Latin.  I delivered the letter which I had received at Salzburg, and proceeded to the library.  In proceeding with the Librarian along the first corridor, I passed a portly figure, with an expressive countenance, dressed precisely like the Duke of Norfolk,[102] in black waistcoat, breeches, and stockings, with a gray coat.  He might seem to be a sort of small paper copy of that well-known personage, for he resembled him in countenance as well as in dress.  On meeting, he saluted me graciously:  and he had no sooner passed, than my guide whispered in my ear, “THAT is the famous bibliographer, the ABBE STRATTMAN, late principal librarian to the Emperor.”  I was struck at this intelligence; and wished to run back after the Abbe,—­but, in a minute, found myself within the library.  I first went into a long, narrow, room—­devoted, the greater part, to MSS.:—­and at the hither end of which (that is, the end where I entered) were two figures—­as large as, and painted after, the life.  They were cut out in wood, or thick pasteboard; and were stuck in the centre of the space between the walls.  One was an old gentleman, with a pair of bands, and a lady, his wife, opposite to him.  Each was sitting upon a chair.  A dog (if I remember rightly) was between them.  The effect was at first rather startling; for these good folks, although they had been sitting for the best part of a century, looked like life, and as if they were going to rise up, and interrogate you for impertinently intruding upon their privacy.  On nearing them, I found that the old gentleman had been a great pedagogue, and a great benefactor to the library:  in short, the very MSS. by which we were surrounded were solid proofs of his liberality.  I was urgent and particular about the contents of these MSS.; but my guide (otherwise a communicative and well-informed man) answered my questions in a manner so general, as to lead me to conclude that they had never been sufficiently examined.  There might be at least four thousand volumes in this long and narrow room.

From thence we proceeded, across a passage, to a small room—­filled with common useful books, for the young men of which the monastic society is now composed; and who I learnt were about one hundred and twenty in number.  There were, however, at one end of this room, some coins and medals.  I was curious about ascertaining whether they had any Greek gold coins, but was answered that they had none.  This room is divided into two, by a partition something like the modern fashion of dividing our drawing rooms.  The whole is profusely ornamented with paintings executed upon the walls; rather elegantly than otherwise.  The view from this library is really enchanting—­and put every thing seen, from a similar situation at Landshut, and almost even at Chremsminster, out of my recollection.  You look down upon the Danube, catching a fine sweep of the river, as it widens in its course towards Vienna.  A man might sit, read, and gaze—­in such