Still, there may be vile,
ill-smelling streets; but so there are in Edinburgh, London, and New
York.
From Cologne we went, at four o'clock, to Dusseldorf, a little town,
celebrated for the head quarters of the Dusseldorf school of painting.
I cannot imagine why they chose this town for a school of the fine
arts, as it is altogether an indifferent, uninteresting place. It is
about an hour's ride from Cologne. We arrived there in time to go into
the exhibition of the works of the artists, which is open all summer.
I don't know how good a specimen it is, but I thought it rather
indifferent. There were some few paintings that interested me, but
nothing equal to those. I have seen in the Dusseldorf gallery at home.
Whittridge lives there, but, unfortunately, was gone for eight days.
Our hotel was pleasant--opening on a walk shaded by double rows of
trees. We ordered a nice little tea in our room, arid waxed quite
merry over it.
This morning we started at seven, and here we are to-night in
Leipsic--as uninteresting a country as I have seen yet. Moreover, we
had passed beyond the limits of our Rhine guide book, and as yet had
no other, and so did not know any thing about the few objects of
interest which presented themselves.
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