right, is the Lobkowitz palace, with its
gardens, rising step by step upon the side of the adjacent hill, over
which, like a diadem, stands the Premonstratensian convent of
Strahow,--an edifice imperfect in its proportions, yet as a whole
strikingly effective. From these, the eye turns naturally to the
Moldau, with its noble bridge and islands of perfect beauty; while
beyond it are the Alt Stadt, and a vast circle of suburbs,--the former,
venerable and striking from its multitudinous towers, its one great
cupola, and its peaked roofs; the latter, contrasting finely with it in
the simplicity of its large yet unadorned white buildings. Neither will
the stranger fail to have pointed out to him, the two small obelisks,
which, on a narrow terrace immediately below the palace, mark the spot
where Martinitz and Slawata fell, when, at the commencement of the
Thirty Years' War, they were thrown out of the windows of the Green
Chamber. And it is worthy of remark, that this summary mode of dealing
with obnoxious individuals, is by no means unfrequently alluded to in
the annals of Bohemia. These two emissaries of a detested party
escaped, indeed, unhurt; for they fell upon a bed of manure, and were
carried off, and nursed, and aided in their subsequent flight by the
Princess Penelope of Lobkowitz. But throughout the Hussite troubles,
and in times anterior to them, the right of putting to death by casting
from towers and over windows, was claimed and exercised by those in
power; nay, and more curious still, it was justified before the world
as a constitutional privilege.

As I have already stated, the remains of the Old Palace, properly so
called, comprehend no more than a single hall, the Hall of Ladislas,
and a few dilapidated towers, in one of which is the Green Room. There
is not much therefore, apart from the glorious view, and the historical
associations connected with it, to detain the traveller long, who may,
or may not, just as the humour takes him, pay a visit in passing, to
what is called the gallery of paintings. He will find there no remains
whatever of the magnificent collection which the Emperor Rodolph
brought from Italy, and very few pieces, the examination of which will
repay him for the time that he wastes upon them. Yet one ludicrous
representation of hell may, perhaps, provoke a smile; and the portrait
of Ziska, whether like to the original or otherwise, as it is pointed
out by the valet du place with honest pr