was engaged by the king at once to ornament some of the public buildings with his beautiful works. For two years the poor Moorish slave lived highest in favor with King Alphonso.

But he began to pine for Florence, and having left naples, he repaired thither, and was received with as great favor at home as elsewhere. Cosmo de' Medici delighted in him, and constantly put his talents in requisition. The pieces of his which are still extant, show that he deserved such consideration. Connoisseurs still esteem them highly, though their merits are thrown out of view by the superior labors of more advanced art. His altar pieces, cabinet pictures and frescoes were constantly in demand. No gallery was perfect, no cathedral or convent was properly decorated, unless the hand of Lippi had left its mark there. Impressed with this sentiment, the nuns of the convent of Santa Martha di Prato, near Florence, ordered an altar piece to be painted by the still young artist. Lippi went to the convent to begin his work, but as he passed into the chapel he caught sight of the beautiful novice, Lucrezia Buti, who had been sent thither by her friends that she might eventually take the vail. That glance at her beautiful features made the favored courtier, the successful painter, for the moment the most miserable of men. He was desperately, and too probably, hopelessly in love.

But he went on with the altar piece. After a day or two, however, he suggested to the lady superior, that he should paint more successfully when he began on the picture of the Virgin which formed a part of the group, had he a living subject by which he might guide his hand and eye, and suggested the beautiful novice as a proper person. The abbess was pleased that any one had discovered that religeuses were not necessarily ugly, and, considering the worthy object of the request, she at once assented. The beautiful Lucrezia was immediately installed in the artist's chair, and the picture again proceeded with all possible success. But who can wonder if at the same time, this fascinating young cavalier, for whom all the beauty of Florence sighed, who loved so tenderly himself, succeeded in imbuing her with some portion of a like affection. He told his tale of love; she smiled, and as the artist left the convent one day, unperceived by any one, the novice left with him ;-the elopement was not discovered till pursuit was useless. The despondent lover had become once more the happiest of

men.

The noble relations of Lucrezia, however, were beyond measure incensed at the outrage. While the happy lovers wandered through Germany the relations nursed their revenge in silence; but as the stain had been inflicted on the family escutcheon, they thought to make the best of it by procuring from the Pope a dispensation, so that the artist and the novice might marry. After due solicitation the dispensation was granted, and then Lippi chose to show his independence of them and theirs by refusing to make use of it. He had, he said, conscientious scruples which forbad him from marrying Lucrezia. This insult was not to be borne. Through the rest of his life they watched for their chance of revenge, and success at length crowned their activity. By the skill of one of their agents poison was mingled with his food one day, many years after the elopement from the convent, and the man whom we have seen as an orphan, a friar, a slave, an artist, a courtier, and a lover, died the death of a dog in the village of Spoleto.

We have but a word more to add. Two years after, Lorenzo de' Medici,

in passing through Spoleto, begged permission from the magistrates to remove the remains of the artist to the church of Santa Maria del Fiore, at Florence. They are unwilling to relinquish so honorable a deposit, and Lorenzo therefore engaged Filippino Lippi, the son of our artist and of the unfortunate Lucrezia, who equalled his father in skill and talent, to erect a monument of marble to his memory in Spoleto. Politiano wrote the inscription for this monument, which still remains;-those Latin verses have handed down to the present day the praises of the unfortunate Filippo.

The Last of the Serpents.

URE, every body has heard tell of the blessed Saint Patrick, and how he druve the sarpints, and all manner of venomous things, out of Irelandhow he bothered all the varmints entirely; but for all that, there was one ould sarpint left, who was too cunning to be talked out of the country, and made to drown himself. Saint Patrick didn't well know how to manage this fellow, who was doing great havoc; till at long last he bethought himself, and got a strong iron chest made with nine boults upon it.

So, one fine morning, he takes a walk to where the sarpint used to keep; and the sarpint, who didn't like the saint in the least,-and small blame to him for that, -began to hiss and show his teeth at him like any thing. says Saint Patrick, says he, "where's the use of making such a piece of work about a gentleman like myself coming to see you? 'Tis a nice house I have got made for you agin the winter; for I am going to civilize the whole country, man and beast," says he, "and you can come and look at it whenever you please; and 'tis myself will be glad to see you.".

The sarpint, hearing such smooth words, thought that though St. Patrick had druve all the rest of the sarpints into the sea, he meant no harm to himself; so the sarpint walks fair and easy up to see him, and the house he was speaking about. But when the sarpint saw the nine great boults upon the chest, he thought he was sould (betrayed), and was for making off with himself as fast as ever he could.

""Tis a nice warm house, you see," says Saint Patrick; "and 'tis a good friend I am to you."

"I thank you kindly, Saint Patrick, for your civility," says the sarpint; "but I think it's too small it is for me,"-meaning it for an excuse, and away he was going.

"Too small!" says Saint Patrick; "stop, if you please," says he; "you're out in that, my boy, anny how. I am sure 'twill fit you completely; and, I'll tell you what," says he, "I'll bet you a gallon of porter," says he, "that if you'll only try and get in, there'll be plenty of room for you.' The sarpint was as thirsty as could be with his walk, and 'twas great