Roman Catholic Relics at Rome.

We reached Rome at a good time for seeing relics, as the special services of the Christmas season were just beginning. One of the most splendid of these ceremonies is the procession in honor of the Santa Culla; that is, the cradle in which the priestly tradition says the infant Jesus was carried into Egypt. This is the great relic and chief distinction of the Church of Santa Maria Maggiore, though it contains a number of others, such as the bodies of St. Matthew and St. Jerome, and two little bags of the brains of Thomas Á Becket, and "one of the pictures attributed to St. Luke (and announced to be such in a papal bull attached to the walls!), much revered for the belief that it stayed the plague which decimated the city during the reign of Pelagius II., and that (after its intercession had been sought by a procession by order of Innocent VIII.) it brought about the overthrow of the Moorish dominion in Spain."

Moreover, this church of Santa Maria Maggiore is by no means lacking in legendary and architectural interest. It was founded A. D. 352, by Pope Liberius and John, a Roman patrician, to commemorate an alleged miraculous fall of snow, which covered this spot of ground and no other, on the 5th of August, and an alleged appearance of the Virgin Mary, in a vision, at the same time, showing them that she had thus appropriated the site of a new temple, all of which is duly represented in a fine painting on the wall of the church, and in two of Murillo's most beautiful pictures in the Academy at Madrid, and commemorated every year on the 5th of August by a solemn high mass, and by showers of white rose leaves thrown down constantly through two holes in the ceiling, "like a leafy mist between the priests and the worshippers."

The worshippers of the Virgin have not been lacking in their efforts to erect a suitably sumptuous building on the site of this "miracle." The magnificent nave, with its avenue of forty-two columns of Greek marble, surmounted by a frieze of mosaic pictures; the glorious pavement of opus Alexandrinum, whose "crimson and violet hues temper the white and gold of the walls"; the grand baldacchino, with its four porphyry columns wreathed with gilt leaves; and the splendid tomb chamber of Pius IX. (predecessor of the late Pope Leo XIII.), with its riot of rich marbles and alabaster, in front of the high altar—to say nothing of the almost incredibly costly chapels opening into the nave—combine to give S. Maria Maggiore a proud place among the very finest of the fine basilicas of Rome.

But not all the splendors of the building, nor all the fascination of its "miracles" and legends, nor all the spell of its other relics, can equal the interest attaching to the "Santa Culla," the holy cradle. On the afternoon of Christmas Day, we walked through the wet streets to the front of the church, pushed back the heavy, dirty screen of padded canvas, such as hangs at the door of every great church in Italy, however fine, and, stepping within, found ourselves in the midst of a scene of the most dazzling splendor. The building was brilliantly illuminated with hundreds of electric lights and huge candles, which were sharply reflected by the glistening marbles on every hand; the air was heavy with clouds of incense, through the blue smoke of which the lofty ceiling looked higher than ever, and the organ and choir were pouring forth the richest music, while a dense crowd of people, many thousands, all standing, watched with eager interest a small, crate-like object, made of slats of dark wood, which rested on the high altar, enclosed in a glass case, with a gold baby on top and gold ornaments round about.

We pushed our way through the crowd, so as to get a satisfactory view of it while the service was in progress—the genuflections, the robing and disrobing of the archbishop, the chanting, and the rest—after which six men, dressed in pure white from head to foot (white gloves included), except for a red circle and cross on the breast, knelt before the cradle, then lifted it from the altar, with its gold and glass setting, and placing it on a kind of litter on their shoulders, under a gilt and white canopy borne by other attendants, marched with it thus, in procession around the church, along with a large crucifix under another canopy, and followed by a long line of cardinals, bishops, priests and acolytes, carrying it back finally to its place in the sacristy, where it will remain till next Christmas Day.

We squeezed our way through the great crowd at the door, and walked back to our hotel, wondering to what extent the usual Roman Catholic conception of Christ had deprived that organization of real spiritual energy; for, almost invariably, Roman Catholic art represents him either as a dead Christ on the cross, or a babe in his mother's arms, and hardly ever as the risen and glorified Lord, the Conqueror of death, the Leader of his people, to whom all power is given in heaven and on earth—the more usual Protestant conception. And we asked ourselves whether this difference did not help to explain the greater hopefulness, vigor and growth of Protestant Christianity in these strenuous latter days.

But we were soon to learn that the Roman Catholics did not think of the infant Christ as lacking in power of a certain sort; on the contrary they ascribe miraculous agency even to an image of the divine babe. On the afternoon of December 29th, as two of our party were returning to our hotel, they passed at the foot of the Capitoline Hill a carriage, out of the window of which hung a ribbon or sash of cloth of gold, and they were not a little astonished to observe that, as this carriage rolled along, people knelt reverently before it on the street. Inside they saw two bareheaded men holding a child on a pillow with a wealth of lace about it. They thought perhaps it was the royal carriage with the baby princess, but they could not imagine why men should be nursing the baby, as that is usually the employment of women, nor why the people should kneel so reverently before the young princess, a thing which they never did even for the king himself. The fact is that, as they learned on the following afternoon when visiting the Church of Ara Coeli, on the Capitoline Hill, the carriage in question belonged to a far more important personage in Rome than any princess, though that personage was not even a living baby, but only a doll. It was the coach of the famous Bambino—Il Santissimo Bambino—which with its dress of gold and silver tissue and its magnificent diamonds, emeralds and rubies, is the chief attraction of this church.

Dr. Alexander Robertson, in his book on The Roman Catholic Church in Italy, says: "The Bambino is a doll about three feet high, and it stands on a cushion in a glass case. It is clad in rich robes with a crown on its head, a regal order across its breast, and embroidered slippers on its feet. From head to foot it is one mass of dazzling jewelry, gold chains, strings of pearls, and diamond bracelets and rings, which not only cover the neck, arms and fingers, but are suspended, intermixed with crosses, stars, hearts, monograms, and every kind of precious stone, to all parts of its body. The only part unweighted with gems is its round, priest-like, wax face. But all this display of wealth, great in itself, is really only suggestive of that untold quantity which it has brought, and is still daily bringing, into the coffers of the church. People are continually kneeling before this dumb idol, offering petitions and leaving gifts, whilst letters containing requests, accompanied with post-office orders and checks to pay for the granting of the same, arrive by post for it from various parts of the globe."

Hare's Walks in Rome gives the following account of the Bambino and one of its most remarkable experiences:

"It has servants of its own, and a carriage in which it drives out with its attendants, and goes to visit the sick; for, though an infant, it is the oldest medical practitioner in Rome. Devout peasants always kneel as the blessed infant passes. Formerly it was taken to sick persons and left on their beds for some hours, in the hope that it would work a miracle. Now it is never left alone. In explanation of this, it is said that an audacious woman formed the design of appropriating to herself the holy image and its benefits. She had another doll prepared of the same size and appearance as the Santissimo, and having feigned sickness and obtained permission to have it left with her, she dressed the false image in its clothes, and sent it back to Ara Coeli. The fraud was not discovered till night, when the Franciscan monks were awakened by the most furious ringing of bells and by thundering knocks at the west door of the church, and hastening thither, could see nothing but a wee naked pink foot peeping in from under the door; but when they opened the door, without stood the little naked figure of the true Bambino of Ara Coeli, shivering in the wind and rain—so the false baby was sent back in disgrace, and the real baby restored to its home, never to be trusted away alone any more."

But if I dwell on all these interesting relics and images as I have done on the Holy Cradle and the miraculous Bambino, I shall never finish even the brief list of them which I had in mind when I began. I must hasten on, contenting myself with a bare mention of a few of the more notable relics at the other churches.

On the 8th of January we paid our first visit to the great Church of St. John Lateran, [9] and here also the relics interested us more than anything else. Under the canopy in the centre the skulls of St. Peter and St. Paul are preserved. Beneath the altar we saw the wooden table on which the Apostle Peter is said to have "celebrated mass" in the house of Pudens. The interest of this relic, however, is completely eclipsed by that of another relic over an altar at a little distance in the same church, viz: the cedar table used by our Lord and his disciples in the Last Supper. This table is concealed behind a bronze relief representing that solemn scene in the Upper Room at Jerusalem.

"The Basilica claims to possess many valuable relics. Amongst these are some portions of the manger in which Christ was cradled, the shirt and seamless coat made for him by the Virgin; some of the barley loaves and small fishes miraculously multiplied to feed the five thousand; the linen cloth with which he dried the feet of his apostles; also Aaron's rod, the rod with which Moses smote the Red Sea," etc., etc. (Cook's Southern Italy, p. 114.) We did not see these, but in the cloister behind this church we were shown a marble slab on pillars which was once an altar, "at which the officiating priest doubted of the Real Presence, when the wafer fell from his hand through the stone, leaving a round hole, which still remains." Here, too, we were shown a larger slab resting on pillars, more than six feet from the ground, which marks the height of our Saviour; also a porphyry slab, upon which the soldiers cast lots for his seamless robe; and some columns from Pilate's house in Jerusalem, which were rent by the earthquake of the crucifixion.

But the great relic of Pilate's House, and one of the most interesting of all the relics in Rome, is across the street from St. John Lateran, viz., the world-renowned Scala Santa, or Holy Stairway, a flight of twenty-eight marble steps, once ascended by our Saviour in the palace of Pilate, and brought from Jerusalem to Rome in 326 by the Empress Helena, mother of Constantine the Great. They are covered with a wooden casing, but holes have been left through which the marble steps can be seen. Two of them are stained with the Saviour's blood. These spots are covered with glass. The light was rather dim, and as we entered a gentleman struck a match and held it over one of these glass-covered stains to show it to his little girl, so that, passing just at that moment, we also had a good view.

No foot is allowed to touch the Scala Santa; it must be ascended on the knees. A number of people were going up in this way when we entered, pausing on each step to repeat a prayer, for which indulgences are granted by the Pope. There are stairways on each side, by which those who have thus crawled up may walk down. The only man I know of that ever walked down the Holy Stairs themselves, and the most illustrious man that ever crawled up them on his knees, was Martin Luther. When he had mounted slowly half way up, step by step on his knees, he seemed to hear a voice saying, "The just shall live by faith." Martin Luther rose from his knees, walked down the staircase, and left the place a free man so far as this superstition was concerned, and shortly afterwards became the most formidable foe that ever assailed the falsehood and corruption of the Romish Church.

At the top of the Scala Santa we saw through a grating the beautiful silver tabernacle containing the great relic which has given to this chapel the name of Sancta Sanctorum, viz.: the portrait of Christ, held by the Romish Church to be authentic, having been drawn in outline by St. Luke and finished by an angel, whence its name "AcheiropoËton," i. e., the picture made without hands. The relic chamber here contains fragments of the true cross, the sandals of Christ, and "the iron bar of Hades which he brought away with him from that doleful region," [10] but we did not see these.

A short walk beyond the Scala Santa and the Lateran brings us to the Church of S. Croce in Gerusalemme, which is specially rich in relics. Here our party was shown a piece of the true cross of Christ and the original plank bearing the inscription, "Jesus, Nazarene King," in Hebrew, Greek and Latin, which was placed over his head; also one of the nails used in his crucifixion, and two of the thorns of his crown; besides a large piece of the cross of the penitent thief who was executed with him; and, most interesting of all in some respects, the finger used by Thomas to resolve his doubts as to the resurrection of Christ (John xx. 24-28).

In Percy's Romanism it is said that "the list of relics on the right of the apsis of S. Croce includes the finger of S. Thomas, apostle, with which he touched the most holy side of our Lord Jesus Christ; one of the pieces of money with which the Jews paid the treachery of Judas; great part of the veil and of the hair of the most blessed Virgin; a mass of cinders and charcoal united in the form of a loaf, with the fat of S. Lawrence, martyr; one bottle of the most precious blood of our Lord Jesus Christ; another of the milk of the most blessed Virgin; a little piece of the stone where Christ was born; a little piece of the stone where our Lord sat when he pardoned Mary Magdalene; of the stone where our Lord wrote the law given to Moses on Mount Sinai; of the stone where reposed SS. Peter and Paul; of the cotton which collected the blood of Christ; of the manna which fed the Israelites; of the rod of Aaron which flourished in the desert; of the relics of the eleven prophets!" [11]

But our party saw none of these except the finger of Thomas. It is to be hoped that the others have been withdrawn from exhibition, for surely superstition and vulgarity can no further go. I fear, however, that those who are willing to pay enough can still see "one bottle of the most precious blood of our Lord Jesus Christ," and "another of the milk of the most blessed Virgin"! There is also "una ampulla lactis Beatae Mariae Virginis" among the many relics to be seen in the Church of SS. Cosmo and Damiano, near the Forum.

It is a curious illustration of Romish wrong-headedness that women are never allowed to enter the Chapel of St. Helena, in the Church of S. Croce, except on the festival of the Saint, August 18th, notwithstanding the fact that St. Helena herself was a woman, and that the church owes its existence to her and is also indebted to her for the piece of the true cross which it boasts, and which has given it its name. So while men are permitted to go inside the chapel of St. Helena, women are stopped at the entrance and only allowed to peer through the railing. The same degrading discrimination is made in the Church of S. Prassede (who also was a woman) as to entering the splendid chapel, Orto del Paradiso, which contains the column of blood jasper to which Christ was bound, and which was "given by the Saracens to Giovanni Colonna, cardinal of this church, and legate of the Crusade, because when he had fallen into their hands and was about to be put to death, he was rescued by a marvellous intervention of celestial light." Females are never allowed to enter this chapel except upon Sundays in Lent, but are permitted to look at the relic through a grating. [12]

The mention of this column reminds me of the two columns in the Church of S. Maria Transpontina, on the other side of the Tiber, near St. Peter's, which bear inscriptions stating that they were the pillars to which St. Peter and St. Paul were fastened, respectively, when they suffered flagellation by order of Nero. A little farther on towards St. Peter's is the Piazza Scossa Cavalli, with a pretty fountain. "Its name bears witness to a curious legend, which tells how when S. Helena returned from Palestine, bringing with her the stone on which Abraham was about to sacrifice Isaac, and that on which the Virgin Mary sat down at the time of the presentation of the Saviour in the temple, the horses drawing these precious relics stood still at this spot, and refused every effort to make them move. Then Christian people, 'recognizing the finger of God,' erected a church on this spot—S. Giacomo Scossa Cavalli—where the stones are still to be seen."

While speaking of interesting stones, I must not omit to mention those in the Church of S. Francesca Romana, near the Forum, containing the marks of the knees of St. Peter—(which show, by the way, that this apostle was a giant in size)—when he knelt to pray that Simon Magus might be dropped by the demons he had invoked to support him in the air in fulfilment of his promise to fly. One of these stones used to lie in the Via Sacra, and the water which collected in the two holes or knee prints was looked upon as so potent a remedy of disease that groups of infirm people used to gather around them on the approach of a shower. According to the legend, the place where Peter knelt when he thus effected the discomfiture of Simon Magus and brought him to the ground with such force that his thigh was fractured, never to be healed, was the ancient Via Sacra. But, after the priests had removed the stone from the roadway into the church, the inconsiderate and iconoclastic explorers of our day, who have made so many discoveries in their excavations about the Forum, proved that the roadway from which this relic was taken was not the ancient Via Sacra at all, but a more modern roadway which had been mistaken for it!

In the Mamertine Prisons, which are also quite close to the Forum, a depression on the stone wall by which we descend to the lower dungeon is shown as the spot against which St. Peter's head rested, though our guide had just told us that these stairs were not in existence then and prisoners were let down into the dungeon through the hole in the middle of the stone floor. Such trifling discrepancies do not seem to trouble the average Italian mind.

St. Peter and St. Paul are said to have been bound in this prison for nine months to a pillar, which is shown here. "A fountain of excellent water beneath the floor of the prison is attributed to the prayers of St. Peter, that he might have wherewith to baptize his gaolers, Processus and Martinianus; but, unfortunately for this ecclesiastical tradition, the fountain is described by Plutarch as having existed at the time of Jugurtha's imprisonment" here, long before the time of St. Peter.

Another miraculous spring, still flowing, is shown in the Church of SS. Cosmo and Damiano as that which burst forth in answer to the prayers of Felix IV., that he might have water to baptize his disciples.

But the most interesting of all the miraculous springs in or around Rome are the three fountains, about two miles from the city, where the Apostle Paul was executed. When his head was severed from his body it bounded from the earth three times, crying out thrice, "Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!" A fountain burst from the ground at each of the three spots where the severed head struck. It is asserted, in proof of this origin of the fountains, that the water of the first is still warm, of the second tepid, and of the third cold, but we drank of them one after another without being able to detect any difference in temperature. The apostle's head is shown in bas relief upon the three altars above the fountains. In the church which has been built over them we were shown the pillar to which he was bound, and the block of marble upon which he was decapitated, and, in the vault of another church hard by, the prison in which he was placed just before his execution.

We could not help asking the priest who was our escort whether this extraordinary story was still believed. His answer was: "Certainly! There is no reason whatever to doubt it. The facts have been handed down in an unbroken succession from eye-witnesses," a position which he proceeded to defend at length and with great warmth when one of our party in particular manifested much slowness to believe.

Furthermore, the opening of these three fountains was not the only miracle wrought by the apostle after his death. Mrs. Jameson says: "The legend of his death relates that a certain Roman matron named Plautilla, one of the converts of S. Peter, placed herself on the road by which S. Paul passed to his martyrdom, to behold him for the last time; and when she saw him she wept greatly and besought his blessing. The apostle then, seeing her faith, turned to her, and begged that she would give him her veil to blind his eyes when he should be beheaded, promising to return it to her after his death. The attendants mocked at such a promise; but Plautilla, with a woman's faith and charity, taking off her veil, presented it to him. After his martyrdom, S. Paul appeared to her and restored the veil, stained with his blood. In the ancient representations of the martyrdom of S. Paul, the legend of Plautilla is seldom omitted. In the picture by Giotto in the Sacristy of S. Peter's, Plautilla is seen on an eminence in the background, receiving the veil from the hands of S. Paul, who appears in the clouds above; the same representation, but little varied, is executed in bas-relief on the bronze doors of St. Peter's."

About two miles northeast of the Three Fountains, and the same distance from the city, on the Appian Way, stands the Church of St. Sebastian. Over an altar on the right, as you enter, the attendant priest, drawing aside a curtain, shows you a slab of dark red stone with two enormous footprints on it. These, we are told, were made by the feet of Christ during an interview with Peter which took place near here, on the site of the small Church of Domine Quo Vadis. The story is as follows: After the burning of Rome, Nero charged the Christians with having fired the city. Straightway the first persecution broke forth, and many of the Christians were put to death with dreadful torture. The survivors besought Peter not to expose his life. As he fled along the Appian Way, Christ appeared to him travelling towards the city. The fleeing apostle exclaimed in amazement, "Domine, quo vadis?" (Lord, whither goest thou?), to which, with a look of mild sadness, the Saviour replied, "Venio iterum crucifigi" (I come to be crucified a second time), then vanished, whereupon the apostle, ashamed of his weakness, returned to Rome, and shortly afterwards was crucified there himself.

Another relic of great interest connected with the same apostle is shown in the Church of S. Pietro in Vincoli, in Rome, and indeed gives the church its name. The church is not without interest for other reasons. For instance, it possesses portions of the crosses of St. Peter and St. Andrew, and we are told that the high altar covers the remains of the seven Maccabean brothers. But the basilica is specially famous for the possession of the greatest masterpiece of sculpture since the time of the Greeks—the majestic "Moses" of Michelangelo, which draws thousands of sightseers who might otherwise never set foot in the building. Nevertheless, its chief attraction, to the devout Roman Catholic mind, is neither the bones of the Maccabees nor the statue of Moses, but the chains referred to in the following familiar passage of Scripture: "Peter therefore was kept in prison; but prayer was made without ceasing of the church unto God for him. And when Herod would have brought him forth, the same night Peter was sleeping between two soldiers bound with two chains; and the keepers before the door kept the prison. And behold, the angel of the Lord came upon him, and a light shined in the prison; and he smote Peter on the side, and raised him up, saying, Arise up quickly. And his chains fell off from his hands." (Acts xii. 5-7.) These two chains were presented by Juvenal, Bishop of Jerusalem, to the Empress Eudoxia, wife of Theodosius the younger, who placed one of them in the Basilica of the apostles in Constantinople and sent the other to Rome, where this church was erected as its special shrine. This was about the middle of the fifth century. "But the Romans could not rest satisfied with the possession of half the relic; and within the walls of this very basilica, Leo I. beheld in a vision the miraculous and mystical uniting of the two chains, since which they have both been exhibited here, and the day of their being soldered together by invisible power, August 1st, has been kept sacred in the Latin church!" "They are of unequal size, owing to many fragments of one of them (first whole links, then only filings) having been removed in the course of centuries by various popes and sent to Christian princes who have been esteemed worthy of the favor! The longest is about five feet in length. At the end of one of them is a collar, which is said to have encircled the neck of St. Peter. They are exposed on the day of the 'station' (the first Monday in Lent) in a reliquary presented by Pius IX., adorned with statuettes of St. Peter and the Angel—to whom he is represented as saying, 'Ecce nunc scio vere' (Acts xii. II). On the following day a priest gives the chains to be kissed by the pilgrims, and touches their foreheads with them, saying, 'By the intercession of the blessed Apostle Peter, may God preserve you from evil. Amen.'" [13]

In the sacristy we found a young priest doing a thriving business in copies of the relic. We bought from him "an iron fac-simile of the chains (about the size of an ordinary watch-chain), authenticated by a certificate testifying to its having touched the original chains. On the back of this certificate was printed an extract from the Rules of the Confraternity of the chains of St. Peter, from which we learned that all associates in this brotherhood must wear such a fac-simile as we had just bought, that the objects of the Confraternity are "The propagation of the veneration of the chains of St. Peter, an increase of devotion to the Holy See, prayers for the Pope's intention, for the needs of Holy Church, the conversion of infidels and sinners, and the extirpation of heresy and blasphemy," and that Pius IX. had granted to the members of the Confraternity various indulgences, one of which is "A plenary indulgence and remission of all sins [14] if one visits the Church of San Pietro in Vincoli on January 18th [15] and June 29th, [16] between the first vespers of the feast and sunset of the said days, or on August 1st, or any one of the seven days following it. The usual prayers for the Holy Father's intention," etc., are comprised in these visits. We are told also that "the foregoing indulgences are applicable to the souls in purgatory."

We may close this running account of the relics at Rome with a brief mention of those that are to be seen in St. Peter's itself, the largest and costliest church in the world. The construction of it extended over one hundred and seventy-six years. The cost of the main building alone was fifty million dollars. The annual outlay for repairs is thirty-one thousand five hundred dollars. But it cost the Romish Church far more than money—it cost her the loss of all the leading nations of the world, which had been under her dominion till that time. For the expense of the vast structure, with its "insolent opulence of marbles," was so great that Julius II. and Leo X. were obliged to meet the enormous outlay by the sale of indulgences, and that, as is well known, precipitated the Reformation. So that Protestants may well feel a peculiar interest in this mighty cathedral.

It goes without saying that the popes would not allow the chief church of Roman Catholicism to go begging in the matter of relics. And, sure enough, we have no sooner pushed aside the heavy padded screen and stepped within than we find on our right the Chapel of the Holy Column, so called because it contains a pillar which is declared to have been that against which our Lord leaned when he prayed and taught in the temple at Jerusalem. The pillar contains this inscription: "Haec est illa columna in qua DNS N^r Jesus XPS appodiatus dum populo prÆdicabat et Deo pno preces in templo effundebat adhaerendo, stabatque una cum aliis undecim hic circumstantibus. De Salomonis templo in triumphum hujus BasilicÆ hic locata fuit: demones expellit et immundis spiritibus vexatos liberos reddit et multa miracula cotidie facit. P. reverendissimum prem et Dominum Dominum Card. de Ursinis. A. D. MDCCCXXVIII."

At the other end of the church we are shown an ancient wooden chair, encrusted with ivory, which we are told was the Cathedra Petri, the episcopal throne of St. Peter and his immediate successors. A magnificent festival in honor of this chair has been annually celebrated here for hundreds of years.

My party seems to be made up of very determined Protestants. At any rate, the sight of this relic leads an inquisitive person in the party to ask whether the Bible does not say that "Peter's wife's mother lay sick of a fever."

"Yes," replies the unfortunate gentleman to whose lot it falls to answer all questions of all kinds.

"Then," continues the Inquisitive Person, "Peter was married?"

Unfortunate Gentleman: "Yes."

I. P.: "Do the Popes still marry?"

U. G.: "No."

I. P.: "If 'the first Pope' was married, why should not his successors be married, and why should they insist upon a celibate clergy in every age, in every country, and under all circumstances?"

U. G.: "These questions are becoming too hard for me. Come, let me show you the tomb which contains the bones of St. Peter and St. Paul. Only half of their bodies are preserved here, the other portion of St. Peter's being in the Church of St. John Lateran and the other portion of St. Paul's at the magnificent basilica of St. Paul's without the walls."

"A circle of eighty-six gold lamps is always burning around the tomb of the poor fisherman of Galilee.... Hence one can gaze up into the dome, with its huge letters in purple-blue mosaic upon a gold ground (each six feet long)—Tu es Petrus, et super hanc petram Ædificabo ecclesiam meam, et tibi dabo claves regni coelorum.' Above this are four colossal mosaics of the Evangelists.... The pen of St. Luke is seven feet in length."

But we must not permit ourselves to be diverted from our proper subject by the vastness and splendor of the building, natural as it is to do so when standing under this matchless dome. The four huge piers which support the dome are used as shrines for the four great relics of the church, viz.: 1. The lance of St. Longinus, the soldier who pierced the Saviour's side; 2. A portion of the true cross; 3. The napkin of St. Veronica, containing the miraculous impression of our Lord's face; and 4. The head of the apostle Andrew.

I did not see these relics myself, as I was in the East when they were exhibited, but on April 11th, the day before Easter, other members of my party did, that is, they saw all of them but Andrew's head, and from a letter written me by the youngest of my correspondents in my own family, giving not only description, but drawings of the spear head, the cross and the handkerchief in their several frames, I infer that, notwithstanding the great height of the Veronica balcony from which they are exhibited, my young correspondent and his companions fared better in the matter of a good view than Fritz in Chronicles of the SchÖnberg Cotta Family, who says: "To-day we gazed on the Veronica—the holy impression left by our Saviour's face on the cloth S. Veronica presented to him to wipe his brow, bowed under the weight of the cross. We had looked forward to this sight for days, for seven thousand years of indulgence from penance are attached to it. But when the moment came we could see nothing but a black board hung with a cloth, before which another white cloth was held. In a few minutes this was withdrawn, and the great moment was over, the glimpse of the sacred thing on which hung the fate of seven thousand years."