Munich, June 1st, 1850.-Here we are in Munich. These last several days have been such a confusion of excitement, delight, disappointment, joy, fatigue, and disgust, that I scarcely know where to begin my narrative. I will, however, begin with prosaic lodging-hunting. To-day, all yesterday, and part of Saturday, have we been hunting for our little home that is to be; and as yet have not found it. The fact is, Munich is very full, from the sitting of the Bavarian Parliament, and from the great number of soldiers and students here; so that it seems next to impossible to find what we want,-cleanliness, respectability, and moderate charges combined. I should think I have been in almost every street in Munich; and what queer places and people I have seen! I fancy to-night, when I fall asleep, I shall find myself in dreams standing at the corner of some cld street, reading the written advertisements which are posted up in such places. I seem to have no ideas in my brain but "2 Zimmer zu vermiethen. Ein sehr schön moblirtes Zimmer zu vermiethen an einen soliden Herrn, und gleich zu beziehen." Think how oldfashioned it is here in Munich even, when a servant-girl will be sent round with a number of such advertisements, and a paste-pot, and pastes them up at the corner of the streets throughout the city: I had the amusement of seeing one perform her business. At present we remain at the Inn. You will naturally wish to know what we have done about the most important thing of all,—our artistic arrangements: scarcely anything as yet, for all requires time and consideration. I have not yet been even to Kaulbach's atelier. I asked advice from B-, and he recommended that I should become a pupil, for the first three months at least, of friend of his, a rising artist and pupil of De la Roche's. I, of course, was therefore anxious to see this gentleman and his works; but I am disappointed,—and, in fact, we for the present remain in a state of the greatest uncertainty. Admission into the Academy, as we had hoped, we find is impossible for women: the higher class of artists receive no pupils. I saw, yesterday morning, when at the B's, a procession, or rather a number of processions, which were moving through the street. They were a sort of sequel to the grand procession of Corpus Christi Day, which we unfortunately missed seeing by a few hours. The morning was gloriously bright, the sky as cloudless and blue as an Italian sky; the streets through which the procession passed were strewn with grass and flowers; whole forests of birch-trees seemed to have been cut down to decorate the houses; they were arranged side by side against the walls, so that the procession seemed to pass through the vista of a green wood. Banners, tapestry, garlands, floated from the windows of the houses, which were often converted into shrines with burning tapers, golden crucifixes, pictures, and flowers. The air was filled with the sound of hymns and the pealing of bells; altars were erected at the corners of the streets, at the fountains, and before the churches. Through the gay street wound the long train; priests in their gorgeous robes, scarlet, white, and gold, under gorgeous canopies; Franciscan monks in their grave-coloured garbs; Sisters of Mercy; various brotherhoods in quaint picturesque attire, all with gay floating banners and silver crucifixes. Then came young girls with wreaths of myrtle on their heads, with lilies and palm-branches in their hands, or bearing books, tapers, or rosaries; then troops and troops of little children, all in white, and their heads crowned with flowers, and all raising their pure youthful voices in hymns of praise! It was very beautiful. My soul seemed calmed and exalted. And, at a window opposite to where I was, sate an old, old woman, watching all with the deepest devotion. I shall not soon forget her face. Wednesday. We are at length settled as to domestic matters. We live not far from the Palace, at a sort of old curiosity shop, which Dickens would love to describe. You go up a dark winding staircase, and ring at a little dark door; the door opens, and you see a large room full of gilt crucifixes, picture-frames, and huge painted saints larger than life, and glittering with gold. Beyond this, at the end of a long, desolate, white-washed passage, lie our rooms, spacious and cheerful, with many windows looking out into the public street, and giving a distant view of the Palace. June 12th.-Rejoice with us: on Monday we become pupils of! -! Yes! next Monday we are to begin our studies in that identical little atelier where, seven years ago, when almost a child, I saw that group of young artists resting themselves at noon, and playing on the |