defies Menelaus, who goes off to call his "big brother," Agamemnon. But neither to him will the archer yield. The direst threats are interchanged, when the sage Ulysses interposes. By his expostulations the royal brothers are pacified, and they suffer the funeral obsequies to proceed. It remains for us to say a few words on the manner in which the editor has accomplished his task. One thing we do not like in the outset his un-Latinizing the Greek name. In the case of the deities it may do, though even here we think the necessity on the score of accuracy much exaggerated; doubtless Minerva and Mercury, for instance, were not originally equivalents to Athene and Hermes, but the usage of the Augustan poets ultimately made them such. But when it comes to Thukydides and Sophokles, we must enter our protest. True, there is the authority of Mr. Grote; but even Homer nods sometimes, and Grote is a little timorous and inconsistent, wavering between Krete and Crete, and in some other names. This, however, is a small matter. The compilation of notes is usually very good. Sometimes the editor has fallen into the error (which we have also observed in his friend, Professor Felton) of mixing up together several interpretations of different value, without any attempt at deciding among them. We would refer to the note on v. 33 as a striking example of this. Dogmatism, it may be said, shows arrongance in an editor. Possibly, but on the other hand, want of discrimination is a confession of inefficiency. Sometimes, too, we think that, copious as the notes are, a bare reference to a grammar is given where an explanation at length of an idiom or peculiarity would have been desirable. Thus, on v. 27, where the cattle are described as found killed, άvτois éдioτáτais, shepherds and all, we have merely see Matth. 405, obs. 3. Now an edition of this sort ought to be a manual of the play, so that it may be read without any other book, even a lexicon; such, at least, is our opinion. Moreover, we have a striking recollection of the manner in which a knowledge of this idiom was first impressed upon ourselves by a note in Peile's Agamemnon, while this very brief allusion in the book before us might easily be overlooked by a student.

V. 31. Quaere, may not the intermingling of different tenses in Greek and Latin poets be merely a poetic

licence, for the sake of the measure, as English poets use be for are and ye for you (accusative), both strictly grammatial errors, for the sake of the rhyme?

V. 49. Here we think the editor should have mentioned the other and more common meaning of xai dn, well then I let you alone, and numerous other places.

V. 136. ε Qάooorta we would take as an accusative absolute. Any case may be used absolutely in Greek.

V. 352. We really cannot see what would be gained by the proposed substitution of ποιμενοῖν for ποιμένων. Reiske's emendation, uovάv (adopted by Wunder), seems altogether preferable.

V. 659. We prefer Hermann's and Bothe's construction of alinhayxre, but at the same time feel bound to admit that the editor has the majority of commentators on his side. But how he has been induced to take up Mr. Lewes's (not Lewis, as here printed, and which our students would be apt to take up for Tayler Lewis) idea that the Greek chorus dit nol dance, we really cannot conceive. Whoever wants to see an abundant confutation of this crotchet, will find it in the Classical Museum, vol. iii. pp. 229, 599. It is hard to see how a man with an ear for metre can doubt that not only the chorus generally, but some of the main personages occasionally made their entry dancing; Bacchus, for instance, in the Baccha of Euripides, when he rushes in with

ἅπτε κεραΰνιον αἴθοπα λαμπάδα
σύμφλεγε σύμφλεγε δώματα Πενθέως.

Lighten the glittering | torch of the thunderbolt!
Kindle up! kindle up! | mansions of Pentheus!

We had marked some other notes for comment, but being more anxious to praise than criticise this very neatly and carefully got-up edition, abstain from further remark, heartily commending it to all students and scholars.

PARIS IN LITTLE, AND SOME OF THE VANITIES THEREOF.

Fraser, May 1855.

'GOOD morning, Bleecker, good morning! You are just the very man I wanted to see! You come in as à propos as the monkey in the friar's sermon.'

'What monkey and what friar? It may be an old story, but I don't remember it.'

'Perhaps because it was not worth remembering, for it can't be that I never told it to you. It is an old story to me, which I happened to think of from going to church yesterday in a gymnasium.'

'A gymnasium?'

'Yes, a regular gymnasium, and one that is in full operation on weekdays; poles, ropes, ladders, all the apparatus remaining there, only pushed into corners so far as practicable during sermon-time.'

"The congregation were turned out of their regular place of worship by the municipal improvements I suppose?'

'So you might naturally guess, but it happens to be in consequence of a fire. Now this set me thinking of all the queer places where I had been to church.'

'No great compliment to the sermon that.'

'It was a very good one though. Still it could not hinder the locality from bringing up some odd associations in my mind, for I have been to church in a good many bizarre and unchurch-like places: stables in, or just out of, Rome, theatres in America, private houses in some countries, and have witnessed some queer scenes also in regular church buildings; it was one of these that occurred to me just as you came in.

'Several years ago, no matter how many, I was in Naples all alone, waiting for three men who were to join me there. As the men didn't come till long after I had seen all the sights, I made a mighty effort to utilize the delay by getting up the language; and finding my previous book-learning of but moderate practical utility, I tried various other plans; one of them was to frequent

all assemblages of the people around, jugglers, rhapsodists, popular preachers, any kind of exhibitors in short, and hear what was being declaimed. Not a remarkably sagacious proceeding on my part, for all these exhibitors generally hold forth in the vulgar dialect, so you can't understand a word of what they say, and if you could it wouldn't help you much towards a knowledge of grammatical and polite Italian. Such however was my plan, and in pursuance of it I one day dropped into a little church, the name and situation of which I have now forgotten, but it was a very little one, and crowded with persons of both sexes, chiefly of the lower orders. It was a fine spring morning, and the heat (not to mention the dirt and odor) was overpowering, though the large windows or skylights of the roof had been judiciously left open. The preacher himself, a little 'round fat, oily' man seemed, nearly overcome by it; whether this made him speak more slowly than usual, or whether his discourse had less than the usual allowance of dialect, at any rate I could make out a good deal of what he said. His discourse, or at least the exordium of it, in which he was only just fairly launched, treated of temptation and various disguises assumed by man's great enemy for that purpose. 'You know, my children, he appeared to our first parents under the form of a serpent. Sometimes he presents himself in the guise of a dog, sometimes of a cat, sometimes (the speaker's zoological vocabulary did not appear to be very extensive, and he hesitated between his clauses) sometimes (looking around) he takes the form of a monkey.'

'Scarcely were the words out of the friar's mouth when one of the big skylights was partially darkened, there was a rush of a falling body, a rattle of chains and a portentous yell, and down tumbled, directly on the pulpit in front of the preacher, a huge black ape nearly clawing off his nose in its descent.

You may say there was a row! Women fainting, men crossing themselves, some scrambling for the door, all making an awful uproar, to swell which the strange visitor lent his small voice. It was some minutes before two or three of the stoutest among the male portion of the audience plucked up sufficient courage to go to the rescue of the friar, who, with his hands over his eyes,

was frantically endeavouring to squeeze himself backwards through the wall, not altogether free from the idea which evidently possessed the bulk of his congregation, namely, that the Evil One in person had come up or down upon him. I suddenly bethought me of my foreign attire, and fearing that the presence of a heretic might be construed to have some connexion with the apparition, made myself particularly scarce, without waiting to see how the good people disposed of his monkeyship, but I afterwards learned how he came there. The wife of one of the foreign ministers at Naples had a strong practical turn for zoology, and kept quite a menagerie of strange animals for her private delectation, among them this big ape, who, having escaped from confinement that day, after scrambling over the roofs of numerous houses, endeavoured to perch in the church window, but the ledge of it being too narrow to hold him, he tumbled down just in time to give point to the preacher's exordium."

'Well, the comparison is a flattering one for me, at any rate; perhaps for both of us. But what did you want me for? To go to church anywhere?'

'Not exactly. To do that on a week-day might be against your principles. No, it was something very different. Thinking of different churches put me in mind why I can't say of different dinners, and I thought suppose we go once to this new Dinner de l'Exposition.' 'Connu mon chère. We have been there already, last week. It's no go. Dinners good enough in conception, but cold in execution, that is to say when served courses too long, considering they are not numerous railroad to pass the wine gets off the truck - altogether more show than substance.'

'Really? Common report would have led me to expect something better. But tell me, now; where had you been dining before the day before, for instance?' "The day before? I dined with Gerard Ludlow.' "Who has one of the best cooks (in a quiet way) in Paris. And the day before that?"

'With Charley Vanderlyn and Tom Edwards and some Cubans at Philippe's.'

'Exactly. You have been feasting at two splendid banquets, and then go to dine at a dollar a-head. It