1 827.] The Pocket Books. 687 



The " Bijou," and the " Keepsake," come forward with pretensions to be very 

 high and mighty. They begin the world by rating themselves nine shillings a 

 volume above other people ; and both are to be distinguished by the elegance 

 of their pictorial accompaniments. The " Keepsake" must pass for this time. 

 Jt comes out of Bond street, we believe and, therefore, is last by prescription : 

 but it has not come yet ; if it brought all Bond-street to back it, we would not 

 delay our paper five minutes longer. The " Bijou," however, if it promised largely, 

 has certainly in some sort redeemed its pledge. " The Child and Flowers;" 

 and " the Boy and Dog," both by Sir Thomas Lawrence, and engraved by 

 the same artist, Mr. Humphreys are exquisite specimens both of drawing and 

 engraving. Perhaps the pictures may rank among the very best that the distin- 

 guished painter ever executed; and the engraver has done them ample justice. 

 " Sans Souci," and " Haddon Hall," in another style of painting, are not less 

 attractive ; and the " Picture of Sir \Valter Scott and his Family" would be attract- 

 ive, were it only from the details and associations connected with it. '1 he con- 

 tributors to this work stand very high in name. The Letter of Sir Walter Scott 

 " about himself," displays all the power with which that extraordinary writer can 

 adorn the most common-place topic. Coleridge's " Wanderings of Cain" also is 

 a splendid rhapsody: equal, we think as far as it goes to the best of his produ- 

 ctions; and only leaves us to lament that so great a power to accomplish should 

 have accomplished (and bid fair to accomplish) so little. " Beau Leverton" is a 

 clever paper; one of the liveliest that the Annuals of this year have produced. 

 The author's name is not given ; but, at the hazard of running onr short limits 

 close, we give the following specimen of its quality : 



" To Thomas Sheriff Macdonald, Esq., at Long's Hotel, London, 



" I cannot I grieve to say it be trans-atlantic with ye to-morrow evening, Tom. 

 You must smoke your cigars at peace without me. Do not, however, affront thyself and 

 thy brother Sachems, at my apparent desertion ; but bury your tomahawks in the veni- 

 son quietly, and forget so poor a man as Harry Leverton. 



" Shall I tell thee what has kept me thus amongst green corn and withered oak- 

 apples ? Shall I, turning philosophical, betray to thee how the loadstone - 1 have half a 

 mind to commit violence upon the three virgin sheets of paper which lie sleeping beside 

 me, and inscribe my adventures upon them, for thine especial benefit. It shall be thus ; 

 so listen ! 



" I was satisfied, as thou know'st, with London ; although the dog-star reigned, 

 although the face of every (surviving) friend was baked, the ice-cellars empty, and the 

 month of July at hand. But my Lord Bridewell would be at once peremptory and per- 

 suasive ; and I had, I must confess to thee, reasons for not despising his suit. He came 

 to my domicile, as he threatened, on Tuesday last ; armed with spurs, and attended by 

 two gardes-du-corps, a travelling chariot and coach, four postillions, and the warrant 

 (to which was the sign manual) of Lady Cecil Dartley, to take the body of Henry Lever- 

 ton, and him convey, &c. to her ladyship's court, which is at present held at the Grange> 

 in Sussex. 



" I will spare thee the tediousness of our journey. It is enough to tell thee, that we 

 survived almost fifty miles of English dust passed in triumph over four pigs, who made 

 outrageous protestations against our proceedings ' took' (as my lord called it) a post 



missed children of all ages (one a succulent) refreshed at F , and arrived, without 



further mischief or matter, at * The Grange.' The place is pretty enough : a little hill 

 a lawn a shrubbery a fish-pond or two (they have capital stewed carp), and a modern 

 sort of antique cottage-villa, where Vitruvius and Palladio, Greek, Goth, and Sir John 

 Vanbrugh, flourish in united absurdity. This is all well. But the utter demolition of 

 my toilette-equipage is a calamity for life : for some of the trifles were unique and 

 Burgess (my chamberlain) has been unable to procure anything beyond the most alarm- 

 ing instruments at I forget its horrid name the nearest market-town. You know 



that I indulge in some little niceties on these points. What wouldst thou think of my 

 undergoing a course of brushes and shears of as rude a Bah! I sent the former into the 

 stable without delay, and reserve the latter for sheep-shearing, whenever I shall arrive at 

 my aunt Slatterns pastures in Devon,which a villainous asthma (that provokes longevity) 

 has kept me out for the last twenty and five years ! 



" Well, Tom, The earl bowed, and looked grim and wise, and mumbled out his 

 patrician welcomes (which were too ceremonious by half). The old countess, who paints 

 as thick as a door, laboured to be alluring ; and Lady Cecil out-looked all the roses 

 which went scrambling about the drawing-room windows. Bridewell was busy in the 



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