Soon after stopping to lunch, we came in sight of the Rhine, with the dark woods of the Black Forest forming a background, and also the frontier of the Austrian territory. Weary and still delighted with the day, I was glad to hear the guides exclaim that Basle was before us. The Rhine divides the city into two parts. Crossing the bridge, we proceeded at once to the University. Bonnevard was there, and in the society of my friend I forgot for the time every other consideration. It was two weeks before I left, and in that time I had learned many things, attending lectures with my friend, and enjoying the society of some of the most illustrious names in literature and science. After the lectures, Bonnevard was to go to Fribourg; and it was with a view to accompanying him that I remained in Basle. Passing over the bridge and through the little city, we left the canton, and entered Germany by the territories of the grand duke of Baden. The Rhine was on our left, the Black Forest, covering a series of rugged hills, at some distance on our right; and we found a rich and beautiful landscape at every step. Climbing the brow of a hill about twelve miles from Basle, we obtained a charming view of the windings of the river--the broad valley through which it passes, the dark undulations of the forest, the towers and spires of the distant city, and the long line of Alps in the background, rising in inexpressible grandeur and glittering in the beams of the morning sun. This was our last of the Rhine; our road taking the direction of the Black Forest, and skirting it all the way to Fribourg. On the way, Bonnevard gave me many sketches of real life, one of which, from having seen the person in Basle, interested me deeply. The Black Forest was formerly, and is now at certain seasons, greatly infested by wolves. It so happened that a government officer, passing to Vienna, was pursued by a ravenous pack of these animals; the postilion spurred his horses until they began to flag, and the wolves were gaining upon them. The officer feeling assured that all was lost, was about giving himself up to be devoured, when a woodcutter and his son emerged from the forest, armed only with knives or short daggers. The hungry pack were diverted, and in the struggle that followed, the postilion whipped up his horses and escaped. On reaching Vienna, the officer sent back to see what had been the fate of the woodcutter. A desperate battle had been fought; the father killed five of the largest wolves, and then, seeing that escape was impossible, implored the boy to fly, saving the life of his son by the sacrifice of his own. In admiration for this deed, the people placed the family of the woodcutter beyond want; and the lad showing a rare aptitude to learn, and expressing only a wish to study, was sent to Basle, where he soon distinguished himself as a scholar, and bids fair to become a man of mark.