When standing in the Cathedral, the visitor may remember that here Santo Crescenzio, who died in 424, once wrought a miracle, thus recorded in his “Life” of the fourteenth century: “A poor man had come into the Cathedral and saw no light (_i.e._, was blind), and going to where Saint Crescentius was, implored him with great piety that he would cause the light to return unto him. And being moved to pity, he made the sign of the cross in the eyes of the blind man, and incontinently the light was restored unto him. Saint Crescentius did not wish this to be made known, and pretended to know nothing about it, but he could not conceal such miracles.” Of which the immortal Flaxius remarks, that “it is singular that so many saints who wished to keep their miracles unknown had not the forethought to make silence a condition of cure. Also, that of all the wonder-working once effected by the holy men of the Church, the only gift now remaining to them is the miraculous power of changing sons and daughters into nephews and nieces; the which, as I am assured, is still as flourishing as ever, and permitted as a proof of transubstantiation.” Thus it is that simple heretics deride holy men. And Flaxius is, I bid ye note, a sinner, in whose antique, unsanctified derision I most assuredly do take no part, “it being in bad form in this our age to believe or disbelieve in anything,” and therefore in bad style to laugh at aught. It may be worth recalling, when looking out on the Cathedral Square, that it was here that San Zenobio performed another great miracle, recorded in all his lives, but most briefly in the poetical one: “Then did he raise an orphan from the dead, The only son of a poor widow, he, A cart with oxen passing o’er his head, Died in the Duomo Square in misery; But though all crushed, the Saint restored his life, And, well and gay and bright as stars do shine, He went to his mother, and the pious wife Gave thanks to God for mercy all divine.” Which being witnessed, says the _Vita San Zenobii_, all who were present began to sing, “_Gloria tibi Domine qui mirabilia per servos tuos in nobis operari dignatus es_, _gloria sit tibi-i et laus in sæcu-la—sec-u-lo-o-o-rum_, _A-men_. Which, if they sung it as I heard it sung yesterday in the Cathedral of Siena, must have had an extremely soporific effect, lulling all others to sleep, and causing them to see beatific visions beyond all belief. I had in my boyhood a teacher named Professor Sears C. Walker, who was wont to tell how he had once heard in a rural New England village a church congregation sing: “Before thy throne the angels bow-wow-wow-ow!” But to hear the _bow-wow_ in perfection, one must go to Rome. A pack in full cry or a chorus of owls is nothing to it. But let us pass on to a fresh story. LEGENDS OF THE BOBOLI GARDENS: THE OLD GARDENER, AND THE TWO STATUES AND THE FAIRY