A peculiar class of equipages are let out in the university cities, and are hired by the student partly on account of their cheapness, but more especially, because he can charioteer himself. He styles these little chaises with one horse, a one-span, or one-engine. With one of these he undertakes journeys which, especially on Sundays, stretch themselves as far as Mannheim, to the Hardt mountains, to the Melibocus, or even to Karlsruhe and Baden-Baden. The persecuted horse who drags these vehicles, knows the way from Mannheim and other places, much better than his temporary master; and when in dark nights a one-engine goes wrong or comes to any accident it is for the most part because his driver will not let him have his own way. Many a time the poor beasts are so weary that the student can no longer urge them forward with the whip, and is obliged to have recourse to stones that he picks from the road. Water excursions are seldom undertaken, because the ill-constructed pleasure-boats do not allow him to guide them himself. The neighbourhood of so many beautiful countries incites the student to more extensive excursions, and he travels during the vacations, into Switzerland, the Rhine country, and other places, chiefly in company of a few friends. We may suppose it to be on some incident connected with one of these excursions that Uhland has founded his beautiful ballad of THE WIRTHIN'S DAUGHTER. Three students crossed over the Rhine-stream one day, 'Twas to a Frau Wirthin's they wended their way. "Frau Wirthin, hast thou good beer and wine, And where is that lovely daughter of thine!" "My beer and wine are fresh and clear; My dear daughter lies upon the death-bier!" And as they stepped to the innermost room, There she was lying robed for the tomb. The first he withdrew then the veiling screen, And gazed upon her with sorrowful mien: "Ah, wert thou living, fair flower of earth, How should I love thee from this day forth!" The second he covered the pale, dead face, And turn'd him round and wept apace: "Ah, there thou art lying on thy death-bier, And how have I loved thee for many a year!" The third he lifted once more the veil, And kissed her upon the lips so pale: "Thee I loved ever! yet love thee to-day! And still shall I love thee for aye and for aye!"