survives the frail hand that penned it, I shall
snatch my scraps; and believe me, like the
continental chiffonnier, I shall throw nothing into
my basket of which I have not some appreciative
sense or comprehension.

Here, for instance, is a royal letter, written,
five hundred and forty-four years ago, by King
Edward the First, then aged sixty-three years
of age, touching the performance of an operation
with the fleam by the barber-surgeon or
monk leech of the district, upon the person
(as I make out) of the Queen Margaret, the
sister of the fourth Philip of France, surnamed
Le Bel, which lady King Edward had
married but three years previously:

"DEAR COUSIN,—We have well understood
the Letters which you sent us by the Bearer of
these presents, and with respect to your
entreaties that we should let you know whether
we feel better now while on our journey through
the Country than we did before, we inform you
that each day is better than the last, and that
we are already—God be thanked!—in good
health. And if you would vouchsafe to inquire
into the manner of our entry into St. Albans,
you would know how we comport ourself in our
Country Progress. And, touching that which
you tell us that your physician has advised you
to be blooded next Tuesday, which you are
loth to do until our will is ascertained, we let
you know that we will and command you to
allow yourself to be blooded in any place and
at any time you shall think most fit for the
estate of your body. Concerning your prayer
to ascertain you of our progress between Langley
and Banstead we know nothing certainly as
yet, and will give you no account thereof until
we know that you have been blooded. Therefore
we will that you cause yourself to be
blooded before coming to Banstead, as bleeding
will be more easy to you than after your
arrival, for you will then be in a greater
commotion than you are now. Therefore we will
that you cause yourself to be blooded at the
earliest and best opportunity for your relief.
And as soon as you shall let us know how you
have been blooded, we will tell you all about
our journey from Langley to Banstead.

                                        "St. Albans, May 4."
                                           [1305, 33 Edward I.]

The original letter, of which the foregoing is
a close translation, is without date, but the
deficiency is to be supplied by thus tracing the
progress of the king by other documentary
evidence. On Saturday, May 1, 1305, King
Edward the First entered St. Albans, and leaving
on the 5th, returned to Westminster through
Ware. He then went to Langley, stayed there
till the 10th, and then again betook himself to
Westminster. On the 12th he was to be found
at Watford and Greenford; on the 14th at Harrow,
and on the 18th at Kennington, whence he
departed on the 26th, and reached Banstead
(named in our letter) on the same day.

As to the bleeding, and the place where it was
performed, it is as well to note that in the old
monastic houses where the living was good,
and the lives of the brethren sedentary, there
were appointed times for bleeding which were
called the "tempora minutionis." In the Liber
ordinis S. Victoris parisiensis the following
rules were laid down:

"This is the order of bleeding. Five times in
the year shall general bleedings be accomplished,
out of which, except under peril of grave sickness,
shall a license for bleeding be by no means
granted to any one. For it is thus frequently
allowed to prevent the necessity of it, except on
these occasions. The 1st is in September, the
2nd before Advent, the 3rd before Lent, the 4th
after Easter, and the 5th after Pentecost:
and the bleeding shall last for three days. After
the third day the brethren shall come to Matins
and otherwise meet together, so that on the 4th
day they may receive absolution."

In the Chronicle of St. Trudo it is stated,
"When the Brethren were bled, the whole
assembly were bled together, in silence, and with
psalmody, sitting orderly in one Celle." (Truly
a cheerful assembly!)

The instrument used was called the
"Lanceola," whence our own term "Lancet.''

PORTRAIT OF AN AUTHOR, PAINTED
                BY HIS PUBLISHER.

                  IN TWO SITTINGS.

THE Author was a Frenchman; and he has
been dead nearly nine years. Over the whole
continent of Europe, wherever the literature of
France has penetrated, his readers are numbered
by tens of thousands. Women of all ranks and
orders have singled him out, long since, as the
marked man, among modern writers of fiction,
who most profoundly knows and most subtly
appreciates their sex in its strength and in its
weakness. Men, whose critical judgment is
widely and worthily respected, have declared
that he is the deepest and truest observer of
human nature whom France has produced since
the time of Molière. Unquestionably, he ranks
as one of the few great geniuses who appear
by ones and twos, in century after century of
authorship, and who leave their mark ineffaceably
on the literature of their age. And yet, in
spite of this widely-extended continental fame,
and this indisputable right and title to enjoy it,
there is probably no civilised country in the
Old World in which he is so little known as in
England. Among all the readers—a large class
in these islands—who are, from various causes,
unaccustomed to study French literature in its
native language, there are probably very many
who have never even heard of the name of
HONORÉ DE BALZAC?

Unaccountable as it may appear at first sight,
the reason why the illustrious author of Eugénie
Grandet, Le Père Goriot, and La Recherche
de l'Absolu, happens to be so little known to
the general public of England is, on the surface
of it, easy enough to discover. Balzac is little
known, because he has been little translated.
An English version of Eugénie Grandet was
advertised, lately, as one of a cheap series of novels.