“DONALD” is a true story, repeated to Mr. Browning by one who had heard it from its hero the so-called Donald, himself.  This man, a fearless sportsman in the flush of youth and strength, found himself one day on a narrow mountain ledge—­a wall of rock above, a precipice below, and the way barred by a magnificent stag approaching from the opposite side.  Neither could retrace his steps.  There was not space enough for them to pass each other.  One expedient alone presented itself:  that the man should lie flat, and the stag (if it would) step over him.  And so it might have been.  Donald slipped sideways on to his back.  The stag, gently, cautiously, not grazing him with the tip of a hoof, commenced the difficult transit; the feat was already half accomplished.  But the lifted hind legs laid bare the stomach of the stag; and Donald, who was sportsman first, and man long afterwards, raised himself on his elbow, and stabbed it.  The two rolled over into the abyss.  The stag, for the second time, saved its murderer’s life; for it broke his fall.  He came out of the hospital into which he had been carried, a crippled, patched-up wretch, but able to crawl on hands and knees to wherever his “pluck” might be appreciated, and earn a beggar’s livelihood by telling how it was last displayed.

These facts are supposed to be related in a Scotch bothie, to a group of young men already fired by the attractions of sport; and are the narrator’s comment on the theory, that moral soundness as well as physical strength, is promoted by it.

“SOLOMON AND BALKIS” is the Talmudic version[109] of the dialogue, which took place between Solomon and the Queen of Sheba, on the occasion of her visit to the wise King.  They begin by talking for effect:  and when questioned by each other as to the kind of persons they most readily admit to their respective courts, Solomon answers that he welcomes the Wise, whatever be their social condition; and Balkis declares that her sympathies are all with the Good.  But a chance (?) movement on her part jostles the hand of Solomon; and the ring it bears slips round, so that the truth-compelling Name is turned outwards instead of in.  Then he confesses that he loves the Wise just so long as he is the object of their appreciation; she that she loves the Good so long as they bear the form of young and handsome men.

He acknowledges, with a sigh, that the soul, which will soar in heaven, must crawl while confined to earth; she owns, with a laugh and a blush, that she has not travelled thus far to hold mental communion with him.[110]

“CRISTINA[111] AND MONALDESCHI” gives the closing scene of the life of Monaldeschi, in what might be Cristina’s own words.  She is addressing the man whom she has convicted of betraying her, and at whose murder she is about to assist; and the monologue reflects the outward circumstance of this murder, as well as the queen’s deliberate cruelty, and her victim’s cowardice.  They are in the