of King
Wenceslaus' consort. {7} On the opposite bank I mounted the Hradschin,
and paid a visit to the cathedral, in which a large sarcophagus,
surrounded and borne by angels, and surmounted by a canopy of crimson
damask, is dedicated to the memory of the saint. The monument is of
silver, and the worth of the metal alone is estimated at 80,000 florins.
The church itself is not spacious, but is built in the noble Gothic
style; the lesser altars, however, with their innumerable gilded wooden
figures, look by contrast extremely puny. In the chapel are many
sarcophagi, on which repose bishops and knights hewn in stone, but so
much damaged, that many are without hands and feet, while some lack
heads. To the right, at the entrance of the church, is the celebrated
chapel of St. Wenceslaus, with its walls ornamented with frescoes, of
which the colours and designs are now almost obliterated. It is further
enriched with costly stones.

Not far from the cathedral is situated the palace of Count Czernin, a
building particularly favoured with windows, of which it has one for
every day in the year. I was there in an ordinary year, and saw 365; how
they manage in leap-year I do not know. The view from the belvedere of
this palace well repays the observer. It takes in the old and new town,
the noble river with its two bridges (the ancient venerable-looking stone
structure, and the graceful suspension-bridge, six hundred paces long),
and the hills round about, clothed with gardens, among which appear neat
country-houses.

The streets of the "Kleinseite" are not particularly attractive, being
mostly tortuous, steep, and narrow. They contain, however, several
remarkable palaces, among which that of Wallenstein Duke of Friedland
stands pre-eminent. {8}

After visiting St. Nicholas' Church, remarkable for the height of its
spire and its beautifully arched cupola, I betook myself to Wimmer's
gardens, and thence to the "Bastei," a place of public resort with the
citizens of Prague.

I could now observe the devastation caused by the rising of the water
shortly before my arrival. The Moldau had overstepped its banks in so
turbulent a manner, as to carry along with it several small houses, and
even a little village not far from Prague, besides damaging all the
dwellings upon its banks. The water had indeed already fallen, but the
walls of the houses were soaked through and through; the doors had been
carried away, and from the br