put all possible characteristics of her time and nation and of her own
individuality, asked, "Have you baptized your statue yet?" as if the
sculptor were waiting till his statue were finished before he chose the
subject of it,--as, indeed, I should think many sculptors do. Another
remarked of a statue of Hero, who is seeking Leander by torchlight, and
in momentary expectation of finding his drowned body, "Is not the face a
little sad?" Another time a whole party of Americans filed into his
studio, and ranged themselves round his father's statue, and, after much
silent examination, the spokesman of the party inquired, "Well, sir, what
is this intended to represent?" William Story, in telling these little
anecdotes, gave the Yankee twang to perfection. . . . .

The statue of his father, his first work, is very noble, as noble and
fine a portrait-statue as I ever saw. In the outer room of his studio a
stone-cutter, or whatever this kind of artisan is called, was at work,
transferring the statue of Hero from the plaster-cast into marble; and
already, though still in some respects a block of stone, there was a
wonderful degree of expression in the face. It is not quite pleasant to
think that the sculptor does not really do the whole labor on his
statues, but that they are all but finished to his hand by merely
mechanical people. It is generally only the finishing touches that are
given by his own chisel.

Yesterday, being another bright day, we went to the basilica of St. John
Lateran, which is the basilica next in rank to St. Peter's, and has the
precedence of it as regards certain sacred privileges. It stands on a
most noble site, on the outskirts of the city, commanding a view of the
Sabine and Alban hills, blue in the distance, and some of them hoary with
sunny snow. The ruins of the Claudian aqueduct are close at hand. The
church is connected with the Lateran palace and museum, so that the whole