The Inebriate'* Wife. fWs are not io poateoaion of (ho name ofthean. Ibor of tbedbUowingpoenekul Hpom#*i«ndpt*ed by one ffbo nneiM* firiu gewiioeoess,, uW*. haw »*h iom retd.*more bcaulifti poem, and „d» W* ear J him or.b<*who,:c*n. readmit ,wUh9»t jl .quickened bealingof x At her irenibatan?.cold and Jonefyrr i>r • Wiih the angtl.walcbera only! ■ LiftenJogforlhediaUnltoutKl, I if . Of a plowi unsteady footaiep ' OVtha cold and frown ground. ‘ ' Wllhthe scythe of death, the Reaper, Oattiot deeper, deeper, deeper ~, . . „ Through a worn end broken heart, , . The inebriate's lone wifi lielene ' While the blinding teardrop* »Urt Softly breathing In Ofctf alqmber ‘Till each lifi-beat yoa nnmber—' Sleep* the infant Of her eare. Obj how wild are ail thebeevidga 01 her love, and her despair 1 Had the but a aeraph's-piniotie, To the angela* hrldlil dotaiaibne— Far beyond the lightning'* track Would the bear each amiling cherub; But the mortal chp.ipf ber back! Hungry, chill and full df aomnv. Waiting for a darker morrow. Till the weary night is o’er; Still ahe listens for the footstep! That rosy cfame to her no more! “0, thou Higbteoos One^All-Seeing! • Still watch o’er a sinful beings ’ O’er a wayward, erring child! Take him not into thy, presence With a heart yet so defiled! 11 From the gulf where thou baat found him. Throw thy arms of love around him— Bear hihi upward unto thee ; Yet sustain what thou hast given, - Till fronl this corruption nee!" Thus she prays—while nought of gladness— Nought save scorn, abuse and madness. Doth the boding heart foretell; Can the crushed heart bear it* sorrow 7 Will it keep its faith so well 7 Tea! —that heart will bear up longer In its love—end faith grows stronger For the loved that gently aleep She will ever bear her sorrow. That they may not learn to weep She will strive with great forbearing Still to check a fell despairing And each daily conflict meet; Though the poor, bruised heart’s decaying And ere long will cease to beat. M. E. J. C. Covington, Jan. 3, 1833. “SPUN PIRN.” COLOGNE CATHEDRAL, AND ITS ARCHITECT.—A LEGENDARY TALE. CHAPTER I. THE PLAN OF THJB CATHEDRAL. lowards the close of the year 1226, a ooor architect sat ia his own small homh in iDe ciiv of Cologne. The archbishop, Conrad de Hochsleden, had sent a faithful servitor to him that morn ing. ordering him to furnish, (orthwiih, a ntan of the finest religious edifice the world luc yet seen, 11 For such a building,” said he. “ shall risk in Cologne for the glory of me saints and the honor of Germany.” The poor architect was bewildered at his Inch commission; not that he misdoubted his own great tboughis, for he fell in himself snuggling conceptions of somthing infinitely glorious, beautiful and harmonious; but he Knew bePer than the archbishop, or anybody else, what would be the difficulty of reducing tin ideas to. practice, and wished to take coun sc wnh the masler-sjnnts of his age. lie returned, therefore, a modest and tbo’l ful answer, praying that the means of visiting the finest churches of Germany, France and Lnutand might be afforded him before he eavo in his plan and commenced the work. The archbishop did not refuse compliance wnti the reasonable request, stipulating, how,- ever. that the architect's wanderings should m. on any account occupy more than one tear. The allotted lime expired; true lo his word (he architect returned, and set himsel l at once to (he task of drawing out a plan ; bir alas! he found the work harder than eve; The emblematic character- was, no ooub;, fully written in his mind. Thai there should be two lowers, since the earnesi Cnnsiian raises boih his arms in prayer, was a mailer of course; also that there should be twelve apostles. Of course, 100, it was to lane (he form of the cross, and the triple giorv of God should be shown by three win now* lighting the holiest part of the laber nacu,. All this was the essential, the inward idea, (he tool of (he whole; but the body was not yet; it had yet to be formed, indica ted, shaped out. This, day dnd. night, wns tne theme of the poor architect's meditations. Musing constantly upon the enterprise, he sauntered one day beyond the city walls, In « spot called the gate of (he Franks; and (Here, seated on a bench, began tracing with s stick, on (he loose sand,.outlines of that which was ever in bis thoughts. At length something very grand and state ly began to grow beneath his band. His eye beheld it with a degree of satisfaction, when o sharp, satirical voice behind him exclaim ed ; “ Bravo! my good friend, so you are drawing .the Cathedral of Slrasburg !” A little, keen-looking old roan, of a re markably disagreeable voice nod aspect, pre sented hints elf as a speaker.. The architect dm not feel much pleased by the remark, nor bv us utterer, but felt that the verdict was jusi, and sighing, acknowledged it. Be effaced the work and began again— Tins lime other lines came—a different form altogether. - < Again the sharp voice remarked, “ Bravo I the Cathedral of Rheimsl” “ Alas, yes 1” said the architect. Again the picture was rubbed out, and he began anew. This time be worked for neat ly a quarter of.an hour, encouraged by the plaudits of his neighbor, who whispered sev eral times, “ Bravo! Bravo 1” .But at length the remark came, “ You must have traveled iar, my friend.” . . • ■ ■ “Why so?” “ Because you have been in England,” “ Who-Jold you that ?" “ This drawing of Canterbury Cathedral-” The-architect uttered a deep g(oan. . It was terrible, but too true. With his toot, he effaced ail trace of Abe building, and impa tiently turning to tbe little old man, be,put the stick into bis hand/ , ‘’Here my roaster," said be, “ such a good critic as you are, cannot you add example lo ’precept, end give tne a specimen of wj}Bl you. can do?" “ Willingly/’ said the old man* with ft.ijf ftnd wicked : laugb,.aodlh3D he c&ro* tessly, and ag if by chance, but with wonder-' For lie Agitator. ■ COBB; STD&fe&k, 1 & CO., VOL. 1. ful power, Jo trace an' the, sand lines so -bold, so elegant, and so oprirect that the' architect exclaimed—“ ah I I. sea we are brothers in an!’’ "Should you not say,” replied the litfle old man, again laughing that.scornful laugh,' "that you are a scholar and I master 1” “ Truly, perhaps jl. ought,” answered the artist, with the honesty of genius, “ if it were not that [ have yet! to see something more of ihe filling up.the,sketch,” “ Very good, something may be made, of ,you yet,” said the little old man, “ but Fdo oot choose, just now, to do any more.” “Why noil", . “ Because then you' would get my plan, ** : ‘ “ Have you a cathedral to build, 100 1” “ I hope to have oqe.” “ Where T “ Here, at Cologne.” “ What, my own cathedral V “ Yours 1” Yes, to be sure, mine!" “ Ah I I rue, if you can construct a plan.” " And I will construct a plan.” " So will I, and Archbishop Conrad shall choose between the two." The poor architect felt his heart sink, — “ Listen,” said he, “ I have a hundred crowns lefi of the money advanced me for my jour ney and plans ; finish your drawing for me, and the crowns shall be yours.” The little man laughed again, and just un drawing the airings of a small purse which hung at his girdle, displayed a treasury of glittering diamonds. The architect sighed, for he saw that'the man was worth far pnore than hit price : and while sad thoughts grew on him, Iho mas let's hand went on tracing grand outlines, such ns he hud never conceived of. Exas perated and struck with envy, a sudden im pulse seized him—he would possess himself of the idea at any rate. He grasped the old man’s arm with one hand, and with the other he pointed a dagger to his breast. “ Old man,” said he, “ finish ihe plan or die !" Hardly were the words uttered, when he fell himself seized by a more powerful arm ihan his own, a knee was pressed on his breast, and his own poignard glittered close to his throat. 11 Ha I ha I” said the adversary, “ cheat and murderer!” and he laughed again, " Kill me,” said the artist, “ but spare your laughter,” “ What if I do not wish to kill you I” “ Then you will give me your plan.” “lam ready lo do so, but on one condi tion. ' First, however, be so kind as to get up and sit down iy me ; we are not com fortably placed for conversation,” And the stranger seated himself at one end of the tench, quietly crossing his legs, and looking at the poor builder, who rising, shook the dust from his knees, and stood still in the same place. “Well,” said the old man, “you see I bear no malice.” •• But who are you 1” cried the architect. ■‘-Did you ever hear of the Tower of Ba bel, the Gardens of Semiramis, and the Coliseum ?” «f Yes.” “ Well, 1 constructed them.” “You are the Tempter, then ?" cried the poor artist, with a violent start, “ The same at your service,” with the ev erlasting low laugh. " Get thee behind me !’’ exclaimed the ar tist, making the sign of the cross. The low laugh passed into a gnashing of teeth—a flash of lightning above, a yawning chasm beneath his feet—and the Tempter was gone. CHAPTER 11. THE MONK AND TUB ADVKB9ABV, The artist went home, and found his poor old mother waiting for him at supper; but he would not sit down at the (able,‘and, ta king a pencil, began, inattentive to her remon strances, to fix some of the fugitive ideas which he had seen traced by the Tempter's hand. The good woman went to bed weeping; since his return from his travels, she ’ had scarce been able to recognize her son, so pos sessed was he by the spirit of restlessness and discomfort, and so changed toward her self. The whole night was passed' by the artist in drawing lines and effacing ih'-m. There had been a fantastic boldness in the mysteri ous plan he had beheld, to which he could not approach. As the dawn appeared, he. threw himself on his bed ; but sleep, instead of giving him relief, added to his disturbance. Half beside himself, he ran lo the Church of St. Gereon, the favorite scene ol His devotion*. ~ ’ Cut he stopped before the portal. St. Ge reon is a small Byzantine church, standing on the kite df one older still, coast Aided by the Empress Helena. Nothing could well, be in stronger contrast than the - heavy,-'dull mass before him, and'the light' towers; the airy and yet bold colonnades which, had grown beneaih lhb Tempter’s hadd; in’ the 1 sketch of the night before.' ‘He forgot that he came to pray—in he passed, not know, ing whither he went,' occupied by his single, perpetual thought, W ' ' All day long did he wander thus; towards evening,, without design or knowledge of the .tray he was lakipg, he found himself again at the Gate of the. Pranks, oh the terrace and pear the bench bb occupied before. , It was ; P ow nightfall, the promenade Was’ deserted,’ Bndhneaolitary tnan alone beside hiniselfre- tbe walls.,, \‘f. V , tnan yjtWhe slrange.r. In i moment the arijst knew and approached him. ‘, L.m siqodhejb/ftthe ramjw.rf’’drawjng in the Wall witha rae|al |gyl^h^pp P eiU;. t And, M -be ,d W wjuqlt tjt, Pffiepptped CMJ Isa -•- 1.-/. ;; , U J .v> , wi&i;? msb*. WEUSBOKOPH, TIO6A; COUKTY, PA., TIICBSDAT MORKINC, JANUARY 26, 1856. ■ *sr»%v «'?*/• 10 I j. ,j ; la! ,t h-, -j, f'l.. ' I •n r ‘v n .l , 1 WAVS *'l . ‘I > </,*' " 'riix XeiTAT tost ox thouohi' is thb hi -■ ■' ' n r i ;; :- 1 ~ j ~' — l .11 —,—rrr ~* ■ as-if..(raced in characters of fire, faded away, so that in proportion aa the magnificent plan grew, the earlier drawn.part, grew pate and faint, and gradually disappeared r and the eye could not any one time follow - the new lines and recall the old. Thus the artist saw pass before him the vision, of a phosphoric cathedral, loot in a. moment in a darkness, not to be recalled or reproduced by possibil ity- He sighed sadly. , “ Ah, is it youl’’ exclaimed.the old mao, turning round, “ I expected you.” “ I dm, come.” j ■ Well, I knew wo had not quarelled.— Look, l havo reioueltcd my plan. What say you to my portal 7" “ Magnificent,” exclaimed the artist, with undissembled enthusiasm. “ And my tower 1” “ Splendid.” “ And my nave?’V “ Wonderful.” “ Weil, you may have it all, if you wish it.” “ And what do you ask in exchange ?” “ Your signature.” “ And then you will give me your plan 1” ,“ Certainly, complete in all its points.” “ I consent to your wish, but when ?” “ To-morrow, at midnight, here.” And the Tempter departed, and the poor architect returned to the town. His old mother wailed Tor him as before. The artist sat down this time, and as at first the poor woman was cheered j but soon she saw that he simply obeyed the dictates of an absolute physical necessity, and that his mind was far away. He rose and retired to his room; his mo ther dared not follow, but seated herself on the threshhold, ready to answer at his call. For some time, she heard him uttering sighs and prayers; this did not arouse her anxiety sufficiently to make her think right to enter. Then she heard him lie down— long turnings and tossings followed—then a few moments of rest then groans and cries. At length it seemed to her (hat some pne was disputing with him, there was a sound of a wrestle and a fall, and she heard him cry for help. Then she could not but open the door, for he was alone and in> a dream, crying with all his might, “ Avaunt, Tempt er ! thou shall not have my soul,” “ Tempter i Satan I” the case was plain: the poor mother made the sign of the cross ovdr the disturbed brow of the sleeper'which calmed him in a measure, and then she knell down and prayed at the foot of the bed, .looking up at a beautiful picture of the Mad donna, given her son by a pilgrim from Con stantinople. As the prayer proceeded, the artist’s sleep became easier ; and by the time it was over, his breath was gentle and calm as an infant's. In the morning he rose in a tranquil state of mind, and, placing himself at the window to breathe the early air, caught sight of his mother, who was going out clad in mourning. She saw him and stopped. “Mother, where are you going? why are you in mourning ?” “ To-day is the anniversary of your fath er's death, dear son, and I am going to St. Gereon to order mass for souls in purgato ry.” “ Alas, alas I” muttered the artist, “ neith er mass nor prayers ran bring my soul out of the abyss into which it must go.” “ Will you not come with me?” said (he mother. “No, mother; only, should you see old Father Clement send him to me. He is. a holy man, and I want to consult him in a case of conscience.” “ Th.e'sainls keep you in such a pious frame, my son ; for, unless I am much deceived, the etiemy of souls is seeking to surround • you in his toils'.” “ Well, mother, go quick.” The pood worndn went, and the architect leant d ihoiighfiiliy out-of the window. Pres ently he saw old-Father Clement turning the street corner’advancing towards him. ■' He closed the window and waited. The good old monk entered ; a sage, expe rienced, pious mf&n. The moment he looked at the artist he exclaimed : “ o,my son you ha,ve evil thoughts within." ' “Yes, indeed, my father, many, evil thoughts; and that is why I have called on you to help me.” “ Tell me your story son.” “ Father, you know that our Lord Arch bishop has given me the task of building our Cathedral.” - f “ Yes, I know it, and believe he could not have applied to a belter architect.” n' “ There you are wrong, father,! have drhwn plan upon plan—possibly some of my plans may be worthy of inferior towns, such as Duseldorf, or Worms; or Coblemz—but Hg who has framed a plan' for a cathedral worthy tif Cologne, is not your penitent, fath er.” •' 1 “NoI” said the monk: and cannot we buy his plan'fof gold T" 'f “ I have offered him all I have, and he has shown ijjp a' piirto Tull of precious stones j ll ; “Cap we hot get il by force?' 1 for bis ea gerness for the. honor of Cologne 1 and’ the Church drew the 'monk ’ somewhat' beyOnd the hounds bf justice and Christian bharity. “I would haWused force, ’’ answered ’the arti«l', f “ but He threw medown likea child.” Willbe yield lono conduiorr?” 44 Yes } hhl only to one, father.” 44 What hair thaf be?” - ; 4, T mtisl aigo’awtajr triy soul!” 1 ■> ’ " .The ;sainia preserve us, ! it is Satan him hell?’ ’• •‘'‘"■’l , dduhi.* !! ■' ' i! -'-»•«, lwnft tdidU’ the (hatter vety duietlf.^i on I o/U f.i BS-'T.-i;:' * jpt If ii\ tZ V,*f, • *•’ 1‘ j -j \ > ' l * uw V l/'l'M * ’?*- **>J m m. ‘ Ju'i nj v 4.; r n i ’:■« r l&ntktßo or ■wiBooh', m ' ; r “* !! ,; ' v - "A / - i s ‘‘ Well, my son, beware of pride, for it is that only which endangers thy soul," . “And is it possible," exclaimed the artist, “ that 1’ can get the plan and not lose my «onlt"\i ! ,'■ ■■ . • v “ Perhaps it is possible." i “ Ah, father, tell me quickly—-how V* “ First andconfess in the church of St. Gereon, sad then I will tell you what lo do.” The architect went as he had beeH told; and when he bad performed his religious du> ties he visited the father in his cell. ■ Now, for what w 6 are going to rfelate we do not presume to judge the matter; the Cat thedralof Cologne is a very great work, nod ;ita plan worthy of a seraphT If the holy monk prescribed fraud to the ‘artist, we doubl not he thought it an net of virtue to foil and defraud the Tempter ; and so" it is likely, thought the artist, also. We, in this day, do not, it may be feared, hold Satan in suf. ficient abhorrence, , “ My son,” said the monk, take this holy relic in,your hand, and 10-night, when the Tempter exhibits his plan before you, do you lake hpld of it with one hand, as if to exam, ine it more narrowly, while ha holds it on the other side. Then take, care and touch his hand with the relic, and [ will answer for his letting it go. Don’t be frightened—he will storm and threaten you ; but you must hold up this relic in his face, and then you need not have any apprehension. The saints are stronger than he.” “ But, my father, when I have given you back the n lie, will there be no further fear of him?—will he not return and strangle ma?” “ No, not while you remain in a slate of grace; but take care of mortal sin !” “ Then, I am safe,” cried the artist, “father, fori am free from the seven deadly sins; I am neither gluttonous, envious, covetous, wrathful, idle or laeivious.” “ You forget the seventh sin, my son, that of pride; it is that which l has mined the .highest angels, and it may ruin you.” “ I will watch over it, father and you will be my helper.” , “ The saints guard and bless you, my son.” “Amen!” said the artist, and retired to' his house, where he passed the remainder of the day in prater. At the honor appointed he went to the place,of meeting, but the walk was deserted* there was neither old man, nor woman, nor child. The architect walked alone for- n few moments, tearing the Tempter might fail of his word. 12 o’clock, however,struck, and at the very last stroke, “ Hera I am,” said a loud and full voice behind the artist. H« turned, trembling, for ha did not re cognize the familiar voice and indeed a change had come over voice, figure and, form. It was not the little old man with piercing eyes, pointed beard, and black' surlout; he saw a line vnung man of from 22 to 26 years of age, of a striking figure with a large and pale forehead, furrowed as it were, by the. lines of thought. In one hand he held the plan, in the o'her the compact. The artist could not but recoil a step or two, so dazzled was he by the image of this infernal beau tv. •• Oh ! now,” snid he, “ this once I know you and you need not tell me your name; you are indeed Lucifer (he demon of Pride.” “ Well," said the Tempter, “ I have not deceived you ; are you ready V “Yes, but before I sign,'show met'eplnn. I pay dear enough to insure me a sight of mr purchase.” “ That is fair—look!” and unrolling the plan he held it out, without leaving hold hint self. The architect did. as the monk had desir ed. He took ,thp, parchment by one corner’ whilst the Tempter..spread it out, while by the baht of tlie moon he devoured it with his eyes, he slicped, hia, other arm below, and touched with thej,sacred relic the hand; with which the Devil field the plan. A great cry fallowed, burnt to the bone ihe Tempter bounded, up, and let. fall, the plan into the architect’s possession, “ In. the name of the saints,” cried the ar tist, making the sign of the cross with the relic, “departSatan.’.’ The Tempter Ottered a terrible cry of rage. “ I know who taught you that, it is the trick of some miserable priest,”. “ . ■ Again the artist invoked the holy name, and waved the relic before him. . Then the Tempter betook himself to his first form. “I am conquered; but mark me, this church, of which l am robbed,-thou shall net’er finish; and thy name,- for -which- thou desiresi immortal renowft, shall (be forgotten and unknown. AdieuJ - Take cate lest I surprise thee deadly in sin.” And, with one bound, ; he sprang into (he Rhine, whose 'waters closed over him, hist ingns if they enclosed a iron. ' The happy architect Temfhed;to the city and his home where he found his moiherafld father Clement engaged in prayer for him.—. He (old them all that had passedi’ : T'he'poor woman *wept, crossing herself; thb"rt»6tik rubbed h|s hohds, applkudihg his own clev. erness.' The artikt him the last words of ’.the T«mpVer, ’ £ •’ “ Well,” said the nponk, “ he Ik rtioro fair than 1 thought forewarns y'oti; how it is yours to ,keep on your guard, and'to avoid all occasion fpr mq.rtpl pin, Once more, beware of ,pride. . J.: ’ . ."I'j .. The architect the monk retired to the happiest mappossible,.,, Jfis .rooihei 1 alsA; left him, not. above half .uoderstafldlng’ VMt 1 bad passed,- but happyvbocause . hqrfon .was. 60s ■ ■ f ’ ':‘ /r ‘ y--j l ’i Left alone, the.artist, hold of the plan which had so jwarly coat.hUn tbe loss of htsaoul, knelt fcwa and poured ; pql '»(** r'„, 7V, 'jTllT ■ V_/a fjila ffifh •.a .a | .}' , j J 1! J/,* f * • -f liii> m** ,<fc ‘ s »» IW(W. . prayers and blessings totbe; saints for tfie belpgiven; ihe plan, tolled .op .beijealjji £is .pijjfiwjpnd slept and saw the, cathedral,, ihj his breams. CHAPTER 111. v 1 ' the DErttr siM. On the'morrow ‘niorn, our (iriist’ went to the archbishop, (who had, began (o’bd impa tient at such' lengthened delays,) and showed him the plan. r The afchbishop allowed ho had lost nothing by thedetay.and opening th« treasuries of the 5 chapter} authorized biro to help himself freely. • , »■»> Thai ' same day'-’the foundation 'of the church was laid: ».nd asfSrA'iong'time past, crowds of wotkmao-had beds hollowing out the aides of the DrachenfcU, vita re was no want of- material { .tht/si there -grew, .out of the ground on immense vegetation of stone, ready to spread forth its forms in the sun. Three 'weeks past, and. the monument ad vanced, when, one Friday- evening,.it chan ced that our artist, who had been too much absorbed in the work to think, during the day of eating and. drinking,. wasigptj&qpmti half famished, and suddenly met the Burgomaster, a great bon vivant, famous' for his good din ners and his' supperrf. He was coming on purpose to dad the architect,'add invite him ip sup at bis bouse with the Burgomasters of Mayence and of Aix laChapelle, both also notorious for their convivial habits; not hav ing been able tp find the architect at home, he had- come to meet him at the spot where he was pretty sure to be found. The 'architect had tried to get off compli ance, on the ground of not having forewarn ed his mother; but this objection Was met by the Burgomaster assuring him that that point was settled, for he- himself had seen her, and thus there seemed- tto possibility of declining, and he had nothing to do but in follow, and he led by tha Burgomaster into a splendid dining room, in tha middle of which was placed a table, full of every kind of delicacy, from poultry to* venison. Now the architect, as we have said; was really half famishing; thus, at first sight of this fine collation, he congratulated himself on having followed, the Burgomaster; but, on sealing himself iat table, it. Suddenly oc curred to him that it was .Friday, the day, ■if holy fasting, in which, less than anv dav, the sin of ,-gluttony is permissible. • There fore, having breathed a prayer,'ha touched nothing but a slice of bread and a glass of water, refusing all other viands and the moat delicious wines. Thus he escaped the sin of gluttony. : As to the three burgomasters they ate and drank without leaf.of the saints or the Devil, laughing all the while at the poor architect and his bad cheer. « '' ’ Next day the architect went'tn hi* work, prospered' well, neither monej) nor hnnds be in jr spared. From lime timehecertainly re curred to the paring threats of the Tempter; hut every thought of this kind seethed to give him new strength to resist temptation, and as the ca’hedral progressed apace, he hoped the infernal predictions would never be accom plished. _ *- About this time, Pope, Innocent IV., a Ge noese by birth, wanted to build a- palace at Rome for one of his nephews, and as Co logne was famous for the skill,pf. jls builders he asked the Arcbishop Conrad to send him an architect. The archbishop accordingly sent his Holiness a very skillful man, whom he had a short lime before thought of placing over the works at the cathedral, io order to annoy the architect; with whom be had had aii altercation a few days before, Rut here he was mistaken j our architect beheld the choice without enoy. . The,deadly sin in vain assailed him. „ ...., ' : - The cathedral profited by ibis tranquillity ofthe'builder’s 'mind:*' Ha itved only for it —all his time was'paSStd’amid its stones, cbrvingi himself those parts which needed the most delicacy and finish,',j And the archbish np, however cool towards his architect, paid him right' royally, insomuch, that vwhile dreaming of glory fo# his'name, he amassed' a (bfttirie for his needsf Sntf by the end 6f eightecrt'mpnths'h¥'had realteedthe sum of 6000 florins) bt lhat time, was a pret. ty considerable fortune."" ' One evening, on' returning'home, his mo ther gave him a leileirsealed with black; it was from his sister, and’announced the loss of her husband, who,, dying, had left her In poverty with three Utile The ppor 'woman entreated his'help io her sorrow and trouble. ■ ■ t n.a-, ■„ „ . The architect sent her-his. 6000 florins. ‘The sin of covetousness ! was not his; The cathedral rose highetand higher—the architect seemed tohave-triads l it his own he : waS at the break of day, and there after the,night 1 hhd clbSed in. He had under his. orders, enough to,relieve him uftcetiaio. yery.:impor* tanl work}' and,, after havihy roada a .very exact design, ho comVhittedloorteof these snen a, aide, door full J^jhifdl' aftbeSqtio, over yrhich was to ; hang,,ais tjppiua.4reiiia work, in a vine laden with grapes. The workman was to execute -Ihis wdrk/dahored behind ajscreeh ' jdahksi in order notio be -THe aroHiiect re spected his wish to be alone, arid, confiding in his-skill* Waited till.the aftieejt.-was. re moved. The gronddayartivedr-tho work men look away.thj) >naftblding,hut<the work. proVed quite unworthy of ibe restpflhs build mgi ho that the; arehiieot inake ...the dqdf himself,' With already dhrfnontb’a work hefo'rd him ;SShe had Mid,' ha Was not giv ■|if tpyfoflWtlhSht,'!-' I™ ’ «T .-Plt-H r iha iirtie df beginning hit Übor»» now fc^ryearsa'gb^heM his meriVvyqrk in'.i>rde»‘ iO'he Sure of 'sqrupaigt^' 1 1 so,'a :t;h i rj V\ "“ "»n, thought they should find a rich v > est ofjnoney near him, instead r nf wtff»ft|fe i!*5S? *•* «ormWi6aTiWf:liBB@^ ? $? .jaitSr'yifd ptonlfc<b eft&f rtfc.tert' JkbpVhfin of feWiwtf A& 1 hbd: Arlengiti;* when- the tatldTibi * Rfesrod with^be’iW^he could hot repwfe> ‘ him. htfdidlt vrith the moderation'' hf h' calm and eqiiabtef n)®h,end thus escaped thh .He Bjydr;h^sr/-' ! * •" 1 Tfe rumofofanewwonder ofthe world 1 began td sjireyl abroad. 'Already it wit •done, what it would bewheri it .was finished | ahd many 'eatne On pilgrimages td see it from France, Germaby and Flanders. Often after seeing* the (edifice,* these pilgrims wore burl-' 1 °us to see (ho builder, so that fn ' way home from the cathedral, it was no "uhcom mnn thing ft»r hiro to. meet groups of strang-*' era waylaying him.mbrdermnote what sor( ! of a person t fit's was,* who had had the bold ness and gbrntislbcarry but such an under taking." Among tfie'pilgrims were some of. the lemple ses. ahd One of these fell so des i. perately in love with bur'architect, that she* hired a house inthealreet by which he passed t° his work, so that; gb and cotne when he he was spreto see her at'the. wlnddw;. smiling and following with her ‘ bright eyes { and sometimes she threw nosegays down to him, an'd oncei she let fall her handkerchief, and without thinking of evil he picked it up, and carried if up the stairs, and gave it into her own hand, while she trembled and blush ed, and at last, made known to him, w ithout reserve, her affection for him j but he grave ly and earnestly repelled her advances, fell ing her how needful it was. to guard against temptation, and left her innocence. Thus be was proof against impurity. Si* months now passed away. Every day the number of speclatora increased, for Iho portal was finished, and ao were' many of the arches ; and though one of the. lowers had only attained the height of twenty-one fee* the other had risen already more' than on hundred and forty, and displayed very clea. ly what the effect would be when its enMi. altitude of five hundred feet should be a mined ; still the more the .work grew, II more the idea that it would never be finish? T* and (hat his name would remain forgotten at unknown, tormented the artist and it was order to put this last evil out of the questio that the idea came info his mind of workit the letters of his name, into the balustrar which was to surround the platform of tl tower. By this means, that name wou strike all eyes so long as the monument la- ted—they would live together. This resoh tion made, he became more easy in mind, ae settled with himself to pul his design in ex cution on the morrow. At the moment of commencing, howevpi the archbishop sent for him, to show him,!, said, some! precious relics which he had just received. The architect came down from the tower,end found his lordship in great delight. From Milan, had just been sent the heads of the three Magi, Caspard, Melchior, and Balth-> nicer, witjh' their precious crowns of gold, adorned.with diamonds and pearls.—The ar chitect knelt devoutly down at the sight of these sabred relics. Uttered his prayer, and ri sing, congratulated the archbishop on the rich nrnd rare gift. “ Well,” replied The bishop, « [ have had. something moro valuable still, than this, front the Emperor at Constantinople.” “ Indeed I can it be a fragment of the true ctoss, found by the Empress Helena f” “ Better still!” “Can it be the crown of thorns that wertt pledged hy the Emperor Baldwin]” “ Something worth more still!" “ What con it be?” “ The plan of the finest edifice that eter was built—” “ Oh! indeed,” exclaimed lha artist, with a smile of disdain. “ A plan which leaves so far-behind all other plans, as the sun outshines the stars— =■ seeing that other plans are the work of men —this is the work of Heaven itself, sent by an angel to'King Solomon.” ( “ You have, then, the plan of the Tempi* of Jerusalem t” cried the architect. '“Yesl” - - •? “ Oh, let me eee it’ r •' - !s ' “ Lift up that curtain,” said’the' archbish op, pointing Wth* his' finger to 4 tapestry, cot* ering a kind of frame. ’ A The artist eagerly obeyed, and found him* self standing face to face with the heavenly model, and with one glance he took in all its details! *■ ; , -IS l “ Well,” said the archbishop, "what <fd you say to that t” ’ - ' • i “Pshaw !” exclaimed the artist, “I like mine beWr. Insiahtly a burst of infernal laughter soun* ded ip his ears ; tbo sprely he recognised the well known sound ; pifter having escaped thC six other deadly sins, he had fallen into that ofpßipx. 1 ■ Its made biit one hound from the spot to’ the Church of St. Oereon, where he' honed to find Father’Clement; but the father'htttl that night been seized with apoplexyrSeft' died. And at the moment when this stain ning information reached his. ears,.agaih there cants ihe burst of Satanic laughter, and a cold chill passed over-his frame tohis’veiry heart. , ri B " ' r , Yet he'surhm'oned all his presence of mltfd ) and, feeling as yet‘no physical pilin', took Courage. |>y degrees knd resolved to telUffi lo the cathedral,hoping ' that the enihuamsm al ways sure to he a wakened ht the eight of his bployed Work’, Would drive away the rem nant of fear from his heart, [ And ha. tried to lose himself in the mode's of his own church-; but, alee I soonhe.found a want, of air, anda. sense qf suffocation, as if it was a sepulchre. To escape- from thi*, he mounted the steps, leading to; the platform, ;When there, he siili continuadtha ascent by means of scaffoldings jat tbe topuji .tmj ■ •caffltWing.was.n ladder, resohinglhe sum mil of the lower-—this was the most advanced •part-of lhe ; Works, and that from- whietrthc arti«t could mosl veadily survey.; al) Umest. Nothing appeared altered ; every oneysia in his plage, ; andall remfcined asaiduboily ia, boring IheteJill the uaualhour ofdeparture The clock gave notice qf 4h*t hour, w day', light began : *
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