Immediately the casket became as light as a feather, when it was conducted with all pomp to Sant’ Antonino and laid upon the altar. As the casket touched the stone, the bell of the Campanile ceased its clamour; and then, over the remains, appeared a Dove of wonderful whiteness of plumage, which only disappeared after the “Te Deum” had been sung and the services concluded. An altar was built for St. Saba behind the choir, and the casket was placed in the Treasury of the Church. It is told besides how, on that same evening when the “Piovano” of Sant’ Antonino was strolling about his garden, among some rose trees which he had recently planted there, he noticed a flower of such unearthly beauty that he immediately ascribed it to the miracle which he himself had just witnessed. I can almost see the smiles with which many good people will read this little story, but permit me to suggest, with all the most kindly and friendly feelings possible, to such that, once the human intelligence—and I care not whose it is—is permitted to grapple, unaided, with the possibilities of an Infinite Power, spiritual destruction is the invariable result. “Whosoever shall fall upon this stone shall be broken—but on whomsoever it shall fall it shall grind him to powder!” Legend and fact, faith and inspiration are so intermingled that to separate and classify them is impossible to any intelligence not directly inspired. But it is not a bad thing to bear in mind, if only for the sake of acquiring that intellectual humility without which the production of good work is impossible, that the veriest fool can disbelieve. It requires no brains or study whatever; but to grasp and retain faith, based on conviction, and supported by reason, is an extremely difficult task, even for the strongest mind. Indeed, were it not for the grace of the Almighty aiding, I think very few, if any, could accomplish it. The devotion of the Venetian to St. Mark is as great as that of the southern sailors to St. Antoninus. They were always a pious people and had carried about with them many relics, so that some discussion (probably tinged with acridness, since in these matters each had his peculiar devotion for his own) took place as to the choice of a holy patron, for the new settlement, when the descendants of the pioneers found themselves in a position to honour one with a suitable edifice—an insurance, so to speak, of the continued attention of the Almighty. There was a legend, no doubt the smoke of some far-off fire of fact, that St. Mark the Evangelist had been shipwrecked upon the shore of Rialto and that, on landing there, he heard a voice from the emptiness of the island that said, “Pax tibi, Marce, Evangeliste meus” (Peace be with thee, oh, Mark, my evangelist!), words which afterward became the motto of the Republic.