollars, receives a card entitling him to the privileges of the university, and that is the end of it.  He is now ready for business—­or play, as he shall prefer.  If he elects to work, he finds a large list of lectures to choose from.  He selects the subjects which he will study, and enters his name for these studies; but he can skip attendance.

The result of this system is, that lecture-courses upon specialties of an unusual nature are often delivered to very slim audiences, while those upon more practical and every-day matters of education are delivered to very large ones.  I heard of one case where, day after day, the lecturer’s audience consisted of three students—­and always the same three.  But one day two of them remained away.  The lecturer began as usual—­

“Gentlemen,” —­then, without a smile, he corrected himself, saying—­

“Sir,” —­and went on with his discourse.

It is said that the vast majority of the Heidelberg students are hard workers, and make the most of their opportunities; that they have no surplus means to spend in dissipation, and no time to spare for frolicking.  One lecture follows right on the heels of another, with very little time for the student to get out of one hall and into the next; but the industrious ones manage it by going on a trot.  The professors assist them in the saving of their time by being promptly in their little boxed-up pulpits when the hours strike, and as promptly out again when the hour finishes.  I entered an empty lecture-room one day just before the clock struck.  The place had simple, unpainted pine desks and benches for about two hundred persons.