livid paleness of his limbs, he would seem to be only asleep, while a deep and settled sorrow marks the venerable features of the unfortunate Emperor.  In the middle of the room are six pieces of statuary, among which Canova’s world-renowned group of the Graces at once attracts the eye.  There is also a kneeling Magdalen, lovely in her woe, by the same sculptor, and a very touching work of Schadow, representing a shepherd boy tenderly binding his sash around a lamb which he has accidentally wounded with his arrow.

We have since seen in the St. Michael’s Church, the monument to Eugene Beauharnois, from the chisel of Thorwaldsen.  The noble, manly figure of the son of Josephine is represented in the Roman mantle, with his helmet and sword lying on the ground by him.  On one side sits History, writing on a tablet; on the other, stand the two brother-angels, Death and Immortality.  They lean lovingly together, with arms around each other, but the sweet countenance of Death has a cast of sorrow, as he stands with inverted torch and a wreath of poppies among his clustering locks.  Immortality, crowned with never-fading flowers, looks upwards with a smile of triumph, and holds in one hand his blazing torch.  It is a beautiful idea, and Thorwaldsen has made the marble eloquent with feeling.

The inside of the square formed by the Arcades and the New Residence, is filled with noble old trees, which in summer make a leafy roof over the pleasant walks.  In the middle, stands a grotto, ornamented with rough pebbles and shells, and only needing a fountain to make it a perfect hall of Neptune.  Passing through the northern Arcade, one comes into the magnificent park, called the English Garden, which extends more than four miles along the bank of the Isar, several branches of whose milky current wander through it, and form one or two pretty cascades.  It is a beautiful alternation of forest and meadow, and has all the richness and garden-like luxuriance of English scenery.  Winding walks lead along the Isar, or through the wood of venerable oaks, and sometimes a lawn of half a mile in length, with a picturesque temple at its further end, comes in sight through the trees.  I was better pleased with this park than with the Prater in Vienna.  Its paths are always filled with persons enjoying the change from the dusty streets to its quiet and cool retirement.

The New Residence is not only one of the wonders of Munich, but of the world.  Although commenced in 1826 and carried on constantly since that time by a number of architects, sculptors and painters, it is not yet finished; if art were not inexhaustible it would be difficult to imagine what more could be added.  The north side of the Max Joseph Platz is taken up by its front of four hundred and thirty feet, which was nine years in building, under the direction of the architect Klenze.  The exterior is copied after the Palazzo Pitti, in Florence.  The building is of light brown sandstone, and combines an elegance and even splendor, with the most chaste and classic style.  The northern front, which faces on the Royal Garden, is now nearly finished.  It has the enormous length of eight hundred feet; in the middle is a portico of ten Ionic columns; instead of supporting a triangular facade, each pillar stands separate and bears a marble statue from the chisel of Schwanthaler.