n an octagonal tower rises proudly above the other roofs, the square
sides of the tower adding grace to the curve of the dome.

A bridge spans the river, reminding me, with its white marble groups, of
the Ponte San Angelo at Rome. These groups--eight in number, if my
memory does not deceive me--are each composed of two figures; one
allegorical, winged, representing the country, or glory; the other, a
young man, guided through many trials to victory or immortality. These
groups, in purely classic taste, are not wanting in merit, and show in
some parts good study of the nude; their pedestals are ornamented with
medallions, whereon the Prussian eagle, half-real, half-heraldic, makes
a fine appearance. Considered as a decoration, the whole is, in my
opinion, somewhat too rich for the simplicity of the bridge, which opens
midway to allow the passage of vessels.

Farther on, through the trees of a public garden of some kind, appears
the old Museum, a great structure in the Greek style, with Doric columns
relieved against a painted background. At the corners of the roof,
bronze horses held by grooms are outlined upon the sky. Behind this
building, and looking sideways, you perceive the triangular pediment of
the new Museum.

On crossing the bridge, the dark facade of the palace comes in view,
with its balustraded terrace; the carvings around the main entrance are
in that old, exaggerated German rococo which I have seen before and have
admired in the palace in Dresden. This kind of barbaric taste has
something charming about it, and entertains the eye, satiated with chefs
d'oeuvre. It has invention, fancy, originality; and tho I may be
censured for the opinion, I confess I prefer this exuberance to the
coldness of the Greek style imitated with more erudition than success in
our modern public buildings. At each side stand great bronze horses
pawing the ground, and held by naked grooms.

I visited the apartments of the palace; they are rich and elegant, but
present nothing interesting to the artist save their ancient recessed
ceilings filled with curious figures and arabesques. In the concert-hall
there is a musicians' gallery in grotesque carving, silvered; its effect
is really charming. Silver is not used enough in decorations; it is a
relief from the classic gold, and forms admirable combinations with
colors. The chapel, whose dome rises above the rest of the building, is
well planned and well lighted, comfortable, reasonab