not.
From the false world he sets the free,
And if the progress pleaseth thee,
Guides thee to regions of the blest;
Of friends, then, is he not the best?

There remains one apartment more, which it would be unjustifiable in me
to omit particularly to notice, inasmuch as it holds a high place in
the estimation of the good people of Burgstein, and will, if it serve
no other purpose, force a smile from such young,--aye, and old persons,
too,--as may happen to inspect it. An ingenious mechanic, a workman in
the looking-glass manufactory hard by, has constructed a piece of
mechanism, in which all the known occupations, trades, and professions,
in the world, are described. His machine occupies four galleries that
surround an apartment built on purpose to receive it; and in the midst
is an elevated platform, on which the spectators take their stand. At
first they see only a rude representation of mountains and forests,
gardens, fallow fields, standing crops, cows, milk-maids, mills and
millers, ploughs, ploughmen, oxen, cities, soldiers, horses, carriages,
mines and miners, convents, monks, hermits, &c.,--all in a state of
quiescence. The pulling of a few strings, however, gives a totally
novel aspect to the face of affairs. Inanimate objects continue, of
course, at rest; but no sooner is the clock-work set a-going, than
music sounds, soldiers march, carriages rattle about, ploughs travel,
miners dig, mills go round, monks toll bells, hermits read and nod
their heads, milkmaids ply their occupation visibly and effectively
before your eyes,--aye, and the very bird-catcher pops out and in from
behind his screen, while a rustic having caught a schoolboy in his
apple-tree, applies his rod to the young thief's seat of honour, with
all the regularity of a drummer beating time. I defy the gravest person
living to abstain from laughter, when this universal bustle begins; for
no human being appears to be idle, and no single act seems to be
performed in vain.

The Graffs Kinsky seem, for some years back, to have paid a good deal
of attention to this noble relic of old times. The late count began a
chapel, I think in questionable taste, of which the walls now cover the
venerable and vaulted cavity, where knights and barons used to worship
long ago. He built, likewise, a sort of summer-house hard by,--of which
the flooring, red roof, and whitewashed walls, agree but indifferently
with the time-worn bearing of the castle