and Mr. Nockher shewed me his fine impression of the Dresden Raphael, in a manner that proved how perfectly well he was qualified to appreciate the merits of the graphic art.  That print, you know, is considered to be the masterpiece of modern art; and it is also said that the engraver—­having entirely finished every portion of it—­did NOT LIVE TO SEE A FINISHED PROOF.  Mr. Nockher bought it for some three or four napoleons, and has refused twenty for it.  I own that, to my eye, this print has more power, expression, and I may say colouring, than almost any which I remember to have seen.  The original is in the second, or darker style of colouring, of the master; and this engraving of it is as perfect a copy of the manner of the original, as that by Raphael Morghen of the last Supper of Leonardo da Vinci—­so celebrated all over Europe.

Mr. Nockher is both a good-natured man, and a man of business; and the facility and general correctness of his mode of speaking the English language, renders a communication with him very agreeable.  He has undertaken to forward all my book-purchases to England—­with the exception of a certain little Greek duodecimo, which has taken a marvellous fancy to be the travelling companion of its present master.  Mr. Nockher also promises to forward all future book-purchases which I may make—­and which may be directed for him at Munich—­on to England.  Thus, therefore—­when I quit this place—­I may indulge a pleasing anticipation of the future, without any anxieties respecting the past.[76]

And now fare you well.  Within twenty-four hours I start from hence, upon rather a digressive excursion; and into which the Baron Von Moll and M. Schlichtegroll have rather coaxed, than reasoned, me.  I am to go from hence to Freysing and Landshut—­and then diverge down, to the right, upon Salzburg—­situated ’midst snow-clad mountains, and containing a LIBRARY within the oldest monastery in Austria.  I am to be prepared to be equally struck with astonishment at the crypt of Freysing, and at the tower of Landshut—­and after having “revelled and rioted” in the gloomy cloisters and sombre apartments of St. Peter’s monastery, at Salzburg, I am instructed to take the Lake of Gmunden in my way to the Monastery of Chremsminster—­in the direct route to Lintz and Vienna.  A world of variety and of wonder seems therefore to be before me; and as my health has been recently improved, from the comparatively cool state of the weather, I feel neither daunted nor depressed at the thought of any difficulties, should there be any, which may await me in the accomplishment of this journey.  My next, God willing, will assuredly be from Salzburg—­when I shall have rested awhile after a whirl of some two hundred miles.

[66] [See vol. ii. p. 147.  Renouard, L’Imprim. des Alde, vol. i.
    36-7.  There are however, NOW, I believe, in this country, FIVE copies
    of this very rare book; of which four are perfect.]