DIGNITY OF LABOR. 67 



We go to the city to study the picture gallery, when eveifi 

 window we look from gives us a picture, which, if we would 

 but study it, mocks the painter's poor imitation, a picture which 

 was never and can never be painted. Every tree, every green 

 shrub, every graceful bough, as it waves in the sunshine, will 

 give lessons in coloring and form which laugh at the artist's 

 brush. We go to Italy to see the beauties, and wonders, and 

 mysteries of another age, while around us lies the true Italy 

 which we should study. 



One of the most wonderful monuments of Rome is a stately 

 obelisk, which has its own strange history. Far back in the 

 dawn of time it sojourned in Egypt. In the sacred City of the 

 Sun it lifted its red granite shaft, pointing beyond the earth — 

 beyond the stars — the silent witness of the splendor and decay 

 of mighty empires, now lost in oblivion. When imperial Rome 

 sent her iron legions beyond the pyramids, they brought this 

 wondrous column to Italy, as the proudest trophy of their con- 

 quests. No ordinary power was worthy to bear such a costly 

 gift to Rome. The sacred Nile itself was turned from its 

 channel, and sought it far away amid the silence of the sands — 

 sought it in its home in the ancient City of the Sun, and bore 

 the heavy burden to the Mediterranean ; the sorrowful tribute 

 paid to the Tiber by the conquered Nile. It was carried in 

 festal triumph to the seven-hilled city, as the very seal of her 

 imperial spleiidor, but it bore its own dark omens and evil 

 destiny with it, over the blue Mediterranean, and became only 

 the prophetic witness of Rome's decay. Now, as of old, it 

 stands amid the ancient ruins, the chronicle of a vanished 

 religion, a buried civilization. Its tapering sides are carved 

 with hieroglyphics, which record the history of ancient dynasties, 

 the wars, the conquests of Egypt's forgotten kings. At its feet 

 is buried all that made Rome great in those old days of valor 

 and conquest, of power, and pride, and splendor. Now, as of 

 old, it stands in a sacred city, unchanged, while all around it 

 is changed, the same mysterious and impressive monument of 

 man's greatness and man's decay. No, not unchanged, for 

 that dark obelisk of Egypt has forgotten its ancient worship of 

 the sun, — has renounced its allegiance to the departed gods of 

 Rome, and now it points serene and calm to heaven, lifting far 

 up in the blue vaulted sky the sacred symbol of the cross. 



