"Der
Freischutz," which appeared in 1820, and of which a selection was
given in London, under Weber's direction, in 1825. The last of Weber's
compositions, "From Chindara's warbling fount," was written for Miss
Stephens, who sang it to his accompaniment "the last time his fingers
touched the key-board." (See "Dict. of Music," "Stephens" and "Weber."))
Before we got into our lodgings, we were staying at the Star Hotel in
Princes St., where to my surprise I met with an old schoolfellow, whom I
like very much; he is just come back from a walking tour in Switzerland
and is now going to study for his [degree?] The introductory lectures
begin next Wednesday, and we were matriculated for them on Saturday; we
pay 10s., and write our names in a book, and the ceremony is finished;
but the Library is not free to us till we get a ticket from a Professor.
We just have been to Church and heard a sermon of only 20 minutes. I
expected, from Sir Walter Scott's account, a soul-cutting discourse of 2
hours and a half.

I remain your affectionate son, C. DARWIN.

LETTER 2. TO CAROLINE DARWIN. January 6th, 1826. Edinburgh.

Many thanks for your very entertaining letter, which was a great relief
after hearing a long stupid lecture from Duncan on Materia Medica, but
as you know nothing either of the Lectures or Lecturers, I will give you
a short account of them. Dr. Duncan is so very learned that his wisdom
has left no room for his sense, and he lectures, as I have already
said, on the Materia Medica, which cannot be translated into any word
expressive enough of its stupidity. These few last mornings, however, he
has shown signs of improvement, and I hope he will "go on as well as
can be expected." His lectures begin at eight in the morning. Dr. Hope
begins at ten o'clock, and I like both him and his lectures VERY much
(after which Erasmus goes to "Mr. Sizars on Anatomy," who is a charming
Lecturer). At 12 the Hospital, after which I attend Monro on Anatomy. I
dislike him and his lectures so much, that I cannot speak with decency
about them. Thrice a week we have what is called Clinical lectures,
which means lectures on the sick people in the Hospital--these I like
very much. I said this account should be short, but I am afraid it has
been too long, like the lectures themselves.

I will be a good boy and tell something about Johnson again (not but
what I am very much surprised that Papa should so forget himself as call
me, a Collegian