being a virgin, was probably identical with | lously turned when brought to the altar to the Asiatic goddess in respect of her be sacrificed. Mr. Wood gives an engravdivine power over fertility, childbirth, the ing of a fragment from a sculptured frieze, moon, and hunting." in which the head and neck of a stag, much mutilated, may be distinguished near the arm of what had been the figure of the goddess. The lower part of the image is simply a stump, bandaged round like a bambino or a mummy, the feet being placed close together, with the toes appearing but the What especial cult of Artemis was pracankles concealed. In these respects it tised at Ephesus we know not. There can much resembles the effigies of the god be no doubt that in ancient times she was Serapis. The whole figure is sculptured propitiated, as the destroying goddess, over with small lions, which are also seen with human sacrifices. From the play of reclining on the arms. In all the effigies Euripides we learn that at Tauri, from the arms are extended from the waist, the whence her worship was afterwards transelbows being pressed close and hardly ferred to Brauron, in Attica,* it was the shown. This may be due to projecting custom to immolate to her all Greeks who boughs on the sacred stump, converted might be captured on the shore; and the into those members, just as the numerous sacrifice of Iphigenia by her own father breasts may have been a cluster of such to appease her wrath is familiar to all.† excrescences as we often see on the yew, Mr. Wood supposes that the altar in the the maple, and the elm, analogous to warts great temple was used for burnt-offerings. and wens on animal bodies. In the It was very large, nearly twenty feet Naples effigy two stags stand at her feet, square, and below the pavement was and she holds in each hand a hunter's found a drain, provided probably for carspear wreathed with ivy or vine. In other rying away the water used in washing the representations each hand holds down- surface after sacrifice, the victims being, wards a jagged or serrated implement as he supposes, killed outside, and porwhich has been called a spit. In all the figures a tower-like crown, or modius, and in some a kind of nimbus, surrounds the head. Need we wonder that St. Paul taught the people to put no faith in images made by man's hands (Acts xix. 26), when he saw and heard of all Asia prostrating itself before such a monster, or that the early Christians rose in anger against the splendid temple that sheltered it? Pliny tells us that the statue of the Ephesian Diana (Artemis) was of wood, but some thought it was ebony, others of vine (vitigineus); and he gives on the authority of Mucianus, thrice consul, even the name of the artist — Endoeus. The statue was moistened with fragrant oil exuding from many holes, that the wood might remain sound and the joinings show no defect. "Adicit multis foraminibus nardo rigari, ut medicatus umor alat teneatque juncturas." This reminds one of the Hindu custom of pouring ghee over the sacred stones or pillars, a practice not unknown to the Greeks and the Romans. It is likely that perforations in the numerous breasts were thus made typical of the fostering influences which were attributed to the moon. The stag, symbolical perhaps of the swiftness of the goddess in the chase, seems to have been her familiar attendant. It was into a deer (hapos) that Iphigenia was miracu N. H. xvi. 79. tions of the flesh brought to the altar as a burnt-offering (p. 258).§ As a huntress, slaying with her bow both human beings of her own sex and also animals, and as presiding over childbirth, she was more feared than venerated, or, rather, she was venerated because she was feared. To understand her complex relations with man, we must go back to very primitive notions connected with element-worship and lunar influences. A considerable part of Mr. Wood's volume is occupied by an appendix containing a selection from the numerous and important inscriptions he had the singular good fortune to discover. Whether these are exactly in place in such a work it is not easy to say. On the one hand, from the mutilated and fragmentary appearance of many of them, they are not likely to prove attractive to the majority of readers; on the other, they constitute so important a part of the general discoveries at Ephesus, that it seems natural to introduce a selection of them in a work of such scholarly pretensions. We shall content ourselves with a very brief notice of them, premising that they are arranged by Mr. Wood under eight heads, viz., those found (1) in the temple wall, or peribolus, and the Augusteum; (2) those from the temple, found in the great theatre; (3) those from the actual site of the temple; (4) from the Augusteum; (5) from_the_odeum; (6) from the great theatre ; (7) from the tombs and sarcophagi; (8) from the city and suburbs. They are for the most part decrees of the senate and people of Ephesus, or records of contests, or donations of money or statues to the goddess, votive or dedicatory inscriptions, epitaphs, or claims | to the possession of tombs, inventories or dispositions (diarúžeis) of property for certain specified uses, statements of fines or penalties imposed, notices of walls, boundary-pillars, roads, and watercourses, with the names of the builders and the dates by consulships, grants of citizenship to public benefactors, enrolment in local tribes, etc., etc. The bulk of these refer to the reigns of Marcus Aurelius and Antoninus Pius, some of them to Hadrian, while others are considerably earlier, and one, which is of the highest importance and interest, and fortunately is not only nearly perfect but distinctly legible, dates from the period of Alexander the Great, if not considerably earlier; for the translator remarks in a note at the end, that though nothing is known of the men named therein in connection with the history of Ephesus," in the year 409 B.C. a state of things existed in Asia Minor which corresponds well with that referred to above," referring to Xenophon, Hellen. i., ch. 2. It is a rather curious document, apparently containing regulations for the rates of borrowing money on mortgage, and it throws considerable light on financial customs prevailing in the time of Demosthenes. But the most important document of all, perhaps, though much later, is the great "Salutarian" inscription, of the finding and removal of which Mr. Wood gives an interesting account in pp. 83-7. One of the blocks was so large that it weighed four tons. The date of this inscription is about A.D. 104 (p. 73). It contains a series of decrees relating to certain gold and silver images dedicated to the goddess by a rich Roman knight, C. Vibius Salutarius, together with a sum of money for keeping them in order. It is ordained that these statues shall be taken on certain days in solemn procession from * In Greek, Σɛẞɑorεlov, a shrine or sacred precinct dedicated to the worship of the deified Augustus. The ancient Greeks consecrated such places to gods and heroes, as Θετιδείση, Ορεστείου, Εκατεῖον, Θησείον, etc. the temple to the theatre and back again, -an enactment which shows how easily similar processions of statues of saints were adopted in the early Church, and are kept up in Roman Catholic countries at the present day. The work of reducing ancient inscriptions to the form in which they are here presented to the reader - that of ordinary classical texts, with a translation appended — is much more tedious and difficult than is commonly supposed. First, there is the deciphering of the letters on the stone. Occasionally this is impossible; generally there is considerable difficulty; rarely is it quite plain and easy, even to experts. The least flaw in the marble, the least fracture, the loss of a corner, or a small piece knocked out of the side, or the obliteration of a few words by attrition, may interrupt the tenor of an important and interesting passage, and by rendering the context uncertain, may make the interpretation in great measure conjectural. In but too many cases as several almost blank pages lamentably show-more words have been lost than preserved. Moreover, this literal transcript is frequently a work of time. Letter by letter it has to be written down; the aid of paper rubbings or "squeezings," or casts in plaster of Paris, has often to be invoked. Hours may be spent, sometimes fruitlessly, sometimes with a success and a certainty that may justly be called a triumph of scholarship, over half-a-dozen letters, some of which have to be identified, it may be, by the remaining half or quarter of a stroke. A good illustration of this is a word in the No. 7 inscription from the Temple of Diana (Appendix, p. 10). At the end of verse seven, a few very faint traces of letters indicated the name of the person to whom the inscription, an elegant composition in elegiac verse, was dedicated. After much trouble, and some wrong guesses, the letters EEOYHPON were decided upon as undoubtedly the true reading. This, of course, represents Severus, and as the name is associated with another Latin name known in history, Ummidius Quadratus, and with Hadrianus, the translation is given accordingly, "Hadrianus dedicated this statue to Severus." But Dr. Hort, in a learned note which forms a postscript to the volume, shows good reasons for thinking the stonecutter meant 2E OYHPON, "Thee, Verus," and he considers the inscription records no less a person than Annius Verus, the father of the emperor Marcus Aurelius, and the allusions in the epigram to a "royal marriage" are to the union of Verus' daughter, Annia Cornificia, only sister of Marcus Aurelius, to a man of great wealth, "whose name is on good grounds assumed to have been Ummidius Quadratus." and a long study and comparison of the various inscriptions can effect. Some of the lost or mutilated sentences will perhaps be made good by parallelisms from other inscriptions; and this can be done with the less risk of error from the technical nature of most of the inscriptions, in which the same formulæ are repeated with but little variety. But, secondly, having got an accurate transcript in the uncial character, which alone was then in use, we still have the words to divide, the sentences to distrib- Next to the discovery of the great temute, the punctuation to arrange. This ple, Mr. Wood's exploration of the theatre task alone is often difficult, and not seldom was the most important work. It is one uncertain in its results. Every one knows of the largest, he says, in Asia Minor; how a change of punctuation may affect and he gives a plan of it drawn to a scale the sense of an entire passage. Then, on page 68. As usual, it was cut out of thirdly, there must be made a new tran- the slope of a hill, and like the theatre script in the cursive character, divided and under the Acropolis at Athens, it compunctuated, tentatively, perhaps, for the manded a view of the sea,- - for the antime, and always liable to changes and cient theatres, our readers are aware, were improvements as the full meaning becomes perfectly open in all parts, except that the more and more developed. Fourthly, we Romans used awnings (vela or velaria). have a work to do that none but accom- The diameter of the orchestra was not plished scholars can properly execute less than one hundred and ten feet, and the accentuation of the cursive transcript. the proscenium was built almost entirely Fifthly, the still difficult task remains of of white marble, adorned with granite coltranslation. It is unnecessary to say that umns and highly enriched entablatures of this often involves doubts and difficulties fine white marble. These, having fallen that are almost insuperable. The histor-upon the stage, remained there undisical allusions may be unknown; the local turbed (p. 69). A much smaller, but customs, names of contests, tribes, officers of state or of religion, may be either wholly unknown, or only to be discovered or verified by a diligent search among the thousands of inscriptions and coins al-and inscriptions. Nothing, it seems, was ready in the hands of the learned, or accessible to the learned alone. It will generally happen that in some passages different views of the precise meaning will be taken by different interpreters; and the balance of probability, as well as the reasons of it, have to be weighed and discussed, and an agreement arrived at, before the document can see the light in a published work, and be put forward for the criticism of others. All these difficulties, and many more, have been actually realized in the rendering of the inscriptions which Mr. Wood was enabled some two years ago to deposit in our national museum, and has now presented for the first time to the reading public. The labor of the transcripts, we believe, is almost entirely his own; in the other departments he has called to his assistance some of the most experienced scholars of the day. With every effort that has been taken to secure the utmost accuracy, it will probably be felt that very much remains to be done which time only Some few have already appeared in other collections of inscriptions, but the bulk are now first made known. hardly less elaborate building, was the odeum, or music-hall, of which Mr. Wood also gives a plan at page 52. The exploration of this proved rich both in sculptures found of an amphitheatre, such as would We A more conclusive proof lies in the words KaTà fighting. St. Paul evidently means, "If, when I was άνθρωπον, which cannot be reconciled with actual at Ephesus, I fought, as some men do actually fight, in the arena with wild beast, even that is of no use to me if there is no resurrection." The case is clearly put hypothetically, "Supposing I had fought at Ephesus," etc. distinct from such contests, and we believe the orchestra proper was never used as an arena for the latter purposes. Both these buildings were of Roman construction; and, speaking generally, the ruins and inscriptions indicated a period of great splendor in ancient Ephesus from the time of Augustus to that of Marcus Aurelius. We have been compelled to omit the notice of many important details, but we have said enough to justify a prediction that Mr. Wood's "Discoveries" will occupy a place in archæological lore which will hand down both his name and his fame to posterity. THE MARQUIS OF LOSSIE. BY GEORGE MACDONALD, AUTHOR OF "MALCOLM," ETC. CHAPTER LIV. THE FEY FACTOR. WHEN Mr. Crathie heard of the outrage the people of Scaurnose had committed upon the surveyors, he vowed he would empty every house in the place at Michaelmas. His wife warned him that such a wholesale proceeding must put him in the wrong with the country, seeing they could not all have been guilty. He replied it would be impossible, the rascals hung so together, to find out the ringleaders even. She returned that they all deserved it, and that a correct discrimination was of no consequence: it would be enough to the purpose if he made a difference. People would then say he had done his best to distinguish. The factor was persuaded, and made out a list of those who were to leave, in which he took care to include all the principal men, to whom he gave warning forthwith to quit their houses at Michaelmas. I do not know whether the notice was in law sufficient, but exception was not taken on that score. re-forming, some dropping away, others falling to. Such nid-nodding, such uplifting and fanning of palms among the women, such semi-revolving side-shakes of the head, such demonstration of fists and such cursing among the men, had never before been seen and heard in Scaurnose. The result was a conclusion to make common cause with the first victim of the factor's tyranny - namely, Blue Peter whose expulsion would arrive three months before theirs, and was unquestionably head and front of the same cruel scheme for putting down the fisher-folk altogether. Three of them, therefore, repaired to Joseph's house, commissioned with the following proposal and condition of compact: that Joseph should defy the notice given him to quit, they pledging themselves that he should not be expelled. Whether he agreed or not, they were equally determined, they said, when their turn came, to defend the village; but if he would cast in his lot with them, they would, in defending him, gain the advantage of having the question settled three months sooner for themselves. Blue Peter sought to dissuade them, specially insisting on the danger of bloodshed. They laughed. They had anticipated objection, but being of the youngest and roughest in the place, the idea of a scrimmage was, neither in itself nor in its probable consequences, at all repulsive to them. They answered that a little bloodletting would do nobody any harm; neither would there be much of that, for they scorned to use any weapon sharper than their fists or a good thick rung: the women and children would take stones of course. Nobody would be killed, but every meddlesome authority taught to let Scaurnose and fishers alone. Peter objected that their enemies could easily starve them out. Dubs rejoined that if they took care to keep the sea-door open, their friends at Portlossie would not let them starve. Grosert said he made no doubt the factor would have the Seaton to fight as well as Scaurnose, for they must see plainly enough that their turn would come next. Joseph said the factor would apply to the magistrates, and they would call out the militia. "An' we'll call out Buckie," answered Dubs. Scaurnose, on the receipt of the papers, all at the same time, by the hand of the bellman of Portlossie, was like a hive about to swarm. Endless and complicated were the comings and goings between the houses, the dialogues, confabulations and consultations, in the one street and its many closes. In the middle of it, "Man," said Fite Folp, the eldest of in front of the little public-house, stood, all the three, "the haill shore, frae the that day and the next, a group of men and Brough to Fort George, 'ill be up in a women, for no five minutes in its compo- jiffie, an' a' the cuintray, frae John o' nent parts the same, but, like a cloud, Groats to Berwick, 'ill hear hoo the fisherever slow-dissolving and as continuously | fowk's misguidit; an' at last it'll come to the king, an' syne we'll get oor richts, for | his duty to resist, much as it would gratify he'll no stan' to see't, an' maitters 'll sune the natural man. They must therefore be set upon a better futtin' for puir fowk excuse him if he left Scaurnose at the time 'at has no freen' but God an' the sea." appointed. He hoped he should leave friends behind him. They listened respectfully, showed no offence, and did not even attempt to argue the matter with him. But certain looks passed between them. After this Blue Peter was a little happier in his mind and went more briskly about his affairs. CHAPTER LV. THE WANDERER. The greatness of the result represented laid hold of Peter's imagination, and the resistance to injustice necessary to reach it stirred the old tar in him. When they took their leave he walked halfway up the street with them, and then returned to tell his wife what they had been saying, all the way murmuring to himself as he went, "The Lord is a man of war." And ever as he said the words he saw as in a vision the great man-of-war in which he had served sweeping across the bows of a Frenchman, and raking him, IT was a lovely summer evening, and gun after gun, from stem to stem. Nor the sun, going down just beyond the point did the warlike mood abate until he of the Scaurnose, shone straight upon the reached home and looked his wife in the Partan's door. That it was closed in such eyes. He told her all, ending with the half-weather had a significance - general as repudiatory, half-tentative words, "That's well as individual. Doors were oftener what they say, ye see, Annie." closed in the Seaton now. The spiritual "And what say ye, Joseph?" returned | atmosphere of the place was less clear and his wife. open than hitherto. The behavior of the factor, the trouble of their neighbors, the conviction that the man who depopulated Scaurnose would at least raise the rents upon them, had brought a cloud over the feelings and prospects of its inhabitants which their special quarrel with the oppressor for Malcolm's sake had drawn deeper around the Findlays; and hence it was that the setting sun shone upon the closed door of their cottage. "Ow! I'm no sayin'," he answered. "What are ye thinkin' than, Joseph ?" she pursued. "Ye canna say ye're no thinkin'." "Na, I'll no say that, lass,” he replied, but said so more. "Weel, gien ye winna say," resumed Annie, "I wull; an' my say is, 'at it luiks to me unco like takin' things intil yer ain han'." "An' whase han' sud we tak them intil but oor ain?" said Peter, with a falseness which in another would have roused his righteous indignation. "That's no the p'int. It's whase han' ye're takin' them oot o'," returned she, and spoke with solemnity and signifi cance. Peter made no answer, but the words Vengeance is mine began to ring in his mental ears instead of The Lord is a man of war. Before Mr. Graham left them, and while Peter's soul was flourishing, he would have simply said that it was their part to endure, and leave the rest to the God of the sparrows. But now the words of men whose judgment had no weight with him threw him back upon the instinct of selfdefence driven from which by the words of his wife, he betook himself, not, alas! to the protection, but to the vengeance, of the Lord. The next day he told the three commissioners that he was sorry to disappoint them, but he could not make common cause with them, for he could not see it But a shadow darkened it, cutting off the level stream of rosy red. An aged man in Highland garments stood and knocked. His overworn dress looked fresher and brighter in the friendly rays,' but they shone very yellow on the bare hollows of his old knees. It was Duncan MacPhail, the supposed grandfather of Malcolm. He was older and feebler — I had almost said blinder, but that could not be certainly shabbier than ever. The glitter of dirk and broadsword at his sides, and the many-colored ribbons adorning the old bagpipes under his arm, somehow enhanced the look of more than autumnal, of wintry, desolation in his appearance. Before he left the Seaton the staff he carried was for show rather than use, but now he was bent over it, as if but for it he would fall into his grave. His knock was feeble and doubtful, as if unsure of a welcoming response. He was broken, sad, and uncomforted. A moment passed. The door was unlatched, and within stood the Partaness, wiping her hands in her apron and looking thunderous. But when she saw who |