"I dreamt, then, I was entering into a lofty, large hall, with pictures and statues on all the walls. There sat God the Father himself, a handsome, bearded old man, and held forth his hand and created heaven and earth; then came Adam and Eve, in white marble--Eve pretty well preserved, but Adam had lost his head; then 'Cain's Fratricide,' a large oil-painting, and by its side 'Adam and Eve find the corpse of murdered Abel,' on which the form of the deadly pale youth, who looked like broken white lilies, was deeply touching. Thus I went on and on, looking at statue after statue and painting after painting. I was not alone in the hall; on the contrary, a crowd of people was moving along the walls and amid the forest of statues. Large groups were standing before some of the most prominent works; for instance, the passage of the children of Israel through the Red Sea, a gigantic fresco, and smaller groups before other paintings, less remarkable for historic importance than for the piquancy of the scene they represented. Thus I was much annoyed by a crowd of young people who stood before 'Lot drunk,' and put their heads together and laughed. Altogether, the deportment of the company appeared to me highly improper. The women were laughing and talking and coquetting; the men chatted and ogled, and a few, with long legs and long teeth,--probably English,--actually kept their hats on. Almost all had a book in their hands, into which they looked conscientiously from time to time, when they wished for information about one of the works of art. This book seemed to be a catalogue of the Museum, and I wished to obtain one, because I had forgotten the order in which the prophets came, and thus could not tell whether the bearded man in No. 8 was Habakkuk, and the young man in No. 9 Zephaniah, or not; I turned, therefore, to an old gentleman whom I had seen busy with a fly-brush, and whom I therefore took to be one of the keepers. As I approached him the man turned round, and what was my surprise when I recognized my own grandfather. 'What do you desire, young man?' he asked, in a severe tone. I repeated timidly my question. 'Here is a catalogue,' he said, taking one of the books which lay in large numbers on the table and handing it to me, 'it costs half a dollar.' I opened the book; 'I wanted a catalogue,' said I, 'you have given me--' 'To be sure,' said the old man, in a melancholy tone of voice, 'this is the catalogue of the Old Museum; the door to the New Museum, in which you will find the works of art from the year one of our Christian Era till the year 1793, when the Christian religion was abolished, and the goddess Reason ascended the throne--is there.' He pointed towards a fine flight of broad stairs, which led up to the other halls. 'You will do well to buy another catalogue there. It costs much less, and you must speak about it to your father, who holds there the same office which I fill here.' And thereupon the old man turned