the doors, the windows—­in nooks and corners—­every where that a niche or a perch can be found about the enormous building, from summit to base, there is a marble statue, and every statue is a study in itself!  Raphael, Angelo, Canova—­giants like these gave birth to the designs, and their own pupils carved them.  Every face is eloquent with expression, and every attitude is full of grace.  Away above, on the lofty roof, rank on rank of carved and fretted spires spring high in the air, and through their rich tracery one sees the sky beyond.  In their midst the central steeple towers proudly up like the mainmast of some great Indiaman among a fleet of coasters.

We wished to go aloft.  The sacristan showed us a marble stairway (of course it was marble, and of the purest and whitest—­there is no other stone, no brick, no wood, among its building materials) and told us to go up one hundred and eighty-two steps and stop till he came.  It was not necessary to say stop—­we should have done that any how.  We were tired by the time we got there.  This was the roof.  Here, springing from its broad marble flagstones, were the long files of spires, looking very tall close at hand, but diminishing in the distance like the pipes of an organ.  We could see now that the statue on the top of each was the size of a large man, though they all looked like dolls from the street.  We could see, also, that from the inside of each and every one of these hollow spires, from sixteen to thirty-one beautiful marble statues looked out upon the world below.

From the eaves to the comb of the roof stretched in endless succession great curved marble beams, like the fore-and-aft braces of a steamboat, and along each beam from end to end stood up a row of richly carved flowers and fruits—­each separate and distinct in kind, and over 15,000 species represented.  At a little distance these rows seem to close together like the ties of a railroad track, and then the mingling together of the buds and blossoms of this marble garden forms a picture that is very charming to the eye.

We descended and entered.  Within the church, long rows of fluted columns, like huge monuments, divided the building into broad aisles, and on the figured pavement fell many a soft blush from the painted windows above.  I knew the church was very large, but I could not fully appreciate its great size until I noticed that the men standing far down by the altar looked like boys, and seemed to glide, rather than walk.  We loitered about gazing aloft at the monster windows all aglow with brilliantly colored scenes in the lives of the Saviour and his followers.  Some of these pictures are mosaics, and so artistically are their thousand particles of tinted glass or stone put together that the work has all the smoothness and finish of a painting.  We counted sixty panes of glass in one window, and each pane was adorned with one of these master achievements of genius and patience.