602 



Fine Arts' Publications. 



[Nov. 



as a Disconsolate should happen to rise, 

 she would inevitably strike her head against 

 the centre of a very high arch under which 

 she is sitting. Lady Beaufort is a pretty 

 engraving, but it wants sentiment. The 

 Noontide Retreat, Philipps and Agar, is 

 scarcely worth the compliments paid to it 

 in the preface. The Boa Ghaut, W. 

 Westall and E. Finden, is one of the pret- 

 tiest of the landscape embellishments. The 

 literature comprises specimens of all kinds ; 

 a Sea Story, by Hogg ; the Grave of the 

 Indian King, by W. L. Stone ; the Death 

 of Charles L, by Miss Mitford; My Great 

 Grandmother's Harpsicord, by T. H. Bayly, 

 are among the happiest sketches. It has 

 been said that Mr. Hood should not have 

 put his name to the verses called the Painter 

 Puzzled ; we think he was quite right, for 

 they would hardly have found insertion any 

 where without it. 



We next take the Juvenile Forget-Me- 

 Not of Mr. Ackermann a younger sister, 

 but approaching close to it in beauty, and, 

 we must say it, in defects also. The In- 

 fant Samuel, by Holmes and Woolnoth, 

 opens the volume well. It is a sweet head 

 one in which purity and elevation of cha- 

 racter are blended with the simplicity of 

 infancy. The Juvenile Masquerade, C. 

 Landseer and H. Rolls, is a pretty graceful 

 composition; and so would the Juvenile 

 Architect have been, had not an old Soldier 

 with a cocked hat, and a book in his hand, 

 fixed himself in the very front of the pic- 

 ture, when he has evidently no business 

 there. Something is meant, we presume, 

 though we do not understand what. The 

 Breakfast is engraved by Chevalier, by 

 whom it was painted we know not ; the 

 plate says by Sir William Beechey the 

 list of them attributes it to Corbould. It is 

 pretty, but too dark. " Who'll serve the 

 King ?" is from Farrier's picture. Ander- 

 nach and Going to Market, are both pleas- 

 ing, which is all they were intended to be. 

 Of the literature of this little volume, 

 although we find one or two things not 

 quite adapted for children, and which, in- 

 deed, are calculated to mislead them, we 

 would willingly, had we space, select a 

 specimen. There are several pleasing things 

 in the volume ; and the list of the names 

 of the contributors is here " illustrious," 

 and there " obscure." 



We now come to another Juvenile, edited 

 by Mrs. Hall. It has greatly improved, 

 both in an outward and visible, and an in- 

 ward and spiritual sense. With its dark 

 green embossed binding, which, while it 

 partakes largely of the ornamental, does not 

 affect to be above the useful, it is as ele- 

 gant as any of them, and yet nobody says 

 " take care]" when you touch it. The 

 frontispiece, Docility, by Robertson and 

 Thompson, breathes the spirit of gentleness 

 a most sweet and touching expression. 

 Me and My Dog, by Mosses and Edwards, 

 it a laughable little affair ; the dog as ele- 



vated as the maiden, and the girl as happy 

 as the dog. The Twin Sisters, painted by 

 Boxall, is a beautiful Lawrence-like compo- 

 sition. The Travelling Tinman and the 

 Nut-cracker, are both well engraved, from 

 designs by Leslie and H. Howard. Hebe, R. 

 Westall and Engleheart, though a graceless 

 picture, makes a sweet engraving ; and the 

 Bird's Nest, by Collins and Ashby, is a 

 most exquisite little gem in the painter's 

 own simple manner. One of the chief 

 merits of the literary department and it 

 originates of course in the taste and true 

 feeling of the editor is, that it is precisely 

 what it professes to be, a book for the 

 young; and that discrimination has been 

 used in suppressing whatever might by 

 possibility have an improper tendency. 

 We can only particularize a Godmamma's 

 Epistle, by Miss Jewsbury ; the Miniature, 

 by Miss Landon ; Impulse and Amia- 

 bility, Miss Isabel Hill ; the Nutting Party, 

 by Mrs. Hofland, and Gaspard and his 

 Dog, by Mrs. Hall, as among the first and 

 fairest of the beauties. The names of the 

 gentlemen, particularly such long ones as 

 Montgomery and Cunningham, we cannot 

 find space for. 



The Comic Annuals this year, like 

 Sheridan's morning guns, have one im- 

 portant fault there are too many of them. 

 They are now going off (or rather we 

 fear they are not) in every direction. We 

 shall expect to see some of them next year, 

 bound in black, in mourning for their com- 

 panions of this. Here is one, " The Hu- 

 morist, by W. H. Harrison, Author of 

 Tales of a Physician. 1 '' It is embellished 

 with fifty woodcuts, besides vignettes, from 

 designs by the late Mr. Rowlandson a 

 man of genius, whose designs we suspect 

 have been sadly mutilated and disguised 

 in the instance before us. Mr. Harrison 

 must not be surprised if the ghost of 

 Rowlandson should pay him an indignant 

 visit on one of these winter nights. We 

 advise him to be prepared. In sober sad- 

 ness, these woodcuts are very bad ; the 

 humour, if they ever possessed any, is 

 either gone by or utterly forgotten by the 

 engraver. The best things, like the best 

 passages in a play, seem to have been put 

 between commas, and " omitted in repre- 

 sentation." Mr. Harrison, however, has 

 shewn great tact, industry and, we may 

 add, humour and invention in his mode 

 of illustrating these designs. Very difficult 

 his task must have been, and in a very 

 masterly way has he accomplished it. Both 

 his prose and his verse wants a finishing 

 dash or two ; but, perhaps, we may attribute 

 the absence of this to the subjects, rather 

 than to the writer. We would willingly 

 quote a story, were it possible. As far as 

 the literature is concerned, this volume will 

 be found no unamusing accompaniment to 

 the Christmas fireside. 





