But this was a day-dream.  The throng of people coming up the steps waked me out of it.  We turned and followed them through several spacious courts, till we arrived at the Cathedral, which is magnificent in the extreme.  The dark Gothic pillars, whose arches unite high above, are surrounded with gilded monuments and shrines, and the side chapels are rich in elaborate decorations.  A priest was speaking from a pulpit in the centre, in the Bohemian language, which not being the most intelligible, I went to the other end to see the shrine of the holy Johannes of Nepomuck.  It stands at the end of one of the side aisles and is composed of a mass of gorgeous silver ornaments.  At a little distance, on each side, hang four massive lamps of silver, constantly burning.  The pyramid of statues, of the same precious metal, has at each corner a richly carved urn, three feet high, with a crimson lamp burning at the top.  Above, four silver angels, the size of life, are suspended in the air, holding up the corners of a splendid drapery of crimson and gold.  If these figures were melted down and distributed among the poor and miserable people who inhabit Bohemia, they would then be angels indeed, bringing happiness and blessing to many a ruined home-altar.  In the same chapel is the splendid burial-place of the Bohemian kings, of gilded marble and alabaster.  Numberless tombs, covered with elaborate ornamental work, fill the edifice.  It gives one a singular feeling to stand at one end and look down the lofty hall, dim with incense smoke and dark with the weight of many centuries.

On the way down again, we stepped into the St. Nicholas Church, which was built by the Jesuits.  The interior has a rich effect, being all of brown and gold.  The massive pillars are made to resemble reddish-brown marble, with gilded capitals, and the statues at the base are profusely ornamented in the same style.  The music chained me there a long time.  There was a grand organ, assisted by a full orchestra and large choir of singers.  It was placed above, and at every sound of the priest’s bell, the flourish of trumpets and deep roll of the drums filled the dome with a burst of quivering sound, while the giant pipes of the organ breathed out their full harmony and the very air shook under the peal.  It was like a triumphal strain; the soul became filled with thoughts of power and glory—­every sense was changed into one dim, indistinct emotion of rapture, which held the spirit as if spell-bound.  I could almost forgive the Jesuits the superstition and bigotry they have planted in the minds of men, for the indescribable enjoyment that music gave.  When it ceased, we went out to the world again, and the recollection of it seems now like a dream—­but a dream whose influence will last longer than many a more palpable reality.