First came a number of elderly, quaint,
diplomatic-looking gentlemen, dressed in
splendid court uniforms. What a singular
assembly of faces! a painful satire on the
scene! These were the Herren vom grossen
Dienste. Next came the Grand Master of
the Ceremonies with his rod. And now a
stout lady, in full court dress, her train borne
by attendants, was seen carrying on a cushion,
which was covered over with a pink veil of
gauze, Her Serene Highness the newly-
born Princess Theresa Charlotta Marianna
Augusta. Poor little princess! She
certainly deserved her title of "Serene;" for so
very serene was she, that you never would
have guessed at all that she was beneath the
veil! It was quite a relief to one's imagination
to know that she was a girl, and so never
could harden into quite such hideous
worldliness as those fearful old courtiers who had
just preceded her. Then came two pretty
little boys, her brothers, about six and seven
years old, dressed in purple velvet tunics, and
each carrying a tall taper in his hand. They
looked so innocent and pretty, that they
might have been little angels, as well as little
princes. And now everybody bent low, for
the King and Queen were passing. The King
wore his uniform, and looked very gracious—
and spruce. He led the young Queen by the
hand, who passed on gracefully and graciously,
with her sweet smile, and beautiful proud
eyes. And then there was the King of
Greece, in his Albanian costume, of white
and gold, holding by the hand one of his
sisters, the Grand Duchess of Something; and
Prince Luitpold also, the father of the little
"serene" infant, holding by the hand another
great lady. In short, almost the whole Royal
Family was there, with the exception of the
old King and Queen. There was the Duchess
of Leuchtenburg, the widow of Eugène
Beauharnais; she was to stand as godmother to
the little princess, and represent the two real
godmothers, who were not present—the
Ex-Queen Theresa of Bavaria, and the old
Empress of Austria. And then there came
on a bevy of priests: the Archbishop, in his
lilac robes and small cap, with attendants,
bearing crucifixes and tapers; and these were
followed by a long train of the diplomatic
corps and their ladies, of the magistracy and
corporation of the city, and of officers in
the Bavarian army. Two figures especially
riveted our attention, as the train passed on,
—"our friend at court," the Baroness———,
who swept by in great magnificence; and a
Hungarian, in his gorgeous national costume,
—himself and his dress so handsome, that it
was difficult to know which most to admire!

And now, all having disappeared down the
long gallery, and being closed from our view
by heavy folding doors, all that remained for
us poor folk, was to imagine the scene within
the beautiful Throne-room. Who, through a
perspective of marble columns, and gigantic
golden statues, does not see a crimson velvet
canopy, beneath which sit the King and
Queen? Who does not see the rows of Court
ladies on either hand? Who does not see the
brilliantly-attired priests, passing around the
little infant? And who does not hear the
Te Deum bursting from the lips of the white-
robed choristers, who, like quires of angels,
glorify God, and rejoice over the reception
of this little princess into the Church of
Christ? Imagine all this, and the ceremony
is complete.

That Duchess of Leuchtenburg, who was
present at the christening of the little
princess, and who looked so grand at the
Land-wehr Ball, as you may remember, all
sparkling with jewels, and her cheeks ruby
with rouge, and whom I have so often this
spring seen driving in her handsome carriage
out of her handsome palace, is dead! and dead
after a very short illness. People are relating
all manner of beautiful things about her, and
really seem very much affected. You know
who she is, or rather was; King Ludwig's
sister, the widow of Eugène Beauharnais, and
mother and aunt of endless generations of
grandees and royal personages. The
celebrated Leuchtenburg collection of pictures
also belonged to her.

To-day all the bourgeoisie of Munich have
been visiting her as she lies in state. I saw
the crowd assembled before the great gates of
the palace, and stopped. The huge gates
opened; in rushed the crowd, and half were
received within the gateway. I found myself
the foremost now of the remaining half of the
crowd, and close to the closed gates. Here I
waited a full half-hour. The crowd was not
particularly impressed with the solemnity of
the occasion. I stood, squeezed up to the
great bronze gate, fearfully anticipating either
being crushed upon the embossed ornaments
of the doors whilst waiting, or being, when
they opened, precipitated head-foremost by
the impetuosity of the crowd. At length
we entered; and much more comfortably
than I had expected. But, if the crowd
outside the house of death had behaved in a most
irreverent manner—laughing, screaming, jostling
once within it, they behaved still worse.
I felt quite relieved when grave gend'armes
and solemn servants stood ready at the head
of the staircase to rebuke the riotous mob.
Passing through two or three rooms splendidly
furnished, but in desolate disorder, telling of
the suddenness of the Duchess's decease, the
heedless crowd crushed into a small room
hung with black cloth and barbaric
escutcheons, and brilliant with burning tapers.
In the centre of the room, upon an elevated
couch, which was covered with black drapery,
decorated with flowers in full bloom, and
surrounded with tapers burning in tall golden
candlesticks, reclined the corpse. The corpse
was arrayed in black velvet, and its pale
brow crowned with a tiara of brilliants, from
which fell a long veil of white lace, half