'182 MONTHLY REVIEW OF LITERATURE. 



Their mysteries I never sought, 



Nor hearkened to what Science tells. 



For, oh ! in childhood I was laiight 

 That God amidst lliem dwells. 



The darkening woods, the fading trees, 



The grasshopper's last feeble sound, 

 The flowers just wakened by the breeze, 



All leave the stillness more profound. 

 The twilight takes a deeper shade, 



The dusky pathways blacker grow. 

 And silence reigns in glen and glade, — 



All, all is mute below. 



And otlier eves as sweet as this 



Will close upon as calm a day. 

 And, sinking down the deep abyss, 



Will, like the last, be swept away ; 

 Until eternity is gained, 



That boundless sea without a shore, 

 That without time for ever reigned. 



And will when time's no more. 



Now Nature sinks in soft repose, 



A living semblance of the grave ; 

 The dew steals noiseless on the rose, 



The boughs have almost ceased to wave; 

 The silent sky, the sleeping earth. 



Tree, mountain, stream, the humble sod. 

 All tell from whom they had their birth. 



And cry, " Behold a God !" 



The Book of Christmas. By T. K. Hervey. With Illustrations by R. 

 Seymour. Spooner. 



We had thought that with Hone, who furnished the reading world with some in- 

 teresting and amusing essays on the cproUcustoins of old Christmas, all hope of 

 a further and still more graphic delineation of those ancient and pleasant revelries 

 of our Saxon forefathers had passed away for aye. It is true that the great Ame- 

 rican literaturist, Washington Irving, in his fascinating " Sketch Book,'' most hap- 

 pily contrived to dovetail some of those scenes and sketches, which led us from 

 time present back to the " merry Christmas " time of other days, with no less de- 

 light than laughter-loving amusement Nevertheless, it needs no confirma- 

 tion, nor, indeed, does it require a Bible oath to be taken, to more plainly show 

 that, to T. K. Hervey, the poet of fancy and of feeling, was it left to consummate 

 the task which had only been begun by the before-mentioned sons of genius and 

 of fame. 



This clever and trenchrnt annual, then, has made its first appearance on the 

 metropolitan stage of the world, under auspices of no ordinary kind. Although 

 T. K. Hervey must be considered — in the exalted sense of the phrase — its audior- 

 editor, yet we are bound to state, that this accomplished gentleman and scholar 

 has been assisted throughout his labours consequent on this astute undertaking 

 by Mr. Crofton Croker, of whose taste and literary acquirements we do not feel 

 called upon to speak : — suffice it, the association of Mr. Croker's name with 

 that of the editor's, we think, ought to have its due weight with our generous and 

 enlightened republic of letter? , 



