The donor, we note, is confident that the Apostle, in return for so glorious a fabric, will undertake to obtain the Kingdom of Heaven for this generous client upon earth. The interior, which is sadly marred by white-wash and gaudy decoration, is a perfect treasure-house of works of art—antique, medieval, Renaissance—of which the guide-book will give a detailed list. Succeeding generations have put to strange uses some of the fine marble reliefs that Guiscard transported hither from Paestum, and we note that one archbishop has gone so far as to filch a sarcophagus carved with a Bacchanal procession to serve for his own tomb. We might perhaps infer that the deceased prelate was addicted to the wine-flask, and to have been a firm believer in and follower of one of the rules of the medical school of his own diocese: “Si nocturna tibi noceat potatio vini, Hoc ter mane libas iterum, et fuerit medicina.” (“If a carouse at night do make thee ill, For morning medicine drink of wine thy fill”) Let us hope that this extraordinary receipt for “hot coppers” was intended satirically, or else given seriously as the only advice that a confirmed toper was likely to follow in any case. But the use of classical adjuncts to adorn Christian tombs, which to-day appears so incongruous to us, was popular enough at the time of the Renaissance, and readers of Robert Browning’s poetry will call to mind the story of the dying Bishop’s injunction to his heirs concerning his tomb in St Praxed’s church at Rome: “The bas-relief in bronze ye promised me, Those Pans and Nymphs ye wot of, and perchance Some tripod thyrsus with a vase or so, The Saviour at His sermon on the mount, Saint Praxed in a glory, and one Pan Ready to twitch the Nymph’s last garment off, And Moses with the tables....”