A CHAPTER ON ANNUALS. 497 



Look ye to that vault of death ? Nor is Ippolito denied, 



No mystic power of mortal breath, To lie close resting by his bride. 



That virgin hath disquieted, Peace be with the hapless pair,, 



Since with holy chaunt and prayer, And the joys of heaven beside ! 

 Her earthly part hath rested there. 



MR. WATTS is a man of such well-known taste and industry, that 

 we take up the LITERARY SOUVENIR with a full assuranc of being 

 treated to an intellectual feast. 



" The Contrast," the frontispiece, is not the best print in the book, 

 but it is beautiful for the well contrasted girl-like gaiety and the 

 womanly gravity of the two females, the subjects of contrast. The 

 natural manner in which they are clustered, if we may use the word, 

 exhibits no mean skill in the artist. " Hawking," by Cattermole, is 

 designed with a certain air of the dashing ; the principal male figure 

 is bold, but the attitudes of the individuals appear constrained, as 

 though they were standing for their portraits rather than enjoying 

 their sport ; effect appears to be the object studied ; nature, it would 

 seem, the artist thought contemptuously of; the other parts of the 

 picture are well filled up. " Austrian Pilgrims" is an agreeable 

 novelty, well handled and effective. " St. Michael's Mount, Cornwall," 

 by C. Bentley, looks as it had been touched by the scenic hand of 

 Stanfield, and is a very spirited view, well engraved. " The Fisher's 

 Wife" is apocryphal ; we do not believe in such ladies-maid-like 

 fisherwomen : the realities of the picture, rock, shore, and sea, are 

 more true. (e Fisher Children," by Collins, exquisitely engraved by 

 Outrim, is the gem of the book, and worth twenty fisher-wives. 

 Here we have unadulterated, unaffected nature, and. seeing it, can 

 believe in it. We can almost hear the paddling and dabbling of the 

 boy's hands in the tub out of which he is pulling flounder, dab, dace, 

 and other marine dainties ; and see the springs and flings of its finny 

 tenants, as they strive to avoid his grasp ! The whole picture is true 

 as Truth herself. " The Departure for Waterloo" is very well for 

 v its subject; but we are weary of military sentimentalities weeping 

 wives, who cannot be consoled with the hopes of a widow's pension, 

 and clinging " don't-go-daddy" children, and all that sort of thing : 

 our sympathy with these dragooning Hectors and Andromaches is 

 worn out; the hero ought by this time to be admitted an in-pensioner 

 at Chelsea Hospital, with the other broken-down veterans. There 

 are, however, some agreeable points about this print, which deserve 

 praise that fine, old, large-armed and thick-truuked ancestral tree in 

 the side-ground especially, and the buildings which back it : these 

 we can admire and approve. " Innocence," by Greuze, is beautifully 

 infantine, and, for a foreign artist, wonderfully natural. " A Portrait" 

 is a very lovely female head. " The Oriental Love-letter," by 

 Destouches, is the concluding plate, and the second gem of the series. 



The best tales are too long for our limits : we are consequently 

 confined to a short one. 



" ALLAN M'TAVISH'S FISHING. 



" In a secluded nook of one .of the wildest and most solitary parts of the 

 Argyllshire coast, where it is washed by the Atlantic waters, there stood, 

 some thirty years ago, the cottage of a Highland fisherman. The traveller 

 who should now look for its site would probably be unrewarded for his 



M. M. No. 95. 3 S 



