On warm, clear nights the students rioted in the garden; when it rained, chairs and tables were carried into the hall, which contained a small stage and a square gallery.

Never a night passed without its animated scene.
Here it was that the evils of monarchical systems were discussed, the army service, the lack of proper amusement, the restrictions at the stage entrance to the opera; here it was that they concocted their exploits, fought their duels, and planned means of outwitting Old Stuler's slate.
Stuler was a good general; he could keep the students in order, watch his assistants draw beer, the Rhine wine, and the scum (dregs of the cask, muddy and strong), and eye the accumulating accounts on the slate.

This slate was wiped out once the month; that is to say, when remittances came from home.

The night following remittances was a glorious one both to Stuler and the students.

There were new scars, new subjects for debate, and Stuler got rid of some of his prime tokayer.
The politics of the students was socialism, which is to say they were always dissatisfied.