The fourth plate, called "The Artist," represents a youthful painter, who is just completing a work, of which "Time" is the subject. Death sits behind the picture, and seems to be watching for the moment when the last touch shall be given-when "Time" shall be complete, and the artist become his victim.

Plate 5 represents a youthful cricketer standing before the wicket, bat in hand; whilst Time lurks behind him, ready to catch the ball which Death is about to bowl.

.

In No. 6, Death appears to a poor care-worn Captive, and releases him from his bonds.

In 11, Death is represented as the agent of "Mors and Co." keepers of a Life Assurance Office, and is delivering out policies to the assured.

In 13, the grim-monarch appears on a platform, with a pair of boxing gloves on his skeleton fingers, and three persons whom he has combated lying dead around him.

In 15, a party of Bacchanalians are seen seated round a table, with Death waiting upon them. They have emptied several bottles, but agree to have one more-the last. Death draws the cork, hands them "The last Bottle."

and

In 16, a Huntsman in full glee is about to leap a five-barred gate; but Death, who lies crouching beside it, touches merely the hoof of his horse, and he falls.

In 18, A pale Student, who has achieved a difficult mathematical problem, is presented to receive academical honors, when Death places the laurel upon his brow.

No. 19 shews us a Sick Man, whom a quack has just arrived to visit. He is feeling the patient's pulse; whilst Death, as the assistant of the Man of Physic, brings in a bottle of "the only infallible remedy."

In No. 22 is represented a Lawyer, to whom Death, as a client, is bringing" a Brief.'

All these are admirably represented, and in themselves convey to the mind lessons much more forcible than the letter-press which is intended to illustrate them, if we except some beautiful lines by Mr. Carrington, the author of Dartmoor; a Sonnet by Barry Cornwall; and a pleasing poem by L. E. L. Mr. Carrington's lines are indeed by far the best in the volume, and as such we shall extract them. They are entitled

"THE MARTYR-STUDENT.

"List not Ambition's call, for she has lur'd
To Death her tens of thousands; and her voice,
Though sweet as the old syren's, is as false !
Won by her blandishments, the warrior seeks
The battle field, where red Destruction waves
O'er the wild plain his banner, trampling down
The dying and the dead ;---on Ocean's wave
Braving the storm---the dark lee-shore---the fight---
The seaman follows her to fall---at last

In Victory's gory arms. To Learning's sons

She promises the proud degree---the praise
Of academic senates, and a name

That Fame on her imperishable scroll

Shall deeply grave. O, there was one who heard
Her fatal promptings---whom the muses mourn,
And Genius yet deplores! In studious cell
Immur'd, he trimm'd his solitary lamp,
And Morn unmark'd, upon his pallid cheek
Oft flung her ray, ere yet the sunken eye
Reluctant clos'd, and Sleep around his couch
Strew'd her despised poppies. Day with night
Mingled, insensibly---and night with day ;---
In loveliest change the seasons came---and pass'd---
Spring woke, and in her beautiful blue sky
Wander'd the lark---the merry birds beneath
Pour'd their sweet woodland poetry---the streams
Sent up their eloquent voices---all was joy,

And in the breeze was life. Then Summer gemm'd
The sward with flowers, as thickly strown as seem
In heaven the countless, clustering stars. By day
The grateful peasant pour'd his song---by night
The nightingale; he heeded not the lay
Divine of earth or sky---the voice of streams---
Sunshine and shadow--and the rich blue sky ;---
Nor gales of fragrance and of life, that cheer
The aching brow---relume the drooping eye,
And fire the languid pulse. One stern pursuit---
One master-passion, master'd all---and Death
Smil'd inly, as Consumption at his nod
Poison'd the springs of life, and flush'd his cheek
With roses that bloom only o'er the grave;
And in that eye, which once so mildly beam'd,
Kindled unnatural fires!

This is really very excellent-would there were more such in the volume. Amongst the prose tales, the best is one termed "The Hypochondriac.' The following sketch will, we expect, be easily recognised:

"On answering my knock, John received me with a significant smile as he made bis usual bow. We are still here,' said he, and master is in the old way. The doctor is with him just now; but you, I am sure you may walk up. My master is in

the drawing-room." I followed John, and was kindly received by my poor friend. I expected to have also seen my late acquaintance, Dr. Palm; but the individual who now supplied his place, was the antipode, both in form and manner, of that fascinating disciple of Hippocrates. He was a little portly figure, with a round fresh-colored pleasant face; and his head, which was rather large, covered with a profusion of white hair, dressed in the fashion of the close of the last century. Indeed, his entire figure and dress were those of a substantial citizen of 1790. He did not rise when I entered; but merely made a slight inclination of the head, and waved his left hand, which held his hat, raising it from his knee, on which it rested. He then fixed his eyes steadfastly upon me, whilst I addressed my friend. After a few minutes, turning suddenly round to his patient, he abruptly inquired, Have you any thing more to say?' Tom assured him that he had not; that he fully understood his orders: But the pain'. Stop!' ejaculated the little man, I know what you are going to say; it is all fudge. If you know my orders, follow them. Notwithstanding this specimen of his abrupt manner, I ventured to address the doctor; and stated as my opinion, that my friend would benefit greatly by change of air and scene. He again eyed me, for a few seconds, and demanded,' Are you a physician, sir?' 'No.' Are you a surgeon?' 'No.' Then, sir, what right have you to form an opinion upon the subject?' And without waiting for a reply, rose from his seat and left the room.

1

"Your new doctor is the pink of politeness, my dear Wunderlich,' said I, as he shut the room door with a bang. 'He is a character,' replied my friend. You must have heard of him: Mr. Mybook, the eminent surgeon; a man of great learning, consummate skill in his profession: and although apparently rough and abrupt in his manners, yet, I am informed, possessed of the kindest and most benevolent disposition.' He at this moment again opened the door, and having peeped in, said,' Friday,' shut it, this time, in a more gentle manner. 'What a pity,' said I,' that the diamond has not passed through the hands of the lapidary! But what has become of my favorite Dr. Palm?' Here Tom informed me, that he and the doctor had gone on very well together for a week; but at length, coming to a stand still, he thought he would try Mr. Mybook, whose work he had perused; and under whom although he had been only four days, he really thought he was improved. He relies little upon medicine,' said Tom, of which he says I have taken too much, but greatly upon diet and regimen. Į ride twice a day, dine at an early hour, and eat a certain quantity of food only at each meal; after which, I lie down on the carpet for an hour, and then crawl on my belly to the corner of the room for my tumbler of water, which is all the liquid he allows me. You smile, Dick! but trust me, all this is done upon principles which experience has verified."

There are several other amusing passages in this volume; but certainly the value and merit of the designs constitute its chief importance.

Phrenological Illustrations by Mr. George Cruickshank.

1826.

THIS is an extremely clever work, by Mr. Cruickshank, the wellknown caricaturist. The Phrenologists ought to feel themselves under great obligations to this gentleman, for we are inclined to think the illustrative discourses of Mr. Deville and Dr. Spurzheim will not contribute half so much to the celebrity of their science, as the illustrations of Mr. Cruickshank. Each organ is made the subject of a sketch, and some of them certainly very nearly approach to the wit of Hogarth. We would particularly distinguish "Drawing," which is a very curious picture. There is the drawing of a cork-of beer-of a go-cart-of pictures-of a pocket-of a heavy weight--and a variety of other things, all most ludicrously appropriate. Philo-progenitiveness is a very extraordinary hurly-burly. The letter-press is not equal to the pictures, either in merit or interest.

"We belong to the unpopular family of TELL-TRUTHS, and would not flatter Apollo for his lyre." ROB ROY.

DRURY LANE.

MRS. CENTLIVRE'S bustling comedy of the Wonder has been performed at this house, for the purpose of introducing a new candidate for public favor---Miss Ellen Tree---in the part of Violante. Her interesting manner, sweet expression, and ardent feeling, will entitle her to take a rank among the best performers of genteel comedy that our theatres can at present boast. Her irony was dexterously managed in the last act, where she feels she has committed herself; and her exultation after all, at finding Felix once more a suppliant at her feet, was given in so effective a manner, as to secure the warm and unanimous approbation of the audience. She appeared to be an actress of excellent understanding; a rare quality, invaluable in every profession, and most of all in that of the stage. Mr. Wallack undertook the sensitive Felix, an assumption which was not warranted either by his spirit or success. Mrs. Davison's Flora was animated, but her fight with Ines (Mrs. Orger) for Lissardo, bordered a little too much on farce. The whole of this scene was overacted. Mr. Harley's Lissardo was a diverting, but not a sober performance; Mr. Hooper's Colonel Briton was a sober performance, but not diverting.,

On Monday, the 9th, Mrs. M'Gibbon again presented herself before a London audience as the heroine of Sheridan's Pizarro. She has not sufficient majesty of person to please the eye, nor is her power of voice sufficient to satisfy the ear; at any event, not on the stage of so vast a theatre as Drury Lane. Her carriage, her action, and her tones, would have been exceedingly appropriate, if she had possessed greater dignity of figure, and strength of delivery; but the stately mien, and lofty manner, which excite admiration in a performer possessing the physical requisites necessary to produce a grand and commanding effect, are not grand when united with small stature and a slender voice.

On the same evening was performed a new piece, entitled "The White Lady," or the Spirit of Avenel. It is from the pen of Mr. Beazeley, a writer of some talent and considerable success. The music of Boieldieu, which has been so successful at Paris, was introduced in "The White Lady," but does not seem peculiarly suited to English ears.

COVENT GARDEN.

On the 18th, a new piece, from the pen of Mr. Kenny, under the title of The Green Room, met with a very favorable reception. The productions of this gentleman do not consist in originality of character, or even in placing what is already upon the stage in a more bold or prominent point of view; but are rather distinguished for combining in a happy manner incidents, always fanciful, and not unfrequently ludicrous. The Green Room is one of those pieces which, if it will not altogether bear the test of rigid criticism, is yet well adapted to please the public. The characters are sketched with considerable humor, and the bustle of incident is kept up with scarcely any interval of languor. To the exertions of the performers, the author was greatly indebted. The acting of Mr. C. Kemble was admirable. This gentleman always pleases (in comedy) by the easy elegance of his manner, the liveliness of his humor, and his thorough understanding of those niceties in the text, which escape the observation of vulgar and uncultivated actors. Mr. Jones was, as he ever is, exceedingly whimsical: he has equally the power of forcing the audience to laugh at him, and with him.

Thursday, the 19th. Mr. Young's Stranger may be pronounced to be amongst the most perfect exhibitions of the theatrical art. It is, in truth, a display which at once deeply interests the heart and satisfies the judgment. Mrs. Sloman's Mrs. Haller is second only to Miss O'Neil's. The character, with all its difficulties, was supported throughout with a conception, a feeling, and a pathos, that rivttied the attention of the audience, and repeatedly drew from them the loudest applause.

Saturday, the 21st. A new opera, in three acts, by Mr. Pocock, founded on the novel of Peveril, was produced this evening. It is, perhaps, illiberal to criticize singsong trifles with severity, even when they are as bad as Peveril of the Peak, the music, with one or two exceptions, was as little entitled to respect as the dialogue; but the singing of Mr. Sapio and Miss Paton, more especially that of the latter, procured for the play a more favorable reception than it deserved. W.

LITERARY INTELLIGENCE.

Publishers, Printers, and Booksellers have all been seized with a lethargy during the last few months. Scarcely a work of any importance has been produced from the press for some time past; but "the dreadful note of preparation" has been lately sounded, and the newspapers begin to display their usual number of" will be publisheds." The stagnation has been very severely felt by the Journeymen Printers and Booksellers. Amongst the announcements, we find a new novel from Mr. Horace Smith, called "The Tor Hill," said to surpass Brambletye House.

Miss Milford is about to render us acquainted with another "Village," and "it is whispered in the state" that this lady has also a tragedy forthcoming at Covent Garden. We have been told that it is founded upon the same story as one of Lord Byron's dramas.

"The Forget me Not"-" Friendship's Offering”---and “Literary Souvenir," are all in the press, and will be published early in November; we rejoice to hear that these bijoux will again look beautiful in the hands of all the pretty damsels in our island. There is so much real merit in the literary part of these annuals, and the plates are so exquisite, that it would be almost a national disgrace if they did not meet with encouragement.

Allan Cunningham's romance of "Paul Jones" is, we understand, on the eve of publication; as is also Mr. Boaden's Life of Mrs. Siddons.

DOMESTIC INTELLIGENCE.

ANOTHER NORTHERN EXPEDITION OF DISCOVERY.---The Hecla is to be prepared for Captain Parry early in the ensuing spring, and in that vessel he is to proceed to "Cloven Cliff," in Spitzbergen, lat. 79 deg. 52 min. (or about 600 miles from the Pole), which he is expected to reach towards the end of May. From this point he will depart with two vessels, which are capable of being used either as boats or sledges, as water or ice is found to prevail. They are to be built of light, tough, and flexible materials, with coverings of leather and oil-cloth; the latter convertible into sails. Two officers and ten men are to be appointed to each, with provision for 92 days, which, if they only travelled on the average 13 miles per day, and met with no insurmountable obstacle, would be sufficient for their reaching the long desired Pole, and returning to the Hecla, at Cloven Cliff. Dogs or rein-deer (the former preferable for drawing the sledges, when necessary, but the latter better for food, in case of accident or detention) are to be taken on the expedition. It is anticipated that fish may be met with to feed either animals. Captain Parry himself is sanguine of success, as the water is generally quite smooth. The summer temperature is far from being severe; there is perpetual light, with the sun continually above the horizon; and he knows from experience that the men on such occasions are always very healthy. During his absence, the boats of the ship are to be engaged in exploring the eastern side of Spitsbergen; and the officers and men of science, in making philosophical experiments with the pendulum, on magnetism and meteorology, in natural history, &c. The reward of success, besides the personal glory and general advantages attending the exploit, will be 50001.; and we earnestly hope that by this time twelvemonth Captain Parry and his gallant companions may be safe in London to claim and receive it.

The month of October has been of singular and fearful dramatic interest, being distinguished by the death of three celebrated performers. The first in point of time was Mr. Connor, of Covent Garden Theatre, who dropped down and instantly expired. This gentleman was in his 35th year; he was a well educated man, having taken a degree at Trinity College, Dublin, and in public and private life was very much esteemed. About the same time died Mr. Kelly, whose Reminiscenses have lately made. him so well known. He departed this life at Margate, in the 65th year of his age. To these the newspapers have just added the death of Talma, the French tragedian, who has been long very ill. We shall in our next give some particulars of the life of this celebrated Englishman.

The design for the new United Service Club House, which is to be erected on a part of the site of the Palace in Pall-mall, is understood to be of the most elegant description, and HIS MAJESTY has graciously intimated his intention of presenting the beautiful Portico, which forms the grand entrance, to the Members of the Club.

The length of the Thames Tunnel, from shaft to shaft, will be 1100 feet, when completed; the number of men at present employed, is about 230, besides the officers of