INN AT MUNICH. As I had never been in Munich before, I strolled about the town till dusk. At that time the taste of the present king had not enriched the capital with the innumerable objects of art which render it now second to none in Europe. There were, indeed, then but few attractions--narrow streets, tall, unarchitectural-looking houses, and gloomy, unimpressive churches. Tired of this, I turned towards my inn, wondering in my mind if Antoine had succeeded in procuring me the room, or whether yet I should be obliged to seek my lodging elsewhere. Scarcely had I entered the porch, when I found him waiting my arrival, candle in hand. He conducted me at once up the wide oaken stair, then along the gallery, into a large wainscotted room, with a most capacious bed. A cheerful wood fire burned and crackled away in the grate--the cloth was already spread for supper--(remember it was in Germany)--the newspapers of the day were placed before me--and, in a word, every attention showed that I had found the true avenue to Antoine's good graces, who now stood bowing before me, in apparent ecstasy at his own cleverness. "All very well done, Antoine, and now for supper--order it yourself for me--I never can find my way in a German 'carte de diner;' and be sure to have a fiacre here at nine--nine precisely." Antoine withdrew, leaving me to my own reflections, which now, if not gloomy, were still of the most anxious kind. Scarcely was the supper placed upon the table, when a tremendous tramping of horses along the street, and loud cracking of whips, announced a new arrival. "Here they are," said I, as, springing up, I upset the soup, and nearly threw the roti into Antoine's face, as he was putting it before me. Down stairs I rushed, through the hall, pushing aside waiters and overturning chambermaids in my course. The carriage was already at the door. Now for a surprise, thought I, as I worked through the crowd in the porch, and reached the door just as the steps were clattered down, and a gentleman began to descend, whom twenty expectant voices, now informed of his identity, welcomed as the new Charge d'Affaires. "May all the--" What I wished for his excellency it would not be polite to repeat, nor most discreet even to remember; but, certes, I mounted the stairs with as little good will towards the envoy extraordinary as was consistent with due loyalty. When once more in my room, I congratulated myself that now at least no more "false starts" could occur--"the eternal Charge d'Affaires, of whom I have been hearing since my arrival, cannot come twice--he is here now, and I hope I'm done with him."