280 



THE IRRIGATION AGE. 



shin bones and the bones of the 

 arm, on the wall were elaborate 

 frescoes, whose curving vines were 

 made of knotted human vertebrae, 

 whose delicate tendrils were made 

 of sinews and tendons; whose 

 flowers were made of knee-caps 

 and toe nails. Every lasting por- 

 tion of the human frame was rep- 

 resented in these intricate designs, 

 and there was a careful finish about 

 the work, and an attention to de- 

 tails that betrayed the artist's love 

 for his labors as well as his schooled 

 ability. I asked the good natured 

 monk who accompanied -us, "Who 

 did this?" And he said, 'We did it' 

 meaning himself and his brethern 

 upstairs. I could see that the old 

 friar took a high pride in his work. 

 How many monks were required 

 , for the ornamentation of these par- 

 lors, we asked. 'There are the 

 bones of four thousand,' he re- 

 plied. Thus different parts are 

 well separated skulls in one room, 

 legs in another, ribs in another 

 there would be stirring times for 

 awhile if the last trump should 

 blow. Some of the brethern might 

 get 1 1 old of the wrong leg, in tae 

 confusion, and the wrong skull, 

 and find themselves limping, and 

 looking through .eyes that were 

 wider apart or closer together than 

 they wer^ used to. I asked the 

 monk if all the brethern up stairs 

 expected to be put in this place 

 when they die. He answered 

 quietly: 'We must all lie here at 

 last.' 



' ' See what one can accustom 

 himself to. The reflection that 

 some day he must be taken apart 

 like an engine or a clock, or like a 

 house whose owner is gone, and 



worked up into ashes, and pyra- 

 mids, and hideous frescoes, did not 

 distress this monk in the least. I 

 thought he even looked as if he 

 were thinking, with complacent 

 vanity, that his own skull would 

 look well on top of the heap, and 

 his own ribs add a charm to the 

 frescoes which possibly this lacked 

 at present. 



"Here and there in ornamental 

 alcoves, stretched upon beds of 

 bones, lay dead and dried up 

 monks, with lank frames dressed 

 in the black robes one sees ordi- 

 narily upon priests. We examined 

 one closely. The skinny hands 

 were clasped upon the breast; two 

 lustreless tufts of hair stuck to the 

 skull; the skin was brown and 

 sunken; it stretched tightly over 

 the cheek bone> and made them 

 stand out sharply; the crisp dead 

 eyes were deep in the sockets; the 

 nostrils were painfully prominent, 

 the end of the nose being gone; 

 the lips had shriveled away from 

 the yellow teeth; and brought down 

 to us through the circling years 

 and petrified, there was a wierd 

 laugh a full century old. It was 

 the jolliest laugh, but yet the most 

 dreadful, that one can imagine. 

 Surely, I thought, it must have 

 been a most extraordinary joke 

 this veteran produced with his lat- 

 est breath, that h*> has not got 

 done laughing at it yet." 



Tin- Oldfnt Doctor in Koine. 



The oldest doctor in Rome was 

 born to the world in 1223 and to this 

 day hundreds of the sufferers of 

 Rome and even far beyond the Ro- 

 man walls, receive daily the heal- 

 ing potion from this venerable 

 doctor. We herewith reproducea 



