. . . . we were going to take our leave; but the family in a body insisted upon seeing us off, and, walking through their beautiful gardens, crossed the river with us, and parted from us most kindly, following us with waving of caps and handkerchiefs till the turn of the road carried us out of sight. . . . June 12.—We have travelled to-day twelve German miles, from Liebkovitz to Prague, and all the way have felt that we were really in Bohemia. . . . . We have been in the midst of a Sclavic population, we have heard Bohemian constantly talked, and have found all the public notices posted regularly in both languages. The greater part of the way the country, though highly cultivated, was uninteresting; we passed for miles through monotonous fields of waving corn, . . . . passing, as it were, over a vast prairie. From Schlan to Prague we rose a good deal, and on the top of the eminence looked down upon the capital of Bohemia, stretching up and down both sides of the Moldau. It is certainly one of the most picturesque cities I have ever seen, standing on five hills, with great masses of buildings in every direction, broken by an uncommon number of old steeples, towers, and domes, while the river, crossed by its ancient and highly ornamented bridge, sweeps majestically through the midst of the whole. It is not half as large as Berlin, but it gives the idea of a great deal more magnificence. June 13.—Young Count Leo Thun came to see us this morning. He has a place in the criminal administration of the government here. . . . . He seems a young man of strong character and great love of knowledge and progress, has much Bohemian nationality about him. . . . . He offered himself to show us Prague, and we accepted his kindness, with some limitations. . . . . This morning I went with my valet-de-place to see the quarter assigned to the Jews, where they have lived since the thirteenth century. It is very crowded, dirty, and disagreeable; for, as they are not allowed to live anywhere else, and have constantly been increasing, they have become packed together in an extraordinary manner. Their burial-ground is curious, with its heavy gravestones, covered with long Hebrew inscriptions, but it is even more crowded with the dead than their streets are with the living. The stones almost constantly touch each other, so that if as many have been buried here as are indicated, they must rest in tiers, one above the other. Yet the whole room is by no means filled; for when Joseph II. forbade burial within the limits of the cities, there was still space left here, so that the crowding must have been from economy, not from necessity. Their synagogue
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