horrors, without depriving it of its imposing gravity. The simple
portal is surmounted by a plain massive cross of stone, and a door,
secured by an open work of bronze, leads into a sepulchral chamber,
the key of which had been confided to me.

All within breathes the holy calm of eternal repose; no gloom, no
mouldering damp, nothing to recall the dreadful images of decay. An
atmosphere of peace appears to pervade the place, and I could almost
fancy that a voice from the tomb whispered, in the words of Dante's
Beatrice--

"Io sono in pace!"

The light of the sun, streaming through a glazed aperture above
the door, fell like a ray of heavenly hope upon the symbol of man's
redemption--a beautiful copy, in bronze, of Michael Angelo's crucified
Savior--which is affixed to the wall facing the entrance. A simple
stone sarcophagus is placed on either side of the chamber, each one
surmounted by two white marble tablets, incrusted in the sloping
walls. That to the left incloses the coffin of Lady Blessington--that
to the right is still untenanted; long may it remain so!

The affection she most valued, the genius and talent she most admired,
have contributed to do honor to the memory of that gifted woman. Her
sepulchre is the creation of Alfred d'Orsay, her epitaphs are the
composition of Barry Cornwall and Walter Savage Landor. Upon the two
tablets placed over her tomb, are inscribed the following tributary
lines:--

"In Memory of Marguerite Countess of Blessington, who died