Before, however, I make mention of the Public Library, it may be as well briefly to notice the two churches—–­ St. Sebald and St. Lawrence.  The former was within a stone’s throw of our inn.  Above the door of the western front, is a remarkably fine crucifix of wood—­placed, however, in too deep a recess—­said to be by Veit Stoss.  The head is of a very fine form, and the countenance has an expression of the most acute and intense feeling.  A crown of thorns is twisted round the brow.  But this figure, as well as the whole of the outside and inside of the church, stands in great need of being repaired.  The towers are low, with insignificant turrets:  the latter evidently a later erection—­probably at the commencement of the sixteenth century.  The eastern extremity, as well indeed as the aisles, is surrounded by buttresses; and the sharp-pointed, or lancet windows, seem to bespeak the fourteenth, if not the thirteenth century.  The great “wonder” of the interior, is the Shrine of the Saint,[166] (to whom the church is dedicated,) of which the greater part is silver.  At the time of my viewing it, it was in a disjointed state—­parts of it having been taken to pieces, for repair:  but from Geisler’s exquisite little engraving, I should pronounce it to be second to few specimens of similar art in Europe.  The figures do not exceed two feet in height, and the extreme elevation of the shrine may be about eight feet.  Nor has Geisler’s almost equally exquisite little engraving of the richly carved gothic font in this church, less claim upon the admiration of the connoisseur.

The mother church, or Cathedral of St. Lawrence, is much larger, and portions of it may be of the latter end of the thirteenth century.  The principal entrance presents us with an elaborate door-way—­perhaps of the fourteenth century—­with the sculpture divided into several compartments, as at Rouen, Strasbourg, and other earlier edifices.  There is a poverty in the two towers, both from their size, and the meagerness of the windows; but the slim spires at the summit, are, doubtless, nearly of a coeval date with that which supports them.  The bottom of the large circular, or marygold window, is injured in its effect by a gothic balustrade of a later period.  The interior of this church has certainly nothing very commanding or striking, on the score of architectural grandeur or beauty; but there are some painted glass-windows—­especially by Volkmar—–­which are deserving of particular attention.  Nuremberg has one advantage over many populous towns; its public buildings are not choked up by narrow streets:  and I hardly know an edifice of distinction, round which the spectator may not walk with perfect ease, and obtain a view of every portion which he is desirous of examining. The Fraueenkerche, or the church of St. Mary, in the market-place, has a very singular construction in its western front.  A double arched door-way,