ges. The following is its
account of a recent miraculous change of the weather at the intercession
of the Virgin:--

"The inhabitants of Tossignano not long ago obtained a new
demonstration of love and favor from the prodigious image of the
most Holy Mary, from that extremely ancient image which, saved
from iconoclastic fury, always engaged the devout worship of their
ancestors; and which their not degenerate descendants keep as a
noble and precious heirloom of their hereditary religion, finding
in it all comfort and support against public and private
calamities. The late incessant and unseasonable rains having
hindered the gathering in of autumn fruits, and impeded
cultivation for the coming year, the active pastor, the very
revered arch-priest Agnoli, in order to avert so heavy a calamity,
called the inhabitants of Tossignano together, and with eloquent
and touching words brought them before the most prodigious image,
so that, by the intercession of the Virgin, God might restore
serene weather. For this purpose, on the 7th of October, the flock
and their beloved pastor met to depose their humble supplications
at the foot of the altar, sacred to their distinguished
benefactress; at the first prayer, whilst the pastor was offering
the propitiatory wafer, a ray of sun gladdened the sacred temple,
like a rainbow of peace smiling on the assembled faithful, and in
a few hours all appearance of clouds vanished from the sky! The
Tossignanesi rightly attributing this to the peculiar favor of
their protectress, and full of gratitude to her, resolved to
sanctify the 12th inst. by solemn acts of thanksgiving."

These poor absurdities, so suggestive of pity and contempt, may he
compared with the tricks of Rochester knockers and travelling mountebanks
generally in this country, and no "authority of the church" can raise
them, in the minds of sensible men, to a higher respectability.

THE SONG QUEEN.

Our excellent friend JAMES T. FIELDS, now in Europe, sends us from his
note book the following fine apostrophe to Jenny Lind:

WRITTEN IN A CONCERT ROOM, LONDON, 1847.

Look on her! there she stands, the world's prime wonder
The great queen of song! Ye rapt musicians,
Touch your golden wires, for now ye prelude strains
To mortal ears unwonted. Hark! she sings.
Yon pearly gates their magic waves unloose,
And