number of stone and brick buildings is small. The handsomest building in town is (or was in my day) the Laboratory, built under the supervision of Wöhler himself, since deceased. It is a large structure built of light blue stone, and perfectly fireproof. The Aula is the centre of the university, so far as it can be said to have a centre. It is a small but not inelegant-looking building, somewhat after the Grecian order, standing on a small open place or square not far from the centre of the town. In this Aula new students are matriculated and the University Court holds its sessions; it also contains the general offices of the university, such as the treasurer's, and last, but not least, the Carcer, where unruly students are confined for a fortnight or less, for minor offences; graver ones are punished by relegation or by expulsion.

Lectures on chemistry were delivered in the laboratory; those on medicine, in the Theatrum Anatomicum; all the others, including theology, law, and philosophy, in the university sense of that term, were held in the so-called Collegien-haus, a short row of buildings that had once been private dwellings, but had been converted into lecture rooms.

In 1865 the new Collegien-haus was opened, a large and elegant building constructed for the especial purpose, just out of the Wende Gate, near the Botanical Garden. By the side of the old Collegienhaus, separated from it by an arched way, stands the celebrated university library, one of the best in Europe; the building is nothing more than an old church, adapted to secular uses and enlarged here and there by irregular extensions or wings. In the arched way between the lecture rooms and the library stood the Schwarzes Brett (black board), a long board painted black and having a wire screen in front. On this board were posted all announcements relating to university instruction, announcements of lectures or changes in lectures, of degrees conferred upon students, and the like.

Besides the buildings that I have described, there are other minor ones scattered over the town; the headquarters of the Agricultural Department are even located about two miles out of town, on a model farm near the village of Wende.

It is needless to go deeper into details. I have said already enough to make it clear to the reader that a German university, as far as buildings and outward show are concerned, is made up of disjecta membra. There is a bond of vital union, a very strong one too, but it is wholly spiritual; it does not appeal to the senses. 'In architectural display, I am confident that the most unimportant College at Oxford or Cambridge will surpass any University in Germany.

STUDENT DOMESTIC LIFE.

The landlady, Frau H, was the only one who pretended to give what we call "boarding." German students, be it observel,

never board; each man lives by himself, in his own room, takes his breakfast, and generally his supper, there, but dines at the table d'hôte of a hotel or restaurant. The life, then, that I led during my first winter in Göttingen was not strictly that of a German student. My breakfast, merely rolls and coffee, was brought to my room by the servant; dinner and supper, we, i. e., myself and the other boarders, two Americans and an Englishman, had in the dining-room with our landlady. We paid so much a month for "full board," while the German student hires his room by the semester, and keeps a book account for whatever he orders, paying up at the end of every week or month.

Yet the rooms that we had were like those of every other student. The one occupied by E― being rather more typical than my own, I shall describe it in preference. It was a large square room, the two front windows facing on the street, the side window overlooking the wall as it sloped down to make an entrance for the Geismar road into the town. Off to one side was the sleeping-room, one half the size of the study. Neither room was carpeted. In one corner of the room, near the door, stood the inevitable Ofen, a big stove of porcelain reaching almost to the ceiling. The German theory of heating is to have a large stove of massive porcelain, in which your servant makes a rousing fire in the morning; after the blaze has died out, and nothing is left but the glimmering coals, the door and the clapper are made fast. The stove is then supposed to hold its heat and maintain a uniform temperature in the room. The fuel used is generally wood; even in Leipsic and Berlin, where wood is dear and coal comparatively cheap, the former is preferred for room and parlor stoves. This plan of heating has its advantages and its drawbacks. It is rather economical, and it secures a uniform temperature for a certain time; besides saving one the trouble of raking and adding fresh fuel every few hours, it dispenses with dust and ashes. The disadvantages are that the air in the room is not properly renewed, and also that the stove cools down so gradually that, before the inmate is aware, the temperature has dropped several degrees. On the whole, I prefer the American base-burner.

Another indispensable article of furniture in a student's room is the Secretar, or secretary. This consists of three parts: the lower, a set of drawers; in the middle, a sort of door that can be let down, disclosing a fascinating arrangement of pigeonholes and very small drawers for storing away letters and papers and "traps" generally; up above, a cupboard.

The ceiling of E-'s room was scored in every direction. These marks, I was informed, were the scars of old sabre-wounds that had been left there by the former inmate. As the ceiling was rather low, a tall man in reaching out for Hochquart would be apt to graze the top of the room with the point of his sabre or his Schläger. The

former inmate, judged by the number of tokens of his existence that he had left, must have kept himself and his visitors in pretty thorough practice. Against the wall, in the corner opposite the stove, hung a pair of the instruments of destruction, with masks and gloves. In the third corner was the equally inevitable sofa, upon which the student lies off to enjoy his after-dinner pipe and coffee, Over the sofa hung a picture of the Brunswick Corps, representing, in lithograph, the members of the corps holding their annual Commers (celebration) at some place in the country, perhaps Mariæ Spring. Some are sitting around a table, others are grouped picturesquely on the grass, others again are standing; but every one has a long pipe in one hand, and a Deckel-schoppen (large beer glass with a cover) in the other. E- was not a member of the corps, but he had been for some time a Conkneipant, i. e., one who attends the weekly meetings when he feels disposed, and joins in the revelry; the picture, then, was a souvenir of his old friends. Around this large picture were grouped many smaller ones, all likenesses of German and American students. Scattered around the room were pipe-bowls, stems, ash-cups, "stoppers" (curious little arms and legs of porcelain for plugging the pipes), and the other paraphernalia of smoking. Nearly all these articles were gifts. The German plan of making presents, by the way, is a curious one. Jones and Smich, we will suppose, agree to dedicate (dediciren) to each other. They select two articles of exactly the same kind and value, say two porcelain pipebowls; each pays for the other and has the inscription put on: Jones to his dear Smith, or Smith to his dear Jones (J. sm.-In. S.) The advantage of the system is that you get a keepsake of your friend without feeling that you have put yourself under obligations. Each man gives as good as he gets.

What books E-possessed were stacked up in a rather rickety set of shelves under the sabres. E- was an industrious student, but, being a chemist, was not supposed to have need of a large library. His helps to study were in the University laboratory.

Every student in a university town occupies a room like the one that I have described. The room may be larger or smaller, may be located front or back, its furniture may be more or less elegant, but the general features do not vary. The point to which I desire to call especial attention is this: every student, no matter how straitened in circumstances, has a study and a sleeping-room exclusively to himself; "chumming" is unknown in Germany, except occasionally in the large cities, Berlin and Vienna, where the disproportionately high rents force a few of the poorer students to take apartments in common. But even in Berlin and Vienna, chumming is looked upon as a last resort. The superiority of the German system is incalculable; it is more manly, it conduces to independence of study and prevents much waste of time. One who shares his room with a chum

is often at the mercy of bores; he can turn away his own visitors perhaps, but not his chum's. Besides, if two or more students wish at any time to work up a subject after the cooperative fashion, as the Germans frequently do, they can accomplish the object by simply meeting at each other's rooms. But really independent, thorough research, study that is to tell in after life, can be done only in the privacy of one's own sanctum. *

Yet, notwithstanding the advantages of the home-circle* that I was enjoying, I determined in early spring to make a change of quarters. To come to a German university and not live just as a student, seemed like visiting Rome without getting a look at the Pope. Besides, I was somewhat cramped and uncomfortable, the best rooms in the house being occupied by the older boarders. I selected, therefore, a student-room on the, Wende street, the principal street of the town, and had my books and "traps" transferred. It was a pleasant abode. The main room had three windows in front, and one on the side: the sleeping room, facing on a side street, had two windows. The furniture was altogether new, For all this comfort I paid the moderate sum of five and a half louis d'or per semester, i e., from Easter to Michaelmas, or vice versa. In university towns, this is the habitual way of renting rooms. Reckoning the louis d'or at five thalers and a half, my rental for six months was a fraction over thirty thalers, say twenty-two dollars, for more room than I needed.

Meals and fuel were of course extra. I had to make a slight outlay for table furniture, buying some knives and forks, plates, cups and saucers, napkins, and table-cloths. This was my bachelor outfit. The slight expense was more than balanced by the luxurious sense of being my own master, of being able to give a bachelor supper to my friends whenever so disposed. I continued to take my dinner with Frau H―, but breakfast and supper were in my own room. Short of being in one's own family, I doubt whether there is a more enjoyable state than that of living by one's self in hired lodgings in Germany. It is possible in New York, to say nothing of London and Paris; but in New York the expense is ruinous, and even in England and France one will miss that peculiar institution, the Dienstmädchen. The German Dienstmädchen is no more the domestique of France, or the "Bridget " of America, than Göttingen is Oxford or Harvard. She is an institution by herself, and therefore deserves especial mention. In fact, life in Germany would be scarcely what it is without her. If you wish an extra supper in the evening, you consult your Dienstmädchen; if you merely wish to send out for a glass of beer, you employ her services. She will bring home a basketful of books from the university library, make your fires, go on your thousand and one errands, and do everything for you but

* In another place the author remarks: "Whatever of conversational ability I may possess, 1 at ribate quite as much to the children as to the parents."

blacken your boots. That is the perquisite of the Stiefelfuchs. Her capacity for work and her general cheerfulness border on the marvellous. One such servant girl will wait upon six or seven students and do the family work in addition. She brings the dinner for those who take that meal in their rooms; she makes the beds and sweeps the rooms (when they are swept); in the autumn, she is sent to the family estate outside the city walls to dig potatoes by way of variety. Yet she is able and ready to dance every Sunday night from seven o'clock to two, and go about her work on Monday morning as fresh as a June rose. Her only fault is a slight shade of impertinence; not the surly, mutinous impertinence of "Bridget," but the pert forwardness of a good-natured, spoiled child. Like all privileged servants, she thinks that she knows everything much better than her master.

Students commonly take their dinner at a hotel or restaurant, paying a fixed price per month. Some few, either on account of ill-health or because they wish to economize time, dine in their rooms. This is unquestionably a pernicious habit; no one can really enjoy the principal meal of the day in solitude. But the basket used for bringing meals into the house is so practical and so peculiar that I cannot refrain from describing it. It is round, small in diameter, and very deep; a wide slit runs down one side to the bottom. Into this basket the dishes, generally four in number, are dropped one upon the other. The bottom of the first dish fits upon and into the second, the third upon the second, and so on, after the fashion of the rings used in moulding for long vertical castings. Each of the dishes has a knob that slips down the slit and is used as a handle in pulling the dish out. When the dishes are all in place and the cover is on, the whole can be easily carried quite a distance, by means of an arched handle over the top, without spilling or cooling the contents.

The reader may imagine me, then, as lodged in very comfortable sunshiny rooms on the principal street in town, nearly opposite the Church of St. James. This venerable edifice, the stones of which have grown gray-black with the lapse of centuries, is not beautiful; its outlines are too bald, its solitary tower too stiff and awkward. Still it is an attractive building; my chief pleasure in connection with it was to watch the going and coming and listen to the incessant cawing of the rooks that had built them nests under the eaves and in the chinks of the tower. Every fair day, about sunset, they flew around the tower again and again in a flock, evidently settling the affairs of the day and wishing each other good-night before retiring.

MATRICULATION AND LECTURES.

A German university is the one institution in the world that has for its motto: Time is NOT money. The university is a law unto