without the dreaded consequences of a cold.  The natural beauties of the part of the country where Chopin now was have gained for it the name of Polish Switzerland.  The principal sights are the Black Cave, in which during the bloody wars with the Turks and Tartars the women and children used to hide themselves; the Royal Cave, in which, about the year 1300, King Wladyslaw Lokietek sought refuge when he was hardly pressed by the usurper Wenceslas of Bohemia; and the beautifully-situated ruins of Ojcow Castle, once embowered in thick forests.  Having enjoyed to the full the beauties of Polish Switzerland, Chopin continued his journey merrily and in favourable weather through the picturesque countries of Galicia, Upper Silesia, and Moravia, arriving in Vienna on July 31.

Chopin’s letters tell us very little of his sight-seeing in the Austrian capital, but a great deal of matters that interest us far more deeply.  He brought, of course, a number of letters of introduction with him.  Among the first which he delivered was one from Elsner to the publisher Hashnger, to whom Chopin had sent a considerable time before some of his compositions, which, however, still remained in manuscript.  Haslinger treated Elsner’s pupil with an almost embarrassing politeness, and, without being reminded of the MSS. in question, informed his visitor that one of them, the variations on La ci darem la mano, would before long appear in the Odeon series.  “A great honour for me, is it not?” writes the happy composer to his friend Titus.  The amiable publisher, however, thought that Chopin would do well to show the people of Vienna what his difficult and by no means easily comprehensible composition was like.  But the composer was not readily persuaded.  The thought of playing in the city where Mozart and Beethoven had been heard frightened him, and then he had not touched a piano for a whole fortnight.  Not even when Count Gallenberg entered and Haslinger presented Chopin to him as a coward who dare not play in public was the young virtuoso put on his mettle.  In fact, he even declined with thanks the theatre which was placed at his disposal by Count Gallenberg, who was then lessee of the Karnthnerthor Theatre, and in whom the reader has no doubt recognised the once celebrated composer of ballets, or at least the husband of Beethoven’s passionately-loved Countess Giulia Guicciardi.  Haslinger and Gallenberg were not the only persons who urged him to give the Viennese an opportunity to hear him.  Dining at the house of Count Hussarzewski, a worthy old gentleman who admired his young countryman’s playing very much, Chopin was advised by everybody present—­and the guests belonged to the best society of Vienna—­to give a concert.  The journalist Blahetka, best known as the father of his daughter, was not sparing in words of encouragement; and Capellmeister Wurfel, who had been kind to Chopin in Warsaw, told him plainly that it would be a disgrace to himself, his parents,