ble with surprise. Multitudes pressed on to execute the command. Hogsheads of water were instantly brought, the workmen with buckets in their hands rushed up the ladders and drenched the cordage. Fontana was restored to himself, he even seemed multiplied in so many places was he seen, giving his orders with that calmness, that presence of mind, which at a critical moment characterizes superior genius. The cables contracted, the mass moved upward, he agitated for the last time his flag, in waving a token of triumph to his beautiful Antonia, the tolling of the bell recommenced, and immediately the obelisk descended majestically upon its pedestal. The architect stood for a moment afterwards, without being able to speak a word.

Antonia, transported with joy, threw herself upon her knees, with her hands uplifted to heaven in grateful thanksgiving. The old carpenter seized the flag, attached it to a cord, and in a moment after a red banner floated like a blazing meteor from the cloud-wreathed top of the obelisk. The people could not contain their transports. A thousand voices shouted

'Vive Fontana!-vive le maestro!'

In the midst of this public demonstration of joy, there was heard a murmur

'Look at the pope! Look at Sixtus the Fifth.'

They all turned themselves towards the balcony of the Cathedral.

6

' Upon your knees!' cried the crowd.

The pope appeared upon the balcony, with his tiara upon his head, and in all the magnificence of his pontifical glory. He extended his hands over the prostrate people, and pronounced a benediction. At this solemn moment, the artillery from the palace of St. Angel sent forth a triumphant volley. When this was ended, the entire crowd shouted

6 To the Vatican! Bear the master Fontana to the Vatican!'

The people enthusiastically received the counsel, and in spite of his resistance, the architect was borne in triumph to the palace, upon the arms of his fellow citizens. Fontana, as he entered the apartment of the holy father, threw himself upon his knees; but the pope lifted him with kindness, and taking him by the hand, said

'You have nobly fulfilled your engagement, and I will worthily reward you. Henceforth you are a Roman Knight and you shall have a thousand ducats from the public treasury. I shall find means to employ your talents!'

Eight days after Fontana was the happy husband of the beautiful Antonia. A long and brilliant prosperity was the price of the terrible

trial he had undergone. The column still stands there, as it has stood through centuries, a silent, yet eloquent memorial of the incidents we have related, a mighty monument to the triumph of genius.

THE STRANGER'S LEGACY.

Down the long years of olden time,
In the noon-day's sultry heat,
With heavy step and garments grime,
A stranger stopped to rest his feet:
Weary with his march was he,

For tedious was the way he came,
And yet there rose no grateful tree,
In whose cool shade to rest his frame.

Then by the road-side lone he sat,
His well-filled bag he laid it by,
And many a peasant smiled thereat,
Who saw him at the road-side lie:
But yet no sheltered home had he,

Though homes around were many a one,
And much he longed for one full tree,
To shield him from the burning sun.

He bore a sapling in his hand,

That from some ancient elm he took,And o'er long leagues of stranger land,

His lone companion was the crook,

And now, as in the heat laid he,

He thought of shades where cool winds play, And wished his twig a grateful tree

To shield him from the blazing day.

He looked upon the village fair,

That graced the valley near at hand,
And saw no graceful foliage there
That might have made it fairy land!
A kindly thought of love had he,
As thoughtful there he gazing lay,-
'My staff shall be a shady tree

For weary men that pass this way.'

Uprising from the arid soil,

He placed the sapling in the ground, And then began his work of toil,

As down the hill he slowly wound: He left it there his legacy,

In after years its prime to meet And there it grows a giant tree, Inviting to its cool retreat.

Though nameless he though mocked at then

Who passed two hundred years ago,

Yet well he earned the love of men,

Who left that twig to flourish so:

And though I'm poor, though lone as he,
I'll learn some good from his high praise,

And let at least some spreading tree

Tell my good will to after days.