Well, you know that we Americans are a very smart people, (ask your grandfather if we are not,) and we made up our minds that we would show John Bull, and Sandy, and Pat, a Crystal Palace of our own; and when an American says he will do a thing—it is done!

So, I was not at all astonished at what I saw last night;—such a beautiful building,—such a splendid glass roof—such a blaze of light, (for it was evening) my eyes were almost put out! I couldn't begin to tell you all the pretty things there were in it, but if you wish to know what I wanted more than anything else, it was a little marble statue (I suppose you would call it "an image") of a sleeping child. It had the prettiest, plumpest little dimpled limbs, you ever saw, and such an innocent little cherub face; I wanted to catch it up and run away with it.

There were a great many very beautiful statues there, some of which would have made you cuddle very close up to your mother, and hold her hand very tight; for instance, one statue representing a dead mother with a live baby lying on her breast, and a great, strong eagle fastening its claws in the little baby to carry it off. And then, there was a statue of an enormous bear, giving a poor man such a hugging—squeezing the very life out of him; he wouldn't have had to squeeze you at all to kill you, for the very sight of such a grizzly monster would have scared you to death in an instant.

Then there was a glass case full of swords, and dirks, and daggers, and all sorts of instruments to kill people; and you would have been as glad as I was, had you seen them hanging up there so harmlessly, instead of making widows and orphans, on the battlefield.

Then, there were beautiful pianos with silver keys, and rich sofas, and bedsteads, and chairs, and tables, and bureaus; and pretty, tempting work-boxes, full of all sorts of knick-knacks to tempt ladies to be industrious; and such dainty little writing desks!—oh, I can tell you, it was very hard work not to covet those.

Then the diamonds, and amethysts, and emeralds, and pearls, and rubies, fit for a queen's diadem;—they flashed in my eyes till I was almost blind—but I would rather have had that little image of the sleeping baby than the whole of them.

Then there were silks, and satins, and gauzes, and embroideries, and worsted jackets, and tippets, and gloves, and shoes fit for Cinderella.

Then there were dolls, (boys and girls) dressed up to show off the fashions. I should be sorry to see you finified up so. Then, there was a beautiful baby's cradle, lined with soft, white satin, with a rich lace curtain, fit for Queen Victoria's baby, or your mother's; and a tiny little robe and cap lying near it, delicate as a lily leaf.

Then there was a tall wax lady dressed in deep black, (black eyes too) to show off the mourning goods; and between you and me, I think she mourned quite as much as a great many persons who put on black.

Then there was a pyramid of perfumery—done up in bottles—enough to sweeten the handkerchiefs and dispositions of all the young ladies in New-York.