l up half the world's history in half an hour in such a
place, toward evening, when the golden light streams through the Holy
Dove in the apse. And, in imagination, to those who have seen the great
pageants within our memory, the individual figures grow smaller as the
magnificence of the display increases out of all proportion, until the
church fills again with the vast throngs that witnessed the jubilees of
Leo the Thirteenth in recent years, and fifty thousand voices send up a
rending cheer while the most splendid procession of these late days goes
by.

It was in the Chapel of the Sacrament that the body of the good Pope
Pius the Ninth was laid in state for several days. That was a strange
and solemn sight, too. The gates of the church were all shut but one,
and that was only a little opened, so that the people passed in one by
one from the great wedge-shaped crowd outside--a crowd that began at the
foot of the broad steps in the Piazza, and struggled upward all the
afternoon, closer and closer toward the single entrance. For in the
morning only the Roman nobles and the prelates and high ecclesiastics
were admitted, by another way. Within the church the thin stream of men
and women passed quickly between a double file of Italian soldiers. That
was the first and last time since 1870 that Italian troops were under
arms within the consecrated precincts. It was still winter, and the
afternoon light was dim, and it seemed a long way to the chapel. The
good man lay low, with his slippered feet between the bars of the closed
gate. The people paused as they passed, and most of them kissed the
embroidered cross, and looked at the still features, before they went
on. It was dim, but the six tall waxen torches threw a warm light on the
quiet face, and the white robes reflected it around. There were three
torches on each side, too, and there were three Noble Guards in full
dress, motionless, with drawn swords, as though on parade. But no one
looked at them. Only the marble face, with its kind, far-away smile,
fixed itself in each man's eyes, and its memory remained with each when
he had gone away. It was very solemn and simple, and there were no other
lights in the church save the little lamps about the Confession and
before the altars. The long, thin stream of people went on swiftly and
out by the sacristy all the short afternoon till it was night, and the
rest of the unsatisfied crowd was left outside as the single gate was
clo