The road now became flat and sandy, and the plains in the vicinity of the capital destitute of trees.  “Voila la Cathedrale!” shouted the valet.  It was to the left, or rather a little in front:  of a tapering, spire-like form:  but, seeing only a small portion of it—­the lower part being concealed by the intervening rising ground—­I could form no judgment of its height.  We now neared the suburbs, which are very extensive, and swarming with population.  I learnt that they entirely surrounded the capital, in an equal state of populousness.  The barriers were now approached:  and all the fears, which my accidental travelling acquaintance at Augsbourg had put into my head, began to revive and to take possession of me.  But what has an honest man to fear?  “Search closely (observed I to the principal examining officer) for I suspect that there is something contraband at the bottom of the trunk.  Do you forbid the importation of an old Greek manual of devotion?”—­said I, as I saw him about to lay his hand upon the precious Aldine volume, of which such frequent mention has been already made.  The officer did not vouchsafe even to open the leaves—­treating it, questionless, with a most sovereign contempt; but crying, “bah!—­vous pouvez bien passer,” he replaced the things which he had very slightly discomposed, and added that he wished all contraband articles to consist of similar materials.  We parted with mutual smiles; but I thought there lingered something like a feeling of reproach, in the last quiver or turn of his lip, at my not having slipt two or three florins into his hand—­which was broad and brawny enough to have grasped threescore or a hundred.  “I will remember you on my return,”—­exclaimed I, as the carriage drove off.  He gave me a most sceptical shake of the head, as he retreated into his little tenement, like a mastiff into his kennel.

The whole of VIENNA, as it now seemed—­with its cathedral, churches, palaces, and ramparts—­was before us.  As we approached the chief entrance, or gateway, I recognised the Imperial Library; although it was only a back view of it.  In truth, it appeared to be just as I remembered it in the vignette-frontispiece of Denis’s folio catalogue of the Latin Theological MSS. contained in the same library.  My memory proved to be faithful; for we were assured that the building in view was the library in question.  It was our intention to take up our quarters at the principal inn, called the Empress of Austria; and, with this view, we drove up to the door of that hotel:  but a tall, full-dressed man, with a broad sash across his body, and a silver-tipped staff in his right hand, marched pompously up to the door of the carriage, took off his hat, and informed us with great solemnity that “the hotel was entirely filled, and that his master could not have the honour of entertaining us.”  On receiving this intelligence, we were comforted by the assurance, on the part of the post-boy and valet, that the second hotel, called the Crown of Hungary,—­and situated in the Himelfort Gasse, or Heaven-gate Street—­was in every respect as desirable as that which we were compelled to quit.  Accordingly we alighted at the door of the Hungarische Krone—­equally marvelling, all the way thither, at the enormous size of the houses, and at the narrowness of the streets.