Anthony A'Wood has informed us that when Prynne studied, "his custom was to put on a long quilted cap, which came an inch over his eyes, serving as an umbrella to defend them from too much light, and seldom eating any dinner. He would be every three hours munching a roll of bread, and now and then refresh his exhausted spirits with ale."
GERMAN STUDENTS.
The German students are a set of young men who certainly pursue their studies with zeal, but who nevertheless are more brutal in conduct, more insolent in manner, more slovenly and ruffian-like in appearance, and more offensive from the fumes of tobacco and beer, onions and sourcrout, in which they are enveloped, than are to be met with in any other part of Europe. In a small town of a small state a German university is a horrible nuisance; and how the elegant court of Weimar, in particular, can tolerate the existence of one within an hour's ride of its palace, where we have seen ragamuffins fighting with broad-swords in the market-place, moves "our special wonder." To the university of Bonn is attached a rich collection of subjects in natural history, and a botanical garden; and such is its success, from the celebrity of its professors, among whom is numbered the illustrious William Schlegel, that, Dr. Granville states, "there are at this time about one thousand and twenty students who, for twenty pounds in university and professors' fees, and forty more for living, get a first-rate education." The climate and the situation on the banks of the Rhine are most inviting; and a beautiful avenue of chestnut trees, nearly a mile in length, joins the castle of Popplesdorf, which contains the cabinets of natural history, with the university.
GREAT SEAL OF ENGLAND.
The Great Seal itself, when not in the king's own custody, was entrusted to the "Chancellor," whose salary, as fixed by Henry I., amounted to five shillings per diem, besides a "livery" of provisions. And the allowance of one pint and a half, or perhaps a quart of claret, one "gross wax-light," and forty candle-ends, to enable the Chancellor to carry on his housekeeping, may be considered as a curious exemplification of primitive temperance and economy.—Quarterly Rev.
The good people of Weimar appear to be most enthusiastic lovers of music, affording strong proofs of melomania. Every householder of any importance subscribes an annual sum to a band of musicians, who go round in long cloaks to each house, singing fugas and canons, unaccompanied by instruments, in "the most beautiful and correct style imaginable,"—something, we suppose, in the style of the Tyrolese minstrels.—Ibid.