the young girl—but now she is old and poor. She looks at you with a rigid, almost severe glance, whilst the two most charming little ones, with the look of half frozen rose-buds, cling to her, hungry and cold. Beside them stands an empty basin with a spoon in it, in the background you see the gate of a convent. Will it soon be opened, and a brotherly hand extend forth soup to the famished?—or has the soup been already given, but insufficient in quantity, and the door closed?
Lehman is now employed on a larger picture, representing the flood of Sixtus in the Pontine Marshes carrying away buffaloes—an extremely peculiar scene and full of life, with innumerable, beautiful details, and, indeed, one of the most original pictures I have yet seen.
Teverani, a pupil of Thorwaldsen, and at the present time, the most celebrated sculptor of Rome—celebrated especially for his lovely figures of Psyché—has no less than four ateliers for his work. His statue of Christ appears to me very unsatisfactory, stiff, and without spirit; but his Angel of Judgment, a sitting figure, with the trumpet on his knee, and his glance directed upward, watching, waiting, is a glorious figure, which bears the stamp of genius and inspiration. The artist himself, who is now chiseling the beard on the head of Christ, is not one of the least interesting figures in his studio. He has a splendid head, with strong features and energetic character. The hair is gray, and the countenance indicates about sixty years. Many works by Thorwaldsen adorn his studio. Teverani began by imitating his master; but
