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And from the garden side the wind and rain Poured in upon us, and half quenched our fires.

I was beside myself with desperation.
A shudder came upon me, then a fever;

I thought that I was dying, and was forced
To leave the work-shop, and to throw myself
Upon my bed, as one who has no hope.
And as I lay there, a deformed old man
Appeared before me, and with dismal voice,
Like one who doth exhort a criminal

Led forth to death, exclaimed, "Poor Benve

nuto,

Thy work is spoiled! There is no remedy!" Then, with a cry so loud it might have

reached

The heaven of fire, I bounded to my feet, And rushed back to my workmen. They all stood

Bewildered and desponding; and I looked
Into the furnace, and beheld the mass
Half molten only, and in my despair

I fed the fire with oak, whose terrible heat Soon made the sluggish metal shine and sparkle.

Then followed a bright flash, and an explosion,

As if a thunderbolt had fallen among us. The covering of the furnace had been rent Asunder, and the bronze was flowing over; So that I straightway opened all the sluices To fill the mould. The metal ran like lava, Sluggish and heavy; and I sent my workmen To ransack the whole house, and bring together

My pewter plates and pans, two hundred of them,

And cast them one by one into the furnace
To liquefy the mass, and in a moment
The mould was filled! I fell upon my knees
And thanked the Lord; and then we ate and

drank

And went to bed, all hearty and contented. It was two hours before the break of day. My fever was quite gone.

MICHAEL ANGELO.

A strange adventure, That could have happened to no man alive But you, my Benvenuto.

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