“An officer in the British army described to me,” says Mr. Hughes, “an extraordinary scene which he witnessed in Messina, in 1811, occasioned by a picture of the virgin, in a church much venerated by the populace. An inhabitant going in, according to custom, to offer up his adoration to the Madonna, suddenly ran out again, exclaiming, that ‘_the virgin was weeping_ for calamity impending over the city.’ The people rushed in crowds to the church; when, lo! to their astonishment and dismay, the tears were, as reported, trickling over the cheeks of their beloved patroness; upon which, the whole multitude began to weep, and howl, and beat their breasts, expecting nothing less than an earthquake, or a French invasion. At length one, more acute than the rest, observed that some water was passing through the roof of the church, and dripping upon the canvas, pointed out the circumstance; but he nearly fell a victim to his want of judgment, for the people were determined to have a miracle; nor could they be persuaded to disperse till the archbishop, a venerable old man, mounted a ladder, and wiped the lady’s eyes with a napkin; after this, he drew the picture into a more perpendicular situation, telling his audience, that, as the cause was luckily removed, _their patroness_ had promised to weep no more.”[L] The author of “Rome in the Nineteenth Century” says: “Private miracles affecting individuals go on quite commonly every day without exciting the smallest attention. These generally consist in procuring prizes in the lottery, curing diseases, and casting out devils. The mode of effecting this last description of miracle was communicated to me the other day by an abate here, and, as I think it extremely curious, I shall narrate it to you.