and honour. Of humble origin, afflicted with lameness, oppressed by poverty, he struggled on; mastering languages, laying up stores of learning, and rising step by step, till, from keeping a parish school, he, at last, filled the chair of Oriental Languages in the University of St. Andrews.

Tennant was the author of several works, both in poetry and prose; but his chief title to literary distinction is the poem now under our notice. Anster Fair was first published in 1812, at Edinburgh, and soon won for itself, in Scotland at least, a deservedly honourable reputation, and one which we venture to think will increase rather than diminish. It is a mock epic, full of serio-comic extravagance, abounding in rich innocent fun; touched, however, here and there, with a masterly grace of poetic description which considerably heightens the reader's enjoyment of the whole.

The poem shows how a certain "Rob the Ranter," so called from his piping propensities, with the kindly aid of sprightly Puck and his fairy wife, proves victor in a contest of ass-racing, bag-piping, sackjumping, and story-telling held at Anster Fair, and so wins the hand of the fair maiden, "Bonnie Maggie Lauder.' The plot is homely and simple, and the machinery familiar. There are not wanting weak lines and halting rhymes. But there is such truth of description, such quaintness of fancy, such vivacity, and movement, and genuine humour, all through the poem, as holds the reader's attention in most willing bonds. One of the most remarkable features of this poem is the ease and naturalness with which, every now and then, the author passes from the most ludicrous scenes to a strain of description full of a quaint, quiet, beauty and strength, indicative of rare power and delicacy of imagination. Nor less remarkable is the happy use of the familiar classical images of Homer and Virgil, which appear here quite at home in a charming serio-comic adaptation to homely Scottish life and scenery. On the whole, it is a capital poem-just the thing to relish in these serious hard-tensioned times. The impression it leaves is that of pure, downright funbright, unmixed enjoyment. It is just the book to beguile the tedium of a railway journey with, or to read to a half dozen friends during the long vacant pauses of a sea-side holiday. To this we will only add that the paper, type, and general get-up of the volume are creditable to the taste and enterprise of the publishers.

Verses and Translations.

By C. S. C. Fourth Edition. Revised. Cambridge: Deighton, Bell, and Co. 1872.

THIS is a very charming little volume of scholarly recreations in English and Latin verse. Distant be the day when natural science and technical education shall dethrone Homer, Horace, and Virgil, when the tradition of Latin verse shall be forgotten, and the play that scholars delight in be known no more. The translations include pieces from Sophocles, Homer, Lucretius, Horace, and Virgil, as

well as Latin versions of a few well-known English poems and hymns. The English verses are parodies, charades, and some very clever mock-heroics full of wit and fun. We must find room for a

few stanzas of C. S. C.'s proverbial philosophy.

OF READING.

Read not Milton, for he is dry; nor Shakspeare, for he wrote of common life:
Nor Scott, for his romances, though fascinating, are yet intelligible:

Nor Thackeray, for he is a Hogarth, a photographer who flattereth not:
Nor Kingsley, for he shall teach thee that thou shouldest not dream, but do.
Read incessantly thy Burke; that Burke who, nobler than he of old,
Treateth of the Peer and Peeress, the truly sublime and beautiful:
Likewise study "the creations" of "the Prince of Modern Romance;"
Sigh over Leonard the Martyr, and smile on Pelham the puppy:
Learn how "love is the dram-drinking of existence,"
And how we "invoke, in the Gadara of our still closets,

The beautiful ghost of the Ideal, with the simple wand of the pen."
Listen how Maltravers and the orphan "forgot all but love,"

And how Devereux's family chaplain “made and unmade kings;'
How Eugene Aram, though a thief, a liar, and a murderer,
Yet, being intellectual, was amongst the noblest of mankind.

So shalt thou live in a world peopled with heroes and master-spirits;
And if thou canst not realise the Ideal, thou shalt at least idealise the Real.

OFFICIAL WORKS ON THE FRANCO-PRUSSIAN WAR.

The Operations of the German Armies in France from Sedan to the end of the War. From the Journals of the Headquarters Staff. By William Blumé, Major in the Prussian Ministry of War. Second Edition. London: Henry S. King and Co. 1872.

Tactical Deductions from the War of 1870-71. By A. v. Boguslawski, Captain and Company-Chief in the 3rd Lower Silesian Infantry Regiment, No 50. London: Henry S. King and Co. 1872.

Operations of the South Army in January and February, 1871. Compiled from the Official War Documents. By Count Hermann Von Wartensleben. London: Henry S. King and Co. 1872.

As professional works on the science of war, we are glad to leave the criticising of these volumes to military men and students of this particular department of things. In the German armies Captain Sword and Captain Pen appear to be one and the same man, and before the war was well over the fighting captains began to draw out the history of the campaign and reduce to literary form the experience won in the field. The literature of the late war is already extensive, and though, to readers like ourselves, it is a little too sulphurous to be pleasant, military men are appreciative and grateful, and there is no denying to it a certain kind of grim fascination. The

volumes before us have been well received in Germany, and cannot fail to be carefully studied in other European countries. There is something almost touching in the modesty, not unmingled with a shade of envy, shown by the English translator in his Preface to Tactical Deductions-"We in England have no practical experience in the matter, not having had the advantage of being engaged in any great war since rifled muskets and cannon, not to mention breechloaders and mitrailleuses, came into general use. We must consequently draw upon the experience of other nations more fortunate (in a military sense), by which experience, it is to be hoped, we shall have profited, when it comes to our turn to enter the arena."

The history of the campaign discloses an unbroken series of French misfortunes and defeats. There is a monotony of failure wonderful to see. The great war-machine of Germany moves across the scene, never late, or ill-adjusted, or insufficient, and scatters, grinds, and crushes all that comes in its way with mechanic precision and completeness. The thing is so well done, and can be so neatly demonstrated afterwards with chalk and black-board, that, as an exercise for the skill and ingenuity of civilised men, nothing can surely compare with it. Perhaps it is only morbid readers to whom the thing is spoiled by a certain scent of blood. This, for instance, is very quietly told: "The casualties from 7th to 10th December amounted to near 4,000; on the enemy's side they must have been a good deal heavier, as was proved by the large number of wounded who were found during the few following days in every village, even as far as Blois, in an utterly helpless condition." So long as we deal with it thus in gross we get on pretty well,-these thousands of killed and wounded don't affect us very much; but when our ill-advised imagination settles on some luckless mother's son shattered and bleeding, lying out in the cold a couple of nights or so, filled with intolerable anguish, praying or cursing, it may be, until he dies with his white face and clenched teeth turned towards the stars, then our enjoyment is gone, and we cry, "I'll read no more."

This was the position of France at the time of the Armistice of Versailles which led to the treaty of peace:-" More than 385,000 French soldiers, including 11,860 officers, were prisoners in Germany, nearly 100,000 interned in Switzerland, and the army of Paris, which was over 150,000 strong, would have been led captive into Germany, had hostilities broken out afresh. The prisoners included, with few exceptions, all the professional officers and trained soldiers that France possessed. The conquerors had taken all the warlike stores of three great armies and twenty-two captured fortresses, besides a number of guns, carriages, and weapons lost in different actions, amounting in all to 1,835 field and 5,373 garrison guns, and upwards of 600,000 small arms. The material of Bourbaki's army, too, was not to be restored to the French till the war was over. The fleet was in great measure disarmed; its officers, sailors, and stores had been expended on shore. One-third of all France was occupied by the German

armies; and the capital, to which the provinces had been accustomed to look for guidance, was in their power. They had as yet, indeed, refrained from occupying Paris, and the omission may possibly have led people here and there to dream of revictualling the city, and resuming the defence. Such dreams were, however, utterly vain, while 700 heavy guns were mounted on and between the forts ready to nip in the bud any effort at resistance. . . . At the same time there were 569,875 German infantry, and 63,465 cavalry, with 1,742 field-pieces on French soil on the 1st March. But, if the officers and officials, artillery and engineers' train, and departments of all kinds were to be added, the total strength of the German armies would appear to be in round numbers 1,000,000 men. Besides these, there were at home more than 250,000 men, reserve and garrison troops, available for garrison duty, guard of prisoners, and replacing casualties in the active army." Truly it was time to stop.

We may just say that these volumes are well translated, and, so far as the printing and binding are concerned, are admirably got up.

Diary of a Young French Officer in Chanzy's Army. From the French, by Roger M. With a Preface by C. J. Vaughan, D.D. Strahan and Co., London.

1872.

THIS simple and unpretending account of the personal experiences of a young French officer in the late disastrous campaign in France is written with a vivid descriptive power and a straightforward candour and honesty of purpose which are very refreshing.

Suddenly called from a studious existence at home to take part in the war, the writer obeyed the summons with a cheerful devotion to duty, which we have perhaps been too much inclined to consider purely English, and contrived, while performing most arduous duties, to keep an almost daily record of what passed around him. From these hasty jottings the volume before us is written, retaining the freshness of his impressions at the time the events occurred, while such reflections are added as circumstances afterwards suggested.

His narrative of the eventful months from August 1870 to March 1871, brings us face to face with the dreadful detail of war and the hardships of a winter campaign, aggravated by perpetual mismanagement. In the midst of much to bias the judgment, the calm and unprejudiced spirit of the writer is very remarkable. He is a true patriot, but by no means a blind one, as the following quotation will serve to show. Referring to the close of the war, he writes :

"Generals Chanzy and Jaurès have, in their last orders, taken leave of us in very flattering terms. They bear witness that we have done our duty, and bestow great praise upon us, which I believe many of the soldiers in this battalion well deserve. But what importance can be attached to words which are repeated indiscriminately by everybody to everybody? I am weary of this universal praisegiving. If everyone in France has deserved nothing but compliments,

whom shall we accuse of our disasters ? Can we believe that we have not been guilty of a series of grave errors? Is it right that we should all be praising one another, when the work we have accomplished is before our eyes? Where are the guilty? Where are the incapable, the weak, the self-seeking? For such there must beabove, below, and everywhere-to account for such results as we have seen. Who will tell the truth? Let us accept these official words with due respect, and let us be grateful for the goodwill of those who send them, and who have, no doubt, like ourselves, done their best. But let us none the less examine our conscience; let us confess that this nation, which worships itself even in the hour of humiliation, is not what it ought to be, and needs to be regenerated from its roots."

Such words from a Frenchman are full of hope for the future of France. Dr. Vaughan's preface will doubtless recommend this book to many readers; and we feel assured that no one can read Eight Months on Duty without being deeply interested.

The Days of Jezebel: an Historical Drama. By Peter Bayne. Strahan and Co. 1872.

MR. BAYNE is probably known to our readers as the author of several prose works, which have earned him some reputation as a vigorous thinker and a clear and forcible writer. This venture of his into the high and difficult region of the historical drama, though by no means completely successful, is, on the whole, a creditable and promising performance. Mr. Bayne possesses real poetic faculty, a fine imagination, and a musical ear. His style is lithe and sinewy, and abounds in choice epithet and apt metaphor. His conception of the dramatic situation is comprehensive and just, and shows wide and careful study. He very properly makes the determining motive of the play the mutual shock and resentment resulting from the meeting of such antagonistic elements as the fleshly, tolerant, pleasant culture of Phoenician Polytheism, on the one hand, and the more spiritual, but rigid and exclusive, Mosaic Monotheism of the Jews, on the other. These opposing elements find their highest expression and fiercest collision in Jezebel-Ahab's Sidonian queen-and Elijah, the firesouled prophet of Jehovah. Truthful and powerful is the poet's description of the beautiful, imperious, unscrupulous queen, chafing with implacable resentment as she finds her magnificent and ostentatious régime of idolatry traversed by the open opposition of the more conscientious Jews, headed by the prophets. The character of Elijah, the other principal personage of the drama, is drawn with less force and distinctness than that of Jezebel; but, on the whole, with insight and skill. And the prophet's description of the scenes of his youth, of the stress of Divine afflatus which bore him on in his perilous task, of the subtle rising of haif-unconscious ambition in his heart, and of his disappointment and dejection when it seemed as if his mission had