air. There is a sly drollery too in some of the water
performances, invented years ago by the grave Archbishops of Salzburg;
for suddenly the stalactites are set dripping like a modern shower bath:
and the gigantic stags at its entrance spout water from the very tips of
their horns. The garden is not a Versailles, for there is nothing grand
in any of its hydraulic arrangements; but in the beauty with which are
clothed such trifles, the artistic spirit which has suggested its
objects, and the humour which spirts up tiny jets of water by seats where
lovers sit, and in unsuspected places where the public congregate, even
in the middle of a walk, it is a wonderful and delightful exhibition.
This garden was thronged by the holiday folks of Salzburg. There was an
official to explain the curious display, and nothing but innocent gaiety
was to be seen.
The Sunday we spent in Munich was passed in the Kirche Unserer Lieben
Frauen, with its self-supporting roof; in the English Garden; and at a
lovely spot on a hill-side, in the environs of the city. During the week
we were escorted by a friend to a sort of tea-gardens of some notoriety,
but found it silent and deserted. Our friend apologised for its dulness,
but exclaimed, in part explanation, "You should see it on Sunday!" It
was evident that Sunday was a day of rest and enjoyment, and not a
working day in Munich. My own impression of the Munichers was, that they
drank too much beer every day in the week.
Still tramping towards France, we passed one Sunday in Heidelberg, among
all its romantic wonders; but as everybody knows, or ought to know, all
about Heidelberg, I will not allow my enthusiasm to lead me into a
description which would not be novel, and might probably be tedious.
This was the last Sunday we spent on German ground. So far as Germany is
concerned, you may look upon everything but museums, picture galleries,
and the like, on Sunday; you may, as Luther says you ought, "dance on it,
ride on it, play on it,--do anything"--but see that which is most likely
to instruct you. You may visit tawdry shows, and inspect badly painted
scenery; you may let off fireworks; gamble to your ruin; smoke the eyes
out of your head, and dance the head off your shoulders; but you shall
not, with few exceptions, look upon works of art, or the results of
science in museums and picture galleries. Let it be said, however, that
the general opportunities for acquiring correct and e
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