passing through the most fertile and beautifully varied country which I had yet seen—­and keeping almost constantly in view the magnificent chain of the Tyrolese mountains, into the very heart of which we seemed to be directing our course.  ALTOeTING is situated upon an eminence.  We drove into the Place, or Square, and alighted at what seemed to be a large and respectable inn.  Two ladies and two gentlemen had just arrived before us, from Munich, by a different route:  and while I was surveying them, almost mistaking them for English, and had just exchanged salutations, my valet came and whispered in my ear that “these good folks were come on a pilgrimage to the shrine of the Black Virgin.”  While I was wondering at this intelligence, the valet continued:  “you see that small church in the centre of the square—­it is there where the richest shrine in Bavaria is deposited; and to-day is a ‘high day’ with the devotees who come to worship.”  On receiving this information, we all three prepared to visit this mean-looking little church.  I can hardly describe to you with sufficient accuracy, the very singular, and to me altogether new, scene which presented itself on reaching the church.  There is a small covered way—­in imitation of cloisters—­which goes entirely round it.  The whole of the interior of these cloisters is covered with little pictures, images, supposed relics—­and, in short votive offerings of every description, to the Holy Virgin, to whom the church is dedicated.  The worshippers believe that the mother of Christ was an African by birth, and therefore you see little black images of the virgin stuck up in every direction.  At first, I mistook the whole for a parcel of pawnbrokers shops near each other:  and eyed the several articles with a disposition, more or less, to become a purchaser of a few.

But the sound of the chant, and the smell of the frankincense, broke in upon my speculations, and called my attention to the interior.  I entered with a sort of rush of the congregation.  This interior struck me as being scarcely thirty feet by twenty; but the eye is a deceitful rule in these cases.  However, I continued to advance towards the altar; the heat, at the same time, being almost suffocating.  An iron grating separated the little chapel and shrine of our Black Lady from the other portion of the building; and so numerous, so constant, and apparently so close, had been the pressure and friction of each succeeding congregation, for probably more than two centuries, that some of these rails, or bars, originally at least one inch square, had been worn to half the size of their pristine dimensions.  It was with difficulty, on passing them, that I could obtain a peep at the altar; which, however, I saw sufficiently distinctly to perceive that it was entirely covered with silver vases, cups, dishes, and other solid proofs of devotional ardour—­which in short seemed to reach to the very roof.  Having thus