e
you are upon my back, I may look in through the open door. Do not get
down yet, for if you do, then I shall be lifeless, as you have seen me
in the daytime in the Porta Rosa."

"I will stay with you, my dear creature," said the little boy. So they
went on at a rapid pace through the streets of Florence, till they came
to the square before the church of Santa Croce. The folding doors flew
open, and lights streamed from the altar, through the church, into the
deserted square. A wonderful blaze of light streamed from one of the
monuments in the left aisle, and a thousand moving stars formed a kind
of glory round it. Even the coat of arms on the tombstone shone, and a
red ladder on a blue field gleamed like fire. It was the grave of
Galileo. The monument is unadorned, but the red ladder is an emblem of
art--signifying that the way to glory leads up a shining ladder, on
which the great prophets rise to heaven like Elijah of old. In the right
aisle of the church every statue on the richly carved sarcophagi seemed
endowed with life. Here stood Michelangelo; there Dante, with the laurel
wreath around his brow; Alfieri and Machiavelli; for here, side by side,
rest the great men, the pride of Italy.

The church itself is very beautiful, even more beautiful than the marble
cathedral at Florence, though not so large. It seemed as if the carved
vestments stirred, and as if the marble figures which they covered
raised their heads higher to gaze upon the brightly colored, glowing
altar, where the white-robed boys swung the golden censers amid music
and song; and the strong fragrance of incense filled the church and
streamed forth into the square. The boy stretched out his hands toward
the light, and at the same moment the Metal Pig started again, so
rapidly that he was obliged to cling tightly to him. The wind whistled
in his ears. He heard the church door creak on its hinges as it closed,
and it seemed to him as if he had lost his senses; then a cold shudder
passed over him, and he awoke.

It was morning. The Metal Pig stood in its old place on the Porta Rosa,
and the boy found that he had nearly slipped off its back. Fear and
trembling came upon him as he thought of his mother. She had sent him
out the day before to get some money, but he had not been able to get
any, and now he was hungry and thirsty. Once more he clasped the neck of
his metal steed, kissed its nose, and nodded farewell to it. Then he
wandered away into one of