In a fresh history of Edward III.'s reign, various episodes, of minor importance, indeed, but ineradicable from the English mind, will always be turned to, to see how far the new lights will permit the old favourites of the popular imagination to stand their ground. Let us turn, then, to the Ostrich Feathers. Mr. Longman, in his recent 'Life of Edward III.,' simply remarks that the current story is a very doubtful one; while Sir Edward Creasy's remark is, that there is no reason at all to doubt it. But passing observations like these, on the one side or on the other, entirely fail to do justice to a very interesting series of papers (not referred to by either of these authors), that may and ought to be read in the 'Archæologia,' mentioning the curious discovery of a contemporary statement of the popular story (Camden having been hitherto the earliest authority for it), which, nevertheless, cannot overcome the strong evidence marshalled by the learned antiquaries, that the feathers really came from Hainault, and through Queen Philippa, not from Bohemia at all, or its gallant old king. The story of the six haltered citizens of Calais Sir Edward accepts likewise, and finds himself able to support it by fresh evidence. In fact, there was never any sufficient reason to doubt it, and our historic scepticism is apt sometimes to be over-scrupulous. For the anecdote, singular as it is, is by no means unique: the incident mentioned in 1 Kings, xx. 31, if not strictly parallel, was quite sufficient to have originated the custom in the picturesque days of the Middle Ages, with the genius of which, too, it entirely harmonises. Monstrelet records a similar instance in the campaigns of the Duke of Bedford, in the following century; and another in Papal history, belonging to 1540, may be read in Ranke.