are far better drawn, and infinitely more interesting, than the men.
Even Melissa, though apparently intended only as a foil to the
perfections of Leucippe, wins upon us by her amorous weakness, and the
invincible kindness of heart which impels her, even when acquainted
with the real state of affairs, to protect the lovers against her
husband's malpractices. Leucippe herself goes far to make amends for
the general insipidity of the other characters. Though not a heroine
of so lofty a stamp as Chariclea, in whom the spirit of her royal
birth is all along apparent, she is endowed with a mingled gentleness
and firmness, which is strongly contrasted with the weakness and
pusillanimity of her lover:--her uncomplaining tenderness, when she
finds Clitophon at Ephesus (as she imagines) the husband of another,
and the calm dignity with which she vindicates herself from the
injurious aspersions of Thersander, are represented with great truth
and feeling, and attach a degree of interest to her, which the other
personages of the narrative are very far from inspiring.

In the early part of the story, during the scenes in Tyre and Egypt,
the action is carried on with considerable spirit and briskness; the
author having apparently thus far kept before him, as a model, the
narrative of Heliodorus. But towards the conclusion, and, indeed from
the time of the arrival of Clitophon and Melissa at Ephesus, the
interest flags wofully. The _denouement_ is inevitably foreseen from
the moment Clitophon is made aware that Leucippe is still alive and in
his neighbourhood, and the arrival of Thersander, almost immediately
afterwards, disposes of the obstacle of his engagement to Melissa; but
the reader is acquainted with all these circumstances before the end
of the fifth book; the three remaining books being entirely occupied
by the proceedings in the judicial assembly, the recriminations of the
high-priest, and the absurd ordeal to which Leucippe is subjected--all
apparently introduced for no other purpose than to show the author's
skill in declamation. The display of his own acquirements in various
branches of art and science, and of his rhetorical powers of language
in describing them, is indeed an object of which Achilles Tatius never
loses sight; and continual digressions from the thread of the story
for this purpose occur, often extremely _mal-a-propos_, and sometimes
entirely without reference to the preceding narrative. Thus, when
Clito