sion, suffering and death. The
palaces of the rich are built on the bones of the poor.

Others, high in Church authority, saw these things, too, and knew, no
less than Savonarola, the need of reform--they gloried in his ringing
words of warning, and they admired no less his example of austerity.

They could not do the needed work--perhaps he could do a little, at
least.

And so he was transferred to Saint Mark's Monastery at Florence--the
place that needed him most.

Florence was the acknowledged seat of art and polite learning of all
Italy, and Saint Mark's was the chief glory of the Church in Florence.

Florence was prosperous and so was Saint Mark's, and have we not said
that there is something in pure prosperity that taints the soul?

Savonarola was sent to Saint Mark's merely as a teacher and lecturer.
Bologna was full of gloom and grime--the bestiality there was untamed.
Here everything was gilded, gracious and good to look upon. The
cloister-walks were embowered in climbing roses, the walls decorated
fresh from the brush of Fra Angelico, and the fountains in the gardens,
adorned by naked cupids, sent their sparkling beads aloft to greet the
sunlight.

Brother Girolamo had never seen such beauty before--its gracious essence
enfolded him round, and for a few short hours lifted that dead weight of
abiding melancholy from his soul.

When he lectured he was surprised to find many fashionable ladies in his
audience: learning was evidently a fad. He saw that it was expected that
he should be amusing, diverting, and incidentally, instructive. He had
only one mode of preaching--this was earnest exhortation to a higher
life, the life of austerity, simplicity and nearness to God, by laboring
to benefit His children.

He mumbled through his lecture and retired, abashed and humiliated.

* * * * *

It was the year Fourteen Hundred Eighty-two, and the whole world was
athrill with thought and feeling. Lorenzo the Magnificent was at the
very height of his power and popularity; printing-presses gave letters
an impetus; art flourished; the people were dazzled by display and were
dipping deep into the love of pleasure. The austerity of Christian
religion had glided off by imperceptible degrees into pagan pageantry,
and the song of bacchanals filled the streets at midnight.

Lorenzo did for the world a great and splendid work--for one thing, he
discovered Michelangelo--and the encouragemen