In one of the university cities, two dogs also furnished this spectacle. An order had been issued, that, to avoid any serious accidents from them, no students' dogs should appear in public except led in a band. Presently was seen a student with two dogs in cords. The one was a little pug scarcely two spans high, which was led in a rope about as thick as a man's arm, whilst the other, a huge and monstrous creature of the kind which the students call _Doggen_, apparently half mastiff, half bull-dog, stalked near it, led by a piece of twine. We still see these creatures made co-workers in many a frolic. At the dinner table, in the public walk, in the fencing-school, and in the evening at the Kneip, every where must the dog attend his master. He must eat with him in the same house; the master, indeed, in the chamber, the dog in the kitchen; for which repast, however, is allowed on the dog's behalf two kreutzers a-day. Neither are combats wanting between them, whereby they may the more resemble their masters, and to which the masters, in fact, conduct them. In these dog-duels it goes often much worse than in those of their lords, for they seize each other so furiously that it is often difficult to separate them. "The dog," says Linnæus, "remembers not with resentment the blows of his master." The student's dog is a striking example of the truth of this remark. How often, when the Bursche returns home from a drinking company, must this faithful servant do penance for the wild humours of the evening. It goes not better with him on such occasions than with many a poor German wife, who yet bears her lot with patience. She still loves her rough commander, even while he treats her with unmanly rudeness, and seeks to hide his weaknesses. So this true creature. Is his lord in danger? he defends him to the last, and often renders him the most signal services in skirmishes with the Knoten; yea, he hesitates not to attack the sacred person of the beadle. He is denied admittance to the duel, because he would speedily, as an uninvited second, spring between the combatants, and as some assert, on account of such accidents as the following. A duellist had his nose cut off, and a large bull-dog which was in the room--perhaps they had forgot to give him his dinner--greedily swallowed it; so greedily, that it was impossible to prevent it! Whether the unnosed Bursche had a new one made for him by Geheimrath Gräfe, or whether he afterwards wore a silver one, I am not prepared to say.