of firs which abound throughout Bavaria.  They seem at times interminable.  Meanwhile, the churches, thinly scattered here and there; had a sort of mosque or globular shaped summit, crowned by a short and slender spire; while the villages appeared very humble, but with few or no beggars assailing you upon changing horses.  We had scarcely reached Guenzbourg, the first stage, and about fourteen miles from Ulm, when we obtained a glimpse of what appeared to be some lofty mountains at the distance of forty or fifty miles.  Upon enquiry, I found that they were a part of a chain of mountains connected with those in the Tyrol.

It was about five o’clock when we reached AUGSBOURG; and, on entering it, we could not but be struck with the painted exteriors, and elaborate style of architecture, of the houses.  We noticed, with surprise not wholly divested of admiration, shepherds and shepherdesses, heroes and heroines, piazzas, palaces, cascades, and fountains—­in colours rather gay than appropriate—­depicted upon the exterior walls:—­and it seemed as if the accidents of weather and of time had rarely visited these decorations.  All was fresh, and gay, and imposing.  But a word about our Inn, (The Three Moors) before I take you out of doors.  It is very large; and, what is better, the owner of it is very civil.  Your carriage drives into a covered gate way or vestibule, from whence the different stair-cases, or principal doors, lead to the several divisions of the house.  The front of the house is rich and elegant.  On admiring it, the waiter observed—­“Yes, Sir, this front is worthy of the reputation which the Hotel of the Three Moors possesses throughout Europe.”  I admitted it was most respectable.  Our bed rooms are superb—­though, by preference, I always chose the upper suit of apartments.  The caffe for dining, below, is large and commodious; and I had hardly bespoke my first dinner, when the head-waiter put the travelling book into my hands:  that is, a book, or album, in which the names and qualities of all the guests at that inn, from all parts of Europe, are duly registered.  I saw the names of several of my countrymen whom I well knew; and inscribed my own name, and that of my companion, with the simplest adjuncts that could be devised.  In doing so, I acted only according to precedent.  But the boast and glory of this Inn is its GALLERY OF PICTURES:  for sale.  The great ball-room, together with sundry corridores and cabinets adjoining, are full of these pictures; and, what renders the view of them more delectable, is, the Catalogue:—­printed in the English language, and of which a German is the reputed author.