Nature and Art, February 1, 1867.] 
CAROLS AND VALENTINES. 
portions of the Oxford system. We look for good things 
from the writer of “ Walter Boothe,” a new serial story, 
which, it strikes us, will develop interestingly. The Book 
Notices, and the carefully edited University Chronicle, are 
not the least valuable features of a magazine, whose 
career, judging from the specimen under notice, will be 
watched with interest by Cambridge men both young and 
old. 
A Century of Bonnets : Linas on the Burns’ CommemoroMon 
of 1859. The lhvnerul of Canning, and other Verses. 
By Jacob Jones, author of “Rural Sonnets,” “Inez 
de Castro,” “The Anglo-Polish Harp,” etc., etc. London: 
Alfred W. Bennett, 1866. 
Mb. Jacob Jones is not afraid of challenging compari- 
sons. When he enters the “ spot of all spots,” videlicet 
the “Shrubbery at Southend,” he salutes it as wooing the 
“fav’rite sons ” of contemplation, and proceeds to enumerate 
four of them, thus 
“ Again the knoll : where Milton might have dream’ d. 
* # # # % 
Where Shakespeare might have drunk at Nature’s shrine ; 
Or Collins nursed the ecstacy divine 
Where first I sang, that ‘ Poland shall be free ; ’ 
Where later, for her woes, I shed ‘ a tear.’ ” 
The last lines allude to two Lyrics by Mr. Jones, as he 
informs us in his notes. We are sorry to say that the 
information was needed. We are sorry, also, to learn that his 
Iphigenia did not obtain the Newdigate at Oxford in 1819 : 
it is quite equal to many successful prize poems. This 
first gush of youth has been fairly rivalled by later effusions ; 
and if any of our readers happen to look into Mr. Jones’s 
present volume, they will probably not be disappointed. 
63 
The Bcmiage Club Papers. Edited by Andrew Halliday. 
Tinsley Brothers. 
This elegant production is creditable alike to the worthy 
Savages who have so well furnished forth its pages, and to 
the publisher who bore the charge of the adventure in his 
department, and thus enabled the Club to comfort speedily 
and substantially under her bereavement, the widow of a 
lamented comrade. The “ Savage Club,” so called after 
Richard Savage, is an institution of which, though many have 
heard- — few, but the initiated — know much. It was perhaps 
as well that the ferocity indicated by its title should be 
authoritatively disclaimed for the body by the clever editor 
as follows : — - 
“ It has been recklessly stated in a respectable journal 
by a writer, who knowing nothing of us has either been 
misled by false reports, or prompted to wild imaginings by 
the terrors our name, that we are a set of ill-conditioned 
malcontents, dwelling in the very centre of Bohemia ; that 
our Club is a sort of literary cave of Adullam, into which the 
disappointed and the discontented have retired to set up their 
backs at every thing that is good and noble and worthy to 
be admired. There could not be a greater mistake. No- 
thing could be further from the truth. The qualification for 
admission to our Club is to be a working mam in literature 
or art , and a good fellow. If a candidate answer these require- 
ments he will be cordially received, come whence he may.” 
The list of literary contributors comprises the well-known 
names of T. Hood, T. W. Robertson, E. L. Blanchard, and a 
host of other gentle savages less familiar to the public. Thirty 
illustrations of more than average merit include specimens 
of Harrison Weir, Gustave Dore, George Cruikshank, Ernest 
Griset, and the last work of Paul Gray, whose premature 
death was a subject of the deepest regret to his friends. 
The typography, the paper, and the binding are all excellent, 
and the success which has attended the “ Savage Club 
Papers,” has rendered any vaticination of ours superfluous. 
CAROLS AND VALENTINES. 
By H. W. 
“ \ ND so now farewell to the mistletoe,” said the king of 
iX Twelfth-night. 
“ Nay, let it hang a little longer,” quoth the queen ; 
“ there are some berries left which look tempting to the 
poor girls. You and I, indeed, have had enough of it. We 
have pleased the youngsters for a night, and now our reign 
is over.” 
“ Stay,” said the king, “ we cannot lay aside our majesty 
till daylight. We shall soon change the throne for the 
desk ; but, meanwhile, play out the play, and let us speak 
of our princesses. Wassel, methought, filled the cup with 
the grace of her Saxon godmother, the daughter of Hengist : 
she stood before me like a second Rowena, saying', ‘ Was- 
hail, my lord king ! ’ and I pledged her, like a second 
Vortigern, my kingdom for a kiss.” 
Queen . — “ Wassel always makes herself at home at a 
Christmas gathering, and I took care that her bowl should 
not be too potent. Yet still those boisterous lads, Misrule 
and Gambol, began to get unruly ; and so I made Wassel 
empty her bowl and use it for snap-dragon. But I was quite 
sorry for poor Cis — I mean for Princess Mince-pie.” 
King. — “ Surely she had dancing enough : did not all the 
boys ask for her ? ” 
Queen. — “All, except the one she had counted upon — the 
son of good Mistress Horner.” 
King. — “ We remember it now. Neighbour Jack must 
learn that blushing in the corner will never win our sweetest 
of princesses.” 
Queen. — “ And then, in the middle of the dancing, that 
round little rascal, Plum-pudding, got in her way, and threw 
her over. I put her to bed in the sulks, poor thing. How- 
ever, she will be all the readier for the dance another night.” 
King. — “She will find plenty of partners, we warrant.” 
The king' paused ; and then continued, more gravely .— 
“'Dance-music is good; it tickles the brain, and sends the 
blood tingling down into the feet : but it cannot touch the 
heart like that solemn pastoral music which accompanied 
the singing of our chorister boy, cousin Carol.” * 
Queen. — “ Played by our guest in the mask with V. H. 
on it. Charming, indeed ! But who was V. H. ? ” 
King. — “ This is the season of mumming, and we must 
not pry under the mask too curiously. A. guest like V. H., 
moreover, is welcome in any season, with or without a name. 
As for young Carol, his utterance was hardly smooth enough 
for singing. His younger brother, who will take his place 
next Christmas, promises (we are told) to have a voice better 
suited to music. Let us hope that the music may be as 
good.” Again the king paused. “It is idle,” he resumed, 
“to dream of fresh hollies, before the present ones have 
grown stale ; but their time must now be limited.” 
Queen. — “ They will all be swept away on the 2nd of 
February.” 
King. — “ True, Candlemas Day belongs to the full fes- 
tivity. But when the day arrives, mind you do your sweep- 
ing briskly. 1 For look,’ saith Herrick in his Hesperides — 
‘ For look how many leaves there be 
Neglected there, maids, trust to me, 
So many goblins shall you see.’ 
A warning as ‘ grimly ’ as Ma/rgaret’ s Ghost, and well suited 
* The speaker evidently alludes to the music of The 
First Christmas Ca/rol, lately published by Robert Cocks & 
Co. — Ed. 
