Of Tübingen that saw its scrupulous despot
Protést against a pópe's sale of a pardon,
Ánd, at the same time, bring into the market,
Ánd to his people weigh against hard cash,
Thát which is láwful mérchandize as little

Yé that in distant lands have heard this fame,
Provide yourselves with smelling salts, I advise ye,
Ére ye come hither; put on respirators,

Green goggles and strong boóts; and when ye come,
Don't lodge where I lodged, in the Golden Lamb,

Beside the Rathhaus in the Market Place,

Whose breakneck stairs and in-swagged floors still show, Beneath the last two cénturies' dirt, the footmarks

Of Crúsius' scholars crowding, after lecture,

To eát, drink, ránt, and break more heads than Priscian's;
Here lodge not, warned, but to the Traube go,
Open your púrse-strings wide and live genteel;
And on your way to Neckar bridge ye may,

I think, without offence at Uhland's door
Loók, if so cúrious, but not knock or ring;

And should some chance throw Fichte's son across ye,
Hé is the man to answer ye the question

Why sons of wise men are so often wise;

And Táfel 's at your service, should ye neéd aught,
And rich the library and well conducted;
And the few paintings in New College Hall
May please the nót fastidious; and be sure
Ye see the lóng rows of Professors' portraits
And over hápless Frischlin's drop a tear,
And blúsh that ye are men; and take a turn
Among the cánes in the Botanic Garden;
And in the Reading Room inquire the news;
And stay not lóng, remembering health is precious;

I staid ten days - too long then northwest turned
Up th' Ámmer-Thál toward Calw my wandering step,
And snuffed a purer air, and waved adieu
To Úlrich's Castle, Rathhaus, Colleges,
Oesterberg, Spitzberg, hóspitable Tafel,

Th' outside of Úhland's door, and Tübingen.

Walking from CALW to LIEBENZELL (WÜRTTEMBERG), Nov. 3, 1855,

"IN the name of Gód we bind thee to this stake,
In the name of God heap fagots up about thee,
In the name of God set fire to them and búrn thee
Alive and crying loúd to heaven for súccor,
And thús prove to the world the truthfulness
Of our own creéd and how it mollifies
And fills with charity the human heart,
And that thy creed 's as blasphemous as false,
Th' invention of the Devil, and by God
Permitted to his enemies and those

Who have no milk of kindness in their breasts."

Such words heard Húss and Latimer and Ridley,
Jérome of Prague and Cranmer and Socinus,

And such words, reader, thou shouldst hear tomorrow,
Hadst thou but courage to stand up against

The dominant creéd, and were that creed less safe,

A trifle léss safe, less securely seized

Of its hónors, pówers, immúnities, and wealth.

Walking from LIEBENZELL (WÜRTTEMBERG) to LANGENSTEINBACH near CARLSRUHE, Nov. 4, 1855.

CASSANDRA.

"UNGRATEFUL," said Phoebus,

"That scórnest, repéllest,

Th' embrace of Apóllo,
The kiss of a Gód!

Be it só I'm contént

But thou go'st not unpúnished,
And Heaven 's not less mighty
To cúrse than to bléss.

"Disdainful, begóne!
And that nó one for ever
From henceforth may crédit
One word thy mouth útters,
I condemn thee, Cassandra,
To speák always truth.
Begóne! and as long as
Thou livest, remémber
Thy crime and mine íre!

Proud mórtal, thou 'rt doómed."

CARLSRUHE, Dec. 12, 1855.

"WHAT 's the reáson, Prométheus," once said Epimétheus

As he put his hand tó to assist the man- máker, "That when into wáter I thrów these two soúls here The little one sinks while the big one goes floating?" "I've just given the big one a doúble propórtion Of vanity's light, airy gás," said Prométheus; "Specífical lightness, you knów, makes things float." "Yes, I know to be súre, Prom," repliéd Epimétheus, "But máy I ask why you have given to the two souls This same airy gás in so different propórtions?" "The big one's a great man's soul," answered Prométheus, "The little one belongs to an évery day chúrl.” "Is the gás good or bád, minus, plús, or indifferent? "Bad; and júst because bád, given in double proportion To the great soul to bring it down to the juste milieu." "Why make the soul greát, first, and then fine it down? Were 't not simpler to make it juste mílieu at ónce?” "Can't always be dóne, Ep; the wheel turns out sometimes, In spite of my best care, one greáter one meáner; And I'm forced, that I máyn't have stepchildren and children, To take off or ádd, patch with mínus or plús. Now for minus I find nothing handier and patter, And that easier amálgamates with the perfections, Than this weightless, elástic, intangible gás, Which possésses moreover the singular virtue That, no matter how múch I pump in, no one ever

Cries "stóp!" or complains that I 've given him too múch;
And, more wonderful still, it's no matter how bádly-,
How hálf-made, a chúrl may drop out of the wheel,
The first whiff of this gás at once mákes him contént,
Makes him certain I 've never put out of my hands

A more finished, more faúltless, more élegant creáture;
Well pleased with himself, he 's well pleased with his máker,
I'm praised, and he 's happy, and áll goes on right.
Cut off, or but stint, the supply of this gás,

And my wheel 's at a stánd, or we 're in insurréction."
"Thou tell'st wónders; canst with a small sample oblige me
Of the mágical stúff to try ón my dumb creátures?”

"Thou shalt not have one oúnce - what a world we 'd have of it
Were both men and beasts vain! No, upon the great landmarks
Thou must not lay a finger; beasts must still remain beásts,
Gods be Gods and men mén; and without the stuff thoú
Hast with thý children less care and trouble, believe me,
Than Í, even with all its best hélp, have with mine."
No more said Prométheus but ón with his work went,
And to his beasts, thoughtful, retúrned Epimétheus.
CARLSRUHE, Dec. 18, 1855.

O INSCRÚTABLE jústice and mérey and wisdom! Unabashed in thy fáce looks the apple, the sinner; The innocent peár droops its head, bears the sháme. CARLSRUHE, Dec. 28, 1855.