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
largest wolves, and then, seeing that escape was impossible, implored
the boy to fly, saving the life of his son by the sacrifice of his
own. In admiration for this deed, the people placed the family of the
woodcutter beyond want; and the lad showing a rare aptitude to learn,
and expressing only a wish to study, was sent to Basle, where he soon
distinguished himself as a scholar, and bids fair to become a man of
mark.
Fribourg is a fine old town, famous for its minster, and its
university.
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