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from a window, and from this pole depended the basket and string. By this time, however, we had learned the language of the tip, and here was a plea from a real prisoner of Chillon;" for while the lower part of the castle is devoted to a museum and armory, the upper is appropriated to offenders against the state. It is therefore worth something now to be a prisoner of Chillon, since, while the incarcerated offender may enjoy from the lofty windows one of the most enchanting panoramas in the world, an actual business can be done in tips. As we admired the novel yet practical character of the arrangement, the little bell tinkled again. Our delay, however, did not mean indifference, and when we gave the signal of "Tirez," telephoned by knocking with a thole-pin against the wall, the little basket rose slowly in the air, heavier than when it came down by a couple of francs and two or three cigars. The capacity of the European to collect tips under adversity was plain. It could not be said

of the prisoner of Chillon and his fishpole as Saxe said of one, that

"He ne'er had learned the art to bob
For anything but eels."

Sailing away from the picturesque old castle toward Montreux, we were able, when sufficiently distant, to catch a glimpse of the prisoner waving his thanks with a handkerchief from behind the heavy, inexorable bars. From his lofty perch, in our sympathetic mood, he appeared quite romantic; yet no doubt he was a rogue.

But we have done with the subject of tips, which are in danger of losing some of their glory. The unification of Italy and Germany, the practical abolition of passports, the sensible custom-house reforms, and the through-ticket system sending the tourist over his route in express trains, with a contract bearing the stamp, so melancholy in the eyes of a gatherer of perquisites, all unite to discourage a system which could be spared without regret.

the cost of the "Gates of Paradise ?”moments that might be better spent in getting on to the next town, and continuing the weary round prescribed by his Cook or his Baedeker.

And yet, not least among the pleasures of a prolonged sojourn in Europe is to be reckoned the power of lingering sometimes in those rich dusky rooms, poring over the folios of yellow parchment, tracing out the beautiful, clear-cut letters, written by a hand long since dust, or the quaint, fantastic ornamentation of the illuminated pages. Not least pleasant out of a store of pleasant memories are those of long afternoons spent in the innermost recesses of dim old churches, where the sacristan, stirred into smiling active benevolence by the magic of a silver coin, produces one by one from their hidingplaces in dark carved oaken presses, or from the mysterious depths of moth-eaten cabinets, treasures of art worth a king's ransom. Nor are they confined to one church alone, or to two: every church, every library, every monastery, in the Old World is a treasure-house, wherein lie hidden away illuminated manuscripts, missals, breviaries, choir-books, that would make a collector and connoisseur hold his breath with admiration and envy.

it was considered a worthy entertainment for kings and foreign potentates to turn the leaves and inspect the pictures of this priceless manuscript. No one of less importance than a king or a foreign guest whom the republic delighted to honor was permitted so much as to catch a glimpse of the cover; so that for years it remained a hidden treasure, almost lost out of the memory of man, or mentioned now and then by some fortunate lover of art to whom a fleeting glimpse had been accorded, it acquired a fabulous splendor, and was spoken of as being covered with gold enriched with precious gems.

It was bequeathed to the library of San Marco by Domenico Grimani, son of an old patrician family of Venice, and one well known in the history of the republic. His father was Antonio Grimani, sometime Doge of Venice, who was the son of Marino Grimani and Caterina Loredano his wife.

Domenico was born in 1461, and was trained in the study of philosophy by Francesco Securo da Nardò, of the order of preaching friars. He had for friend and fellow-pupil Antonio Pizzamano, afterward Bishop of Fettre, and together they went in early life to Florence, where they joined the band of philosophers of which Politian and Pico della Mirandola were the leaders.

Here Grimani remained, discussing abstruse questions or composing elegant Latin verses with his philosophic friends, until he was sent as ambassador to Emperor Frederick III. on his entrance into Italy. He afterward entered the Church, and re

he was appointed Patriarch of Aquila—a dignity which he resigned toward the end of his life in favor of his nephew, Marino Grimani. He died at Rome in 1523, at the age of sixty-two.

He was a man of learning and culture, as is proved by the many profound scientific works which he published, as well as by his numerous letters to Erasmus, Sabellico, and other distinguished men of his time. He was not more remarkable for his excellent administration of his ecclesiastical offices than for the filial devotion which he displayed. His father, Antonio Grimani, having been deprived of his military command and imprisoned, Domenico, then a cardinal, went to his prison, and tenderly embracing him, with tears in his eyes, declared his intention of