ods" manufactures that have grown up there, and are
worth twenty million thalers a year to the enterprising owners, who rival
French designs and have made a market for their wares in England and
America. This is a great foil to old Roman Neuss, with its massive gates,
its tower attributed to Drusus--after whom so many bridges and towers on
the Rhine are named--and even to Duesseldorf, which, notwithstanding its
modern part, twice as large as its old river front, has some beautiful
antique pictures to show us, both in the costumes of its market-women, who
wear red petticoats with white aprons and flapping caps, and stand
laughing and scolding in a high key by their dog-drawn carts, and in its
council-house, an early Renaissance building with square, high-roofed
turrets overlooking the market-place. In that little house, in a narrow
street leading to the market, Heine was born; in that wretched little
architectural abortion, the theatre, a critical audience listened to
Immermann's works; and in the Kurzenstrasse was born Peter von Cornelius,
the restorer of German art. Schadow succeeded him at the head of the
Academy, and a new school of painting was firmly established in the old
city, which had energy enough left in it to mark out another successful
path for itself in trade. The new town is handsome, monotonous, rich and
populous, but the galleries and museums somewhat make up for the lack of
taste in private architecture. One of the most beautiful of the town's
possessions is the old Jacobi house and garden, rescued from sale and
disturbance by the patriotic artist-guild, who bought it and gave the
garden to the public, while the house where Goethe visited his friend
Jacobi became a museum of pictures, panelling, tapestry, native and
foreign art-relics, etc., all open to the public. The gardens, with their
hidden pools and marble statues, their water-lilies and overarching trees,
their glades and lawns, have an Italian look, like some parts of the Villa
Borghese near Rome, whose groves of ilexes are famous; but these northern
trees are less monumental and more feathery, though the marble gods and
goddesses seem quite as much at home among them as among the laurel and
the olive.

LADY BLANCHE MURPHY.

VERONA

It was a matter of debate in our party whether we should stop at Verona.
The ayes had it, and twenty-four hours afterward the noes indignantly
denied that there had been any opposition, so completely had t