characters are most highly finished. The whole of the "Dawlish set are impayable. Their conversations and doings are reported with an ease, finesse, and vivacity, almost worthy of Sheridan, in the bright days when he wrote the "School for Scandal." This book will delight the young novelreader, and at the same time furnish food for reflection to the politician and statesman.

Italy; a Poem. By SAMUEL ROGERS, 1 vol. And Poems. By the SAME. 1 vol. This is a cheap and elegant pocket edition of the works of one of our few living classics-of a man of as pure a taste as ever graced this or any other age. All true book-lovers ought to have the large illustrated edition for their library shelves, and this one for common use. The little wood-cuts liberally scattered through both volumes are all after the most tasteful designs. The type and general getting up of the volumes are in Mr. Moxon's usual and elegant style. Few poets have been so fortunate as Mr. Rogers in seeing such beautiful editions of their works.

The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket, North America.

In matters of shipwrecks, sailors' adventures, and new "discovered islands far away," we have, thank the stars, as large a faith as most men of our years and discretion; but this Nantucket man is too much for us -his narrative is more than we can swallow! The marvellous story-as we learn from the preface-was first published in an American periodical as a work of fiction. It is a pity it was not left as such. As a romance, some portions of it are sufficiently amusing and exciting; but, when palmed upon the public as a true thing, it cannot appear in any other light than that of a bungling business—an impudent attempt at imposing on the credulity of the ignorant.

Kindred; A Comedy. Translated from the German of Kotzebue. By LIEUT.-COLONEL CAPADose.

This is one of the most pleasing of Kotzebue's superficial, artificial, and yet lively and interesting dramas. We prefer it, in most respects, to the "Stranger," which was once so unaccountably popular in this country, as it still is in sundry parts of Europe. "Kindred" is just the sort of play that a family party of amateur actors might venture upon with safety. There is a neatness and correctness in the translation which induce us to wish Colonel Capadose would take up some German work of higher value.

Land Sharks and Sea Gulls. By CAPTAIN GLASCOCK, R.N., Author of "The Naval Sketch Book," "Tales of a Tar," &c.

These volumes contain two pleasant stories, "Wife-Hunting," and the "Man of War." They are both, of course, nautical, and they are both in Captain Glascock's best manner. The two narratives are tied together by a very slight thread; but the Captain's merit lies rather in detached, short, brilliant sketches of sea-life, than in the construction of long and Nov. 1838.-VOL. XXIII. NO. XCI.

M

regular plots. Nobody that has a feeling for the sea, and the oddities of seamen-and what Englishman has not ?-will take up this work without reading it through. Its humour is very rich. We have been delighted with the fighting chaplain, with Pleasant Paul, with Larking Larry, Potter, Leatherlungs, Long-headed Bob, and nearly all the rest of the fellows afloat. Potter's penitent confession, when he fancies he is dying, and how he threw a French cat into the sea for spoiling the wind: and how he married many wives without waiting to bury one; and how he has been haunted in his hammock o' nights by a white bony hand holding a broken tombstone with the inscription ANN DOBBS, because he once went with Slashin' Sam into a churchyard, and broke up tomb-stones to make holy-stones to rub the ship's decks, is a masterpiece-as capital a yarn as ever was spun, and enough in itself to make the fortune of the book. We have also been struck with a description of a fog in the Channel—a far more serious thing than a London fog-and with a gun-boat fight in the Straits of Gibraltar. In the earlier part of the work Phelan O'Finn is a broth of a boy. The work is illustrated by George Cruikshank, who is as droll and rich in fun as ever.

ANNUALS.

As yet we have received only a few of these pretty books of the season. We shall notice an old friend first.

Friendship's Offering. SMITH and ELDER.

This hardy annual has lost none of its original virtues : it is still as good, in stem, foliage, and flower, as ever, like a good plant that has found a favourable soil, and is renewed year after year. The only decidedly bad thing in the book is the " Agreeable Surprise," an engraving after a painter who never did a good thing, at least as far as our knowledge of his works goes. A scene in Italy, after G. Barrett, is exceedingly beautiful, and there is a deal of merit in the plate called "The Royal Prisoner." The frontispiece-the portrait of a lady, with her back to the warm sunlight-after Bonnington, is perhaps the best engraving of the ten. Among the literary articles are three glorious little poems by Barry Cornwall, each of which is enough to give credit and price to the book. One of them, called " a London Lyric," is a perfect gem. We should quote it, but some score of our cotemporaries, very much to their credit, have done so already. We hope by this time hundreds of readers have got the lines by heart, and we wish this not less on the score of humanity, than on that of good taste. A new hand, who dates from Christ Church, Oxford, has furnished a fine lyric in "The Scythian Banquet Song." This Oxonian hath assuredly poetry in him. Hadjee Meer Meerza" is an exceedingly pleasing oriental tale in prose, by Cornelius Webbe, a thinking, feeling, tasteful, and modest young writer. Mr. Leitch Ritchie shows off to advantage in his tale of the " Ŏld Gentleman." In "The Merchant's Daughter," and "The Judge," we recognise an able and efficient author. If we mention not others, it is only through want of time and space. Between prose and verse, the book contains pleasant reading for many a winter evening. As "something short," we give our honest basket-maker's sonnet on John Bunyan-the Ariosto of the English Puritans.

JOHN BUNYAN.

BY T. MILLER.

A dream land, John Bunyan, that of thine,

So summer-bright, enchanted, and so wild!

Its gloom and grandeur charmed me when a child;
And even now these sober eyes of mine

Oft see the armour of the archers shine,
Where Beelzebub his castle-walls up-piled:
Over thy pages I have wept and smiled,
Unconscious then the story was divine.
Wondrous old man! while leaning on thy gun,

Keeping a watch through England's bloody wars,
Thy kindled eyes fixed on the sinking sun,

Ör gazing on the moon and silent stars,

Cromwell may have heard thee murmuring like a river,
"Making thy book”- -a book to live for ever.

Caunter's and Daniell's Oriental Annual for 1839. Eastern Legends.

By the Rev. HOBART Caunter, B.D.

With Twenty-two Engrav

ings, from Drawings by the late WILLIAM DANIELL, R.A.

This is the old "Oriental Annual," the engravings of which we always greatly admired, under a new cover, and with a prefix of proper names. In essentials it has undergone no alteration, being the same choice kind of book it used to be in former years. It contains no fewer than twentytwo plates of Indian scenery, architecture, and natural history, all after drawings by the truthful and chaste pencil of the late William Daniell. Great truth of detail and moderation in effect were characteristics of that artist; but there is one design here which rather startles our belief. A boa constrictor is dropping from a forest tree, and seizing round the waist a man travelling on horseback, leaving the horse untouched. We will not positively deny that a boa might do such a feat, but it is the size of the reptile which we cannot get down. As here drawn, it must be, when stretched out, some two hundred feet long-a dimension we never heard given in modern times to any living thing except the Yankee sea serpent. But every man has some one thing which he exaggerates, and this, in poor Daniell's case, seems to have been the boa constrictor; for we remember another representation of the beast in a preceding volume, which was huge as an eastern hyperbole. We have repeatedly noticed the exquisite grace of this artist's female Hindoo figures. We have now before us three plates, in which this quality is very remarkable. The most beautiful of the three-a thing full of poetry and sentiment—is a moonlight scene, with Hindoo maidens floating their lamps upon the water, as at certain seasons Hindoo maidens are wont. The architectural subjects, as in all the preceding volumes, are exquisitely treated. These, by themselves, are sufficient to give a lasting value to the whole work. Some of the wild mountain scenery in the north of India is also given in perfection.

The letter-press consists of two tales-one a Hindoo legend, based upon a popular but singular superstition: the other, a Mohammedan romance. Both are intended as vehicles for the representation of oriental manners, habits, and feelings.

In his preface Mr. Caunter pays an affectionate and well-merited tribute to his departed friend Mr. Daniell, who was, in very truth, "one of the best of men,"-single-minded, modest, and kind-hearted in the highest degree.

The Annual of British Landscape Scenery: An Autumnal Ramble on the Wye. By LOUISA ANNE TOWNLEY, Author of "The Romance of Nature." With Twenty Engravings, from Drawings by FIELDING, Cox, WARREN, and RADCLIFFE.

It has been well said of this delightful book that it is beautiful as a work of art, and highly useful as a guide-book. The regions through which it

leads us, and through which the Wye flows, are the most charming in England-among the most beautiful, we firmly believe, on this globe of ours. Miss Townley, who has received the education of an artist, and who has a cultivated mind and a poetical feeling, was peculiarly well adapted to the task entrusted to her. We cannot, however, agree with her that it is better to ascend the Wye than descend it; and in spite of her high authority, we would recommend all tourists to come down upon the river from Plinlimmon, and on no account omit taking boat at Ross, and so fall gently down the silver stream to Chepstow-taking at least two long summer days for the voyage. We have been delighted with the correctness of nearly all the views. They are complete portraits, taken under the most favourable circumstances of light and shade. A glance at them will be enough to send many a lover of nature to trace

"Pleased Vaga through her winding bounds."

The view of Rhaiadyr, with its waterfall, and romantic little bridge— the view of Ross, with its heaven-directed spire-the view of Ragland Castle, and the distant view of Chepstow Castle from the right bank of the river, are beautiful, and as true as they are beautiful. Two little maps of the course of the Wye and the adjacent country add considerably to the usefulness of the volume. In her descriptions the fair author not unfrequently quits prose for verse. Her little poems are elegant, and not without fancy and feeling.

The Diadem. A Book for the Boudoir. Edited by MISS LOUISA H. SHERIDAN.

Instead of a neat little octavo, Miss Sheridan this year has taken charge of a stately folio, magnificent in paper, type, and costly binding. There are thirteen engravings on a large scale, and though none of them are of a high order of art, (we mean with reference to the painters and the poetical invention,) several of them are pleasing and graceful. The Captive of Tripolitza, the Sultan's Daughter, and the Turkish Ladies, all three engraved by H. Cooke, after Perring, would be much better if more attention had been paid to costume. These ladies are all dressed in such a way as Turkish ladies never dress. The little tale about that Greek heroine, the prisoner of Tripolitza, is quietly and effectively told. It is by Mr. Cochrane, whose interesting travels in Greece we noticed last winter.

Among the contributors are several names highly distinguished in literature, but more that are distinguished by rank and fortune. Thomas Campbell, Horace Smith, James Smith, Allan Cunningham, have given each a choice morceau. There are some delightful Italian verses, La Meditazione e la Serenata," by Count Pepoli, that amiable and accomplished nobleman who has redeemed the character of the opera libretti, and written several dramas for music which may stand a comparison with the graceful productions of Metastasio.

Miss Sheridan has also procured several things of the bygone times, written by men famous in their day, and not forgotten yet. We are struck with the easy grace of the following song, by Congreve, the dramatist. The editor informs us that it has been copied from an autograph in the collection of the late Earl of Buchan. It is new to us, and has, we believe, never been published before.

"False though you've been to me and love,
I ne'er can take revenge;

So much your wondrous beauties move-
Though I regret your change.

In hours of bliss we oft have met,
They could not always last,
And though the present I regret,

I still am grateful for the past.

"But think not, fair one, though my breast
A generous flame has warmed,
You ere again could make me blest,
Or charm, as once you charmed.
Who may your future favours own,
May future change forgive-
In love, the first deceit alone

Is what you never can retrieve !"

There is a lampoon on that "religious sovereign" Charles II., written by his Grace Charles Duke of Richmond in 1667, which is rather remarkable for its spite than for its point or wit. It leads, however, to the following pleasant anecdote.

66

Among the papers of Sir Robert Paston, afterwards Earl of Yarmouth, was the following account by Mr. Henshaw, dated Oct. 30th, 1670: Last week, there being a faire near Audley-end, the queen, (the "staidest of queens to the wildest of kings," as the Portuguese wife of Charles II. is described,) together with the Dutchess of Richmond, and the Dutchess of Buckingham, had a frolic to disguise themselves like country-lasses in red petticotes, wastcotes, etc., and so goe see the faire. Sir Bernard Gascoign, on a cart-jade, rode before the queen, and two other gentlemen of the court before the dutchesses. They had so overdone it in their deguise, and looked so much more like antiques than country volk, that as soon as they came to the faire, the people began to goe after them. But the queen, going to a booth to buy a paire of yellow stockins for her swetehart, and Sir Bernard asking for a paire of gloves stitcht with blue for his swetehart-they were soon by their gibrish found to be strangers, which drew a bigger flock after them. One among them there had seen the queen at dinner, knew her, and was proud of telling it; and this brought all the faire to stare at the queen. Being discovered, they got to their horses; but as many at the faire as had horses got up, with their wives, chiidren, or sweteharts behind them, to get as much gape as they could, till they brought them to the court-gates! Thus by misconduct was a merry frolic turned into a pennance."

We regret to find Miss Sheridan complaining of ill health. We trust this is only a passing indisposition. "Viva muchos anos”—which, being translated into the vernacular, means, may she edit many more annuals !

The Amaranth; a Miscellany of Original Prose and Verse. Contributed by distinguished Writers, and edited by J. K. HERVEY.

If in externals, and perhaps in certain of its plates, this annual be surpassed by some of its competitors, it is certainly inferior to none that we have seen, in its literary contributions. The editorship is creditable to Mr. Hervey, whose taste and genius ought to place him in a foremost rank. Horace Smith, who writes a very loyal and a very graceful dedi cation to Queen Victoria, Douglas Jerrold, Allan Cunningham, Barry Cornwall, Sheridan Knowles, Ebenezer Elliott, Caroline Bowles, Thomas Hood, Mackworth Praed, the Rev. Thomas Dale, Charles Whitehead, and W. N. Maxwell, are among the contributors, and each, in what he has done, has done his best. The editor, Mr. Hervey, who is not generally distinguished for rapid writing, has no fewer than six pieces in the volume, four in verse and two in prose. His prose tale of the "Rector's Daughter is exceedingly beautiful and touching. Horace Smith, besides writ ing the dedication to the Queen, has furnished a pleasant bit of humour