Whether she be happy or not, in consequence, we have no time to stop to enquire ... for, see yonder! three “turbaned Turks” make their advances.  How gaily, how magnificently they are attired!  What finely proportioned limbs—­what beautifully formed features!  They have been carousing, peradventure, with some young Greeks—­who have just saluted them, en passant—­at the famous coffee-house before-mentioned.  Every thing around you is novel and striking; while the verdure of the trees and lawns is yet fresh, and the sun does not seem yet disposed to sink below the horizon.  The carriages still move on, and return, in measured procession.  Those who are within, look earnestly from the windows—­to catch a glance of their passing friends.  The fair hand is waved here; the curiously-painted fan is shaken there; and the repeated nod is seen in almost every other passing landaulet.  Not a heart seems sad; not a brow appears to be clouded with care.

Such—­or something like the foregoing—­is the scene which usually passes on a Sunday evening—­perhaps six months out of the twelve—­upon the famous PRATER at Vienna; while the tolling bell of St. Stephen’s tower, about nine o’clock—­and the groups of visitors hurrying back, to get home before the gates of the city are shut against them—­usually conclude the scene just described.

And now, my good friend, methinks I have given you a pretty fair account of the more prominent features of this city—­in regard to its public sights; whether as connected with still or active life:  as churches, palaces, or theatres.  It remains, therefore, to return again, briefly, but yet willingly, to the subject of BOOKS; or rather, to the notice of two Private Collections, especially deserving of description—­and of which, the first is that of the EMPEROR HIMSELF.

His Majesty’s collection of Books and Prints is kept upon the second and third floors of a portion of the building connected with the great Imperial library.  Mr. T. YOUNG is the librarian; and he also holds the honourable office of being Secretary of his Majesty’s privy council.  He is well deserving of both situations, for he fills them with ability and success.  He has the perfect appearance of an Englishman, both in figure and face.  As he speaks French readily and perfectly well, our interviews have been frequent, and our conversations such as have led me to think that we shall not easily forget each other.  But for the library, of which he is the guardian.  It is contained in three or four rooms of moderate dimensions, and has very much the appearance of an English Country Gentleman’s collection of about 10,000 volumes.  The bindings are generally in good taste:  in full-gilt light and gray calf—­with occasional folios and quartos resplendent in morocco and gold.  I hardly know when I have seen a more cheerful and comfortable looking library; and was equally gratified to find such a copious sprinkling of publications from Old England.