traceries, and sends upward from its centre convolution a single slender stream of water. Additional jets, of no artistic value, rise one on either side in each of the lower basins. This modern work is all in travertine. The combination of the severely classic lines of the baths with the Gothic carving and mediæval emblem of the fleur-de-lis is not good. It is disastrous to the design as a composition and makes these fountains archæological curiosities rather than artistic creations. Still, the Farnese fountains impose by their qualities of size and strength, and once seen can never be forgotten. The pleasure derived from the sight of a pair of fountains is not merely double the pleasure that is felt at the sight of one. The two objects, though exactly similar, create by their mutual relation an entirely new set of æsthetic emotions. The feeling for balance and composition is aroused, and this particular pleasure is produced in no small degree by these two fountains. Twin fountains are an unusual feature. There are few of them in the world; and in Rome, whose fountains are perhaps still unnumbered, there are but five--the fountains of St. Peter’s, the side fountains of the Piazza del Popolo, the two end fountains of the Piazza Navona, Vansantio’s fountains in the Villa Borghese, and these of the Piazza Farnese. Mr. John Evelyn also describes in his journal the custom of his day for the Roman gentry to take their airing in the Piazza Farnese, driving or walking before the palace and about the fountains, whose water gave to all the architectural magnificence that touch of freshness and charm essential to the Roman idea of a pleasure-ground. That Evelyn was taken to the Farnese Palace the very first day of his sojourn in Rome is significant. The Roman of 1644 evidently considered this palace and its precincts to be Rome’s chief attraction; and this proves that in spite of the efforts of Paul V (Borghese), who had died some twenty years previously (1621), and of Urban VIII (Barberini), then just passing away, the Farnese pontiff, Paul III, dead for a century past, had succeeded in giving and preserving to his family an importance and magnificence hardly to be emulated and impossible to surpass. The bronze and marble tomb of Paul III is in St. Peter’s, to the left of the tribune. It contains the dust of as worldly a person, to quote Ranke, as ever Pope had been. Yet if his actions cannot be said to “smell sweet and blossom in the dust,” his memory survives in the annals of Rome, fragrant with the love and pride of his people. He was an old, old man when he died in 1549. He had been fifteen years Pope and forty years a cardinal. The date of his birth carries the mind back to the years before Columbus. His education, conducted by Pomponeus Lætus, had begun in the full tide of the High Renaissance. In his early twenties he became a member of the household of Lorenzo the Magnificent, at whose table and in whose gardens he had met the most