admirable.  I thought I detected in a beautiful child, with dark curly locks, the original of his celebrated Infant St. John.  I was much interested in two small juvenile works of Raphael and his own portrait.  The latter was taken most probably after he became known as a painter.  The calm, serious smile which we see on his portrait as a boy, had vanished, and the thin features and sunken eye told of intense mental labor.

One of the most remarkable buildings now in the course of erection is the Basilica, or Church of St. Bonifacius.  It represents another form of the Byzantine style, a kind of double edifice, a little like a North River steamboat, with a two story cabin on deck.  The inside is not yet finished, although the artists have been at work on it for six years, but we heard many accounts of its splendor, which is said to exceed anything that has been yet done in Munich.  We visited to-day the atelier of Sohwanthaler, which is always open to strangers.  The sculptor himself was not there, but five or six of his scholars were at work in the rooms, building up clay statues after his models and working out bas-reliefs in frames.  We saw here the original models of the statues on the Pinacothek, and the “Wittelsbach Ancestors” in the Throne Hall of the palace.  I was glad also to find a miniature copy in plaster, of the Herrmannsschlacht, or combat of the old German hero, Herrmann, with the Romans, from the frieze of the Walhalla, at Ratisbon.  It is one of Schwanthaler’s best works.  Herrmann, as the middle figure, is represented in fight with the Roman general; behind him the warriors are rushing on, and an old bard is striking the chords of his harp to inspire them, while women bind up the wounds of the fallen.  The Roman soldiers on the other side are about turning in confusion to fly.  It is a lofty and appropriate subject for the portico of a building containing the figures of the men who have labored for the glory and elevation of their Fatherland.

Our new-found friend came to visit us last evening and learn our impressions of Munich.  In the course of conversation we surprised him by revealing the name of our country.  His countenance brightened up and he asked us many questions about the state of society in America.  In return, he told us something more about himself—­his story was simple, hut it interested me.  His father was a merchant, who, having been ruined by unlucky transactions, died, leaving a numerous family without the means of support.  His children were obliged to commence life alone and unaided, which, in a country where labor is so cheap, is difficult and disheartening.  Our friend chose the profession of a machinist, which, after encountering great obstacles, he succeeded in learning, and now supports himself as a common laborer.  But his position in this respect prevents him from occupying that station in society for which he is intellectually fitted.  His own words, uttered with a simple pathos which I can never forget, will