the block, when the shaft suddenly slid down and
crushed it, the bones of the imprisoned member being still held
between the two stones.

The foregoing were the last obelisks erected in Rome by the emperors.
After them no more were constructed either in the imperial city or in
their native land of Egypt. The language inscribed upon them had come
to be superseded by the universal use of the Greek tongue; there was
no use therefore in making monuments for the reception of hieroglyphic
records which nobody could understand or interpret. The sudden craze
for the Egyptian idolatry passed away as suddenly as it sprang up, and
Christianity established itself as the religion of the civilised
world. The temples in Egypt and Rome were closed, the altars
overthrown, and the objects connected with the material symbolism of
paganism were destroyed, and objects connected with the spiritual
symbolism of Christianity set up in their place. And thus the obelisk,
the oldest of all religious symbols, which was constructed at the very
dawn of human existence, to mark the worship of the material luminary,
fell into disuse and oblivion, when "the Sun of Righteousness" rose
above the horizon of the world, with healing in His wings, dispelling
all the mists and delusions of error. The art of constructing obelisks
followed the usual stages in the history of all human art. Its best
period was that which indicated the greatest faith; its worst that
which marked the decay of faith. The oldest specimens are invariably
the most perfect and beautiful; the most recent exhibit too marked
signs of the decrepitude of skill that had come over their makers.
Between the oldest specimens and their surroundings there was a
harmony and an appropriateness which solemnised the scene and excited
feelings of adoration and awe. Between the latest specimens and their
surroundings there was an incongruity which proved them to be aliens
and strangers on the scene, and was fatal to all reverence; an
incongruity which the modern Romans have only intensified by raising
them on pedestals of most uncongenial forms, and crowning them with
hideous masses of metal, representing the insignia of popes or other
objects equally unsuitable. We see in the oldest obelisks a wonderful
ease and an exquisite finish of execution, a maturity of thought and
skill which none of the later obelisks reached, and which indicate the
high-water mark of man's achievement in that line. There is al