True to his word, the sculptor lingered in Passagno until there had risen on the mountain side a classic, snowy edifice which was the wonder and pride of all the villagers. When the builders had finished and had gone their way, the man who had designed it all put on his apron, took up his chisel, and completed for the altar ornaments that he had begun twenty years before, when he had lived in the cabin just over the way. How the people rejoiced in their pillared house of worship, and how grateful they were to the giver of so splendid a gift. Warmly they bade him farewell when his task was at length completed, and he was obliged to go in order to execute the greater works that awaited him. At last, in the city of Rome, when the sculptor's hair whitened, his step faltered, and his heart grew strangely still, the friends about him, a brilliant company, carried him tenderly up the Alpine road, and laid him to rest beneath the altar of his own carving. When the service was ended, the lords and ladies, the princes and cardinals, the poets and teachers who had paid him their devotion to the last, wound their way slowly down to the turbulent world; and Tonin Canova slept on the mountain side, in the heart of his Alpine village. FRÉDÉRIC OF WARSAW [CHOPIN[4]] It was the evening study hour at Nicholas Chopin's boarding-school. Twenty-five lads belonging to the oldest families of Warsaw were assembled in the schoolroom, preparing lessons for the following day. The place was large, well lighted, and comfortably warmed; good pictures hung on the walls, and racks of books filled every available nook. At the upper end of the room, near the master's desk, stood an open piano; and at the lower, a table bearing plates, cups, and wholesome refreshments which would be distributed among the boys when study-hour was over. Throughout the room great cheerfulness and comfort reigned, and the apple-cheeked boys at the desks showed that they were generously cared for under this kindly roof. They were mostly little fellows, ranging in age from eight to twelve years, and a merrier company one would journey far to find. When Nicholas Chopin sat behind the desk, this hour was always a quiet one; for while he was indulgent with the boys out of school, furthering their enjoyment with all his heart, he was also a strict and thorough teacher, who would tolerate no disturbance from the pupils during lesson-time.