not inelegant.  The following is a part of the inscription:  “Vivit post funera virtus.  Numinis hinc pietas conjugis inde trahit.”  I would give half a dozen ducats out of the supplemental supply of Madame Francs to have a fine and faithful copy of this very graceful and interesting monumental figure.  As I left the church, the second (Catholic) congregation was entering for divine worship.  Meanwhile the heavens were “black with clouds;” the morning till eleven o’clock, having been insufferably hot and a tremendous thunder storm—­which threatened to deluge the whole place with rain—­moved, in slow and sullen majesty, quite round and round the town, without producing any other effect than that of a few sharp flashes, and growling peals, at a distance.  But the darkened and flitting shadows upon the fir trees, on the hills, during the slow wheeling of the threatening storm, had a magnificently picturesque appearance.

The walks, lawns, and rustic benches about Baden, are singularly pretty and convenient.  Here was a play-house; there, a temple; yonder, a tavern, whither the Badenois resorted to enjoy their Sunday dinner.  One of these taverns was unusually large and convenient.  I entered, as a stranger, to look around me:  and was instantly struck by the notes of the deepest-toned bass voice I had ever heard—­accompanied by some rapidly executed passages upon the harp.  These ceased—­and the softer strains of a young female voice succeeded.  Yonder was a master singer[1]—­as I deemed him—­somewhat stooping from age; with white hairs, but with a countenance strongly characteristic of intellectual energy of some kind.  He was sitting in a chair.  By the side of him stood the young female, about fourteen, from whose voice the strains, just heard, had proceeded.  They sang alternately, and afterwards together:  the man holding down his head as he struck the chords of his harp with a bold and vigorous hand.  I learnt that they were uncle and niece.  I shall not readily forget the effect of these figures, or of the songs which they sang; especially the sonorous notes of the mastersinger, or minstrel.  He had a voice of most extraordinary compass.  I quickly perceived that I was now in the land of music; but the guests seemed to be better pleased with their food than with the songs of this old bard, for he had scarcely received a half florin since I noticed him.

Professor Schweighaeuser came to visit me at the appointed hour of six, in order to have an evening stroll together to a convent, about two miles off, which is considered to be the fashionable evening walk and ride of the place.  I shall long have reason to remember this walk; as well from the instructive discourse of my venerable and deeply learned guide, as from the beauty of the scenery and variety of the company.  As the heat of the day subsided, the company quitted their tables in great crowds.  The mall was full.  Here was Eugene Beauharnois, drawn in a carriage by