parlour, in Madame Thekla's passage,-of teachers standing upon the stairs!

We grow quite bewildered by nice faces and ugly faces, round faces and thin faces, red faces and sallow faces; by faces in pink bonnets and black bonnets, in blue bonnets and grey; by faces with curls and with bands, with hair à la Chinoise; by teachers who speak good English, and small English, and no English at all; by high terms and low terms; by certificates from Educational Establishments, and laudatory letters from learned professors; by accounts of lessons given to the and the and the ; by conceit and affectation, and with touching poverty, and meekness, and gentleness. And now a slight pause came in the succession of applicants. We agreed that really we must put an end to the incursion. Among those we had already seen we must have found the right one. Madame Thekla must tell those who were yet arriving that the English lady had met with a teacher.

,

Then, turning a deaf ear to all future ringings at the door, and to all chatterings of Madame Thekla, we drew a long breath after our exertions, and once more prepared our unlucky breakfast, by boiling fresh water over our spirit-lamp, and making a second edition of tea.

One

There was something affecting, in no slight degree, to us in this rush to obtain a few Gulden a month. could have grown quite sentimental over it, had not many of the ladies, old and young, given themselves considerably absurd airs, informing us of what excellent and high-born families they were, and how their real reason for answering the advertisement was, to practise their English. Perhaps it might be so!

Our feeling inclined still towards the young girl who had first applied,—her sweet manner, her shabby dress and intelligent face, spoke loudly in her behalf. But the

mother of another candidate contended with the sweet girl in our good will. Both Isabel's heart and mine had instantly warmed towards this lady; her face was such an anxious, kind face, and her voice had such a sad echo of sorrow in it, it seemed to breathe sighs. Although we had conversed in German, and Isabel did not understand a word of what had been said between us, she had understood the tones and looks, and instantly agreed to suspend the decision until we had seen this lady's daughter. She was to call at half-past twelve.

At twelve I went out, leaving Isabel to see the young lady. On the stairs I met an ascending teacher, and, at the front-door, two more entering. I imagined every young lady I encountered in our street must still be a teacher.

November 14.-There is now deep snow, but as I wanted to secure a model for Monday, and also to purchase tracingpaper, I went out immediately after breakfast, at an hour when most people are scarcely out of their beds in England, and quite enjoyed the walk,-all looked so exquisitely pure and calm. The cold here is much less difficult to bear than the cold of England, because of the dryness of the atmosphere. I went out, as I said, to buy tracing-paper, having come to the end of the supply I took with me, and I found it extremely dear. How strange it is that tracingpaper, which is so much used in Munich, should be so expensive!

You cannot think how picturesque the streets looked in the snow; snow covered the ground, pure as in the country snow lay heavily upon the house-tops, and upon the different statues in the public squares, and drifted on carts and the roofs of carriages. People were wrapped up in the warmest of cloaks and coats, many with hoods

picturesquely drawn over their heads; little lads were busy with their little wooden sledges; most quaint objects, many of them, in their hooded cloaks, looking like little grey, and brown, and black goblins. I greatly enjoyed my snowy walk; and it rejoiced my heart, in all the cold and winterly weather, to see the signs of busy industry which met me in the streets; I mean the signs of busy learning and study, which were quite in harmony with my frame of mind. First, there were lots of little boys and girls rushing out of a public school with their slates, and knapsacks, and bags; then there was the train of students returning from some lecture in the University,-handsome vigorous youths and young men, with their portfolios under their arms, and their faces full of intelligence and animation ;then, as I passed the Conservatorium, the Musical Academy, a loud sound of chorus-singing burst upon my ear, and from a door came forth a troop of boys, several of them very young and small, carrying their violin cases;-they had been learning.

What a beautiful thing, what a beautiful state is that of the student, after all! the very aspiration, endurance, patient labour, and uncertainty of this phase of human life, engendering faith, and hope, and love, and humility, throw a peculiar halo of beauty around it. I have often felt this, but never more strongly than to-day. It seemed to me that the acquiring, the accomplishing, was, as far as the soul itself is concerned, really more than the acquisition,-than that which is accomplished.

CHAPTER X.

THE BOISSERÉE GALLERY IN THE PINAKOTHEK.

ACCOMPANY me this bright, frosty, winter's morning to the beautiful Munich Picture Gallery-the Pinakothek. The trees, and shrubs, and grass in the gardens, and lining the roads, as we approach the Gallery, are glittering with hoarfrost, and look as if molten in frosted silver. We have scarcely emerged from the streets of the newer portion of Munich. There rises the yet unfinished building of the New Pinakothek, destined to contain pictures of modern schools. Two frescoes of Kaulbach's series of designs illustrative of modern German art, already arrest your eye upon its external walls. The grey wooden booths clinging as it were to the upper portion of the building, swallow-nestwise, conceal the artists at work upon the other frescoes of the series. Divided from the New Pinakothek by a broad public road, and standing in a garden enclosed by slight, low, iron railing, we see the Old Pinakothek. It is built of pale yellow brick, and in the style of a Roman palace, after the design of Leo von Klenze. The long centre picture gallery is lighted by sky-lights of violet-coloured glass, which give a very peculiar character to the whole building. The statues of five-and-twenty artists, from designs by Schwanthaler, Van Eyck, Memling, Dürer, Holbein, Schön, Rubens, Van Dyck, Velasquez, Murillo, Claude Lorraine, Poussin, Francia, Angelico da Fiesole, Masaccio, Leonardo da Vinci,

Perugino Ghirlandajo, Michael Angelo, Raphael, Titian, Bellini, Andrea del Sarto, Correggio, and Domenichino, keep watch and ward,—an immortal band, standing around the treasury of their works, and ennobling with a poetic thought the broad parapet of the Pinakothek.

We ascend a low flight of steps guarded by lions couchant; the tall portal opens as by magic, and we stand in the presence of a giant-a mild giant clad in the blue livery of the Bavarian court: a broad crimson and white band crosses the gigantic breast, huge top-boots adorn the gigantic legs, a peaceful smile beams over a placid giant face,—the celebrated giant porter of the Pinakothek nods us a morning greeting, and we hasten up a flight of broad, grey, marble steps, beneath a tinted roof, and catching on our way through a spacious window an expanse of this cloudless Munich heaven, against which rise in sharp relief the white artists' statues in long perspective line.

We enter a room hung with full-length portraits of Bavarian kings and electors in their royal robes: they are King Ludwig and his ancestors, who have gathered together the treasures preserved in the Pinakothek. King Ludwig comes of an art-loving race. In this room loiter the attendants and servants of the Pinakothek; and here you can buy a catalogue if you like; but we have already one with us—a very well-worn copy-an old friend: so we pass on into the next room, the first hall of the gallery, and containing the works of Albert Dürer, of his master Michael Wohlgemuth, and of Albert Dürer's disciples and imi

tators.

But not even here will we pause long this morning; you must come with me into this gallery of cabinets, which runs parallel with the central gallery of halls, and which said cabinets principally contain the famous pictures of the Boisserée Gallery.