Astræa's health was utterly broken. It was not her physique that died, but her heart, her spirits, her self-reliance, and her hope of the future. She felt that there was nothing for her in this world but remorse. The desolation that was round her killed her. She braved it earnestly at first. Her noble heart and her true love she thought were proof against the world and its hollow scorn. Alas! for true love and noble hearts! They can not stand up alone in ice and storms. They must be out in the sun with their allies round them, like frailer loves and meaner hearts, or they will perish in their strength! THE FEET-WASHING ON GOOD FRIDAY IN MUNICH. I have just witnessed the ceremony of the Feet-washing, which has been announced for this month past as one of the great sights of the season. My good friend at the _Kreigs Ministerium_ kept his word faithfully about procuring tickets for us. Accordingly, Myra F. and I have seen the whole ceremony. At nine o'clock Myra was with me, and, early as it was, Madame Thekla advised us to set off to the Palace, as people were always wild about places, and if we came late, spite of our tickets, we should see nothing. The good old soul also accompanied us, on the plea that, as she was big and strong, she could push a way for us through the crowd, and keep our places by main force. She stood guard over us--the good creature!--for two mortal hours, and when the door at length was opened by a grand lacquey, had the satisfaction of seeing us step through the very first. But before this happy moment arrived, we had to wait, as I said, two hours; and leaving, therefore, the patient old lady as our representative before the little door which led into the gallery of the Hercules Hall, whither our tickets admitted us, and before which door no one but ourselves had yet presented themselves, Myra and I ranged along the queer whitewashed galleries of the old portion of the palace in which we were. Can not you see these vistas of whitewashed wall, with grim old portraits of powdered ladies and gentlemen, in hoops, ruffles, gold lace, and ermine, and framed in black frames, interspersed amid heavy wreaths and arabesques of stucco?--dazzlingly white walls, dazzlingly white arched ceilings, diminishing in long perspective! Now we came upon a strange sort of a little kitchen in the thick wall, where a quaint copper kettle, standing on the now cold hearth, told of coffee made for some royal servant some hours before; we were now before the door of some _Kammer-Jungfer_; now in the gallery with the whitewash, but without the portraits, where, opposite to every door, stood a large, white cupboard; a goodly row of them.