The Press.
London, England, 1856-03-01 00:00:00

210

His visit to the Crimea gives glimpses of the
incredible hardships our troops had to sustain, and
indicates the difficulties the commanders had to con-
tend with. The one great blunder, occasioning per-
plexities not to be described, and a mass of suffering
fearful to reflect on, was, that from the first no pro-
vision was made to winter the army before Sebas-
topol. Hence wants of all kinds, and the extreme
destitution and misery which prevailed. The author
came from the Crimea to Constantinople in a ship
employed to convey the sick. No proper provision
had been made for them :
The dreadful odours that pervade the ship become more
intolerable every hour, notwithstanding the most abundant
nse of disinfecting fluid, chloride of lime, and the like,
which, quite powerless to suppress the stench, seem
but to aid in producing a more outrageous compound of
" villainous smells."

During the still hours of the night groans and sup-
pressed cries of pain could be heard throughout the ship,
telling of anguish and tortures unendurable among the un-
happy sufferers on the decks below. On those hard decks
how many a poor soul is doomed to " shuffle off its
mortal coil.' . . . . When all is over, and the corpse,
rolled in a blanket, is carried on deck, a little commotion
about the gangway, and a slight splash in the sea along-
side, alone announce that another fellow mortal has gone
to his last resting-place. No ceremony is observed, no
solemn words are spoken. As the spirit departed without
comfort, so the body is cast forth without prayer, and with-
ont intercession, like so much worthless carrion.

The author is not without a perception of the
ludicrous. He 13 in the following passage de-
scribing a ride he took in the environs of Constanti-
nople :

Ir. another field I found a Turkish husbandman at
work, planting wheat. His plough was quite as rude as
those of Egypt, from which, indeed, it differed only in
being fitted with a short spur or stump of wood, to serve in
a sort of way the purposes of a mould-board.
Entering the field, I remained for a while to observe how
this rude implement performed its work, and to admire the
extreme docility of the pair of small oxen, which, guided
by reins, seemed as obedient and tractable as the steadiest
horses.

While thus engaged, a couple of English sailors came up
along the road, mounted on horses, and as gay and as full
of spirits as Jack is wont to be on such occasions. They
no sooner espied me riding beside the plough, than,
speaking in a broad Somersetahire dialect, one cried out,
" Holloa! here's a varmer!" And then, addressing his
companion, he continued, " I say, Joe, this is English,
though, arnt it? Here's an oud varmer, out ■ viewin 'is
ground, but he've got too good a snit a clothes of 'is back,
though." With this critical remark the two jogged on in
search of fresh wonders, and never doubting that they had
seen a real live Turkish farmer, and their friends at home
will no doubt bear in due time how they saw a farmer in
Turkey riding round his ground for all the world like an
English farmer, only that he carried a red figure-head.
Of his further voyage it is unnecessary to say more
than it is modestly and agreeably written.

Our Ourn Story. By Selina Bunbury. Three Vols.

London: Hurst and Blackett.
Miss BUNBURY is better as a tourist than a novelist.
Her " Life in Sweden " is very superior to " Our Own
Story." There is plenty of incident in the latter,
but nothing resembling actual life. It is the story
of a twin brother and sister, narrated by the sister.
Born of wealthy parents, their youth is passed in
luxury ; but just as they are entering life their
father dies ; their property is lost, through that
blessing to novelists, a Chancery suit, and the young
lady turns authoress, in the hope that she may be
able to contribute towards the wants of their house
hold, and support her brother at college. Wonder-
ful to relate, she succeeds in her endeavours, and
for the first production of her pen receives 501., that
being the sum she asked the publisher. Next we
hear of her receiving 2001. for a work—a large sum
for a young and unknown girl to receive for a produc-
tion. But exaggeration is the fault of the book, both
as to matter and manner. The following passage
will give a fair idea of its style :

The blossom of hope within young hearth folds closer
its petals as it breathes more deeply the air of earth.
The twins are no longer what they were : true, the
young authoress is an authoress still, only grown a little
older; and the student is a student still, only he has re-
moved bis standing to Oxford. But where is that authoress
now? Not in her green room, with her young flushed
face bent over the green reclining board on her knee;
not at the writing•table which had succeeded it; nor yet
in the study she has since called her own. No ; she is
sitting on a footstool beside the great chair of a gently
fading mother.

The mother dies ; and there is much said of " the
dreadful necessity " of dealing with the mercenary
hirelings of death. But it is remarked that a great
change has taken place in that respect :
A funeral can be made now decent, and even pretty and
cheering, without being rninously expensive.
Miss Banbury has plenty of invention. It would
have been better had she drawn less largely from
that faculty, and more from nature and common
sense.

THE P R ESS.

PUBLICATIONS RECETVED.--Eza. 28.
BOOKS.

Poland, and Other Poems. Groombridge and Sons.
The Pleasures of Music, and Other Poems. Ditto.
De L'Orme. " Parlour Library." Hodgson.
The Influence of Christianity upon International Law.
Macmillan.

Diary of Travels in Three Quarters of the Globe.
Saunders and Otley.
Sql, or the Narrow, Narrow World. Routledge.
After Dark. Wilkie Collins. Smith and Elder.
Garlands of Verse. Thomas Leigh. Ditto.
The Log cf the " Pet." Ditto.

Lucius Junius Brutus. A Tragedy, in Five Acts. Henry

F. Robinson.

Bell and llaldi.