town in its full mastery. If any one wants to see a written proof of the true notion of a German professor on this subject, let him turn to the aforesaid " 'History of the Eighteenth Century," by Schlosser, now translated into English, and note how he rates the English ladies for writing books, telling them that they ought to be in their kitchens or educating their children. Unfortunately, a German lady is, thanks to the learned professors, seldom fit either to write a book or educate her children. Accomplished according to the professors' doctrine, that they shall be mere household slaves and entertainers of their lords, the women, especially in these towns, and in the very thickest atmosphere of this doctrine, dance, cook, read a mass of trashy novels, and fill up that wide space in their minds where solid information and elevated moral sentiments should reside, with the poorest gossip and the most frivolous pastimes. The consequences of this are most deplorable. The whole tone of the female mind is lowered to the last degree. To dance, to sit on the chief seats at the little concerts of the town, to run after, and carry about the petty cabals, and bickerings, and slanders of the day,-good heavens! what a pitiable world is the female world of a little German university town! In the very circles of their Kränzchen, where the men and their wives meet, the men do not think the women worth any attention. They sit at separate tables; the ladies knitting, and

abusing their servants, or their neighbours, the philosophers philosophizing.

There is seldom any amount of a higher class of society resident in these little places, and professors' wives, and lady-lodging-house-keepers, mingle in their companies, and give the tone to the place. They see and know nothing of the world at large. The standards of morals and opinions which guide the more-informed classes of mankind are unknown there. They have a standard of their own, and woe to the stranger that dares to call it in question. Good people of England, travel where you will, and settle where you will, but only avoid the little German University town.

A writer in the Allgemeine Zeitung of last March, draws the following most living picture of the spirit and plagues of a little University town:—

I know well what is said of the evils of the lesser Universities; and which, in the celebrated work of an excellent historian has been, with bitter emphasis, pronounced of them, as they appeared in the eighteenth century. I know how the spirit of caste in their Professors is seriously complained of, whose taste is effected by "Kleinstädterei;" of the narrowness of their views from these causes; what is said of the nuisance of petty squabbles which here make their home; of the intrigues which, for want of greater objects, fling themselves

on the lesser, and worry them to death. I know that the small Universities are reproached with being the birth-places of coteries which advance only their own members; that parties there find an auspicious field, in which, according to their nature, they form connexions and alliances, so that family interests cross those of the University; and the side on which a man is, and not his ability, promotes him; that the endeavour to attract hearers induces them often to strike into ways which do not befit the dignity of science; and that the danger is great that this petty spirit also seize on the students; yes, that this is actually the case, and that therefore on this account, it is desirable that the young, removed from these sordid influences to larger Universities, may there accustom themselves to more important objects of attention, and to loftier sentiments."

It is true that the writer goes on to point out the peculiar dangers to students in large cities, and is not quite inclined to remove the Universities altogether from small places, as many are, because he deems the students, by zealous association together, and their daily study, to be more removed from the evil influences than the inhabitants themselves; but the picture which he has drawn he leaves as it is a melancholy reality.

CHAPTER IV.

BUT as you are going to settle somewhere for a time, either in the little town or the large, let me consider how you shall best locate yourself there. How you shall, as much as possible, avoid the snares and annoyances that so many fall into, and secure all the advantages to be had. It is to be hoped that you have already in the place where you design to settle, friends or acquaintance who can give you the invaluable benefit of their experience. Happy are you if this be the case; but if it be not, as is but too common, then take mine.

There are three modes of settling yourselves. One, in ready-furnished lodgings by the month or quarter; the second, in lodgings unfurnished, which must of course be for a longer period; the third, in your own regularly hired house by the year. The safest and best plan, if you are a stranger in the place and country, is to take lodgings for a quarter, by which means you give yourself time and opportunity to judge better of the suitableness of the town for your purposes; and if that answer your expecta

tion, of the best locality and lodgings in it. You by this time also acquire some knowledge of the language and people you are amongst.

We will suppose you, then, just arrived at the place in which you propose to settle for some time. At your inn you will inquire for directions to suitable lodgings. You will at once have a commissionaire sent to you, who will conduct you to all or any of such in the town as are usually let. But you must judge freely for yourself, and lay but little stress on the recommendations of your commissionaire. Those men who hang about the doors of all continental hotels as guides, are useful, but often most artful and imposing rogues. Their object, like that of most other tradesmen, is to make all they can, especially out of the foreigner. They are, therefore, in the pay of the lodginghouse-keepers, and where they are the highest feed, will crack off the lodgings of those people as the most esteemed by all the highest English families who have been there; the most genteel, the most comfortable, the most healthy, the most charming in summer, the most everything in fact— and the people of the house, who are perhaps the veriest knaves and sharpers in existence, as the epitome of all the virtues. Use, therefore, your eyes rather than your ears, and do not suddenly fix on any one. Go round, and give yourself a little trouble to see as many as you can; taking notes of the rent demanded in each case, of the