He called my attention to an oil graphite on the side walls of the chapel which had been uncovered in recent times. In early days its artistic merit or value was not appreciated and it had been covered over with other pastels or paintings thought to be more appropriate or more fitting. The composition is a figure standing in what seems to be a square box and on either side a number of closely massed masculine figures, each one having a different facial expression, one of astonishment, another of incredulity, another of humility and satisfaction. It depicted the Resurrection of Christ, my little friend thought, but when he saw a figure outside the box that resembled Christ, he thought it must be the resurrection of Lazarus, and then in the most childlike way he remarked that the figure in the box seemed to be a female one, and as that didn't seem to fit in with the resurrection of Lazarus he gave it up. I fancy that he had never read that when Martha and Mary made their successful appeal Lazarus had been dead four days, and that after Jesus lifted up his eyes and said, "Father, I thank thee that thou hast heard me," Lazarus came forth bound hand and foot with grave-clothes and his face was bound about with a napkin. These accoutrements of the grave would successfully conceal sex, even from the eyes of a sacerdotal Sherlock Holmes. I persuaded him to take me into the convent that I might see Leonardo's lovely fresco of the Virgin and the Child, and standing before it he spoke of the sweetness of the mother's expression and of the dignity and nobility of her pose and carriage in a way that made me forget his ignorance and his unattractive exterior. In the northwest chapel of the little church is the grave and monument of Tasso. There is nothing particularly meritorious about the monument, and there is nothing even suggestive of poetry. The effigy represents the poet in the costume of a Spanish cavalier as he appeared at the age of his greatest activity. The chapel opposite is a jungle of frescoes depicting scenes in the life of S. Onofrio, who lived like an animal in the desert for more than half a century, and who, for thus outraging nature's laws, was brought to Rome to teach others how to live acceptably in God's eyes. After he had gone to his final reward, which we trust was the opposite of a desert, the church in its wisdom made him a saint.