dance, others impatiently awaiting their turn,
or quizzing the dancers; while a third party
sat gravely at the side-tables, smoking their
pipes, playing at cards, and supping their
wine and beer. Passing onward, we carne
upon a diminutive merryman screaming from
the platform of his mountebank theatre, the
nature of the entertainment and the lowness
of the price of admission—'Only four kreutzers
for the first place! '

"Continuing our course, we were attracted
into a side-street by a crowd, among whom
stood conspicuous a brass musical band, and
an old man in a semi-religious costume of
black and white, bearing a large wooden
crucifix in his hand. In anticipation of some
religious ceremony, we waited awhile to
watch its development. It was a funeral,
and the whole procession soon formed itself
in the following order. First came the
large crucifix, then a boy bearing a banner
on which was painted the figure of the
Virgin; then came six other boys, followed
by the same number of girls, all neatly and
cleanly dressed; and then the coffin, hung with
scarlet drapery, adorned with flowers, and
having a small silver crucifix at its head. We
were told it was the funeral of a girl of thirteen.
Close upon the coffin came the minister,
or priest, clad in a black loosish gown, and
wearing a curiously crown-shaped cap, also
black. Every head was uncovered as he and
the coffin passed. Then came, as we imagined,
the real mourners of the dead, followed by
six exceedingly old women, mourners by profession,
and immediately behind them the
brass band which had first attracted our
attention. The latter, as soon as the
procession was fairly in motion, burst forth into a
noisy, and by no means melancholy strain,
and continued to play for some time, until
they suddenly ceased, and there was heard
from some one at the head of the procession
a Latin prayer, which was immediately
echoed by the old women in the rear in the
same drowsy, monotonous tone in which the
church responses are usually made. The
scene was altogether curious and striking;
the progress of the procession was everywhere
marked by uncovered heads and signs
of sympathy and respect; but in spite of its
attempted solemnity, there was a holiday
appearance about it which jarred sadly with
its real character of grief and death."

I have given this description a front place
because it is the worst thing I can say of
Vienna, and in no other part of the city did I
ever see its like. During a stay of twelve
months, I lost no opportunity of enjoying all
that the Viennese enjoyed, or of witnessing
whatever was part of the national customs in
festival, holiday, or religious ceremonial. In
addition to the Sundays—which were all, to
a certain extent, days of rejoicing—there
were nine distinct festivals in the year enjoined
by the church, and on which, if they
fell on week-days, the working people rested
from their labours. Of course each of these
days had its special religious reference and
obligations, and these were in general faithfully
observed; but, apart from this, they
were essentially holidays, and, as no deduction
of wages was made by the employers on
their account, they did not fall as a burden
upon the working classes. These days were:
New Year's Day, the Annunciation, Good
Friday, Easter and Whit Sunday, Corpus
Christi Day, All Saints' Day, the Birth of the
Virgin, Christmas Day, and the festival of
St. Leopold, the patron saint of Vienna. On
the strictly church festivals, with the exception
of All Saints' Day, theatrical performances,
and public amusements generally, were
interdicted, but rest and quiet recreation, in
addition to the religious observances, were
their great characteristics. Easter and Whit
Monday were among the Volks Feste
(people's feasts), as well as one known as
that of the Brigittenau, from the place in
which it is held, and another on the first of
May, when the länfer (running footmen)
have their races in the Prater, and the emperor
permits himself to be mobbed— at
least, the Emperor Francis did—as he strolls
for a half-hour or so among his people in
their own park. Then the Bohemians have
a special religious festival, when one is
astonished to see in out-of-the-way niches and
corners a perhaps hitherto-unobserved figure
of an amiable-looking priest, with a star on
his forehead, now hung about and conspicuous
with wreaths and festoons of flowers, and
bright with the glittering of tiny lamps.
This is the Holy St. John of Nepomuk. I
have, however, nothing to do with the
religious ceremonies of the Catholic Church. It
is sufficient for my purpose to know that I
watched the solemn and splendid procession
of mingled royalty, priest, and people, on
Corpus Christi Day, from the open door of a
coffee and wine-house in the Kohl-market;
and that, at the Easter festival, after ascending
and descending the Mount Calvary, near
Vienna, or rather having been borne up and
down its semi-circular flight of steps, and
past the modelled groups of painted figures
to represent the life of Christ, from the birth
to the crowning act of the crucifixion on the
summit, I then sauntered away with my
landlord (a cabinet-maker) and his family to
Weinhaus, to drink of the new wine called
heuriger. It is enough that, on All Saints'
Day, after wandering awhile about a swampy
churchyard in the suburb of Maria Hilf to
see the melancholy spot of light which glimmered
at each grave-head, I went to the
Burg Theatre, and witnessed Shakespeare's
play of King Lear (and the best actor in
Vienna played the Fool); and further that I
spent the evening of Christmas Day in
Daum's coffee-house in reading Galignani's
Messenger, in order to bring myself, in
imagination at least, as near home as possible.

The jewellers in Vienna are not such