far gratified my curiosity, I retreated as quickly as possible; for not a window was open, and the little light which these windows emitted, together with the heat of the place, produced so disagreeable an effect as to make me apprehensive of sudden illness.  On reaching the outward door, and enjoying the freedom of respiration, I made a sort of secret, but natural vow, that I would never again visit the shrine of Our Black Lady on a festival day.

An excellent breakfast—­together with the neatness and civility of the female attendants—­soon counter-acted the bad effects of the hydrogen contained within the walls of the place of worship we had just quitted.  Every thing around us wore a cheerful and pleasing aspect; inasmuch as every thing reminded us of our own country.  The servants were numerous, and all females; with their hair braided in a style of elegance which would not have disgraced the first drawing-room in London.  We quaffed coffee out of cups which were perfectly of the Brobdignagian calibre; and the bread had the lightness and sweetness of cake.  Between eleven and twelve, Charles Rohfritsch (alias our valet) announced that the carriage and horses were at the door; and on springing into it, we bade adieu to the worthy landlady and her surrounding attendants, in a manner quite natural to travellers who have seen something very unusual and interesting, and who have in other respects been well satisfied with good fare, and civil treatment.  Not one of the circle could speak a word of French; so I told Charles to announce to them that we would not fail to spread the fame of their coffee, eggs, and bread, all over England!  They laughed heartily—­and then gave us a farewell salutation ... by dropping very-formal curtesies—­their countenances instantly relapsing into a corresponding gravity of expression.

In three minutes the inn, the square, and the church of the Black Virgin, were out of sight.  The postilion put his bugle to his mouth, and played a lively air—­in which the valet immediately joined.  The musical infatuation, for an instant, extended to ourselves; for it was a tune which we had often heard in England, and which reminded me, in particular, of days of past happiness—­never to return!  But the sky was bright, the breeze soft, the road excellent, and the view perfectly magnificent.  It was evident that we were now nearing the Tyrolese mountains.  “At the foot of yonder second, sharp-pointed hill, lies SALZBURG”—­said the valet:  on receiving his intelligence from the post-boy.  We seemed to be yet some twenty miles distant.  To the right of the hill pointed out, the mountains rose with a loftier swell, and, covered by snow, the edges or terminations of their summits seemed to melt into the sky.