ous with its steaming orange fluid, is
placed at the head of the table. How the meek bookseller's clerks shine
out! They are all voice now. And we drink a "Lebe hoch!" to Gottlob far
away; and to Gottlob's mother, and to Gottlob's father, chinking our
glasses merrily every time, and draining them after each draught on our
thumb nails, to show how faithfully we have honoured the toasts. We
shout "Vivat h-o-o-o;" till the old German oven quakes again.

"Sing, fair Louise, I prithee sing!" Louise is troubled with a cold, of
course; and, after due persuasion, lisps and murmurs some incoherent
tremblings; exceedingly pretty, no doubt, if we could only make out what
they meant. Then the student, who, although diminutive, has the voice of
a giant, shouts a university song with the Latin chorus:--

"Edite, bebite, collegiales,
Post multa saecula procula nulla!"

"Eat ye then, drink ye then, social companions,
Centuries hence and your cups are no more!"

The mildest of the clerks comes out well with Kotzebue's philosophical
song:--

"Es kann ja nicht immer so bleiben,
Hier unter den wechselnden Mond;
Es bluht eine Zeit und verwelket,
Was mit uns die Erde bewhont."

"It cannot remain thus for ever,
Here under the changeable moon;
For earthly things bloom but a season,
And wither away all too soon."

The spruce gentleman with the crisp hair throws back his head, and with
closed eyes warbles melodiously:--

"Einsich bin ich nicht allein."

"Alone I'm not in solitude."

The butcher has forgotten his dignity, and joins vigorously in every
chorus. At this crisis Louise gracefully retires, leaving us to our
replenished bowl.

"My friends!" shouts the student, mounting on a chair, "listen to me for
a moment." And then he plunges into an eloquent discourse upon the
beauties of fraternity, and the union of nations, concluding his harangue
by proposing a "Lebe hoch" to Alcibiade and myself. Alcibiade is
decidedly the lion of the evening, and bears his honours gracefully, like
a well-tamed creature. "Se sollen leben! Vivat ho--o!" it roars in our
ears, and amid its echoes we duly acknowledge the compliment.

"That's beautiful!" exclaims the student, whose name, by the bye, is
Pimblebeck. "And now grant me one other favour. Thou Briton, and thou
son of France, let us drink brotherhood together. What say ye? Let it
be no longer 'you' and 'yours' between us, but