some of the most illustrious names in literature and science.

After the lectures, Bonnevard was to go to Fribourg; and it was with a
view to accompanying him that I remained in Basle. Passing over the
bridge and through the little city, we left the canton, and entered
Germany by the territories of the grand duke of Baden. The Rhine was
on our left, the Black Forest, covering a series of rugged hills, at
some distance on our right; and we found a rich and beautiful
landscape at every step. Climbing the brow of a hill about twelve
miles from Basle, we obtained a charming view of the windings of the
river--the broad valley through which it passes, the dark undulations
of the forest, the towers and spires of the distant city, and the long
line of Alps in the background, rising in inexpressible grandeur and
glittering in the beams of the morning sun.

This was our last of the Rhine; our road taking the direction of the
Black Forest, and skirting it all the way to Fribourg. On the way,
Bonnevard gave me many sketches of real life, one of which, from
having seen the person in Basle, interested me deeply. The Black
Forest was formerly, and is now at certain seasons, greatly infested
by wolves. It so happened that a government officer, passing to
Vienna, was pursued by a ravenous pack of these animals; the
postilion spurred his horses until they began to flag, and the wolves
were gaining upon them. The officer feeling assured that all was lost,
was about giving himself up to be devoured, when a woodcutter and his
son emerged from the forest, armed only with knives or short daggers.
The hungry pack were diverted, and in the struggle that followed, the
postilion whipped up his horses and escaped. On reaching Vienna, the
officer sent back to see what had been the fate of the woodcutter. A
desperate battle had been fought; the father killed five of the