such a figure to stand among the clouds. Two
divine cherubs look up from below, and in her arms sits the sacred
child. Those two faces beam from the picture like those of angels. The
wild, prophetic eye and lofty brow of the young Jesus chains one like a
spell. There is something more than mortal in its expression--something
in the infant face which indicates a power mightier than the proudest
manhood. There is no glory around the head; but the spirit which shines
from those features, marks his divinity. In the sweet face of the mother
there speaks a sorrowful foreboding mixed with its tenderness, as if she
knew the world into which the Saviour was born, and foresaw the path in
which he was to tread. It is a picture which one can scarce look upon
without tears.

There are in the same room six pictures by Correggio, which are said to
be among his best works; one of them his celebrated Magdalen. There is
also Correggio's "Holy Night," or the virgin with the shepherds in the
manger, in which all the light comes from the body of the child. The
surprise of the shepherds is most beautifully expressed. In one of the
halls there is a picture by Van der Werff, in which the touching story
of Hagar is told more feelingly than words could do it. The young
Ishmael is represented full of grief at parting with Isaac, who, in
childish unconsciousness of what has taken place, draws in sport the
corner of his mother's mantle around him, and smiles at the tears of his
lost playmate. Nothing can come nearer real flesh and blood than the two
portraits of Raphael Mengs, painted by himself when quite young. You
almost think the artist has in sport crept behind the frame, and wishes
to make you believe he is a picture. It would be impossible to speak of
half the gems of art contained in this unrivalled collection. There are
twelve large halls, containing in all nearly two thousand pictures.

The plain, south of Dresden, was the scene of the hard-fought battle
between Napoleon and the allied armies, in 1813. On the heights above
the little village of Racknitz, Moreau was shot on the second day of the
battle. We took a foot-path through the meadows, shaded by cherry trees
in bloom, and reached the spot after an hour's walk. The monument is
simple--a square block of granite, surmounted by a helmet and sword,
with the inscription: "_The hero Moreau fell here by the side of
Alexander, August 17th, 1813_." I gathered, as a memorial, a few leaves
of