extreme youth and my want of a guide on such matters, I had retrod the
steps of knowledge along the paths of time and exchanged the
discoveries of recent inquirers for the dreams of forgotten
alchemists. Besides, I had a contempt for the uses of modern natural
philosophy. It was very different when the masters of the science
sought immortality and power; such views, although futile, were grand;
but now the scene was changed. The ambition of the inquirer seemed to
limit itself to the annihilation of those visions on which my interest
in science was chiefly founded. I was required to exchange chimeras of
boundless grandeur for realities of little worth.

Such were my reflections during the first two or three days of my
residence at Ingolstadt, which were chiefly spent in becoming
acquainted with the localities and the principal residents in my new
abode. But as the ensuing week commenced, I thought of the information
which M. Krempe had given me concerning the lectures. And although I
could not consent to go and hear that little conceited fellow deliver
sentences out of a pulpit, I recollected what he had said of M.
Waldman, whom I had never seen, as he had hitherto been out of town.

Partly from curiosity and partly from idleness, I went into the
lecturing room, which M. Waldman entered shortly after. This professor
was very unlike his colleague. He appeared about fifty years of age,
but with an aspect expressive of the greatest benevolence; a few grey
hairs covered his temples, but those at the back of his head were
nearly black. His person was short but remarkably erect and his voice
the sweetest I had ever heard. He began his lecture by a
recapitulation of the history of chemistry and the various improvements
made by different men of learning, pronouncing with fervour the names
of the most distinguished discoverers. He then took a cursory view of