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.