express purpose of instructing native women in medical science and practice. That school afterward came under the care of Drs. Tomkyns and Lock, and its progress was satisfactory. Surgeon Balfour, in 1872, laid these facts before the government, with a view to throwing open to women the Madras Medical College, which had previously received male students only. He urged upon the government the fact that, of the hundred million women in India, a great part were precluded absolutely by their customs or religion from being attended by medical men of any nation. After much opposition, Surgeon Balfour obtained the sanction of the government to the education of women with the men, subject to their exclusion from some subjects in which they were to be taught separately. Their studies were to be for the M.D. degree-that of doctor of medicine; they were to possess sound knowledge in pharmacy, anatomy, physiology, medicine, surgery, midwifery, and the diseases of women and children; and their studies in the college were to extend over a period of not ess than three years. The government supported the movement cordially, and in 1876 the curriculum of female medical education was published. In this work Surgeon-General Balfour had the active co-operation of several of his brother officers. Dr. Harris carried out the nursing scheme, Surgeon General Furnell gave his earnest assistance, and Surgeon-General Shortt taught the art of successful vaccination-a subject of immense importance in India, where, as in all tropical countries, smallpox is much to be dreaded. Manuals for the pupils, adapted to the conditions of life in India, were prepared, and have already passed through several editions. These particulars as to the beginnings of medical education for women in India generally may be regarded as supplementary to our account of its progress in the Bengal Presidency, which was stated by Mrs. Dr. Hoggan to be a "misstatement of the whole question." Having given the general facts, we allow them to speak for themselves. Mrs. Hoggan's disparagement of the London School of Medicine for Women is a personal matter, in which the public at large have no interest. The work which the students have done, and the positions they have taken at the University of London and elsewhere, is a sufficient answer to all cavillers.--The Queen.

THE LAST GLADIATORIAL FIGHT IN THE COLISEUM.-In 404 Honorius was emperor. At that time, in the remote deserts of Lybia, there dwelt an obscure monk named Telemachus. He had heard of these awful scenes in the far-off Coliseum at Rome. Depend upon it, they lost nothing by their transit across

the Mediterranean in the hands of Greek and Roman sailors. In the baths and marketplaces of Alexandria, in the Jewries of Cyrene, in the mouths of every itinerant Eastern storyteller the festive massacres of the Coliseum would doubtless be clothed in colors truly appalling, yet scarcely more appalling than the truth. Telemachus brooded over these horrors until his mission dawned upon him. He was ordained by heaven to put an end to the slaughter of human beings in the Coliseum. He made his way to Rome. He entered the Coliseum with the throng, at the time the gladiators were parading in front of the emperor with uplifted swords and the wild mockery of homage-" Morituri te salutant.” Elbowing his way to the barrier, he leaped over at the moment when the combatants rushed at each other, threw himself between them, bidding them, in the name of Christ to desist. To blank astonishment succeeded imperial contempt and popular fury. Telemachus fell slain by the swords of the gladiators. Legend may adorn the tale and fancy fill out the picture, but the solid fact remains-there never was another gladiatorial fight in the Coliseum. One heroic soul had caught the flow of popular feeling that had already begun to set in the direction of humanity, and turned it. He had embodied by his act and consecrated by his death the sentiment that already lay timidly in the hearts of thousands in that great city of Rome. Good Words.

ANIMAL INTELLIGENCE.-Adopting the terse language of Shylock, we may ask, Hath a dog reason? And, falling into a more lengthy style, we may inquire, Is its reasoning at all comparable to that of the human being? We think both these questions must be answered in the affirmative. Those who differ from us will certainly admit that the possession by man of a language of symbols must have an enormous influence in increasing the power of his intellectual faculties. So much, indeed, must this be the case that what is really only a difference of degree is yet so stupendous that an intellect, the product of the employment for ages of word-signs, might be thought to be an We are altogether new and original faculty. inclined to assert, however, that almost the sole essential difference between the intellect of the dog and that of the man may be traced to the above cause. A dog can reason, but not by using symbols. It employs the mental picture of an object, the olfactory perception of an agent, the auditory impression of a sounding body for the terms of its premises. But clumsy as these may seem, yet the mind of the animal successfully grapples with them. The dog argues from the ideas of concrete things, although incapable of abstraction and

of the formation of a conception. Devoid of generalizations, it deals with particulars; but it does reason; it substitutes one idea for another; it weighs and estimates at their true value the successive mental images which present themselves to itself. Every one knows the tenacious memory of the dog, not only for

what it has seen, but for what it has smelt and heard. The olfactory sense in many species is truly marvellous, and its mental grasp or memory of the same is remarkable in an equal degree. No division can scientifically be drawn between the memory of a landscape by a dog and the recollection of a region by a man. Moreover, the dog is not simply a mechanism, the result of hereditary action. The individual can learn new things-nay, even execute complex mental feats, for itself. The following instance, which forcibly illustrates the power of the reasoning of the dog, came under our personal notice. A gentleman

last season bought a middle-aged blue pointer, which with his good qualities as a "wide ranger" and "staunch pointer" combined the faculty of retrieving partridges. When the snipe season commenced in October, the dog took no notice whatever of the "long bills," but looked upon them as vermin and drove

them away. After being out about six times snipe-shooting, finding that his master shot these birds, the dog stood at each snipe, and. when killed, dropped it at the sportsman's feet. The instance is certainly remarkable. Such a faculty of ready apprehension and creditable performance of a difficult mental task (for it

must be remembered that he had his hereditary

influences to overcome) would have been hailed with delight had it been manifested by a child who had not the knowledge of spoken language.-Lancet.

AN ANECDOTE OF THE ARTIST LEITCH."Among my pupils was Lady Ogie, wife of Admiral Sir Charles Ogle. She was a Roman Catholic, and frequently, when I was giving a lesson, she would be visited by ladies of her acquaintance, including many of the Italian nobility. On one of these occasions the servant announced, la Principessa Colonna.' She sat down opposite where I was painting, and she and Lady Ogle had a good deal of conversation. Although I knew Italian I paid little attention to what they were saying, till the princess, getting excited, used the words infame' and 'bestia,' and I observed Lady Ogle look surprised, and ask her friend to tell her all about it. 'I was present,' said the princess, and saw it all; and then she proceeded to relate the following, which I translate as nearly as I can in her own words: 'You must know that when the king (Ferdi

nand II., "Bomba") married the Sardinian Princess at Turin, he stayed for a day or two in Rome on his return to Naples, and his Holiness (Gregory XVI.) was graciously pleased to pay his Majesty a visit of congratulation. On the occasion a very select party was got to gether at the Neapolitan Ambassador's, consisting of cardinals, monsignori, and some of the old noble families. The Pope was very gracious to the new queen. He had heard of her musical accomplishments, and especially of her great interest in church music, and as she said she was devoted to Marcello, his Holiness asked if she would have the kindness (gentilezza) to sing his favorite, No. 28 of the Psalms. The queen replied that to do so would be a great honor. In the mean time the king, her husband, was sitting by, sulky, silent, and gloomy, with his elbow leaning on the piano. The queen turned to him and said playfully, that he must turn the leaves for her. For answer his Majesty of the Two Sicilies rose and kicked the stool from below the queen, who fell heavily on the marble floor. I need not tell you, dear Lady Ogle, of the scene which followed.

The king immediately left without speaking. The poor queen was carried to a bedroom, and I took my departure, when two great doctors, who had been hastily sent for, arrived. I heard that the Pope was terribly shocked.'

ANECDOTES OF THE COMTE DE CHAMBORD. -Numbers of stories and anecdotes are already

being told about the Comte de Chambord,

some old, some new, and many probably not altogether reliable. They all, however, illustrate some phase of character or peculiarity of habit. Owing to the life of comparative retirement led for so many years by the deceased prince, there are no startling and sensational incidents to be recorded of him, but only such simple stories as may be expected of so simple a nature. Many of them refer to his childhood, when his grandfather, Charles X., was still upon the throne, and young Henri was studying with his sister, under the care of the Marquise de Gontaut. Like boys of lower rank, he was rewarded for success at his books by small presents of money, which the young prince, unlike most other boys, devoted to the poor. Indeed, so acute was his sense of charity, that it was only necessary to say to him when he seemed inclined to grow indolent, "Take care, monseigneur; if you are so idle your poor will suffer," for him to set to work with new energy in order to earn his reward. Happening to overhear a distinguished officer say to the king, “Your Majesty cannot imagine how many poor relations I have discovered

He

now I am a rich man," the simple-hearted boy ran up to him, crying, O general, if I had known you had so many poor relations I would have worked much harder. But I've still got twenty francs, and you must take those." One of his favorite sayings, never to be realized, was, "I should like to be a second Henry IV." His love for his native country was always remarkable from his earliest years until he lay, weak and wasted, upon his death-bed, crying, "France! France !" between his moments of pain and unconsciousness. When he was twelve years old he received his first commission, and on that day was told of the tragical death of his father, the Duc de Berri. The boy wept and pardoned, just as his fatherlying in the agonies of death in a room of the Opera House-had exclaimed, "Pardon my murderer." After the death of Charles X., young Henri made a European tour, and was put through every sort of athletic exercise. was taught to swim well at a very early age, and when he could manage to keep afloat with all his clothes on, he uttered the characteristic remark, "Now I shall be able to save somebody." It was in 1841 that he met with the accident that lamed him for life. He was out riding one day in the environs of Kirchberg, when his horse, a very spirited animal, shied at a cart and refused to pass it. The Comte, a bold rider, persisted; the horse reared, and 'No, some bystanders ran to the rescue. no," cried the prince; if there be any danger that is my affair." So saying he dug his spurs into the animal's sides. The frantic horse reared again, lost its balance, and fell over, crushing its rider beneath it. In its efforts to rise the animal weighed still more heavily upon the Comte's leg, causing him dreadful pain, and as it proved in the end, breaking his thigh. His only remark was, "What a pity it was not on the battle-field !'' -Leeds Mercury.

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PETER THE GREAT AT ZARDAM.--Having reached Emmerich, the impetuous and youthful monarch left the embassy, and proceeded in a boat down the Rhine, not halting till he reached Amsterdam, "through which," says one authority, "he flew like lightning, and never once stopped till he arrived at Zardam, fifteen days before the embassy reached Amsterdam." One of his small party in the boat happened to recognize a man there who was fishing in a boat as one Kist, who had worked for some time in Russia. He was called to them, and his astonishment may be conceived at seeing the Czar of all the Russias in a little

boat, dressed like a Dutch skipper, in a red jacket and white trousers. Peter told Kist that he should like to lodge with him; the poor man did not know what to do, but, finding the Czar in earnest, procured him a cottage behind his own, consisting of two small rooms and a loft. Kist was instructed not to let any one know who the new lodger was. A crowd collected to stare at the strangers; and to the questions put to them Peter used to answer in Dutch that they were all carpenters and laborers hard up for a job. But the crowd did not believe it, for the dresses of some of his companions belied the statement. The Czar, shortly after arriving at Zardam, paid visits to a number of the families of Dutch seamen and carpenters whom he was employing at Archangel and elsewhere, representing himself as a brother workman. Among others he called upon a poor widow whose deceased husband had once been a skipper in his employ, and to whom he had some time before sent a present of 500 guilders. The poor woman begged him to tell the Czar how "she never could be sufficiently thankful" for his great kindness, little dreaming that the rough-looking young man

before her was that monarch. He assured her that the Czar should most certainly be acquainted with her message. Peter proceeded to purchase a quantity of carpenter's tools, and his companions were ordered to clothe themselves in the common garb worn in the dockyards. Next day was Sunday, and it became evident that some one had let the cat more or less out of the bag, for crowds of sailors and dockhands assembled before Peter's lodgings, which annoyed him terribly. But the fact is that a Dutch resident of Archangel had written home to his friends, informing them of the projected voyage and inclosing a portrait and description of the Czar. Among the crowd a garrulous barber, who believed he had recognized him, shouted out, Dat is der Tzar!" and all poor Peter's little strategems could not save him from the curiosity of the populace. A Hollander has left a description of him, which would indicate that he was too noticeable to be mistaken by any who had once seen him. He was very tall and robust, quick and nimble of foot, and dexterous and rapid in all his actions; his face was plump and round, fierce in his look, with brown eyebrows, and short curling hair of a brownish color. His gait was quick, and he had a habit of swinging his arms violently, while he always carried a cane, which he occasionally used very freely over the shoulders of those who had offended him.The Sea its Stirring Story of Adventure, Peril, and Heroism.

self-elected to pass sentence on any supreme achievement of human power, must choose on which horn of an inevitable dilemma he may prefer to run the risk of impalement. If, recognizing in this new master-work an equal share of the highest qualities possible to man with that possessed and manifested by any previous writer of now unquestioned supremacy, he takes upon himself to admit, simply and honestly, that he does recognize this, and cannot choose but recognize it, he must know that his judgment will be received with no more tolerance or respect, with no less irritation and derision, than would have been, in Dante's time, the judgment of a critic who should have ventured to rank Dante above Virgil, in Shakespeare's time of a critic who should have dared to set Shakespeare beside Homer. If, on the other hand, he should abstain with all due discretion from any utterance or any intimation of a truth so ridiculous and untimely, he runs the sure and certain risk of leaving behind him a name to be ranked, by all who remember it at all, with those which no man mentions without a smile of compassion or of scorn, according to the quality of error discernible in the critic's misjudgment: innocent and incurable as the confidence of a Johnson or a Jeffrey, venomous and malignant as the rancor of Sainte-Beuve or Gifford. Of these two dangers I choose the former; and venture to admit, in each case with equal diffidence, that I do upon the whole prefer Dante to any Cino or Cecco, Shakespeare to all the Greenes and Peeles and Lillys, Victor Hugo to all or any, of their respective times. The reader who has no tolerance for paradox or presumption has therefore fair warning to read no further.

Auguste Vacquerie, of all poets and all men living the most worthy to praise the greatest poet of his century, has put on record long ago, with all the vivid ardor of his admirable style, an experience of which I now am but too forcibly re ninded. He was once invited by Victor Hugo to choose among the minuscripts of the master's unpublished work, from the drawers containing respectively some lyric or dramatic or narrative masterpiece, of which among the three kinds he would prefer to have

a sample first. Unable to select, he touched a drawer at random, which contained the opening chapters of a yet unfinished story-"Les Misérables." If it is no less hard to choose where to begin in a notice of the "Légende des Siècles"-to decide what star in all this thronged and living heaven should first attract the direction of our critical telescope-it is on the other hand no less certain that on no side can the telescope be misdirected. From the miraculous music of a legendary dawn, when the first woman felt first within her the movement of her first-born child, to the crowning vision of ultimate justice made visible and material in the likeness of the trumpet of doom, no radiance or shadow of days or nights intervening, no change of light or cadence of music in all the tragic pageant of the centuries, finds less perfect expression and response, less absolute refraction or reflection, than all that come and go before or after it. History and legend, fact and vision, are fused and harmonized by the mastering charm of moral unity in imaginative truth. There is no more possibility of discord or default in this transcendent work of human power than in the working of those powers of nature which transcend humanity. In the first verses of the overture we hear such depth and height of music, see such breadth and splendor of beauty, that we know at once these cannot but continue to the end; and from the end, when we arrive at the goal of the last line, we look back and perceive that it has been so. Were this overture but a thought less perfect, a shade less triumphant, we might doubt if what was to follow it could be as perfect and triumphant as itself. We might begin-and indeed, as it is, there are naturally those who have begun to debate with ourselves or to dispute with the poet as to the details of his scheme, the selection of his types, the propriety of his method, the accuracy of his title. There are those who would seem to infer from the choice of this title that the book is, in the most vulgar sense, of a purely legendary cast; who object, for example, that a record of unselfish and devoted charity shown by the poor to the poor is, happily, no "legend. Writers in whom such self-exposure of naked