acquaintances there, from the mines of Pennsylvania; Massachusetts and New York were also very well represented.  I had no idea before, that the mineral wealth of Austria was so great.  Besides the iron and lead mines among the hills of Styria and the quicksilver of Idria, there is no small amount of gold and silver found, and the Carpathian mountains are rich in jasper, opal and lapiz lazuli.  The largest opal ever found, was in this collection.  It weighs thirty-four ounces and looks like a condensed rainbow.

In passing the palace, we saw several persons entering the basement story under the Library, and had the curiosity to follow them.  By so doing, we saw the splendid equipages of the house of Austria.  There must have been near a hundred carriages and sleds, of every shape and style, from the heavy, square vehicle of the last century to the most light and elegant conveyance of the present day.  One clumsy, but magnificent machine, of crimson and gold, was pointed out as being a hundred and fifty years old.  The misery we witnessed in starving Bohemia, formed a striking contrast to all this splendor.

Beside the Imperial Picture Gallery, there are several belonging to princes and noblemen in Vienna, which are scarcely less valuable.  The most important of these is that of Prince Liechtenstein, which we visited yesterday.  We applied to the porter’s lodge for admittance to the gallery, but he refused to open it for two persons; as we did not wish a long walk for nothing, we concluded to wait for other visitors.  Presently a gentleman and lady came and inquired if the gallery was open.  We told him it would probably be opened now, although the porter required a larger number, and he went to ask.  After a short time he returned, saying:  “He will come immediately; I thought best to put the number a little higher, and so I told him there were six of us!” Having little artistic knowledge of paintings, I judge of them according to the effect they produce upon me—­in proportion as they gratify the innate love for the beautiful and the true.  I have been therefore disappointed in some painters whose names are widely known, and surprised again to find works of great beauty by others of smaller fame.  Judging by such a standard, I should say that “Cupid sleeping in the lap of Venus,” by Correggio, is the glory of this collection.  The beautiful limbs of the boy-god droop in the repose of slumber, as his head rests on his mother’s knee, and there is a smile lingering around his half-parted lips, as if he was dreaming new triumphs.  The face is not that of the wicked, mischief-loving child, but rather a sweet cherub, bringing a blessing to all he visits.  The figure of the goddess is exquisite.  Her countenance, unearthly in its loveliness, expresses the tenderness of a young mother, as she sits with one finger pressed on her rosy lip, watching his slumber.  It is a picture which “stings the brain with beauty.”