1831.3 Fine Arts' Publications. 573 



his body, according to their national superstitions, to be possessed by the rlevil. 



' He is driven to despair, and to crime, and finally joins a band of robbers, when 

 the desperation and torture of his feelings prompt him to deeds of more than 



•mortal prowess, and a death of horror. "An incident at Gibraltar," told by 

 Inglis, is perhaps equally terrific to the imagination. The poetry is of the usual 

 average, and by the usual contributors, who have admitted to their coterie, we ob- 

 serve, a secGwrf Archdeacon Butler, of Shrewsbury, who is complimenting Mrs. H«- 

 mans like a youthof twenty ; while the "Venerable" Wrangham, with still younger 

 feelings, turns Bayly's song, " O 'tis the melody," after his fashion, into Latin 

 lyrics, and a sonnet of old Sir Egerton Brydges, into iambics. The same 

 " Venerable" tries his hand at an English translation from Leopardi ; but really 

 if he attempts English again, he must tag his rhymes a little better. Brow might 

 have jingled very well with bow-wow, but will not couple with looe ; nor will gaze 

 with trace, nor cause with close, &c. Mrs. Hemans' Song of the Syren entitles 

 her to all the compliments of the archdeacon we have alluded to. Mrs. Shelley 

 has a spirited mj'thological drama, called Proserpine ; and some of Mr. Chorley's 

 contributions deserve the space they occupy — but they are somewhat numerous. 

 We could find a stanza or two by other contributors, which we should be 

 tempted to quote, but that space forbids it. 



The Forget-Me-Not, parent of annualism, comes forth with renewed youth, 

 externally at least, as if it saw no reason why it should not be as young as its 

 children. Its binding is now as crimson as the brightest of its compeers ; but we 

 fear there is no decided improvement in its internal features. We do not vastly 

 admire the Triumph of Mordecai, with which it opens, though we should pro- 

 bably hold it to be magnificent if Martin had never done any thing else. If we 

 are not in raptures with this, still less can we be expected to be so with a weak 

 un-Lord-Byronish sort of Don Juan, clasping a worse Haidee, that succeeds it. 

 Richter's Uncle Toby is good in every thing but character ; but we can take 

 no exception to Purser's view of Toka, by Carter ; and as little to Kidd's Stage- 

 struck Hero, by Engleheart, which are excellent. Wood's Thunder-storm is 

 treated in his usual felicitous way. Mayence, by Prout, also ranks among the 

 beauties. The Disappointment is very properly named, so far as we are con- 

 cerned ; and a note or two more praise only can be awarded to La Pensee — 

 which, or something very like it, we have seen before. — We will take the poetry 

 first ; which begins finely with some illustrative stanzas to the Triumph of Morde- 

 -cai ; and others quite as good, but in another strain, to the Don Juan. Delta's 

 Harebell will pass among the other flowers. L. E. L., Haynes Bayly, and the 

 Ettrick Shepherd, wind up the poetical charm. And now for the prose. The 

 White Lynx of the Long Knives is sufficiently Indian, characteristic, and 

 amusing. Every line in the features of Old Master Green, renders the name of 

 Miss Mitford a superfluous heading to the sketch. The Beauty lessoned into 

 Love is long, but its excellence renders its length a virtue. The Ordeal of Toka 

 is one of the interesting points of the volume, and we also like very much Mr. 

 Inglis's Serjeant Hawkins. Mrs. Hofland has given a sweet little sketch, accom- 

 panying the Disappointment, and is followed by others of whom we have not 

 space to make the particular mention they deserve. 



The Juvenile Forget-Me-Not, Edited by Mrs. S. C. Hall. — ^There are books 

 that delight us so much that we scorn to consider whether they are cheap or 

 dear. Yet cheapness is a virtue in a book, and we may as well at once therefore 

 say, that among many other things that we admire in this " tender Juvenile," 

 wc particularly admire its price. So much could not have been expected — we 

 do not mean from Mrs. Hall — but for the money, if we had not remembered her 

 last year's production. The present is every way equal to it — perhaps superior. 

 The first plate. The Provence Hose, well deserves its name ; it is a very pretty 

 engraving from a sweet little picture, by Miss Fanny Corboaux — a young artist 

 whom we hope to have many similar opportunities of praising. The other 

 plates are worthy, or almost worthy of this ; among them must be mentioned, 

 by way of contrast. The Dead Robin and the Young Sportsman, for their parti- 

 cular juvenile attr&ctions. But there are other charms of embellishments in 



