For some time I lay stunned by the fall. A pain in my head and the coolness of the ground woke me at last. At first I could not think whether I had fallen out of bed at home, or what was the matter. At last I remembered, that I had fallen down from some very high region. With some anxiety I examined my limbs; nothing was broken, only my head pained me from the fall. I was in a cellar, the daylight shone in dimly, the light of a candle was dying out upon the table, there were bottles and glasses about, before every chair a little bottle with a long label about its neck. Ah, now I remembered everything. I was in Bremen, in the rathskeller; I had come in here last night, had been locked in, and then----. Full of horror I looked about me. I ventured to cast shy glances into the corners of the room; it was empty. Or was it possible I could have dreamed it all? Thoughtfully I walked around the table; the little sample-bottles stood where my strange guests had sat. First Rose, then Judas, James, and John. “No, a dream cannot be so like reality,” I said to myself. “All this that I heard and saw did actually occur!” But there was no time for further reflections. I heard keys rattle in the lock, it was slowly opened, and the old rathsdiener entered saying: “It has just struck six.” _Wilhelm Hauff_ (1802-1827). _THE DUEL WITH THE DEVIL._ MEANWHILE something occurred which I[4] must not pass over, as it may serve as a commentary to the customs of this peculiar nation. I had been for some time an ardent visitor at the anatomy-rooms, for I was anxious to make the acquaintance of medical students. It happened one day that I was busying myself about a corpse with several friends, dissecting the organs of the mind, the brain, and heart in order to deduce the absurdity of the belief in immortality. Suddenly I heard a voice behind me, “The devil, how stifling!” I quickly turned and saw a young student of theology, who had already excited my wrath in a dogmatic lecture by the ardour and gusto with which he had taken notes of the ridiculous conjectures of the professor on the nature of the diabolical. Hearing him make this remark, which at that moment, and from him, I took as referring wholly to myself, I told him pretty strongly that I objected to such personal and insinuating expressions. According to the ancient sacred law called “Comment,” this was an insult which could only be obliterated with blood. The theologian, a famous bravo, sent me his challenge the next day. This was just such a lark as I had been hoping for. Whoever cared for the good opinion of his fellow-students was expected to have a duel on record, although all of my friends admitted the custom to be utterly irrational and unnatural. I had prevailed upon my opponent to have the affair come off at a public resort, a couple of miles outside the town, and both parties put in an appearance at the designated place and time.