When throwing a stone through a window in
Prague you throw with it a morsel of history.
Count Lützow: The Story of Prague
THE ROYAL CAPITAL OF PRAGUE.
Grand and beautiful, full of splendid palaces, spacious monasteries and green gardens „matička naše Praha“ (our dear mother Prague) extends along side of both banks of the broad river Vltava rejoicing in the picture of her beauties reflected in the water’s mirror as a lovely woman would conscious of her charms and attractions.
And high above the town beyond the endless tiers of tiled mansard, roofs with dormer-windows and gables there rises like a picture woven into a magic veil the pink silhouette of sacred „Hradčany“ the proudest mediaeval acropolis, enveloped in the charm of a glorious past of great events, which it was fated to witness.
And beneath this splendid castle amidst the sea of houses, amongst which, like fresh oases in the desert of grey masonry, gleams the soft and warm green of widespread parks and gardens, rise high into the air the venerable edifices of many churches, the numerous spires and towers of which point to the sky like the full-eard stalks of a field of wheat, watching over the masses of buildings at their feet.
Farther still on the very outskirts of the splendid town, in the pinkish mist of the southern and eastern horizon the eye perceives the soft outlines of majestic Vyšehrad as if it were rising out of the silvery waves
