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quence, which would be sufficient to signalize the name of any mắn ia parliament, who could put forth so elaborate a piece of declamation. 1. diely 9.We have endeavoured, in the above analysis of this very fantastic, but certainly very clever performance, to give the reader a fair impression of the nature and object of its contents. Scattered throughout these volumes, without order or arrangement of any kind, are to be met with questions and points of the most curious interest, and illustrations still as attractive from works written by authors, some of which are consigned almost to oblivion by the prejudices which their avowed principles are calculated to inspire, and others are scarcely known by reason of some unaccountable evil in their destiny. Independently, however, of any value which it may possess on this account, the present work, at all events, will serve as an exposition of the sentiments of a new class of moralists, whose professions of their ability to bring about happy ameliorations in the lot of humanity, offer results which must prove grateful, even in the distance, to the hearts of the benevolent and the good. Enthusiasm, perseverance, indifference to repeated failures, inay, the multitude of failures themselves may often acconipany, but are by no means the test of erroneous doctrines; and it is not impossible, but that, even from the speculations which we might find sufficient reason to despise in their general bearing, some elements would be extracted by agitation, capable of being made subservient to useful ends.

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bainishwa Art. IX.-1. The Literary Souvenir. Edited by Alaric A.

Watts. London: Longman, Rees, & Co. 1834. 2. The Keepsake for 1834. Edited by Frederick Mansel

Reynolds. London: Longman, Rees, & Co. 1834. 3. Heath's Picturesque Annual for 1834:, being Travelling

Sketches on the Sea Coasts of France, with beautifully finish, ed Engravings, from Drawings by Clarkson Stanfield, Esq. By Leitch Ritchie, Esq. London: Longman, Rees, & Co.

1834. 4. The Chameleon. Third and Last Series. London: Long

man, Rees, & Co. Edinburgh: Oliver and Boyd. Glasgow:

Patterson & Rutherglen. 1833. 5. The New Year's Gift for 1834. Edited by Mrs.' Alaric

Watts. London : Longman, Rees, & Co. 1834. There is nothing in the above series of Annuals to suggest to us the necessity of modifying the general description which we were under the necessity of promulgating in our last number upon the series of those publications reviewed in it. We still are reminded in the volumes before us of the degenerate condition to which the

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character of the letter-press portion has descended, whilst, as in the former case, that of the graphic department still sustains its high reputation. We take, however, these uniform symptoms of the apathy of the writers as in the light of a calm, or rather of that marked stillness which is so generally the precursor of an entirely opposite phenomenon; and more than one manifestation has been detected by us in the works we are now considering, which promise that a revolution is at hand. Mr. Watts, for instance, the veteran pioneer in this well-cultivated territory of our literature, appears to abandon the present annual to its own fate, without a word of recommendation in its favour, and seemingly satisfied with claiming his reader's confidence in the pledges which he is determined to fulfil next year. It was impossible, indeed, that the able, intelligent, and experienced persons who have superintended so long this important branch of our periodical literature should have continued to permit it to languish any longer under neglect. Every year of late appears only to lessen still more the interest and importance of the contents of the Annuals, until at last, like painted sepulchres, they enshrine only the skeletons of what once was so fair and seducing. The reader will not, therefore, be surprised when he finds how small is the complement which we are capable of extracting from the volumes before us, compared with the overwhelming mass of their contents, which, in better times, pressed upon us for insertion.

The decorations of the Literary Souvenir have lost nothing of their beauty. The portraits, in an especial manner, are worthy of Mr. Watts's taste. “ Innocence," in particular, engraved by Langster, from a painting by Greuze, is a specimen of sweet expression, such, as we thought, that a Chantrey alone could embody. The contrast which occupies the frontispiece, engraved by Lightfoot, from a painting of Mrs. Wright, is a very prominent merit of the Souvenir; and the portrait of a lady, engraved by Lewis, from a painting of his own, deserves richly to be included in the most meritorious of the performances of the artists in this volume. The“ Departure for Waterloo,” a painting by R. dmonstone, and engraved by H. Shenstone, is a very effective scene; and the illustrations of the family of the Fisherman, are all well worthy of their excellent artists. The principal contents of the Literary Souvenir are tales and pieces of poetry, many of them the composition of well-known contributors to general literature. Sir Aubrey de Vere may be said to maintain the whole weight of the poetical department this year, Mr. Watts being very sparing indeed of his appeals to the muse.

There is, however, a poem of his upon the “ Sister of Charity,” which, in our humble judgment, is nearly worth the whole of the minor efforts contained in these pages. Two of the longest, and best of the narratives, are the “ Eventful Passages in an Unhappy Life," and the " Old Man of the Mountain. There is scarcely

one of the articles to which we think we could safely refer the reader as'a source of interest or amusement, nor did we expect much in this volume beyond mediocrity, being persuaded that those powers and resources which Mr. Watts possesses are reserved for an occasion which will prove more worthy of his reputation than the specimen before us.

In the Keepsake some of the finest paintings of Turner, Parris, Newton, Howard, and other eminent artists, are pressed into the service of such engravers as Heath, Bacon, &c. to give novelty and beauty to that favourite annual. Sappho, a beautiful work of Howard's, is engraved with kindred power by Englehart; and the Milicent of Newton, by Heath, is a very happy portrait. The remaining portraits, all executed in the most perfect manner, are those of Beatrice, Bertha, Amalie de Boufflers, the Widowed Bride, &c. There are two views of French scenery, the one of the palace of Fair Gabrielle, the other of Havre, and, upon the whole, with the exception of this small number, the decorations of the Keepsake are highly deserving of patronage.

The names of many fashionables of both sexes shine in the catalogue of contributors, and we could only wish that the promise which these names involve was better realized than it happens to be. The “ Sandman," with which the Keepsake commences, is a fair specimen of the modern German tale, and will amply repay a perusal, “ The Three Guests,” by Lord Morpeth, “ Sir Roger de Coverley's Picture Gallery," and the tale of the “ Casket," offer nothing very striking to detain us. Mrs. Shelley has contributed the “ Mortal Immortal," a miniature composition strongly impregnated with the peculiarities of her Frankenstein. The lines of Lady Emmiline Stuart Wortley, on “Haddon Hill,' appear to us to be marked by a delicacy of expression, and yet a force of feeling, which give to them a highly impressive character.

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• Thrice venerable, venerated walls,
Now girdled by the ivy's clustering thralls,

And many a darkling and defacing weed,
How alter'd must ye be from what ye were,
When proudly and majestically fair

Ye rose to o'erhang the subject wood and mead.
* Thrice venerable, venerated place!
The abode of a gone-by, forgotten race

The uninhabited – the desolate!
And standing like a fallen, discrowned king,
Liable to each mean, dishonouring thing,

A sovereign reft of all his towering state.
Perchance of old, near thy o'ershadowing roof,
Hath haughty knight, in beamy mail of proof,

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Sustaind the pride of princely chivalry it
And tender woman, trembling, meek beholder,
By very tendernes made braver-o-bolder,

The hearts that owed and paid her fealty.
Oft have thy walls beheld the festal glee
Of mime and masque-revel and pageantry,

When all breathed joyousness and gladness round.
Oft there was hail'd some heir's auspicious birth,
Greeted with strangely-mingling grief and mirth,

Some bridal train, and bride new-robed and crown'd.
"And oft the sadder train of funeral state
Hath issued from thy venerable gate;
Slow trampling o'er the hollow echoing ground,

.
Kindred and vassals bow'd with stately grief,
Bearing unto the tomb some honour'd chief-

Some warlike chief-beloved and renown'd.'--pp. 88, 89. We pass over Mr. Ralph Bernal's tale of "First Affections," though it is told of a living gentleman, and some other minor articles, to take a glance at Mr. Bulwer's pleasant narrative written for the purpose of illustrating the notion that "Love is the best physician. He represents before us in a particular part of the country, some distance from London, a family consisting of an old gentleman named Warburton, with his wife, and one son, Julian, a lad of nineteen years of age, but of a very peculiar turn of mind, and possessed of considerable powers. He had been brought up strangely, for until thirteen years of age he was kept at home, receiving very little instruction indeed. In fact the main part of his education took place in the long room of his father's house, called the picture gallery, where he was shewn all the portraits and told all the feats of his progenitors, who cut in their iron armour or brocaded waistcoats, as well as in the old butler's stories, a very marvellous figure indeed. Young Warburton was destined for the army; but before he was sufficiently matured to join his regiment, it happened that he was engaged in an affair of the heart in his own native place. The object was a beautiful Miss Mowbray, and the story of their loves is beautifully told. Young Warburton joined his regiment during the courtship, but returned to his native place after the expedition to Rochfort, and determined upon marrying Ellen Mowbray. His father and mother obstinately opposed this intention; for the whole of their expectations, which were founded on the rise of their son, would be baffled at once were he to ally himself to a beggar, for such Miss Mowbray appeared to them to be. Julian saw that importunity was of no use, so he said that in one month he would repeat the application for their consent. How he spent the time in the interval it is unnecessary to state, but at the expiration of the month he renewed the question. Both still refused, and the mother

talked of the marriage as disgraceful. At this the feelings of Julian overpowered him, be fell down in a paroxysm of passion, and the sequel showed that a dangerous effect had been produced on his nervous system. Medical assistance was called in, but without any avail. The doctor insisted on knowing the cause of the sudden attack, and being informed of all that had occurred, he forced the parents to come to terms with the Mowbray family, and Ellen was introduced into the chamber of Julian accompanied by his mother. The effect was instantaneous, and this showed that “ love is the best physician.”

From amongst the lighter articles which figure in this volume, we have great pleasure in extracting the following " Lines written in a Book of Travellers in Italy in 1829, by Lady Isabella St. John."

• Each wave that rolls, fresh imports toss

Upon a foreign strand;
And every hourly breath that blows,

Blows breath from Britain's land.
In judging of the motley crowd

Whom steam-boats bring to view,
It seems as if old laws, worn out,

John Bull had brought forth new.
An exile, in our civil code,

Is now the doom decreed
To Britain's sons, who guilty are

Of being much in need,
Of health, or wealth, or friends or bread,

Of kindred minds, or gold,
Of finding England not wax warm,

Or English hearts wax cold.--
This point arranged, I turn my eye

Upon the banish'd throng,
Who hobble, twaddle, dance or prance,

The pathway road along.
A motley crew indeed they are

Who follow in one track,
Content, their face is to the south,

The north wind to their back.
The sun attracts—the breeze propels

To Italy they're bound;
But ere they reach the promised land,

How thin their ranks are found.
An empty purse has here brought-to,

And e'en more empty head,
A second, there, is stopp'd by death,

Or wife just brought to bed ; A nervous dame is here fast bound

By phantasies, and sees On

every side a robber-band Conceal'd amongst the trees.

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