DE QUATREFAGES’ RAMBLES OF A NATURALIST. 
95 
The Eambles of a Naturalist on the Coasts of France, Spain, and 
Sicily. By A. de Quatrefages, &c., &c. Translated (with the 
Author’s sanction and co-operation) by E. C. Otte, Honorary 
Member of the Literary and Philosophical Society of St. Andrew’s. 
In two yols., 8vo. London: Longman and Co. 1857. Price 15s. 
Thanks to Miss Otte, we have now before us in an English dress the 
essays by M. Qnatrefages, which some years since charmed the readers 
of the “ Bevue des deux Mondes;” and before proceeding for a short space 
to notice the “Hambies,” we would give our meed of praise to the 
translator for the excellent manner in which her task has been performed. 
We meet with no French idioms, no mistranslated passages, but, on the 
contrary, we have a faithful rendering of the original into good sterling 
English, quite delightful to read. It may appear an easy task to 
translate good French into good English, but that it is not so in practice 
we have abundant demonstration in many a translation that is issued by 
our British press. This English edition being dedicated to an illustrious 
Scotchman, we must not object to Scottish local names being applied to 
some common shells, &c. 
Where so much is good, we know not what specially to commend. 
Living in a metropolis that stands on the borders of a bay, which, had 
it as blue a canopy, as brilliant a sky, might almost vie with that famed 
one of Naples, we could not resist a smile when we read of our author 
packing up his books and instruments, and wending his way to an 
ocean, which he was for the first time to behold, and for the first time 
to understand the difference between the ebbing and flowing of the 
tides. 
The impression that a first sight of a thing so noble as the mighty 
sea had on our author is simply yet elegantly told. On reading it, we 
closed our eyes for a moment to recollect if we could think of any 
account of a first sight of the sea; and though we could think of none, 
yet imagination led us to a far distant time, and to a far distant 
country, and we saw a few toil-worn men at early dawn leaving 
a poor Indian village, and with faces in which hope seemed to con¬ 
quer weariness, betake themselves to climb the adjoining mountain 
side. Soon they emerged from the tangled forest, and there was 
nought before them but the bare mountain top: here they halt, and 
one, evidently a leader, ascends alone, and then we see him sink down 
upon his knees, as if in an ecstacy of delight! Yes, after much weariness, 
and labour, and pain, and toil, the daring, the desperate Yasco Nunez 
de Balboa for the first time beheld below him a vast chaos of rock, and 
forest, and green savannahs, and wandering streams; while at a dis¬ 
tance the waters of the wished-for ocean glittered in the morning sun. 
“ The imagination,” says the gifted Irving, “ delights to picture forth 
the splendid confusion of his thoughts!” Was this the great Indian 
Ocean, studded with precious islands, abounding in gold, in gems, and 
spices, and bordered by the-gorgeous cities and wealthy marts of the East? 
or was it some lonely sea locked up in the embraces of savage, uncultivated 
