men, and chants a blessing. The King and his brothers again approach the "apostles;" the choristers burst forth into a glorious chant, till the whole hall is filled with melody, and the King receives the dishes from his brothers, and places them before the old men. Again I felt a thrill rush through me; it is so graceful-though it be but a mere form, a mere shadow of the true sentiment of love— any gentle act of kindness from the strong to the weak, from the powerful to the very poor. As the King bowed himself before the feeble old man of a hundred, though I knew it to be but a mere ceremony,-it was impossible not to recognise a poetical idea.

It took a long time before the seventy and two meats were all placed upon the table, and then it took a very long time before the palsied old hands could convey the soup to the old lips; some were too feeble, and were fed by the man in black. It was curious to notice the different ways in which the poor old fellows received the food from the King: some slightly bowed their heads; others sat stolidly; others seemed sunk in stupor.

The Court soon retired, and twelve new baskets were brought by servants, into which the six bowls of untasted food were placed; these, together with the napkin, knife, fork, spoon and mug, bottle of wine and bread, are carried away by the old men; or, more properly speaking, are carried away for them by their attendant relatives. Many of the poor old fellows-I see by a printed paper which was distributed about, and which contains a list of their names and ages come from great distances; they are chosen as being the oldest poor men in Bavaria. One only is out of Munich, and he is ninety-three.

We went down into the hall to have a nearer view of the "apostles;" but, so very decrepit did the greater number appear, on a close inspection,-their faces so sad and vacant;

there was such a trembling eagerness after the food in the baskets, now hidden from their sight; such a shouting into their deaf ears; such a guiding of feeble steps and blinded, blear eyes, that I wished we had avoided this painful part of the spectacle.

Evening of Green Thursday.-Madame Thekla this afternoon, on her way, as she expressed it, "to pray a little," told me that there would be beautiful music in the Hof-Kapelle about four o'clock. And thither I went.

Glorious music pealing through the lovely chapel; now bursts of wild chanting, which hoarsely died away among the golden arches; now a voice, as of an angel gently pleading in soft, silvery tones; tapers burning before the altar, on a large dark triangle of wood; streams of warm sunshine falling down from the unseen windows, high up above the golden balconies, and resting, ere they fell to the marble floor, upon the fair curls of some little kneeling child, crowning its innocent head with celestial glory; a blessed feeling of all the beauty without the walls of the chapel and of the city, of the resurrection of nature and hope throughout the world, in the bursting of buds, in the up-springing of weeds and flowers, and in the carolling of birds-such are my memories of the "Vesper" in the Hof-Kapelle on Green Thursday.

CHAPTER II.

THE HOLY WEEK-EASTER EVE.

I HAVE to-day lived in the churches from morning till evening. At nine o'clock this lovely, bright morninghaving crossed the picturesque old Schrannen Platz, where, spite of its being Good Friday, the corn-market was held as usual-I found myself in the old St. Peter's Church. Although in walking through the streets you saw no sign of a holiday, the shops being open as usual, and people going about in their ordinary clothes, yet within the church you saw that it was a day of holy significance. It was crowded to excess; and with such a restless crowd passing in and out, that I soon had my veil torn from my bonnet, and felt truly thankful that no greater misfortune befel me. All that was to be seen for a long time was a crimson canopy, which rose conspicuous above the crowd of heads, and was placed below the altar steps. A large painting of "Christ's Agony in the Garden" had taken the place of the usual altar-piece.

Soon the most plaintive music pealed through the church —a long, mournful wail, as of the lamenting disciples. Involuntarily I found myself filled with a strange sadness, and I had come to the church with a feeling of utter disgust towards the ceremony which I was about to witness—a representation of Christ borne to the sepulchre. To the strains of this solemn dirge a long procession wound its way round the church, descending from the altar, and passing beneath the cancpy. First went the choristers in

their white robes-tender children and grey-headed men, blending their voices in this wild chant; then priests, and priests, and priests, two and two, in black and white robes; -in their centre, and borne upon a bier, and covered with a white veil, an effigy of our Saviour. Ever and anon, instead of the bell calling the crowd to bow before the host which was borne aloft, you heard the dead, abrupt, wooden sound of clappers which certain priests carried in their hands. After the priests came a stream of citizens, men bearing burning tapers. Then-headed by the most wan, emaciated, stunted-looking priest, who walked with folded hands laid on one side, and downcast eyes, an embodiment, it seemed to me, of the most fearful vice of priestcraft -came on a long, long train of women, women of all ages and various degrees of station, from the small tradesman's wife to the lady in her lace bonnet and elegant gloves: all were in black; all carried in one hand an open book, from which they read, and a rosary; and in the other a burning taper.

I could not but admire the progress of refinement, when I noticed the tapers carried by the women. To prevent the wax falling upon their black dresses, these tapers burned in long white sockets, which, unless minutely inspected, appeared to be wax. Every woman bore such a taper. And thus slowly proceeding round the church, the figure was laid in a sepulchre erected in a little chapel. To visit these sepulchres of the various churches is the great business of Munich on Good Friday.

The arrangement of the sepulchres is pretty much the same in all the churches, especially in the old ones. The body is generally laid among flowers in a small cave beneath the altar; sometimes the recess in the altar uncomfortably reminded me of an English fire-place in an unfinished house before the stove has been set. But generally arti

ficial rocks surrounded the opening of the cave; a small lamp was often suspended over the corpse, and a row of tiny lamps burned upon the ground in front, not unlike foot-lights; only each burned behind a small globe filled with coloured liquid-crimson, green, blue, and yellowconsiderably reminding you of the ornamental bottles in chemists' windows in England. The altar itself was transformed into a very mountain of plants and flowers—arums, roses, crown-imperials, myrtles, geraniums, and a dozen other plants, all blooming in pots, which were generally artfully concealed or artificially decorated.

Lights were disposed everywhere on the altar; at the mountain's summit, the golden rays surrounding the host glittered and sparkled in the light of these many tapers. Often lower down on the mountain you would see two angels praying, their robes, very fluttering, of pale pink and white drapery, their hair very yellow, and their cheeks very pink; often ivy and creeping plants were made to festoon, and gracefully shadow the opening of the cave. The steps, too, approaching the altar and sepulchre, were a mass of flowers; sometimes a steep wall of flowers and greenness rose abruptly up, and permitted you but a narrow glimpse of the interior of the cave. Tall orange-trees, in tubs, laurels, and cedars, stood in groups on either hand. To complete the general idea, you must imagine the rest of the church darkened, with daylight struggling through blinded windows, and through the doorways, as the heavy doors swung ever to and fro to admit the entrance and the departure of the restless crowd. Imagine, also, a dense multitude circulating through all these churches, and only stationary before the sepulchre; and above, the shuffle of feet and the murmur of prayers or adoration, fitful, plaintive strains of music, moaning through the gloom, and the sonorous voices of the priests chanting their solemn dirge.