1829.] C 561 ] 



MONTHLY REVIEW OF LITERATURE, DOMESTIC AND FOREIGN. 



Ackermann's Juvenile Forget-me-not ; 

 1830 Mrs. Hall expresses her sense of un- 

 fairness in Mr. Ackermann's adoption of her 

 title ; but she need not be afraid of the com- 

 petition. Though the engravings are good, 

 they are not excellent — not one of them 

 coming near to " My Brother," or " Bob 

 Cherry" — not even the " School-mistress," 

 which is decidedly the best of the volume. 

 Of the literary part, IMontgomery's " Snake 

 in the Grass" is, as might be expected, the 

 best in the book. Mrs. Hofland's " Riding- 

 School, Or a Ciu-e for Conceit," is even for 

 her a failure — she evidently mistakes the 

 tone and temper of a public school, quite as 

 much as Miss Edgeworth did, when that 

 lady wrote her " Eton Montem." Mrs. 

 Hofland writes a vast deal, but always wants 

 tact and simplicity. Her criterion for good 

 writing is plainly long words, and rounded 

 periods. The " Wind in a Frolic" re- 

 minds one too much of Wordsworth — the 

 author has made too free. 



The Wind one morning sprung up from sleep. 



Saying, " Now for a frolic I now for a leap I 



Now for a mad-cap galloping chase I 



I'll make a commotion in every place!" 



So it swept with a hustle right through a great 



town. 

 Creaking the signs, and scattering down 

 Shutters; and whisking, with merciless squ^ls. 

 Old women's bonnets and gingerbread stalls ; 

 There never was heard a much lustier shout. 

 As the apples and oranges trundled about ; 

 And the urcbius, that stand with their thievish 



eyes 

 For ever on watch, ran o/T each with a prize. 

 Then away to the field, it went blust'ring and 



humming. 

 And the cattle all wonder'd whatever was coming ; 

 It plucU'd by their tails the grave matronly cows, 

 And toss'd the colts' manes all about their brows. 

 Till, offended at such a familiar salute, 

 They all turn'd their hacks, and stood silently 



mute. 

 So on it went, capering and playing its pranks, 

 Whistling with reeds nn the broad river's banks. 

 Puffing the birds as they sat on the spray. 

 Or the traveller grave on the king's highway. 

 It was not too nice to hustle the bags 

 Of the beggar, and flutter liis dirty rags : 

 'Twat 80 bold, that it fear'd not to play i(8 joke 

 With the doctor's wig or tiie gentleman's cloak. 

 Through the forest it roar'd, and cried gaily, 



" Now, 

 You sturdy old oaks, I'll make yon bow!" 

 And it made them baw without more ado. 

 And crack'd their gieat branches through and 



through. 

 Tben it rusli'd like a monster on cottage and 



farm, 

 Striking their dwellers with sudden alarm ; 

 And lliey ran out like bcee, in a midsummer 



fiwarm ; 

 Tbcrc were dames with their 'kerchiefs tied over 



their caps. 

 To «ee if their [loultry were free from misliaps ; 



M.M. New Scries — Voi-.VIII. No. 40. 



The turkies they gobbled, the geese scream'd 



aloud, 

 And the hens crept to roost in a terrified crowd : 

 There was rearing of ladders, and logs laying on. 

 Where the thatch from the roof threatened soon to 



be gone. 

 But the wind had press'd on, and had met, in a 



lane. 

 With a school-boy who panted and struggled in 



vain : 

 For it toss'd him and twirled him, then pass'd, 



and he stood 

 With his hat in a pool and his shoe in the mud. 



The Winter's Wreath, 1830.— This 

 Liverpool annual may confidently challenge 

 comparison with any of its IMetropolitan 

 competitors in point of decoration and exe- 

 cutiveness. The contributors are, the 

 greater part of them, already before the 

 world, on all occasions, as Annualists, and 

 many of them as compounders of separate 

 volumes, with names and without. Whole 

 families take its pages by storm — we ob- 

 serve three Chorleys, eacli with three ini- 

 tials, and three Howitts, one not better than 

 the other, nor worse, and all respectable^ — 

 indeed the equality of all these productions 

 is one of the most marvellous things about 

 them. In the list of contributors figure 

 reverends, arid dignitaries, and doctors, 

 and some of faculties unknown to English 

 graduates. 



Among the choice morsels is what, for 

 some uninteUigible reason, is called a my- 

 riologue, by which, it appears, is meant,^'e 

 versions of Mr. Bayly's song, " Oh no, we 

 never mention her," in German, Latin, 

 French, Italian, and Spanish. The Latin 

 is the well-elaborated production of the 

 still very youthful taste of the very reverend 

 Archdeacon "Wrangham, who, moreover, 

 we see, is translating Pignotti into Enylish 

 lyrics, for half the Annuals going. Miss 

 Mitford has one of her sketches, the Two 

 Sisters, admirably executed — the subject 

 turns on the little confusions and contre- 

 temps, occasioned by an imusual degree of 

 likeness, and would have been truly notliing 

 at aU in the hands of any other artist. 



Where one thing is as good as another, 

 choice is perplexing — take the lines which 

 illustrate the frontispiece. 



THE IDOL OF MEMORY. 



It is not for the swimming lustre 

 Of those beseeching eyes of thine, 



Nor for the glorious locks that cluster 

 I..ike tendrils of the twisted vine. 



And witli a natural garland deck 



Thy fair wliitc brow, and swan-like neck ; 



It is not for thy cheeks, tljat glow ' 



Like clouds when day the world is leaving ; ' 



Nor fur the niiirmiirs snl't and low. 

 With wliicli thy lovely Ijreast is heaving, 



Nor for the pe:uly »'""" '''»' I'^'PS 



Through the soft portal ol thy lijis ; 

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