Here is Professor Niebuhr holding up a bright example to our friends who fear to look ridiculous in rifle clubs: "On the evacuation of Berlin by the French in February, 1813, Niebuhr shared in the national rejoicings, and not less in the enthusiasm displayed in the preparations for the complete re-conquest of freedom. When the Landwehr was called out, he refused to evade serving in it, as he could take no other part in the war. His wish was to act as secretary to the general staff; but if this were not possible, he meant to enter the service as a volunteer with some of his friends. For this purpose he went through the exercises, and when the time came for those of his age to be summoned, sent in his name as a volunteer to the Landwehr. He would have preferred entering a regular regiment, and applied to the King for permission to do so; but this request was refused by him, and he added that he would give him other commissions more suited to his talents. "Niebuhr's friends in Holstein could hardly trust their eyes when he wrote them word that he was drilling for the army, and that his wife entered with equal enthusiasm into his feelings. The greatness of the object had so inspired Madame Niebuhr, who was usually anxious, even to a morbid extent, at the slightest imaginable peril for the husband in whom she might truly be said to live, that she was willing and ready to bring even her most precious treasure as a sacrifice to her country." Hitherto we have quoted the biography, but on this point, and at a time when we are seeking to forearm ourselves against the chance of evil, it may edify us to hear Niebuhr himself speak on the theme of ball practice. Niebuhr, it should be remembered, writes at a time when two volumes of his great work, the "History of Rome," had been appreciated by the public: