Dec. 4.—­This is a genuine old German city.  Founded by Charlemagne, afterwards a rallying point of the Crusaders, and for a long time the capital of the German empire, it has no lack of interesting historical recollections, and notwithstanding it is fast becoming modernized, one is every where reminded of the Past.  The Cathedral, old as the days of Peter the Hermit, the grotesque street of the Jews, the many quaint, antiquated dwellings and the mouldering watch-towers on the hills around, give it a more interesting character than any German city I have yet seen.  The house we dwell in, on the Markt Platz, is more than two hundred years old; directly opposite is a great castellated building, gloomy with the weight of six centuries, and a few steps to the left brings me to the square of the Roemerberg, where the Emperors were crowned, in a corner of which is a curiously ornamented house, formerly the residence of Luther.  There are legends innumerable connected with all these buildings, and even yet discoveries are frequently made in old houses, of secret chambers and staircases.  When you add to all this, the German love of ghost stories, and, indeed, their general belief in spirits, the lover of romance could not desire a more agreeable residence.

I often look out on the singular scene below my window.  On both sides of the street, leaving barely room to enter the houses, sit the market women, with their baskets of vegetables and fruit.  The middle of the street is filled with women buying, and every cart or carriage that comes along, has to force its way through the crowd, sometimes rolling against and overturning the baskets on the side, when for a few minutes there is a Babel of unintelligible sounds.  The country women in their jackets and short gowns go backwards and forwards with great loads on their heads, sometimes nearly as high as themselves.  It is a most singular scene, and so varied that one never tires of looking upon it.  These women sit here from sunrise till sunset, day after day, for years.  They have little furnaces for cooking and for warmth in winter, and when it rains they sit in large wooden boxes.  One or two policemen are generally on the ground in the morning to prevent disputing about their places, which often gives rise to interesting scenes.  Perhaps this kind of life in the open air is conducive to longevity; for certainly there is no country on earth that has as many old women.  Many of them look like walking machines made of leather; and to judge from what I see in the streets here, I should think they work till they die.

On the 21st of October a most interesting fete took place.  The magnificent monument of Goethe, modelled by the sculptor Schwanthaler, at Munich, and cast in bronze, was unveiled.  It arrived a few days before, and was received with much ceremony and erected in the destined spot, an open square in the western part of the city, planted with acacia trees.  I went there at ten o’clock, and found the square