There are several reasons, indeed, for the tardiprogression of a German vehicle, independently of the breed and the build of those animals that draw it along. _First._ The German never does anything in a hurry. He has more time on his hands than any other man. His days are longer—his nights are longer (though his beds are shorter) than those of an Englishman. Why then should he hurry over the pleasant journey, or curtail the salutary range of travelling exercise?—_Secondly._ A German’s luggage is twice the size and weight of an Englishman’s, besides the huge crate in which it is stowed above or behind the carriage. _Thirdly._ There is an outlay of time, labour, and expense in frequently cleaning the harness of the horses—the body, the wheels, or the leather of a carriage. This outlay is prudently avoided by the German, who trusts to the winds and rains for disencumbering his harness and eilwagen of some layers of those weighty and numerous incrustations that have slowly formed on their surface. _Fourthly._ There are no Collinge’s patent axletrees in Germany, which will hold oil for a month; and although the post-master charges some kreutzers for “grease” at every station, small is the portion of that lubricating article which reaches the hot and creaking gudgeons of the ponderous locomotive! But the primary and fundamental cause of tardiprogression in Germany may be traced to the roads themselves, which, though much improved in many places, are still villainously bad, and require the hardest and heaviest wood and iron to withstand the tremendous succussions which the vehicle is destined to experience at every step. Besides, as the German chaussée marches straight forward over hill and dale, without deigning to wind round the one, in order to evade the other, so the SCHNELL-POST must necessarily go at a snail’s pace to the end of the chapter—or, at all events, to the end of the journey. 21. _The Burschen._—Perhaps no country, except Germany, _could_ generate, or _would_ tolerate a large class of the rising generation—students by profession, but demi-ruffians by habit—who are organized in clubs, and banded in clans, for no other purpose but the violation of all law, order, decency, and morality! The supreme felicity of the Burschen is to swill beer, smoke tobacco, and fight duels. If they submit one hour in the twenty-four to the rule of the professor, they rule him, and tyrannize over others during the remainder of the day. Most of the hours that can be spared from duelling, fencing, and dancing, are dedicated to what they term “_renowning_”—that is, of working all kinds of mischief—enacting all sorts of absurdities—attracting everybody’s attention—and earning every one’s contempt and detestation. The evening and much of the night are spent in the ale-house, where the summit of the Burschen’s ambition is, who can drink most beer, smoke most tobacco—and vociferate with the loudest voice—