incidents of the drama are enlarged upon in exaggerated terms. As for instance

THE TRAGEDY OF

KING RICHARD THE THIRD,

Containing

His treacherous plots against his brother Clarence: the pittiefull murther of his innocent nephewes: his tyrannicall vsurpation: with the whole course of his detested life: and most deserued death.

As it hath beene lately acted by the Right Honnorable the Lord Chamberlaine his seruants.

AT LONDON:

Printed by Valentine Sims, for Andrew Wise, dwelling in Paules Church-Yard, at the Signe of the Angell.

1597.

We must however refer the reader to the article itself, as suggestive of much curious reflection and speculation; and to the whole volume as one calculated to greatly interest all lovers of our old poets and dramatists.

MIND AND MATTER, ILLUSTRATED BY CONSIDERATIONS ON HEREDITARY INSANITY, AND THE INFLUENCE OF TEMPERAMENT IN THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE PASSIONS. By J. G. Millingen, M.D., &c. 8vo. H. Hurst. THE Success and extensive popularity of the author's "Curiosities of Medical Experience" has, he says, induced him to publish the present work. And he tells us that he is desirous to add to what he "considers the most precious of all sciences, the knowledge of mankind." It cannot be denied that Dr. Millingen has had many opportunities of studying men's dispositions and idiosyncracies in a very extensive school. Educated in Paris during the French Revolution, accompanying the Peninsular Army in the whole of its career, and subsequently having submitted to his examination the inmates of an extensive receptacle for the decidedly insane, added to the opportunities of a large general practice, he must have had ample opportunities for observing at least the aberrations and eccentricities of human nature. And after having been much entertained by the perusal of the present work, we cannot but think that his talents partake much more of the perceptive than the reflective species. He has a very pleasant style, knows how to illustrate his speculations with quotations from the poets, and is well acquainted with the various hypotheses that the natural philosophers have promulgated, from Aristotle's time to our own. Still we do not think that the present work will entitle him to rank amongst the Blumenbachs and Laurences of our day; nor can his book be looked

upon as more than the work of an observant man of the world and a graceful scholar.

As an instance of the comparative shallowness of his science, it may be noticed, that he revives the theory of temperaments, and looks upon organisation as the great influence of character. There can be no doubt that it has great effect on the individual, but whether the old definitions of temperaments, such as the nervous, the sanguine, the bilious, et cetera, are at all to be relied on, is doubtful: although the author is to some extent supported by the opinion of Dr. Prichard and many continental physiologists. The interest of the work, as we have said, rests more in its illustrations than its theories: and in the essays treating of the various passions will be found some very clear definitions and curious anecdotes. The following is from that on Fear :

"Sudden terror has brought on various diseases,-insanity, catalepsy, apoplexy, even hydrophobia. The hair has turned grey, and white, in the space of an incredibly short time. The following curious case of this nature has been recorded: The peasants of Sardinia are in the constant habit of hunting eagles and vultures, both for profit, and as an amusement. In the year 1839, three young men (brethren) living near San Giovanni de Domas Novas, having espied an eagle's nest in the bottom of a steep precipice,' they drew lots to decide which of them should descend to take it away. The danger did not arise so much from the depth of the precipice-upwards of a hundred feet-but the apprehension of the numerous birds of prey that inhabited the cavern. However, the lot fell on one of the brothers, a young man of about two-and-twenty, of athletic form, and of a dauntless spirit. He belted a knotted rope round his waist, by which his brothers could lower or raise him at will; and, armed with a sharpened infantry sabre, he boldly descended the rock, and reached the nest in safety. It contained four eaglets of that peculiar bright plumage called the light Isabella. difficulty now arose in bearing away the nest. He gave a signal to his brethren, and they began to haul him up, when he was fiercely attacked by two powerful eagles, the parents of the young birds he had captured. The onset was most furious, they darkened the cavern by the flapping of their broad wings, and it was not without much difficulty that he kept them off with his sword; when, on a sudden, the rope that suspended him swung round, and on looking up he perceived that he had partly severed it with his sabre. At this fearful sight he was struck with such a sudden terror, that he was unable to urge his companions to hasten to his delivery, although he still kept his fierce antagonists at bay. His brothers continuing to haul him up, while their friendly voices endeavoured to encourage him, he soon reached the summit of the rock; but although he continued to grasp the eagle's nest, he was speechless, and his hair, which had before been of a jet black colour, was now as white as snow.

The

"Certain temperaments are more susceptible of fear than others. The bold sanguineous, the ambitious bilious, are not so subject to its influence, as the atrabilious and nervous; and the state of the digestive faculties operates materially in rendering us more or less liable to experience its power. Napoleon was wont to observe, that he had his courageous days. Cæsar made the same admission; and although his courage could not be

doubted, he rarely ascended his chariot without hesitation, fearing that he might be overturned by an imprudent conductor. Every man who has been in the field of battle, will confess, that when he was not in a good state of health, or fatigued by any excesses or fagging duties, his state of mind varied; and the soldier who will calmly see his comrades falling, and hear the shot and shell whistling and moaning around him, without any mental disturbance, will, on other occasions, mechanically duck his head at the whizzing of a musket-ball. History recounts many instances of a panic seizing a whole army: and this was fully illustrated in the sauve qui peut’ of Waterloo.

"The confusion in that flight must have been beyond conception; for in collecting the wounded French on the following morning, I found men of numerous regiments and various arms lying near each other, and who must have belonged to different divisions and brigades, all amalgamated in the rout."

Of that contagious power which effects so many important changes in human society, he has the following remarks:

"The sympathetic power of fascination is another unaccountable phenomenon. Reid attributes to the nervous system an atmosphere of sensibility. Ernest Plater maintained that our soul could diffuse itself in mutual transmissions. On this most curious and important subject I have expressed myself as follows in a former publication:

"What is then this invisible vital fluid, this electric principle, that the touch, the breath, the warmth, the very aroma of those we are fond of, communicate, when, trembling, fluttering, breathless, we approach them? that enables us, even when surrounded with darkness, to recognise, by the feel, the hand of her we love? Nay, whence arises the feeling of respect and veneration that we experience in the presence of the great and preeminently good? It may be said, this is the result of our education; we have been taught to consider these individuals as belonging to a superior race of mortals. To a certain extent this may be true; yet there does exist an impressive contagion when we are brought into the presence, or placed under the guidance, of such truly privileged persons. Their courage, their eloquence, their energies, their very fanaticism, thrill every fibre, like the vibrations of the chords under the skilful harpist's hand. Actuated by this mystic influence, the coward has boldly rushed into the battle, the timid dared unusual peril, and the humane been driven to deeds of blood. Fanatic contagion has produced both martyrs and heroes. Example stimulates and emulates, despite our reasoning faculties. Imitation is the principle of action, the nursery of good and of great deeds; we either feel degraded by the ascendancy of others, when we fancy, however vainly, that we may attain their level-or devote ourselves to their cause and their service, when we tacitly recognise their mastery. Fortunately for our frail race, sympathies are liable to be worn out by their own exhausting power. Attrition polishes, but indurates at the same time; thus does social intercourse harden our gentle predispositions. Experience is to man, what rust is to iron: it corrodes, but at the same time protects the metal to a certain degree from the magnet's mighty power.'

DOUGLAS JERROLD'S

SHILLING MAGAZINE.

THE DREAMER AND THE WORKER.*

BY THE AUTHOR OF "ORION."

CHAPTER XXV.

DISASTERS OF MESSRS. SHORT AND BAINTON.-MISS JUDITH WALTON.-HER SERIOUS DISCOURSE WITH MARY.-MARY ACCOMPANIES ELLEN LLOYD TO WALES.-RUIN OF MR. WALTON.

"HERE's a pretty concern!" ejaculated Mr. Walton, suddenly opening Mary's door, one morning before she was up. In each hand he held an open letter! His face was lathered for shaving, and he was enveloped in a thickly wadded dressing-gown. "Here is one disaster-and here is another. Two disasters by the same penny post."

"What has happened?" said Mary, sitting up in bed.

"Every bad thing that could happen," cried Mr. Walton, "has happened is happening—or is about to happen. It is the sure forerunner of-of-a forerunner of Mary, dear, just wipe the lather out of the corner of my mouth-pah !—the sure forerunner of-and nostrils too-puff!-the sure forerunner of utter ruin to the most patriotic schemes ever devised to make a fortune.'

"But tell me what it is that has happened," said Mary, reaching her shawl from the back of a chair, and folding it round her shoulders.

"Why, Bainton has been shot at with a blunderbuss loaded with pebbles and rusty nails.'

"And wounded? cried Mary.

"I'll tell you presently," exclaimed Mr. Walton, clasping his hands.

* Continued from page 405, Vol. VI.

NO. XXXVI.-VOL. VI.

ΙΙ

"Not killed!" ejaculated Mary.

"Never mind that now," cried Mr. Walton, petulantly. "And seven fine new smacks, the decks of which had just been laid down, all launched in the night, into the open sea, during a gale of wind, and nothing seen or heard of them since."

"Why-how?

Why, poor Bainton merely sent away eight or ten Irish hands who were working in his yard, because four or five Scotch boat-builders, and one Frenchman, happened to offer him their services."

66

66

But Mr. Bainton ?" pursued Mary.

Oh, Bainton's not hurt, hang him—he might have been sure when he discharged the Paddies that it would be certain to come into the heads of some of them that we did not wish to employ them, even in helping us to carry away their own fish." "And the other letter?" said Mary.

"Oh, confusion worse confounded! exclaimed Mr. Walton, throwing himself unconsciously into a theatrical attitude. "Short arrived from Scotland to Galway with five spick and span new fishing-smacks, rigged and manned, and with nets, and hooks, and things, all ready for wholesale fishery, but the Claddagh colony of wild Irish fishermen-many of whom had expected to be engaged in the boats-in fact, I think when I was there, I half promised it -became furious at this, and the other morning, in broad daylight, they went in a body and set fire to the smacks, and then ran, with howls and curses, towards Short's house. Short heard and saw them coming-twigged what it was all about, and only had just time to get astride upon a horse, and gallop away without his hat. The howling Claddagh men followed at his heels, intending to tar and feather him, and the horse too—or at least, kill him."

"Had you not better go to your room and finish dressing, papa ? we can speak of this further after breakfast.”

"I have not told you all yet. Poor Mrs. Bainton has died of fright. Bainton says, that as he has lost Harding, he has no one he can rely upon to continue the operations where he is, and of course he cannot stay to be shot or bludgeoned; he therefore says he must withdraw from the undertaking. As for Short, he writes like a madman.'

Mr. Walton struck his forehead, and left the room, saying, as he crossed the passage, "I shall get my death of cold."