a white marble urn, between two cinnamon-colour columns, of the Corinthian order—­of free stone.  The head is thought to be very like.  Oberlin’s is in better taste.  You see only his profile, by Ohmacht, in white marble—­very striking.  The accompaniments are figures in white marble, of which a muse, in rilievo, is larger than life.  The inscriptions, both for Schoepflin and Oberlin, are short and simple, and therefore appropriate.  The monument of Koch is not less simple.  It consists of his bust—­about to be crowned with a fillet of oaken leaves—­by a figure representing the city of Strasbourg.  Below the bust is another figure weeping—­and holding beneath its arms, a scroll, upon which the works of the deceased are enumerated.  Koch died in his seventy-sixth year, in the year 1813.  Ohmacht is also the sculptor of Koch’s monument.  Upon the whole, I am not sure that I have visited any church, since the cathedral of Rouen, of which the interior is more interesting, on the score of monuments, than that of St. Thomas at Strasbourg.

I do not know that it is necessary to say any thing about the old churches of St. Stephen and St. Martin:  except that the former is supposed to be the most ancient.  It was built of stone, and said to be placed upon a spot in which was a Roman fort—­the materials of which served for a portion of the present building.  St. Martin’s was erected in 1381 upon a much finer plan than that of St. Arbogaste—­which is said to have been built in the middle of the twelfth century.  Among the churches, now no longer wholly appropriated to sacred uses, is that called the New Temple—­attached to which is the Public Library.  The service in this church is according to the Protestant persuasion.  I say this Church is not wholly devoted to religious rites:  for what was once the choir, contains, at bottom, the BOOKS belonging to the public University; and, at top, those which were bequeathed to the same establishment by Schoepflin.  The general effect—­ both from the pavement below, and the gallery above—­is absolutely transporting.  Shall I tell you wherefore?  This same ancient choir—­now devoted to printed tomes—­contains some lancet-shaped windows of stained glass of the most beautiful and exquisite pattern and colours!... such as made me wholly forget those at Toul, and almost those at St. Owen.  Even the stained glass of the cathedral, here, was recollected... only to suffer by the comparison!  It should seem that the artist had worked with alternate dissolutions of amethyst, topaz, ruby, garnet, and emerald.  Look at the first three windows, to the left on entering, about an hour before sun-set:—­they seem to fill the whole place with a preternatural splendor!  The pattern is somewhat of a Persian description, and I should apprehend the antiquity of the workmanship to be scarcely exceeding three hundred years.  Yet I must be allowed to say, that these exquisitely sparkling, if not unrivalled, specimens of stained glass, do not belong to a place now wholly occupied by books.  Could they not be placed in the chapel of St. Lawrence, or of St. Catharine, in the cathedral?