,
the more I like it. Behold me, then in _Bavaria_; within one of its most
beautiful cities, and looking, from my window, upon a street called
_Maximilian Street_--which, for picturesque beauty, is exceeded only by the
High-street at Oxford. A noble fountain of bronze figures in the centre of
it, is sending forth its clear and agitated waters into the air--only to
fall, in pellucid drops, into a basin of capacious dimensions: again to be
carried upwards, and again to descend. 'Tis a magnificent fountain; and I
wish such an one were in the centre of the street above mentioned, or in
that of Waterloo Place. But to proceed with my Journal from Stuttgart.

I left that capital of the kingdom of Wuertemberg about five in the
afternoon, accompanied by my excellent friend M. Le Bret, who took a seat
in the carriage as far as the boundaries of the city.[23] His dry drollery,
and frankness of communication, made me regret that he could not accompany
us--at least as far as the first stage _Plochingen_;--especially as the
weather was beautiful, and the road excellent. However, the novelty of each
surrounding object--(but shall ... I whisper a secret in your ear?--the
probably successful result of the negotiation about the two ancient
editions of Virgil--yet more than each surrounding object) put me in
perfect good humour, as we continued to roll pleasantly on towards our
resting-place for the night--either _Goeppingen_, or _Geislingen_,--as time
and inclination might serve. The sky was in a fine crimson glow with the
approaching sun-set, which was reflected by a river of clear water, skirted
in parts by poplar and birch, as we changed horses at _Plochingen_. It was,
I think, _that_ town, rather than Goeppingen, (the next stage) which struck
us, en passant, to be singularly curious and picturesque on the score of
antiquity and street scenery. It was with reluctance that I passed through
it in so rapid a manner: but necessity alone was the excuse.

We slept, and slept comfortably, at _Goeppingen_. From thence to
_Geislingen_ are sweet views: in part luxuriant and cultivated, and in part
bold and romantic. Here, were the humble and neatly-trimmed huts of
cottagers; there, the lofty and castle-crowned domains of the Baron. It was
all pleasing and heart-cheering; while the sky continued in one soft and
silvery tint from the unusual transparency of the day. On entering
_Geislingen_, our attention was quickly directed to other, and somewha