Among the most pleasing accompaniments or characteristics of street scenery, at Vienna, are the FOUNTAINS.  They are very different from those at Paris; exhibiting more representations of the human figure, and less water.  In the Place, before mentioned, is probably the most lofty and elaborate of these sculptured accompaniments of a fountain:  but, in a sort of square called the New Market, and through which I regularly passed in my way to the Imperial Library—­there is a fountain of a particularly pleasing, and, to my eye, tasteful cast of character; executed, I think, by DONNER.  A large circular cistern receives the water, which is constantly flowing into it, from some one or the other of the surrounding male and female figures, of the size of life.  One of these male figures, naked, is leaning over the side of the cistern, about to strike a fish, or some aquatic monster, with a harpoon or dart—­while one of his legs (I think it is the right) is thrown back with a strong muscular expression, resting upon the earth—­as if to balance the figure, thus leaning forward—­thereby giving it an exceedingly natural and characteristic air.  Upon the whole, although I am not sure that any one fountain, of the character just mentioned, may equal that in the High Street at Augsbourg, yet, taken collectively, I should say that Vienna has reason to claim its equality with any other city in Europe, on the score of this most picturesque, and frequently salutary, accompaniment of street scenery.  In our own country, which has the amplest means of any other in the world, of carrying these objects of public taste into execution, there seems to be an infatuation—­amounting to hopeless stupidity—­respecting the uniform exclusion of them.

While I am on these desultory topics, let me say a word or two respecting the quoi vivre in this metropolis.  There are few or no restaurateurs:  at least, at this moment, only two of especial note.[137] I have dined at each—­and very much prefer the vin du Pays, of the better sort [138]—­which is red, and called vin d’Offner (or some such name) to that at Paris.  But the meats, are less choice and less curiously cooked; and I must say that the sense of smelling is not very acute with the Germans.  The mutton can only be attacked by teeth of the firmest setting.  The beef is always preferable in a stewed or boiled state; although at our Ambassador’s table, the other day, I saw and partook of a roasted sirloin which would have done honour to either tavern in Bishopsgate-street.  The veal is the safest article to attack.  The pastry is upon the whole relishing and good.  The bread is in every respect the most nutritive and digestive which I have ever partaken of.  The fruit, at this moment, is perfectly delicious, especially, the pears.  Peaches and grapes are abundant in the streets, and exceedingly reasonable in price.  Last Sunday, we dined at the palace