youths, I had some little curiosity to see one of their duels, and I expressed myself to that effect to the young Baron Von***. He turned himself to a friend who was quietly smoking his pipe at my side, and, pointing to a tall Westphalian, playing at billiards "Du sollst ihn corrimirn'* lieber, der Englander will was sehen,"-"you must go and insult him; the Englishman wishes to see some fun." Upon this an affair was soon got up: the Westphalian went on with his game, and der herr Baron" with his pipe, for the rest of the evening. The next day these heroes met, and the paraphernalia of the battle were arranged. In most of the German universities, the schläger is the offensive weapon, excepting in Jena, where the rapier is the favourite. These schlägers are remarkably sharp, and the wound which they give heals very kindly. The first thing to be done is to measure the distance: this is effected by the two se conds. Each takes a full lunge, and stretches out his sword until the points cross. The space thus covered is marked off by two chalk-lines; and if, during the combat, either the one or other of the combatants should step over these lines, he instantly comes into "verchiss," and can only recover his honour by fighting with two of any of the landsmandschaften. The ground being measured off, we went to dress our friend. His shoulders and breasts were stript to the shirt; a thick band, well stuffed, and sword-proof, was tied round the waist, in order to protect the stomach. The fore part of the thigh and the neck were also guarded, and the sword-arm bandaged from the wrist to about half way up to the arm-pit; so that, in fact, nothing but the face and chest were exposed. The two seconds, who are very active, are dressed nearly in the same fashion, only they do not disencumber themselves of any portion of their clothing. The business of the second is to rush in, and prevent any “ nachhieb," or after-blow, when the umpire has called "halt" this, of course, subjects them to no small portion of the danger. They are armed with blunt weapons, and stick close to the left side of

their principals. In fact, a good second is one of the requisites to a successful duel. The seconds now gave the word of command, "los," and immediately our youths began playing with consummate skill. The first round produced nothing. A second and third were chalked off. On the fourth, however, the Baron received a slight wound in the forehead, which terminated the battle. Twelve rounds is the ultimatum of any duel.

This may serve to give you some idea of the generality of the studentduels; some, however, are of a much more serious cast. The degree of the duel, if I may so express myself, depends upon that of the insult. If you have no particular enmity, you can resort to the "practischen-gang," in which the points only of the weapons are sharpened. If you have called your antagonist "dummer junge,”-stupid fellow, then the mode which I have described is necessary to expiate the of ence; but "hunde-fuss,"-hound'sfoot, is the height of verbal offence, and then it is necessary to fight without "cap or bandage." When any one has got credit for being a good swords man, he is, in general, obliged to fight more duels than he dreamt of. In the first place, he is usually nominated to restore the fallen honour of the youths who have come into "verchiss," of whom, probably, he knows nothing. In the second place, he is the man chosen by each "fuchs," (fox, a term answering to our "freshman,”) who is ambitious of becoming " ein echter studiosus," as an antagonist; and they, of course, find a method of parading him. In short, I have known eighteen duels to have been fought during the semestre, by the same individual. Where an unseemly wound, four or five inches long, is the penalty which a man must pay, if he do not learn the broad-sword, of course, each bursche devotes no small portion of his time to the exercise. Each clan, or landsmanschaft, has an appointed time daily for exercising among themselves; independent of which, each man generally practises with the fighting master one hour a-day; so that a degree of skill is acquired which is

often very astonishing, and which, I think, is one of the causes of the slight results of the student-duels. I have known many who had such a command of the weapon, that if they did not wish to inflict a wound, they were certain of not suffering themselves. The duels at Jena, however, are far more dangerous. The number of fatal results is much greater than is generally known. The rapier inflicts so very small a wound, so very difficult to be seen except by an experienced eye, owing to the elasticity of the skin, that most of the sudden deaths which are given out as caused by apoplexies, &c., &c., are, in short, nothing more nor less than the effects of duelling. The quarrels of the students among themselves, I have said, are not very deadly now and then they are fatal, but they rarely end in anything more than a disfigured face, or a tranchant wound of the breast. There is, however, a prolific and mortal host of battles between the officers and students. The enmity which exists between these two classes of persons is inconceivable by us. It arises, however, naturally enough. The officers, generally speak ing, are reckoned by the students as the instruments of despotism; and the former look upon the latter as a set of wild fanatics. The students imagine themselves to be the guardian genii of national liberty, and regard the military as mortal foes to their most hallowed feelings. So frequent were these fracas in the south of Germany, that the Grand Duke of Baden was obliged to remove troops which were quartered at Heidelberg to Schwetzingen, situated about two leagues from this university. The officers rarely now visit these romantic and magnificent scenes of the Neckar Thal; and those that do, are generally brothers or friends of some of the students. The weapon which is generally used in the combats between the students and officers is the pistol. The sword is so certain in the hands of the Burschen, that few, except one of their own fraternity, have an equal chance. These duels are, for the most part, premeditated murders. If the insult have been a blow, it is expiated only by death. A space of four or six feet is marked off by lines; each man retires a certain given distance, perhaps twenty paces, on the other side of his line, and here

a barrier is erected. He may discharge his pistol at any distance between the barrier and the line, but, should he miss, must come up to the line, and stand to be shot by his antagonist, who has now the power of approaching as near as the line on his side. You are compelled to kill, for the duel can only be terminated by the death of one. One of these duels happened between a young student of Heidelberg, and a Prussian officer, quartered at Mayence. The student was shot in the pistol arm, and disabled. After three months, he again went out, and was once more so dangerously wounded as to be obliged to quit the field; he again recovered, and was shot dead at the third time. I trust, for the credit of human nature, that this may not be true. I was informed of his death about six months after I had quitted that portion of Germany. It was mentioned to me as a matter of interest, as I had had some slight acquaintance with him.

I cannot, however, close this long account, without mentioning one fact; for fact I must think it, as it was affirmed to me as such from the mouth of the Elbe to the Rhone. If a Prussian officer be struck, he cannot serve again, even though he shall challenge the assaulter. The only mode by which he is considered as worthy of associa ting with his brother-officers again, is by killing the man on the spot! I have had no opportunity of verifying this, which, however, I have often heard. There is one circumstance which occurred not very long ago in Berlin, that may probably be regarded as furnishing something in proof of its truth. A descendant of a famous Prussian field-marshal, himself an officer in the Hussars, was detected by the husband in intriguing with an actress. The husband, if I remember right, either struck or collared him; upon which the young officer thrust a poniard into his side. The wound, however, was not mortal. The officer, I am told, is as noble as he is high in rank, and therefore was probably actuated to such conduct only by the certainty of the disgrace which would have ensued, had he been struck without attempting to wipe it thus off.

Yours, &c.

J. G.

PURSUING Our plan, as laid out in our last Number, we hasten to work ourselves clear of a labyrinth, into which we precipitated ourselves not long ago, by supplying our omissions, and correcting our errors-(a subject upon which the less we say, the better,) without making any fuss about them. We have high authority for this-(when they venture upon such thing as the voluntary correction of a blunder-or a-we won't say what) in our brethren of the Quarterly and Edinburgh Reviews.

ADAMS, HANNAH. This lady, if we are not mistaken, is a sister of John Adams, late President of the United States. John Quincy Adams, of whom we have already spoken, is, of course, a nephew of hers. Women, we look upon as a privileged class; but some of their amusements, it cannot be denied, are of a serious turn,-and some of their graver studies, rather amusing. This lady, for example, has written a large book-and a very useful book too, for the laity-which is called, A DICTIONARY OF RELIGIONS. -We know nothing else of her as a writer: nor as a woman, except, perhaps, that she was one of the most benevolent of human creatures. We remember a little anecdote of her. She was remarkably absent. She set off one day, a-foot and alone, to hear a celebrated preacher: passed by the very door of the "meeting-house," within reach of his voice: made her way, through the crowd assembled in the road and held on her way, until the strange, wild appearance of the road made her stop. A traveller overtook her. She inquired her way to the "meeting-house:" expressed her astonishment, when she learnt the truth: and returned upon her steps,-passing by the door, as before-through the same crowd, and returned, as she went, without having heard the preacher.

ADAMS, JOHN QUINCY. In speaking of this writer, lately, we said that he had written only one book.-The "Letters from Silesia," which were made into a book here, without autho

rity, by a London bookseller, were mere newspaper scribbling. The correspondence of Mr Adams, as a negotiator-a Minister abroad, and Secretary of State at home, has not been collected. It may be found in the "American State Papers ;" is always able-and sometimes masterly.

ALSTON, WASHINGTON-the painter. This fine artist has written some poetry and, we are sorry to say, one poem-called the "Paiut King." There are, certainly, two or three fine passages in it; but we never knew whether Mr Alston is making fun of M. G. Lewis-or imitating him: whether he is caricaturing the extravagance of another; or playing off his own-under cover : whether he is in earnest or not. As a painter, he knows very well that any such equivocal disclosures of intention, or design, would be the death of an artist, whatever were his merit, in other matters.-Nobody can mistake the purpose of the following lines; wherefore everybody enjoys

His teeth were calcined, and his tongue was so dry,

It

rattled against them, as though you should try

To play the piano with thimbles."— A touch, by the way, quite Shakspearean; as, where the bard says,

"The poor beetle that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies."

No doubt: but quere-how great a pang does the poor beetle find, when a giant dies?

Let us return. Caricature M. G. Lewis, if you will; burlesque anybody's poetry, and welcome: turn what you please into ridicule; butin mercy to us-in mercy to yourself -let your purpose be unequivocal. We may laugh in the wrong place, else; and mistake your poetry for

nonsense.

The truth may be, perhaps, that Mr Alston ran ashore, like many a "good fellow before him, while trying to steer two courses at once. Perhaps he began, with a serious design, to manufacture some "godlike poetry:" pushed on, with tolerable success, until he took fire;-when, afraid of being laughed at, he put himself out. We have known many such catastrophes. People begin seriously say something, by and by; or do something, very extravagant-just on the confines of the ridiculous-just balancing between sublimity and burlesque -when, afraid of having it caricatured, or misrepresented, or mistakenor tilted over, into the gulph, by another, they even tilt it over themselves, and have the credit of it: like smugglers, who, when the duties are high, and the informer is well paid, inform against themselves, and make money by the job; or, perhaps, Mr Alston began the poem in a frolic; worked away, helter-skelter, until he had written something more seriously than he desired-and much better than he wished: when, like many a living author, whom we could name,-without patience or self-denial enough to preserve the idea, till it would come in play-discretion enough to throw it aside altogether; or dexterity enough to interweave it, without spoiling the whole piece-he lugs it in, to the ruin of his original plan. Some poets, afraid of being caricatured by others, take the trouble to caricature themselves. If they run their head against a post, they always begin the laugh. If they do anything very foolish, they know well enough, that if they don't tell of it, somebody else will. Thus Homer, after his absurd comparison of armies to bees-protected himself by his frogs and mice. Thus Cowper, in his "Task, and "Gilpin," laid an anchor to windward. Thus M. G. Lewis, in his "Giles Jollop the grave, and the Brown Sally Greene," secured himself, and all his admirers, for ever, from eternal ridicule.-It reminds us of a friend's advice-" If you ever offer yourself to a woman," said he, "do it so, that if she refuse you, she herself shall never be able to tell whether you were in earnest or not."So, too, with Lord Byron. What is Beppo-what is Don Juan, but a caricature of Childe Harold?-the very point on which that incoherent poem

was most vulnerable, And Mr Moore's criticism on his Lallah Rookh, put into the mouth of Fadladeen-what was that, but offering himself in such a way, that, if he were rejected, we should never know whether he were serious or not?-You are surprised. We could mention fifty more of these contrivances, to escape accountability and ridicule. Point us out a single writer, of any age-if you can -who has not been guilty of them ;or one, who has not been diverted from his original design, by accidental thoughts-rhymes-or mistaken scratches of a pen ;-like a painter, by a blot; a captain, or a chess-player, by an accidental move. Point us out a single one, who, when he is waggishly disposed, can bear to lose an eloquent or affecting passage, if it pop into his head; or one, who, when he is running before the wind-with absolute poetry-every sail set-has enough self-denial to hold on his way, in spite of a joke: one who-if it be good for anything, will not find a place for it sooner or later-as he would, in chase, for a man overboard

for drift wood, with great carbuncles growing to it-or for a dolphin tumbling in his wake.

Long after the appearance of the "Paiut King," Mr Alston wrote some lines upon the Peak of Chimborazo, in which was one passage of extraordinary power. He describes it, after nightfall,-overtopping the other mountains-rejoicing in the sun-set-and luminous with royalty.

"Thou of the purple robe and diadem of gold!"

he says:-a line worth his "Paiut King,"-the whole of it forty times over. Let no man venture to pronounce positively upon the first movements of genius.-It is very painful to us-of course-to allude again to the Edinburgh castigation of Lord Byron, (a

castigation, by the way, that made Lord Byron; but for that, he would, probably, have lived, and been forgotten: that stung him into "convulsive life;") but we would warn everybody on this point. It is in the history of all extraordinary men. All have endured a like trial. They are all exposed, in their infancy, to a seasoning like that of the Spartan children. It is fatal to the weak-none but the offspring of the giants can outlive it. H.

K. White perished. Mr Alston, him self, had a picture shown to him one day. "What is your opinion ?-speak freely, I pray you," said a person to him. Mr A. declined. He was really unwilling. The other insisted-" It was the work of a young friend. He must have Mr A.'s opinion." "Well, then," said he "well, then, to deal plainly with you-it is a wretched affair. There is no ground for hope not even for hope. Let him give up the idea. He never can make a painter."-"It was painted by yourself.""No!-impossible."-" It was-look there is your name; and here-see -here is the date-only seven years ago, you perceive."

Another warning to those, who give out a rash judgment upon the youthful. Many a brave heart has been broken by the hasty word of a critic; and many a critic has persevered-like the lawgivers of the Medes and Persiansin maintaining every decree-right or wrong, after it had once gone forth.

Mr Leslie, himself, is another example. While he was yet an apprentice, in a book store, his mother, finding that his heart was fixed upon drawing, consulted with Mr Rembrandt Peale, the historical and portrait painter. "No," said Mr Peale, who is a man of ten thousand, for honesty-" no, madam. Ours is a miserable business, at best. There is nothing remarkable in these little sketches by your son. Advise him to give up the notion altogether: Discourage him. Even, if he should succeed: if he should be able to paint as good a picture as I do-he will only be, as I am-after a long life of labour, miserably poor." Such was the effect of this advicewell meant, and seriously given-that Mr Leslie returned, like a galley slave, to the counter; and remained quiet, for a whole year. His nature broke out anew, then he made some fine sketches (of Cooke and Cooper the actors :) excited attention: His master tore up his indentures-let him go free; and a purse was made up, to send him over the waters, for education.

for its beauty, by the critics; and all over, the next, for its faultiness, by the same critics: the Chatterton papers: the Shakspeare papers (by a boy of seventeen :) the Angerstein picture, chosen, we believe, by Mr West and Sir Thomas Laurence: What are all these, but so many warnings to you?

BARLOW JOEL. Author of the CoLUMBIAD, a prodigious poem, with nothing in it so bad-so miserably bad— as one may find in almost every page of Milton: with many passages, which, if such kind of poetry were not entirely done with, in this world-and for ever (we hope)-would be thought very good: and-and-and that is all. We can't, for our souls, work out another word in favour of the poem-whatever we may, concerning the poet-who was really a very good sort of a manvery honest-and very American: although he did give up the ghost at the chariot-wheels of Napoleon Buonapartc while tugging after him, in his Russian expedition.

BARTON, Dr. A writer of considerable merit; and author, among other works, of one, upon MEDICAL BOTANY, the reputation of which is high, among men of science.

BELKNAP, Dr. A theologian, we believe. This gentleman has written a History of New Hampshire, one of the six New England States, in three vols. 8vo. It is a large, faithful, heavy, tiresome compilation, which anybody may read-if he can-without peril to his orthodoxy. A long time ago, one Mr Plumer, a lawyer-but, we believe, a very honest man-undertook to get up a history of the state (of which, by the way, he has been governor, since) in better style. He has been about it something like half a century: the state, we should observe, contains about 240,000 inhabitants: and being a very shrewd, positive, conscientious, clear-headed, perpendicular old gentleman-who puts down just so much as he can swear to, and no more, the probability is, that by the end of another half century, or thereabouts, he will have made a book, entirely worthy of his native state. But he must work hard; or he won't keep up with the alterations.

BENEZET, ANTHONY. This benevolent creature-the Howard of Ame rica-wrote a little work a long time ago, called, "Some Historical Account of Guinea." The abolition of the slave