stands Huss alone. His face, pale and thin with long imprisonment, he
has lain one hand on his breast, while with the other he has grasped one
of the volumes on the table; there is an air of majesty, of heavenly
serenity on his lofty forehead and calm eye. One feels instinctively
that he has truth on his side. There can be no deception, no falsehood
in those noble features. The three Italian cardinals before him appear
to be full of passionate rage; the bishop in front, who holds the
imperial pass given to Huss, looks on with an expression of scorn, and
the priests around have an air of mingled curiosity and hatred. There is
one, however, in whose mild features and tearful eye is expressed
sympathy and pity for the prisoner. It is said this picture has had a
great effect upon Catholics who have seen it, in softening the bigotry
with which they regarded the early reformers; and if so, it is a
triumphant proof how much art can effect in the cause of truth and
humanity. I was much interested in a cast of the statue of St. George,
by the old Italian sculptor Donatello. It is a figure full of youth and
energy, with a countenance that seems to breathe. Donatello was the
teacher of Michael Angelo, and when the young sculptor was about setting
off for Rome, he showed him the statue, his favorite work. Michael gazed
at it long and intensely, and at length, on parting, said to Donatello,
"It wants but one thing." The artist pondered long over this expression,
for he could not imagine in what could fail the matchless figure. At
length, after many years, Michael Angelo, in the noon of his renown,
visited the death-bed of his old master. Donatello begged to know,
before he died, what was wanting to his St. George. Angelo answered,
"_the gift of speech!_" and a smile of triumph lighted the old man's
face, as he closed his eyes forever.

The Eschernheim Tower, at the entrance of one of the city gates, is
universally admired by strangers, on account of its picturesque
appearance, overgrown with ivy and terminated by the little pointed
turrets, which one sees so often in Germany, on buildings three or four
centuries old. There are five other watch towers of similar form, which
stand on different sides of the city, at the distance of a mile or two,
and generally upon an eminence overlooking the country. They were
erected several centuries ago, to discern from afar the approach of an
enemy, and protect the caravans of merchants, which at t