LESSON XLIV.

erypt, a subterranean vault or

cell used for burial. ĕp'i thět, an adjective expressing

some quality or relation. fres'eoes, paintings on walls; the colors unite with the lime and are thus made durable.

lăb'y rinth, an edifice, or place formed of winding passages, difficult to traverse.

ĕx'e eu'tion er, one who inflicts capital punishment, death. reş'ur reeʼtion, the rising again from the dead.

A VISIT TO THE CATACOMBS OF ROME.

This morning we drove in an open barouche along the Appian Way to the Catacombs of St. Calixtus. The view was superb, and the air delicious. We drove on as far as the great round tomb of Cecilia Metella, which Byron has thus described:

"There is a stern round tower of other days, Firm as a fortress with its fence of stone.

What treasure lay so locked, so hid?-A woman's grave.
But who was she, the lady of the dead,

Thus much we know,-Metella died,

The wealthiest Roman's wife. Behold his love or pride!"

After inspecting the great tomb, we turned again toward Rome, and the carriage paused before a gateway. We descended a steep flight of steps, and found ourselves in the first story of the Cemetery of St. Calixtus; for these subterranean labyrinths descend continually, and double upon themselves. There are sometimes three or four strata of the long galleries, lined on each side with tombs cut in the rock like berths in a steamer.

The passages are generally narrow, so that we

walked in single file, each carrying in his hand a lighted candle, and following an old man with a torch. We saw the small earthenware lamps which the Christians used. We entered first the Crypt of Lucina. This Lucina is supposed to be the Christian name of Pomponia Græcina, the wife of Plautus, a noble Roman lady of whom Tacitus wrote: "She was accused of having embraced the rites of a foreign superstition, and though, after investigation, pronounced innocent, she lived to a great age in continued sadness."

Next, we visited the Papal Crypt, where all the early bishops of the Church were buried, and traced the scribblings on the wall. These notes by the wayside were made by visitors at the beginning of the Christian Era. Some were only names; but one individual had come in search of the tomb of a certain Sofronia, and, at the very entrance, he had written in Latin, "Sofronia, mayest thou live with thine own!" All along the passage this was repeated, a prayer for the soul of the departed; but, as he walked, the faith of the pilgrim grew stronger, and on the very tomb he scratched the triumphant realization: "Dear Sofronía, thou wilt ever live in God!"

This joyful confidence of the Christians has been contrasted with the gloom of the Pagan epitaphs. The Pagan epitaphs could only compliment the departed by enumerating his graces and accomplishments; while the earlier Christian inscriptions are characterized by a stern simplicity, and only later appear endearing epithets. The word “Martyr," inscribed after the name, was considered a crown of glory beyond all eulogy.

The tombs, or cells, are hollowed in tiers, one

above another, usually three or four, and sometimes as many as eight, between the floor and ceiling. At intervals, the passages widen into chapels and rooms. It was here that the hunted Christians met for worship; these chambers are, many of them, decorated with attempts at carving and rude frescoes.

In the Catacomb of St. Agnes, there are pictures from Bible stories, Jonah sleeping beneath his bower of gourds, and other scenes from the Old Testament; but the favorite design, often repeated, is that of Christ as a shepherd:

"And in the Catacombs,

On those walls subterranean, where she hid
Her head mid ignominy, death, and tombs,
She her Good Shepherd's hasty image drew,
And, on his shoulders,-not a lamb-a kid."

We noticed the firm belief in the resurrection implied by the inscriptions: the bodies are "deposited," not buried. Sometimes, a coin was pressed into the mortar which sealed the tomb, as a means of recognition, and occasionally this was the only marking of the spot. There are places where the coin has dropped away, or has been stolen, leaving its impression in the mortar.

Robert Browning has expressed best the spirit of the Catacombs in one of its epitaphs, which he has thrown into his grand verse:

"I was born sickly, poor, and mean,

A slave; no misery could screen

The holders of the 'pearl of price'
From Cæsar's envy; therefore twice

I fought with beasts, and three times saw

My children suffer by his law.

At last, my own release was earned;

I was some time in being burned: