Chapter X: Part 10

In the chapel of St. Paul’s, and in the graveyard that surrounds it, there are sights enough to keep a thoughtful person busy during more than one long day. To see the people hurrying along Broadway, without even a glance at the dim, old building, you would never think so. Close by the chapel door, which faces the churchyard, there is a bench which I occupy so often that I have come to feel that it is my personal property. It rests close by the ivy-covered wall, and, although it is but a dozen steps from the street, the intervening churchyard gives it relief and quiet so that all sight and sound of the bustling city seem shut off.

Sometimes there are visitors, doubtless attracted by my at-home appearance as I sit there, who ask me questions about the church and the churchyard. I always like to be asked these questions, and answer them as best I can. If the questioners are interested, I deliver a sort of lecture, telling how very small the city was in the year 1764, when the corner-stone of the church was laid, and how the building was opened in the second year after that. Then I wander on and tell how there were fields all around in those days, and how they sloped from the church door right down to the river. Sometimes, when there is a word of surprise at the many houses that now stand between the church and the river, I explain that a great deal of the land has been filled in during the one hundred and thirty odd years that have passed and that it has become too valuable to be left as a green field.

My last inquirer was an old gentleman, who was so much more in earnest than the usual curiosity seeker, that I asked him if he had lived long in the city.

“I am only here for a time, from the West,” said he. “This is my first visit to St. Paul’s although I love every stone in the old building. My father, when he was a child, lived near here, and, although he left the city with his parents in his youth, he often talked to me of this church, and how he had played among the tombstones when he was a boy. But the church seems smaller than I have imagined it.”

And then I told him that to me, too, the church seemed to grow smaller each year, but this was, doubtless, caused by the tall buildings growing up around it; and that the church had, in the time when his father knew it, been considered a giant of a building.

The old man nodded his head. “Yes, yes; doubtless so,” said he. Then, on my invitation, he gladly followed me into the chapel, and I led the way to the pew, off the north aisle, where George Washington used to sit when he attended service, and which has been preserved as he used it.

“So this is the Washington pew!” said my companion, as he tenderly tapped the woodwork against which he leaned, and looked admiringly at the coat-of-arms of New York on the wall above.

“Yes, and you will remember that in 1776, when the invading British force came, the city was fired, Trinity Church was burned, with all its records, and the flames swept away a great part of the western side of the city. St. Paul’s Chapel was saved, and here, during the British occupation, Lord Howe, the English commander, and many soldiers of the King attended service. And when the British left New York, and the American forces came, Washington and his army took their places in the church. And to this church, on the day that he was inaugurated as first President of the United States, came Washington, and sat in this pew in which we now sit. Those who visited the church in Washington’s time have left the record that he was Commander-in-Chief, and in the days when he was President, he always attended the church without the slightest display, that he walked in very quietly, and that when he was in his seat he paid not the slightest attention to anything except his prayer-book and the clergyman. During all the time that he was in the city, he regularly, each week made the entry for Sunday in his diary: ‘Went to St. Paul’s Chapel in the forenoon.’

“And there you see the sounding-board on the pulpit, with the coat-of-arms of the Prince of Wales on the top. During Revolutionary days, patriots rushed through the city and destroyed everything that suggested allegiance to England. In some way, this sounding-board escaped destruction, so that now it is the only pre-Revolutionary relic remaining in the place where it originally stood.

“There, beside the west wall, is a bust of John Wells, erected by the members of the City Bar. He was a talented lawyer, who died in 1823. Wells was the sole survivor of a large family, all the members of which, except himself, were killed by Indians at the Cherry Valley Massacre. That he lived was due to his being at the time away from home attending school. He came to the city, practised law successfully for many years, and died regretted by the entire fraternity.”

These things and others in the chapel I pointed out to my companion, and then he followed me out into the churchyard again. We noted the spot, close by Vesey Street, where lay the remains of George Eacker, who killed the son of Alexander Hamilton in a duel, a few years before the great statesman was himself killed in the self-same way. There was another grave, almost in the centre of the yard, of a man who, in his day, had made a name for himself, which is almost forgotten now. It was the grave of Christopher Colles. He first conceived the idea of the Erie Canal, and delivered lectures on the subject, long years before DeWitt Clinton carried the project to a successful conclusion. It was this same Christopher Colles who built a reservoir by the Collect Pond, giving New York her first water-works, and applying steam practically to his pumping-station ten years before Fulton applied it to navigation. Colles died in 1821, a poor man.

The tall monument to the south of the church, erected to the memory of Thomas Addis Emmett, the jurist and brother of Robert Emmett, interested my companion more than anything else. He took a deep interest in deciphering the inscription on the west side--a curious inscription for a tombstone, for it reads,

40 42′ 40″ N.,
74 03′ 21″ 5 W. L. G.,

and tells the exact latitude and longitude in which the monument is.

When we came to the monument set in the chancel window facing the street, my companion looked at me inquiringly. It was just after the celebration of Decoration Day, and a wreath of fresh flowers, bound with a trailing ribbon of imperial purple, quite hid the inscription on this tomb. Then we talked over the story of the brave hero of Quebec--Major-General Richard Montgomery--whose body lies beneath the chancel; spoke of how he had fallen in that fateful battle of 1775 calling on the men of New York to follow where he led; how the men had followed him, and how many of them had fallen with their general; of the day forty-three years later, when the nation for which he had died, remembering his brave deeds, had brought his body home to the city from its first resting place in Quebec; how on that day the city had been draped in mourning; how the streets had resounded to the tread of marching feet, and how the body had been interred beneath the chancel, where a monument was already set up to a great and good man, and a reminder to all that the deeds of men live after them.

And then we reached the gate which opens into the churchyard from Broadway. For a few moments we stood silently looking at the crowds that hurried past. I do not know what were my companion’s thoughts just then, but my own were of those other men who a hundred years before had hurried along the same thoroughfare, and of whom the only reminders now are the tombstones in the churchyard. My companion then left me, mingled with the crowds and was soon lost to sight.

I meant to have told him that to know all the picturesqueness of Old St. Paul’s, it should be visited on a night in early winter; one of those dreary nights when the rain falls blurring the glare of lights until those from each separate store-window seem to melt together. Then all the noise and bustle settle down into a sullen roar. Wet and dripping horses flounder past; cable cars glide along with clanging sound of bell; people knock umbrellas together as they hurry on. The rain, the noise, the confusion, the lights bewilder the brain. As one passes the Astor House, where the confusion is greatest, the lights most dazzling, the crowds largest and most in a hurry, you suddenly come upon the churchyard. It is merely to cross narrow Vesey Street,--but it is like stepping from day to night. The sight of the dark old church and the quiet tombs behind the tall iron fence breathe of silence and comfort. In the daytime the tombstones are brown and faded, but on these rainy nights the lights creeping in through the bars make them white as snow.

A quaint, curious corner, side by side with the roar and rush of the city. The rusty iron railing is a barrier seeming to shut out noise and life, as though to protect the sleepers in their well-earned rest.

FANEUIL HALL, BOSTON

EDWARD G. PORTER[25]

In 1740 Peter Faneuil, a Huguenot resident of Boston, who had recently inherited a large fortune from his uncle, offered to build a market-house at his own expense and give it to the town, provided they would pass a vote agreeing to accept and maintain it under proper regulations. Accordingly a town-meeting was called to consider the matter, and the thanks of the meeting were unanimously extended to Mr. Faneuil, for his generous offer. But upon the question of accepting it, there was such a division of opinion, that the vote stood 367 in favour and 360 against it. Thus narrowly, by only seven votes in a large meeting, did the project succeed, so slow were the people to see the advantages of the new system.

We can hardly conceive of Boston now without its Faneuil Hall; but the crowds who daily gather about it little imagine how much they are indebted to the energy of its earliest friends in that critical moment when its very existence was hanging in the balance.

The structure was completed in 1742, John Swibert, the portrait painter, being the architect, and Samuel Ruggles the builder. Mr. Faneuil enlarged the original plan and added a hall above the market,--and additional proof of his munificence which was gratefully recognized by the town in its public acceptance of the gift, on which occasion the name “Faneuil Hall” was given to it to be retained forever; and “as a further testimony of respect, it was voted that Mr. Faneuil’s picture be drawn at full length and placed in the hall.” The town also added the Faneuil arms, beautifully carved and gilt by Moses Deshon.

The building was constructed of brick, two stories and a half high, one hundred feet long and forty feet wide, with open arches below and a tower above, and was in many respects the most important edifice in the town. Its architecture was considered imposing and ornate. The spacious hall would contain a thousand persons, and there were various rooms besides. The town-meetings were held here after this, and the selectmen’s offices were removed from the old Town-House in King, now State Street, which was left chiefly to the Legislature and the courts.

Most unexpectedly, a few months after the building was completed, its founder died; and the first oration pronounced in the hall, was his own eulogy by John Lovell, the well-known master of the Latin School.

In January, 1761, the interior of the building caught fire, and nothing but the bare walls remained. The records, fortunately, and some other documents were saved. The hall was rebuilt on the old plan, and opened again in March, 1763, when James Otis, Jr., delivered the dedicatory address. The cause of the patriots was now making such progress in Boston that large meetings were held in Faneuil Hall to give expression to the popular feeling; and hence arose the name “Cradle of Liberty,” which it has borne ever since, and which it so well deserves.

In March, 1767, the hall was illuminated by vote of the town, to commemorate the repeal of the Stamp Act. The following year, a convention of representatives from nearly all the towns in the Province was in session here for a week in September, to consider what measures could be taken in view of the expected arrival of a large force of British troops. Governor Bernard refused to recognize the convention, although its proceedings were throughout orderly and constitutional. The fleet arrived immediately after; and the Fourteenth Regiment, Colonel Dalrymple, was quartered in Faneuil Hall for a month, by order of the Governor, though not without a vigorous protest from the people.

During the stormy period preceding the outbreak of the Revolution, many notable town-meetings were convened here, as on the occasion of the Boston Massacre and on the arrival of the “detestable tea.” But the hall at that time could not hold as many people as the Old South, and this explains why some of the large meetings adjourned to the latter place.

During the siege of Boston the building was at first used as a storehouse for arms and furniture, and then converted into a theatre for the diversion of the troops. Among the performances, the tragedy of _Zara_ and the comedy of _The Busybody_ were frequently given; and, once, at least, a local farce written by General Burgoyne, and entitled _The Blockade of Boston_. This would be an interesting relic of the period if it could be found, but it does not appear ever to have been printed. After the evacuation of Boston, the portraits of Peter Faneuil, George II., Governor Shirley, General Conway, and Colonel Barré, which had hung in Faneuil Hall, were missing, nor has any trace of them ever been discovered.

In the year 1806, with the new era of prosperity, the hall was very much enlarged by doubling the width and adding a third story. This, of course, has greatly changed the appearance of the structure, although its original style has been fairly well preserved.

The interior, with its lofty galleries and classic columns, has become well known to thousands. Here the great questions of the century, touching the commercial, political and philanthropic interests of Boston, have been eloquently discussed by the foremost orators of the time. Many a Bostonian can recall the occasions when he has stood on the sanded floor for hours with a patient and patriotic crowd, applauding the sentiments of one speaker after another as they came forward upon the platform and emphasized the issues of the hour. Here great public receptions have been given to distinguished guests, together with many civic and military banquets. Here, formerly, were held the industrial exhibitions of the Massachusetts Charitable Mechanic Association. It is emphatically the people’s hall, and will always remain so; for, by a provision in the city charter, neither Faneuil Hall, nor Boston Common, can ever be sold or let for money.

The collection of portraits attracts many visitors. On the west wall is Healy’s large painting of Webster replying to Hayne in the Senate, and near it are Stuart’s Washington and Copley’s Hancock, Warren and Samuel Adams. There are also portraits of Peter Faneuil, John Quincy Adams, Edward Everett, Governor Andrew, Senator Wilson, Robert Treat Paine, Caleb Strong, Commodore Preble, General Knox, Rufus Choate, President Lincoln, Anson Burlingame, Admiral Winslow and Wendell Phillips. Back of the rostrum are busts of John Adams, Samuel Adams and Daniel Webster. The clock was presented to the city by the school children of Boston in 1850.

The upper hall has been chiefly used as an armory by various military corps, especially of late by the Ancient and Honourable Artillery Company, the oldest military organization in the country. The Massachusetts Historical Society held some of its early meetings in the north-west corner of the upper story in the old building from 1792 to 1794.

The grasshopper vane is an interesting survivor of the former structure. It was made by Shem Drowne, the well-known copper-smith of the last century, who also made and repaired the cockerel vane for the Second Church. The famous Indian vane on the Province House was also his handiwork. He died in 1774, at the age of ninety years.

The insect is remarkably well preserved, and shows the fidelity with which it was made; all the details being carefully worked out in copper, as if they were to be closely inspected. The eyes are of glass and shine in the sunlight with great brilliancy. The grasshopper is supposed to have been suggested by the vane on the Royal Exchange of London. It was also the device for the vane on the summer house of the Faneuil estate on Tremont Street.

LIBERTY ENLIGHTENING THE WORLD

ESTHER SINGLETON

On Bedloe’s Island, a mile and a half below the Battery, on the site formerly occupied by Fort Wood, the most famous statue in America greets and welcomes every ship that enters the beautiful harbour of New York.

Just as soon as you leave the lower New York Bay and note the Brooklyn Bridge--which at this distance and in the twilight appears like a filmy cobweb, so airily suspended above the East River that it seems as if the lightest breeze might blow it away--the eye is fascinated by the sparkling, bluish light from Liberty’s uplifted torch. Ever larger and brighter it grows, as your boat speeds through the dying tints of sunset, more brilliant than the silver stars in the sky, the red and green lights of the river craft, and the golden beads that now begin to outline the fairy bridge.

On entering the Harbour in the daytime, the tall, graceful figure silhouetted against the sky soon attracts your attention; and if you are approaching New York from the south, long before you reach the city, long before the sharp, salt, invigorating air from the sea--sweet to smell and sweet to taste--strikes nostril and lip, across the flat meadows of Jersey, you see the great effulgent Star of Liberty shining like Rigel, Sirius, or Arcturus.

The island on which the colossal statue stands was called Minnisais in the Indian language, meaning “small island.” In Colonial days it was the summer home of Captain Kennedy, of the Royal Navy, afterwards the Earl or Cassilis. In 1753, it is described in an advertisement as follows: “To be Let. Bedloe’s Island, alias Love Island, together with the dwelling-house and lighthouse being finely situated for a tavern, where all kinds of garden stuff, poultry, etc., may be easily raised for the shipping outward bound, and from where any quantity of pickled oysters may be transported; it abounds with English rabbits.”

In 1758, Bedloe’s Island became a quarantine station, and during the War of the Revolution, it was chosen as an asylum for Tory refugees; but the buildings prepared for their reception were burned on the night of April 2, 1776.

A strong star fort was erected here in 1814 when the defences of New York were strengthened; and it is on the site of Fort Wood that the great pedestal rests.

The idea of this colossal statue originated with the French Sculptor, Bartholdi, in 1871, while on a visit to New York, and it was first discussed in the house of M. Laboulaye at Glavigny, near Versailles. In 1875, M. Bartholdi submitted his design to the _Union Franco-Americaine_, which had been formed in France for the purpose of presenting the people of the United States with a gift in honour of the country’s celebration of its hundred years of independence. When the design was accepted, the French society poetically expressed its intention as follows:

“We desire to erect in the unequalled harbour of New York a gigantic statue on the threshold of the New World, to rise from the bosom of the waves and represent Liberty enlightening the World.”

The French people subscribed enough to pay for the cost of the work--more than $250,000, and the wrist and hand with the torch were sent to the Centennial Exhibition of 1876 held at Philadelphia. In 1877, the citizens of New York held a meeting and appointed a committee to raise the necessary funds and procure the necessary legislation for the erection of this gift to the nation. Congress authorized its acceptance and passed a resolution to provide for its erection on Bedloe’s Island and also for its care. The public subscriptions were devoted to the foundation and the pedestal. In 1884, the statue was finished and presented to the United States Minister in Paris and in the following year it was taken to pieces and shipped in the French man-of-war, _Isère_. The statue arrived in New York Harbour on June 17, 1885, and two days later it was taken to Bedloe’s Island. It was dedicated on October 28, 1886, with much ceremony. The day was unfortunately misty and foggy. President Cleveland was present and many distinguished French guests, among whom was M. de Lesseps. The ceremony is thus described:

“After a prayer by the Rev. Dr. Storrs, the Comte de Lesseps was introduced and made a brief speech on the part of France, and then Senator William M. Evarts in an extended address, delivered the statue to the people of the United States through the President. M. Bartholdi himself with trembling hand pulled the covering from the face of the great statue, and when the roar of the answering cannons had in a measure subsided, President Cleveland, in a few words, accepted the gift. M. W. A. Lefaivre as the accredited representative of the French nation, made a short address, and the ceremonies were brought to an end by an eloquent oration from Mr. Chauncey M. Depew.”

The ideal significance of the statue was thus happily expressed: “We dedicate this statue to the friendship of nations and the peace of the world; the spirit of Liberty embraces all races in common brotherhood, it voices in all languages the same needs and aspirations.”

Figures are rarely interesting; but as Liberty Enlightening the World is the highest statue in the world, its dimensions are worth noting. The figure itself is 111 feet high, and to the extremity of the torch 151–41 feet. The head is 13½ feet high, the thumb is 12 feet in circumference, and the forefinger is 7 feet 11 inches long. The extremity of the torch is 305 feet 11 inches above mean tide. The statue may be ascended by means of stairways within; a stairway leads into the head, which can accommodate forty persons at a time, and a stairway also leads into the extended arm. The pedestal also contains stairways and balconies near the top.

The foundation for the pedestal, which is 89 feet high and built of cut stone, was made within the walls of the old fort. The dimensions of the pedestal are 63 feet square at the base and 43½ at the top. The torch and diadem are lighted by electricity. The statue is composed of 300 bronze plates and weighs 220 tons. General Charles P. Stone was the engineer of the pedestal and Mr. Richard M. Hunt, its architect.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The Author of M’Fingal. These lines are from his _Elegy on the Times_, published while this first Congress was in session.

[2] From Samuel Adams Drake’s _Historical Mansions and Highways_ (Boston, 1899), by permission of the publishers, Messrs. Little, Brown & Co.

[3] This is the manner in which he signed his name, and is thus recorded by him in the Deed of Conveyance in 1785.

[4] From John Fiske’s _Old Virginia and Her Neighbours_ (Boston, 1899), by permission of and special arrangement with Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin & Co., publishers of Mr. Fiske’s writings.

[5] _William and Mary College Quarterly_, I., 65.

[6] _William and Mary College Quarterly_, III., 263.

[7] _William and Mary College Quarterly_, II., 55–6.

[8] _Partenopeus de Blois_ 1250, ed. Crapelet, I. 45. “She acts like a woman, and so does well, for under the heavens there is nothing so daring as the woman who loves, when God wills to turn her that way: God bless the ladies all!”

[9] In 1872, Mrs. Petigru Carson writes in Appleton’s Journal: “When the British took Charleston in 1780, they stabled their horses in the church, and, unhanging the bells, sent them off to London, where they were dumped on the Tower Wharf. At last the vestry of St. Michael’s received a letter bidding them expect their bells by a certain ship sailing from London. The people went in procession to bring up from the ship their beloved bells, which they had never hoped to listen to again, and with prayers and thanksgivings they were replaced in the church tower. The pious benefactor never made himself known, but he was supposed to have been some British officer who had been at the taking of Charleston. For seventy years did those bells regulate the social life of the city. For, not only did they call to worship, and celebrate all occasions of public joy and sorrow, but nightly they rang a curfew which ruled everybody’s movements. It was intended to warn the negroes home at nine o’clock in winter, ten in summer; after that hour they might not go into the streets without a written pass. All visitors were expected to take leave at bell-ring.

“Then Sherman’s army passed through leaving its track as of lightning. A party of half-drunken soldiers, out for a lark and for plunder, were accosted by a negro who offered to show them the bells which had rung in secession. ‘Never,’ said the men, ‘shall they play that tune again!’ and they smashed them into a hundred pieces.” The rector and congregation despite their poverty consequent on the war wrote to one Mr. C. R. Prioleau of London to inquire the cost of a new set.

“There was no record at Charleston of where the bells came from. But Mr. Prioleau searched the directory for the oldest founders of the city, and went from one to the other, until at Meares & Co., Whitechapel, London, a firm which had been in existence three hundred years, he found, by patient examination, the record of bells cast for St. Michael’s Church, Charleston, S. C., in 1759. The proportions of the metal and sizes of the bells were all entered in the books; and the present Meares engaged to turn out a new set which, when hung, should make the Charlestonians themselves think they heard the veritable old bells. But Mr. Prioleau was not content with this; he wrote back to have all the fragments that could be found sent out--and this was done. Meanwhile, Meares found still in their service an old man of seventy-six, who had been apprentice under the very foreman who, more than a hundred years before, had cast those bells; and he, stimulated by Prioleau’s generosity, never rested till he brought to light the very original moulds for the castings. Into them the new metal was melted with careful distribution of the broken fragments, so as to make the illusion a reality. All that was wanting to make up the cast, Mr. Prioleau added, and the reward of his perseverance and generosity was to send to the vestry these new bells, which are the very old ones still. Again did the congregation with tears and thanksgiving receive the bells from this their fifth voyage across the Atlantic, and hung them up in St. Michael’s steeple.”--E. S.

[10] The City Tavern stood on the site of the “Coffee House,” and was a distinguished eating restaurant.

[11] The weight of the bell was 2,030 pounds.

[12] Humboldt says that the hill of Chapultepec was chosen by the young Viceroy Galvez as the site of a villa (Château de Plaisance) for himself and his successors. The castle has been finished externally, but the apartments are not yet furnished. The building cost the king £62,000. The Court of Madrid disapproved of the expense, but, as usual, after it was laid out. The plan of this edifice is very singular. The common opinion at Mexico is that the house of the viceroy at Chapultepec is a disguised fortress.

[13] The Old Manse was built in 1765, for the Rev. William Emerson, and was owned subsequently by the Rev. Ezra Ripley, who married his widow. Hawthorne moved here in 1842.

[14] From _Historic Homes of the South-West Mountains, Virginia_ (Philadelphia, 1899).--By permission of Messrs. J. B. Lippincott Company.

[15] “This house his commissioners had placed for him, as he requested, facing the river. It was on Front Street south of the present Market Street, in the centre of a lot which ran back to Second Street, along Market, and included about half the block. There were no houses then between Front Street and the river-shore. The house was of brick, and is still preserved, as we suppose, but has been removed to Fairmount Park. It was always known as the Letitia House, because he afterwards gave it, with its large lot, to his daughter. In it, I have no doubt, many of the early meetings of the Provincial Council were held, and it may be considered the first state-house of the Province.”--Sidney George Fisher, _The True William Penn_ (Philadelphia, 1900).

[16] “On their arrival at Philadelphia, he (Logan) and Penn, with Mrs. Penn and Penn’s daughter, Letitia, lived for a month at the house of Edward Shippen. After that they moved to the slate-roof house, as it was called, on the east side of Second Street, north of Walnut. Penn rented it for two years, and used it for his town residence. His son, John, was born there, always known as John the American, and it was afterwards used by Logan as an office for the proprietary business. It should have been preserved as a relic, for in later years it had many interesting associations.”--Sidney George Fisher, _The True William Penn_ (Philadelphia, 1900).

[17] He had had great honours shown to him two years before for the capture of Fort Duquesne (Fort Pitt).

[18] We may say of this house trade has changed the scene; for the recess is since filled out to the front with store windows, and the idea of the bastions, though still there, is lost.

[19] Reprinted by permission of the Editor of the _Catholic World_.

[20] The Indian name of the Hudson.

[21] “Over a deep, black part of the stream, not far from the church,” says Mr. Irving, in his _Legend of Sleepy Hollow_, “was formerly thrown a wooden bridge; the road that led to it and the bridge itself were thickly shaded by overhanging trees which cast a gloom about it even in the daytime, but occasioned a fearful darkness at night.”

[22] The Grants, Barons de Longueuil, hold the only Colonial peerage in the British Empire. Their barony, though created by the Bourbons, is held in right of their domain in Canada, and as such is now recognized by the Herald’s office.

[23] From _Rambles in Old Boston_ (Boston, 1887). By permission of the publishers, Messrs. Cupples, Upham, and Company.

[24] From _When Old New York Was Young_ (New York, 1902). By permission of the author.

[25] From _Rambles in Old Boston_ (Boston, 1887). By permission of the publishers, Messrs. Cupples, Upham and Co.

Transcriber’s Notes:

1. Obvious printers’, punctuation and spelling errors have been corrected silently.

2. Some hyphenated and non-hyphenated versions of the same words have been retained as in the original.

3. Superscripts are represented using the caret character, e.g. D^r. or X^{xx}.

4. Italics are shown as _xxx_.