I know, also, that when the early refugees to our shores negotiated immediately for citizenship it indicated sincere appreciation for America. This was true of Constantino Brumidi. He landed in New York on September 18, 1852; he filed his original intention to become a citizen of the United States on November 9, 1852; and he was admitted and sworn on November 12, 1857. Indeed, he was so fired with love of liberty that no amount of work and determined effort was too great for him to expend for his adopted country. He worked on the Capitol Building of the United States throughout the terms of six presidents: Franklin Pierce; James Buchanan; Abraham Lincoln; Andrew Johnson; Ulysses S. Grant; and Rutherford B. Hayes. He made frescoed ceilings and wall murals in six Committee Rooms--five in the Senate extension and one in the House extension. He is responsible for the complete design and execution of the President’s Room in the Senate Annex, the Senate Reception Room and a large mural in the House of Representatives itself, the latter bearing his signature. At the age of sixty he finished the almost unbelievable task of painting in the very top of the Dome of the Capitol Building 4,664 square feet of concave fresco--huge colorful figures that appear life-size 180 feet below. Brumidi was evidently in sympathy with the words of Lincoln, voiced when a critic put this question to our great President, “Do you intend to continue building on the Capitol Dome during this war?” Lincoln replied, “If the world sees this Capitol going on they will know that we intend the Union shall go on.” And even before the Civil War Brumidi sketched the fifteen scenes of American history for a frieze to encircle the Rotunda, some 58 feet above the floor. He had prayed to live long enough to paint this frieze, but when the signal finally came from Capitol authorities to begin this last cherished fresco he was an old man of seventy-two. Brumidi had lost his physical strength but not his will to work toward the completion of his dream. The young wife he had married at the height of his American financial success had long since gone with a younger man; his lonely years and his poverty weighed heavily upon him; criticism and ridicule had undoubtedly taken their toll but the old artist persistently stayed with that last assignment. Even when he slipped on his painting platform, the day of his almost fatal accident, and hung by his bare hands 58 feet above the stone floor of the Rotunda, until workmen could reach him from the top of the Dome and from the floor below--even then it must have been sheer will power that closed those old artist hands tight enough to hold his body weight from the floor below. But he never came back to finish his frieze. He died “at his parlor studio with his work about him,” amid the loneliness and poverty which he feared. He was buried by a few friends and forgotten.