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Rh whose rich bright colours showed it had but lately left the skilful hand of its worker. The floor beneath was spread with matting of the fragrant grass of the country: beside stood a small table of inlaid wood, and a cushion was at the feet, also worked with embroidered flowers. Against the wall were hung two or three crayon drawings: the moonlight showed the upper one to be a Madonna and Child—the others were hidden by the shadow of the vine-leaves, which fell directly upon them. A crucifix, made of black oak—a few shelves, which seemed crowded with books—a case, which appeared, from its shape, to contain a lute or guitar—and two or three small chairs, of the same dark wood, stood near; but the rest of the room was utterly unfurnished. The destruction wrought by time never oppresses the spirits as does that wrought by man. The fallen temple—the mouldering tower, grey with moss, and stained with rain,—seem but to have submitted to the inevitable doom of all; and the ruin time has made, time also hallows. But the devastated home and perished household—man's sorrow following fast upon man's guilt—tells too near a tale of suffering. The destruction in the one case is gradual