chausen, Don Quixote, Gulliver's Travels, and Robinson Crusoe to some purpose.

Truly Nimshi talks like one who has passed his time in the isolated manner described by himself-unapproached, unapproaching, unapproachable; he stands on the barren rock of self-esteem, disregarding the collected wisdom and experience of others, and defying the opinions of religionists, philosophers, and men of science. But withal the work has some redeeming points. We are refreshed ever and anon by coming across a passage which reminds us somewhat of the delightful poems of Ossian.

We can perceive, too, after much labour that the book does. contain a great idea, but this idea is so enveloped in mist that it is hardly perceptible. There is more than one passage of declamatory eloquence in these volumes rarely surpassed by writers of acknowledged talent, which will in some measure repay the reader for wading through hundreds of pages of the ridiculous and sublime, most clumsily concocted. For a specimen of the writer's eloquence of diction we refer our readers to pp. 136, 137, and 138, vol I.

We opine the writer before us is inexperienced; when he fancies he is writing a smart dialogue, we find him composing long essays, delivering scientific lectures, or preaching a sermon!

He must simplify his style and language, and if he should again appear in print (and we candidly confess we think he possesses no small amount of poetical ability) we recommend him to try his hand at blank verse.

Nimshi is not a practical man. There is great difference between the ideal and the reality, conjecture and demonstration. We cannot receive the flights of a poetic mind as reality, neither can we admit mere conjecture as ocular demonstration.

We once had the misfortune to be acquainted with an enthusiastic mathematician; a right down run-mad mathematician was this acquaintance of ours. Every word uttered in the presence of this singular individual was, as it were, measured by his time and rule. One day he came running into our study, and threw on the table sundry small pieces of wood cut in divers shapes, which he ⚫ declared represented every idea past, present, and future! We frankly acknowledged the matter beyond our comprehension, and ventured to affirm that no person but the possessor of these talismanic figures could appreciate so "vast an idea."

"Doubtless," said I, "it is all plain enough to you, but no one else will be able to comprehend it."

"The world's made up of nothing but fools," exclaimed the enraged mathematician, as he rushed from our presence, bearing with him his magical types. Now we can easily fancy that the author of Nimshi will pronounce us dullards for not being able to comprehend his sublime cogitations. Be it so; many a better

head than we possess will be found in the same predicament as our own on reading The Adventures of a Man to obtain a Solution of Scriptural Geology.

Better for a man to have but two commonplace ideas, with the power of communicating the same intelligibly to his fellowcreatures, than to possess a hundred thousand fine images which are incomprehensible to every other brain but that in which they were artificially hatched.

We now dismiss these extraordinary volumes, presuming from his enthusiastic style that the writer is not yet out of his teens, and hoping that the lapse of years, hard study, and experience, will enable him to produce something more worthy the consideration of an intelligent reading people.

Lectures on the Nature and Treatment of Deformities, delivered at the Royal Orthopedic Hospital, Bloomsbury Square. By R. W. TAMPLIN, F. R. C. S. E., Surgeon to the Hospital. Longman and Co.

THE Lectures of which this volume consists originally appeared in the "London Medical Gazette," and have been published at the request of friends. The Lectures are fourteen in number, and combine the rare qualities of professional precision in the phraseology employed, with much of an easy and popular manner. The subject of Orthopaedic surgery has not received that attention from the profession which its great importance ought to have secured for it. We know, indeed, of no department of surgery which has been so much neglected. The public and the profession are, therefore, under special obligations to Mr. Tamplin for the publication of this volume. It constitutes a valuable contribution to the branch of surgery to which it relates, and is destined, there can be no doubt, to become a standard work in the profession. The Lectures, we ought to add, are largely illustrated with engravings, which greatly add to the value of the volume, as illustrative of the author's views. The work is too professional for a journal like ours, which is devoted to literature of a purely popular nature, otherwise we should have made extracts from it as specimens of Mr. Tamplin's perspicuous style.

1

THE BATTLE OF BENEVENTO.1

AN HISTORICAL NOVEL OF THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY.

ABRIDGED FROM THE ITALIAN OF F. B. GUERAZZI, BY M. E. N.

CHAPTER VIII.

LONG years before the opening of our story a good pilgrim on his return from the shrine of St. Jago de Compostella, in Gallicia, was dragging along his infirm body through the streets of Marseilles, like one oppressed by age and by the fatigue of a long journey, in search of a Senodochio where he might rest his limbs for that night. After he had passed through many parts of the city he stopped before a splendid palace, whence issued a great light and the sound of an harmonious concert of instruments and voices. He saw ladies and nobles splendidly dressed passing in and out; he saw esquires busily employed, house-stewards hurrying to and fro with silver wands arranging all things in order, and seneschals and servants carrying up and down stairs exquisite refreshments in precious vessels; in brief, everything announced that a great feast was held within. The pilgrim, civilly accosting one of the populace that was assembled before the gate, learned that the palace belonged to Raymond Berenger, Count of Provence. At that time the Count Raymond was held in high repute throughout Christendom, both because he came of noble lineage, being of one common origin with the house of Arragon, and that of the Counts of Toulouse, and because he was a discreet prince, valiant, courteous, and an earnest doer of all honourable works. All the gallant knights of Provence, of France, and of Catalonia, and all the most skilful troubadours that were famous in those days, resorted to his court, and he himself took pleasure in running a tilt in the tournay, and singing a lay of love in the midst of a circle of the fair and young.

The pilgrim determined to test the courtesy of the count, and without hesitation boldly entered the court. The cavaliers marvelled that a mendicant should have the audacity to penetrate into their circle; each of them shrunk from him, and drew aside, as if fearing that their silken robes would be sullied by contact with the Senodochj, or Synedoches, were places especially designed to lodge pilgrims in. 1 Continued from page 20.

June, 1846.-VOL, XLVI.—NO. CLXXXII.

K

pilgrim's gown. But this proceeding tended to his advantage, instead of debasing him, as was intended, for he walked forward alone and uninterrupted between two rows of Danes and nobles, who, though they had drawn back in contempt, yet as they made no evident display of their feelings, appeared rather in a respectful position than otherwise.

Count Raymond, who, in order to behold all the festival at one view, had placed himself on an elevated seat in the manner of a throne, fixed in the principal part of the hall, had scarcely seen the pilgrim advancing when he descended from his seat, met him with a courteous reception, and said,

"Welcome to our court, good pilgrim; accommodate yourself according to your good pleasure here, for we intend that you shall be as lord and master."

"My Lord Count, now I perceive that however fame may report of your high courtesy, still its panegyrics are below your merits. I came hither to make trial of them, and to see if in the hour of your pomp you would have disdained to cast a look upon the servant of God, oppressed by age and by the toils of travel. But you, count, you have left pride to the dastard hearts that have made it their master; hearts which, however they be wrapped in a covering of flesh and bone, cannot hide themselves from the eye of the Eternal."

And here he looked sternly round upon the nobles, who were too skilful courtiers to cast down their eyes, but exhibited to him a pleasant and friendly mien. The good pilgrim, disdaining their affability as he had before disdained their contempt, continued his speech with Count Raymond.

"You have not scorned to fulfil the hopes of the poor man who trusted in you; you have offered him that which he needed before he begged it of you, for he who sees want and awaits its petition almost prepares him to deny it. You will be remunerated in this life and in the next; the blessing of Heaven will be with you, and will exalt you above your rivals, and glorify you above your enemies, and your name will be preserved in your posterity, as the odour of myrrh is still diffused after fire has consumed the berry." The knights and dames were amazed to hear the pilgrim speak so authoritatively, and deemed him a holy man. Count Raymond, much elated, replied to him, in a gracious manner,

"We are infinitely obliged to you, good pilgrim, for the trust you have reposed in our courtesy, although this be not worth the trouble of your remembrance; we should do great wrong, we will not say to our brothers in chivalry, but to our less gentle vassals, if we suspected that they had shut the door against the venerable pilgrim."

66

It is not the act, but the manner, my Lord Count; and some

there are who refuse in so benign a manner that we love them more than others who give rudely."

Then Count Raymond, taking the pilgrim by the hand, led him into more retired apartments, refreshed him with meat and drink, and seeing him weary, would not that night detain him in conversation, but commanded that an airy chamber should be prepared for him, and leaving him to his repose returned to the feast.

The count rose very early in the morning, not only to reflect undisturbed on the affairs of his territories, threatened at that time with war by the Count of Toulouse, but also to collect some morning imagery wherewith to embellish a cobola* which he designed to send to the lady of his thoughts. As he was rambling thus absorbed in his meditations he met the pilgrim, who, having also risen early, had repaired thither to worship the Lord with the first rays of the sun, and who, after the due salutation, asked the count why he appeared troubled in countenance. Though Raymond was circumspect by nature, yet so much faith did he at once repose in the pilgrim that he did not hesitate to open his mind to him; and the pilgrim gave him such prudent counsels that Raymond thought that not only he need not seek to avoid the contest with the Count of Toulouse, but he should rather desire it, since he had with him so good and wise an adviser, and he said to him, "that he would never compel him to remain, and that it rested with his own will to go or stay, but that if his entreaty could prevail, he would gratify him by remaining." If Raymond was delighted with the virtues of the pilgrim, the latter was no less so with those of the count, so that they found themselves briefly in perfect accord; nor was it long ere the pilgrim became master and director of everything in the state. He continued to wear his religious habit, and by his management increased by two-thirds the treasures of the count, though the latter still kept up the same state; so that when the war, on a question of boundaries, took place with the Count of Toulouse (who was then the greatest in the world, having fourteen other counts under him) Raymond obtained greatly the advantage by his own magnanimity, the counsels of the pilgrim, the increase of his treasures, and the great number of knights and military barons under the banners of Pro

vence.

Now it happened that the only children Raymond had were four marriageable daughters, and like most fathers he desired to marry them to valiant and powerful princes, and to make them queens and empresses if he could; but he was not able to devise the means, because his treasure was not sufficient to give to all of them a royal dowry. The good pilgrim bade him be of good cheer, and take no thought of this matter, he would provide for it.

* A Cobola amongst the Provençals was a lyrical composition.