the other two to the Genoese embassador at the Spanish court. The subject-matter is comparatively unimportant, but the signature is noteworthy. Its superscription of cabalistic ciphers, .S. has given rise to not a little controversy. One interpretation is that they stand for Supplex servus altissimi Salvatoris Xristi, Maria, Yosephi, as if instead of "Your obedient servant," he would say, "The humble servant of Christ the Supreme Saviour, and of Mary and Joseph." Spotorno, however, regards the superscription rather in the light of an invocation, and would read the last two lines of the mysterious characters vertically, with the following interpretation: Salva-me Xristus Maria Yosephus, the three letters S. A. S. being regarded as final and not initial. Then follows the simple signature, Xpo FERENS, a contraction for Xristo-ferens-Christophorus or Christopher. Christopher the Christ-bearer! When one considers that the leading object of Columbus in undertaking his voyages of discovery was the propagation of the Christian faith and the rebuilding of the Holy Sepulchre, to which his discoveries were only secondary, as furnishing the means of their accomplishment, his name, so fitly chosen, as if prophetic, recalls the legend of St. Christopher, the traditional giant who, resolving to sell his services to the might iest, after serving the emperor and one who was greater than the emperor, the Black Prince of the forest, set out in search of the Son of Mary as mightier than eithersought Him in obedience to the good Carthusian prior by carrying pilgrims on their way to Rome across a mighty river without money or price-sought Him until he had grown gray in this service, when one stormy night, in response to the plaintive call of a little child, he found the Saviour of the world, the mightiest of all, who, after baptizing the good giant, surnamed him Chrisritorial right between the crowns of Castile | topher, and then vanished in light. It was and Portugal as to all future discoveries thus that another Christopher bore the made by Portuguese and Spanish naviga- Christ-child over the seas. Regarding himtors, preserved under triple lock and key. BUST, AUTOGRAPH LETTERS, AND PORTFOLIO OF COLUMBUS. The autograph letters, within a marble column surmounted by a bust of Columbus, are three in number. One is addressed to the directors of the old Bank of St. George, self as an instrument for the accomplishment of a divine purpose, his first act on landing was to unfurl the banner of the cross, thereby becoming the pioneer apostle of the Christian faith to the Western World. To a prophetic or retrospective eye what an outlook there must have been from the mast-head of the Pinta as, on the morning of the 12th of October, 1492, a common sailor shouted out the Eureka of a newly discovered continent! To say nothing of a new world, with all its sublime possibilities, slowly emerging from the watery wastes of the Atlantic, what perspectives of progress opened up from the quarter-decks of those frail caravels! The Rubicano of Astolfo, born from the union of wind and flame, that distanced in his rapid course the thunder-bolt, is no longer a myth; while that marvelous steed, the hippogriff of the wizard Atlantes, has ceased to be a marvel of magic. The electric spark annihilates time and space; steam, the giant offspring of wedded fire and water, drives the machinery of the world; while that iron-clad Cyclops, the railroad locomotive, with its sinews of steel and eye of flame and heart of fire, challenges a comparison with the most renowned genii of ancient romance or fable. Here, too, in the Municipal Palace, is the violin of Paganini. We are not among those who would place the "divine" fiddler at the head of the universe, or shout, "One God, one Farinelli!" But it would seem ungracious to pass by the violin of the great Genoese musician without some recognition of the sublime possibilities of horse-hair and catgut in the hands of such a master. Hector Berlioz has somewhere said that if Weber was a meteor, Paganini was a comet. And a comet he was, and comet-like his career. The son of a Genoese imballatore, or embaler, at five years of age he is thrown into an ecstasy on hearing the guitar-like notes of his father's mandolin. At eight he composed his first aria, and at nine gave his first concert, where, executing the Carmagnola with variations of his own composition, he achieved a great success. Henceforth his career was one continuous triumph. Visiting the various European capitals, wherever he appeared he was greeted with an enthusiasm that often became delirium. The phlegmatic Germans outdid the volatile Italians or mercurial French. If in Paris he was the "king of violinists," in Vienna he was the "god of the violin." Orpheus and Apollo were not to be compared to Paganini. If we are to believe the musical critics of the times, he achieved not only the incredible, but the impossible. He commenced where others left off, and vanquished even art itself. Paganini was something more than a grand musician. He was a whole orchestra. He represented a hundred performers. Playing at sight the most difficult compositions, to say nothing of his wonderful improvisations, and not less wonderful execution upon a single string, he seemed to have at his command the whole range of natural sounds NICOLO PAGANINI sonable hour, he stopped at an inn outside the city gate. Finding himself unable to sleep, he took his violin, went to the open window, and commenced playing one of his wonderful medleys. Feminine sighs and groans, then the crying of an infant, and then joyous outbursts of laughter issued in rapid succession from the strings of his magical instrument. The whole neighborhood was aroused. Night-caps peeped out timidly from upper windows, worthy burghers in scant undress reconnoitred stealthily behind half-open doors. At length the more adventurous guests of the inn, rushing up stairs and knocking violently at Paganini's door, with a view of ascertaining the cause of all this hubbub, were quietly informed by the artist that, being unable to sleep, he was simply amusing himself by reproducing upon his violin the varying humors of an accouchement. Still more remarkable, perhaps, was the strange and mysterious influence which Paganini exerted over the most distinguished of his fellow-artists. Rossini conceived for him "a species of fanaticism not unmixed with awe," while Meyerbeer, fascinated by his wonderful genius, sought in vain to detect the mystery of his phenomenal power. "Imagine," says the latter, "the most surprising effects it is possible to produce upon the violin, and Paganini will even then surpass your highest expectations." But the mystery that Meyerbeer failed to penetrate was solved by a simple Viennese burgher, who affirmed that, during one of Paganini's concerts in Vienna, he distinctly saw the devil, with his traditional horns and tail, standing behind the great violinist and di recting his bow, while his pedigree was sufficiently apparent from his striking resemblance to his Satanic master. "Behold Paganini!" exclaims Romani. "He appears as if inspired, and from his ample brow, from his sparkling eyes, from his thin and pallid countenance, radiates the god that flames within. With one hand he grasps his violin, with the other he shakes the bow which is to dominate it, as the liontamer shakes the rod that intimidates the lion. At the first touch of his long knotted fingers the violin groans as if it had a presentiment of the power that is about to subdue it. At the second, it shudders and weeps and complains, like the magnetized patient when interrogated by the mesmerizer. At the third, it obeys the impulse of the superior will which controls it, and breaks forth into sounds prolonged and sonorous. The thaumaturgus bends over it, shaking his wavy locks, brooding it, if we may say so, with his gaze; the inmost fibres of the hollow instrument are shaken, then waver, then yield to the irresistible fascination; the spectators gaze upon him in silence and astonishment, and hang upon him without winking an eyelid, as he pours forth a continuous torrent of harmony." And his ruling passion was beautifully strong in death. He had lived for art, and he died for it. Having overtasked his failing strength during the carnival of '39, he repaired to Nice to recruit his shattered musician, raising himself upon his elbow, gazed out through the orange groves of the villa upon the broad zone of reflected moonlight as it streamed over the rippling waters of the blue Mediterranean. For a moment he seemed lost in thought, and then a smile played over his pale features, as he turned to his attendant and called for the companion of his many triumphs, his beloved violin. Then taking it reverently in his hands, and kissing it tenderly, as he commenced playing, he poured out his departing soul in a plaintive, dirge-like air that sounded like a requiem. He ceased, and as the magical notes of the swan-like music died away, Paganini was no more. Having died suddenly, without the consent of the Church or the sanction of a priest, his remains, like those of Molière, were denied the rites of Christian sepulture, and lay for many years unburied in a basement room of the hospital at Nice. It was not until after a long and vexatious lawsuit that his son at length obtained permission to inter them in the villa of Gaiona. Thus this strange, mysterious man, this incomparable artist, whose pathway had been strewn with flowers and sonnets and laurel crowns; who had been courted and knighted by sovereigns, and the honored guest of the proudest princes; who had astonished all Europe with the prodigies of his violin, and filled two hemispheres with his musical fame-this man, thus honored and courted and is the favorite resort of the goodly Genoese. Here, on Sundays and holidays, attracted by the sunshine and the music of the military band, all Genoa turns out on dress parade, the rich to display their finery, and the poor to ventilate their rags: not that all social distinctions are absolutely ignored, or even temporarily in abeyance. The undistinguished crowd promenades back and forth in front of the music-stand and along the principal avenues in solid, compact columns. The aristocracy whirl around the Corso in their fine turn-outs until they grow dizzy, and then they turn and spin in the opposite direction. Less pretentious respectability cantons out for itself little social Goshens by the payment of a couple of sous for a rush-bottom chair-a luxury which downright penury can not afford, though it were to go supperless to bed. The Aqua Sola is a misnomer; for with its many fountains, fish-ponds, and waterfalls, it is your own fault if you do not see a great deal besides "water alone." Not to speak of the peacocks, ostriches, antelope, and chamois, of the condor, Bengal tiger, and American eagle, there is a colony of monkeys, where, if you have Darwinian proclivities, you may study the peculiar habits of your remote progenitors. But we have a preference for animated nature in its higher forms of development, and so we stroll down toward the promenade, past the cir "Shakes its loosened silver in the sun," officers in brilliant uniforms and showy decorations-tall, superb, and handsome fellows, you would say, reminding you of some of Tasso's heroes, those cular music-stand with its forty or fifty per- | berretta of the peasant, drawn in and out at formers, and then along the noble avenue pleasure, like the pendulous crest of a turof stately sycamores to where the great cen-key-cock; the three-cornered cocked hats tral fountain and black sottane of well-fed priests look down with a patronizing air upon the skullcaps and brown cassocks of barefooted all the while catching charming glimpses monks. Then there are obese Turks whose of the suburbs and the sea. picturesque costume relieves the stark riThere sits a mother, with her child drink-gidity of Parisian modes, and dashing young ing at the maternal fountain, both alike unconscious of the passers-by, and there goes the "baby" in the arms of its pretty bonne; there is the nurse to take care of the child, a footman in livery to look after the nurse: and if appearances are not deceptive, it would be just as well to send some one to look after the footman. Children of larger growth await with impatience the arrival of a dainty little omnibus-scarcely larger than Queen Mab's diminutive chariotwhich, with its little black pony, dashes around the Corso, its precious freight of juvenile humanity bubbling over with child-out into the genial sunshine, as if there was ish joy and laughter. 66 conquerors strong Of ladies fair," who were conspicuous for their gallantry on other fields than those of battle. But in the midst of all this joy and youth and beauty, there comes the memento mori, as miserable old men and women, so thin and gaunt as scarcely to cast a shadow, crawl still gladness in its ray for them, and they too could treasure up a stock of warmth and comfort for the approaching winter. The Aqua Sola has its ebb and flow as regularly as the tides. When in its merriest mood, you may go a great way and not The Campo Santo, or cemetery, situate find so motley a crowd, such striking con- about two miles from the city, in the valley |