letter shortly after my return from Calabria. I know not how my mother could write you that Palermo did not please me; or, if so, to what extent this was the case. I simply remember saying that the location of Palermo bore no comparison with that of Naples. There are certainly lacking the islands, Vesuvius, and the coast of Sorrento; although the mountain background of Palermo is very beautiful. The Rogers chapel, there, is something that would please you--a church of the twelfth century, in perfect preservation; its style that of the old Venetian and Roman churches; and although of smaller dimensions, yet the finest of them all. It is the more interesting to attend a service there, because one sees that Catholic culture was calculated solely for the Byzantine style of architecture; for with such surroundings, only, could it be effective. Thus does Catholicity, even as to architecture, prove itself a thing of the past." {224} Enough of this. Such platitudes as these were not calculated to entangle a nature far too deep for them, or check the development of a work so earnestly undertaken. Emily Linder well knew that the church has already outlived many just such "obsolete standpoints," and many such prophets of evil, who have mistaken their wishes for reality, and phrases for axioms. How dignified and how welcome, in comparison with this sophistry from Naples, must have seemed to her the greeting of an old friend and art companion addressed to her from Rome, in the spring of 1833: "Be assured that I often fervently remember you to our Lord. Do you the same by me. May a holy unrest and impatience fill us to take 'by violence' the kingdom of heaven!"