I left the university in my five-and-twentieth year, and, after passing another twelvemonth in a tour through southern Europe, I was upon my way to England, when I paused for a day in the village of Mauseloch, capital of the Duchy of Klein-Fleckenberg--an independent and sovereign state of which geographers make little mention, and historians still less, but which is known, at least by name, to most persons who have travelled through those pleasant districts of central Germany watered by the Rhine and its tributaries. Those ignorant of its existence, and curious of its whereabout, will do well to consult the larger and more accurate maps of that country; upon which, greatly to the credit of the topographers, they will find it noted down, although its entire superficies is scarcely more extensive than that of the private park of more than one European monarch. Its population is perhaps equal to that of the Jews' quarter in Frankfort on the Maine, and its revenue would enable a private gentleman to live in tolerably good style in London or Paris. Its standing army, which, when seen upon parade, bears a strong resemblance to a sergeant's guard, greatly distinguished itself in the wars against Napoleon, sustained dreadful losses, and by its valour, as several patriotic Klein-Fleckenbergers have informed me, decided the fate of more than one hard-fought field. In most respects Klein-Fleckenberg differs so little from many other German principalities, duchies, landgraviates, &c. &c., that description is almost superfluous. In spring it is white with the blossoms of plum and pear, fruits which constitute no unimportant article of its consumption and commerce; it is celebrated for sour kraut; its pigs yield the best of sausages; it has half a dozen corn-fields and a hop-ground, and also a mineral-spring, whose waters, although not sufficiently renowned to attract strangers, annually work miraculous cures upon sickly natives. At the time I speak of, the reigning duke was Augustus IX., an amiable and easy-going prince, whose illustrious brows were more frequently bound with a velvet smoking-cap than with a golden diadem, and whose hand, in lieu of sceptre, usually carried a riding-whip, sometimes a fowling-piece. His mild sway was lightly borne by his loyal subjects, who failed not, each successive Sabbath, to pray for his welfare and preservation, and who, if they sometimes grumbled when called upon for the contributions destined to support his princely state, imputed blame only to the tax-gatherer, and never dreamed of attaching it to their benevolent and well-beloved sovereign.