On taking a farewell look of Augsbourg, my eyes seemed to leave unwillingly
those objects upon which I gazed. The Paintings, the Town Hall, the old
monastery of Saints Ulric and Afra, all--as I turned round to catch a
parting glance--seemed to have stronger claims than ever upon my attention,
and to reproach me for the shortness of my visit. However, my fate was
fixed--and I now only looked steadily forward to Munich; my imagination
being warmed (you will say "inflamed") with the thoughts of the countless
folios, in manuscript and in print--including _block-books_, unheard and
undreamt of--which had been described to me as reposing upon the shelves of
the Royal or PUBLIC LIBRARY. In consequence, Hans Burgmair, Albert Durer,
and the Elder Holbein were perfectly forgotten--after we had reached the
first stage, and changed horses at _Merching_. From Augsbourg to Munich is
but a pleasant and easy drive of about forty-five English miles. The last
stage, from _Fürstenfelbruck_ to this place, is chiefly interesting; while
the two tall brick towers of the cathedral church of Nôtre Dame keep
constantly in view for the last seven or eight miles. A chaussée, bordered
on each side by willows, poplars, and limes, brings you--in a tediously
straight line of four or five miles--up to the very gates of MUNICH.

At first view, Munich looks like a modern city. The streets are tolerably
spacious, the houses are architectural, and the different little squares,
_or places_, are pleasant and commodious. It is a city of business and
bustle. Externally, there is not much grandeur of appearance, even in the
palaces or public buildings, but the interiors of many of these edifices
are rich in the productions of ancient art;--whether of sculpture, of
painting, of sainted relics, or of mechanical wonders. Every body just now
is from home; and I learn that the bronzes of the Prince Royal--which are
considered to be the finest in Europe--are both out of order and out of
view. This gallant Prince loves also pictures and books: and, of the