aggers, and antique curiosities
innumerable; only rather prosaically completed by the exhibition of the
every-day suit of the last Emperor of Austria, which, however affecting a
spectacle for a simple-hearted Viennese--and they are mere babies in
matters of royalty--irresistibly reminded one of Holywell Street, London,
and cast-off regimentals. Laxenberg is distant less than a shilling
ride, and about two hours' walk from Vienna; and, like our Hampton Court
Palace, is thrown unreservedly open to the public. There were no end to
its wonders: fishing-grounds, and boats upon the lake; waterfalls, and
rustic bridges were there; and one little elegant pavilion, perched on
the water, dedicated to the beauties of Windsor, illustrating its scenery
in transparent porcelain. There was a list for knightly riders; a dais
for the Queen of Beauty; and places for belted nobles, saintly abbots,
and Wambas in motley; an Ashby-de-la-Zouch in miniature, which a little
imagination could people. Then, for the plebeians, there were
leaping-bars and turning-posts, skittle-alleys, and the quintain; and,
for all alike, clusters of noble trees, broad grassy meads, and flowers
unnumbered. There was even a farm-house, homely and substantial, with a
dairy and poultry-yard, sheep in the paddocks, and cattle in the stalls.

We started from Vienna on a Sunday morning on board the steamboat Karl
for Linz; and trudging thence on foot came on the following Saturday
night into Salzburg, the queen of the Salzack. We rested here one happy
Sunday: not so much in the town, which had its abundant curiosities, as
in the pleasure gardens of the old Archbishops of Salzburg, at an easy
stroll from it. This garden is pleasant enough in itself, but there are
besides a number of water eccentricities in it such as I should think
were in their peculiar fashion unequalled. Here blooms a cluster of
beautiful flowers, covered as it were by a glass shade, but which turns
out to be only water. There a miniature palace is in course of erection,
with crowds of workmen in its different storeys, each man at his
avocation with hammer and chisel, pulley and wheel, and the grave
architect himself directing their labour. All this is set in motion by
water, and is not a mere doll's house, but a symmetrical model. Then we
enter a subterranean grotto, with a roof of pendant stalactites, where
the pleasant sound of falling waters and the melodious piping of birds
fill all the