"So high he went, with such celerity, It seemed as for some god-like merit he Carried from earth, like great Alcides, To Jupiter's ambrosial side is. But, oh! as maiden speakers break Ev'n so, (while fearing to be crushed Each idler from beneath him dodges), Swift, heavy--like an avalanche--rushed To earth the astonished form of Hodges. He lay so flat, he lay so still, He seemed beyond all farther ill. They pinched his side, they shook his head, And then they cried, 'The man is dead!' On this, each felt no pleasing chill; For ev'n among the Bancockeans, A gentleman for fun to kill, Is mostly punished--in plebeians. They stare--look serious--mutter--cough-- And then, without delay, sneak off; Nor at a house for succour knocked, or Thought once of sending for the doctor." The twins, Chang and Ching, remain behind, and taking pity on the maltreated missionary, convey him to their father's house, which was convenient. Here he is treated with kindness, and soon recovers of the contusions and a broken leg, occasioned by his fall. A notable scheme now seized the fertile brain of the money loving missionary. The _lusus naturæ_ which connected the bodies of the twins, he conceived would render their exhibition profitable in England. He obtained the consent of their father to carry them to Europe, by stipulating to allow them one-half of the earnings of their exhibition. The acquiescence of the youths themselves he easily procured by inflaming their curiosity to witness the glory and happiness of England, which he described in the most glowing terms of national panegyric. The twins, however, resolved to consult one of the magicians of the country relative to the result of their intended enterprise, before they should commit themselves to the care of an absolute stranger who was to convey them so far from home. The account of this consultation--the temple of the magician--his manner of consulting the fates, and the mystical style of his addressing the twins, form by much the most fanciful and readable portion of the book, and would certainly entitle the author to some credit for wild and weird conceptions, were it not for the unfortunate circumstance, that the whole is a palpable imitation of the celebrated incantation scene in Der Freischutz. It is also infested with the besetting sin of the whole poem, prolixity. Mr. Bulwer too plainly shows in this work, that he is a bookmaker by profession, and if the faculty of hammering a given number of ideas into as many words as possible, be a useful branch of the craft, it is one in which he has assuredly few competitors.