Upon a beautiful Sèvres vase at the Executive Mansion in Washington is seen a view of Franklin’s house at Passy. 67. Franklin. Portrait Plaque. Oval plaque of Italian majolica marked with inscription, “Cortoni Fab Alari. Beniamino Franklin, C. Brunacci Depinse.” In the Huntington Collection. There are also three other majolica plates and plaques in this collection bearing portraits of Franklin. I may say, in conclusion, what I have already shown in detail, that there can be no better opportunity of studying the face of Franklin, as shown in pottery and porcelain, than in the Huntington Collection. There are eleven relief medallions, eleven enamels, nine busts, six statues, and a large number of plates and plaques. You can also compare these ceramic portraits with innumerable bronzes, engravings, art gems, cameos, gold and silver and pewter work bearing the same serene, benignant face, and with some very funny though unintentional caricatures of Franklin by Japanese and Chinese artists, in some of which the well-known fur-cap has been transformed into a close crop of short woolly curls. XV. DESIGNS RELATING TO LAFAYETTE I have never seen in America any pieces of English pottery or porcelain bearing the name, portrait of Lafayette, or any reference to him that could be assigned to an earlier date of manufacture than 1824, the time of Lafayette’s last visit to America. It is worthy of note, however, that the Lafayette pieces of crockery that were printed to commemorate and illustrate that memorable visit and that triumphal journey are, as a rule, in a much better state of preservation, freer from marks of fierce assaulting knives, barer of nicks and cracks, than other American historical pieces of the same date. The great veneration and affection felt by all Americans for the noble character of Lafayette, and their gratitude for his assistance in times of war, were doubtless the cause of the careful preservation of the pieces relating to him and printed in his honor. The fine platter shown on page 294, which is the clearest, darkest, “Landing” print I have ever seen, was always kept carefully wrapped in an ancient hand-woven “flannel sheet,” and laid away in an upper drawer of a high chest, a “high-boy,” in a New England farm-house, until it was ruthlessly removed from its honored seclusion of half a century, and hung on the wall of my dining-room.