Apart from the question whether one may and can compel a young man of that age to unceasing application, it may be further asked, whether, after all, this half-year spent in the free enjoyment of life must be an actual loss, and to be reckoned an absolute deduction from the amount of study? By no means. Truly, if study consisted in learning a mass of facts by rote, then might we reasonably reckon literary and scientific acquisitions by days. But let any one reflect how a youth comes from school. There he had a daily task, which he completed as a more or less industrious day-labourer does his. He had also favourite occupations and favourite studies besides, but entirely apart, which he pursued as pleasant recreations, which had nothing in common with the tedious school labours. Not that there are no exceptions to the rule, but thus it is commonly. The time now approaches that he must undergo a rigorous _Abiturienten-examen_, or final examination, before the doors of the High School will open to admit him; an examination which he puts out all his strength during the last half-year to pass, as he sees with transport the university years presenting themselves before him. Suddenly he becomes a wavering skiff, abandoned by its experienced pilot, to drive forth into the midst of the agitated sea of university life. His whole existence must from this time forward tend to one ultimate object, of which he is not himself yet clearly conscious; even his recreations and pleasures shall only serve every day to accomplish him, or to give him new strength for toil. His intellectual labours shall henceforth bear the stamp of knowledge; but the transition is so sudden, the space in which he has to move is so vast compared with the narrow bounds which have hitherto circumscribed him! His sight must sharpen itself, that rapidly making himself master of the manifold objects that surround him, he may reduce them to one regular scale, and so magically diminish them as to inclose them in his own bosom. And to this labour, which appears to him gigantic, he comes exhausted by the exertions of the time just past, wearied out with all the old school business. He exerts himself to comprehend that world of novelties, but sinks finally overwhelmed by their oppressive greatness, and probably exclaims with the scholar in Faust,-- All is confused, a stunning pain, As whirled a mill-wheel in my brain.