oken windows no faces looked out upon the
passers-by. The water had risen two feet more than in 1784, in which
year the Moldau had also attained an unusual height.

From the same tower of observation, I looked down upon the great open
space bought a few years ago, and intended to be occupied by the termini
of the Vienna and Dresden railroads. Although several houses were only
just being pulled down, and the foundations of but few buildings were
laid, I was assured that within six months every thing would be
completed.

I have still to mention a circumstance which struck me during my morning
peregrinations, namely, the curious method in which milk, vegetables, and
other provisions are here brought to town. I could have fancied myself
transported to Lapland or Greenland, on meeting every where carts to
which two, three, or four dogs were harnessed. One pair of dogs will
drag three hundredweight on level ground; but when they encounter a hill,
the driver must lend a helping hand. These dogs are, besides, careful
guardians; and I would not advise any one to approach a car of this kind,
as it stands before the inn-door, while the proprietor is quenching his
thirst within, on the money he has just earned.

At five o'clock on the morning of the 15th of April I left Prague, and
rode for fourteen miles in the mail-carriage, as far as Obristwy on the
Elbe, at which place I embarked for Dresden, on board the steamer
Bohemia, of fifty-horse power, a miserable old craft, apparently a
stranger to beauty and comfort from her youth up. The price charged for
this short passage of eight or nine hours is enormously dear. The
travellers will, however, soon have their revenge on the extortionate
proprietors; a railroad is constructing, by means of which this distance
will be traversed in a much shorter time, and at a great saving of
expense.

But at any rate the journey by water is the more agreeable; the way lies
through very picturesque scenery, and at length through "Saxon
Switzerland" itself. The commencement of the journey is, however, far
from pleasing. On the right are naked hills, and on the left large
plains, over which, last spring, the swollen stream rolled, partly
covering the trees and the roofs of the cottages. Here I could for the
first time see the whole extent of the calamity. Many houses had been
completely torn down, and the crops, and even the loose alluvial earth
swept away; as we glided by each dreary sc