Cowper and Rogers have exquisitely pourtrayed the endearing recollections to which we allude. We shall select the graphic description of the latter poet,- "The school's lone porch, with reverend mosses gray, B. B. SEA-SHORE SCENERY. Is that a vessel?-yes-nobly she sustains her majestic port on the billows, battling like a leviathan with the genii of the deep, and leaving them prostrate beneath her triumphant prow. Hark! how the winds waft the echo of a hundred voices from her deck-the shrill pipe of the boatswain is heard amid the shrouds -and now, as she presents her stately form to the harbour on the lee, we hear the mingled strain of exultation-crying, "heave, a-hoy!" It is sunset-the hour most congenial to the spirit that delights in tempest and shipwreck. What would Titian say to the scene before us ?-Here is an horison blackened with masses of clouds, "Playful and wild, the children of the storm;" but in the far chambers of the west, the brilliant hues of orange and crimson are blended with the sapphire of the sky, and a golden outline is traced upon the clouds that float beside the sun in that sea of glory. Then we have the hills bounding the extreme verge of the landscape, either fringed with woods of pine, or partially concealing their purple summits in the mist that surrounds them; while far away to the east, unbroken except by a solitary bark or seamew, expands a waste of waters impassive to the hand of Time. But change the scene; and let calmer hours invite thee to muse upon the shore, when the winds are mellowed into music. There, take thy seat upon this lonely mound-the spot most fit for the meditations of a wandererjust beneath the crumbling portal of this old grey castle, whose walls afford protection to the climbing ivy, and whose stories of the olden time are written on its haughty brow. The sky overhead would have formed a prominent auxiliary in a landscape by Claude-not displaying to the eye one unbroken tract of blue, but occasionally interspersed with clouds, (and who would paint a sky without them?) that reflect the sunshine on their silvery bosoms, as they sail across the fields of heaven. The hand of Nature has thrown her verdant robe of summer on the plains around, and beautified them with innumerable flowers,-those earthly visitants of her creative industry, that woo us to their homes, like the stars of heaven. If you are a sketcher—and what a pleasing picture the present scene will furnish-do not omit the ancient chapel, disclosing its mossy porch amid the avenue of trees, on which the scattered gleams of a fading sunset so silently repose; and do not forget to include in your sketch this village maiden, as she returns from the well with her salutary draught of water, procured from springs that are inexhaustible. Lo! she glides like a spirit down the vale of her childhood-regardless of her yellow tresses, "That flutter in light dalliance with the breeze," while she pursues the wonted path which leads to her cottage-home. There is a peculiar charm in watching the last rays of a departing sunset, which none but refined or gifted minds can properly appreciate. The ocean, beneath its influence, presents the unbroken surface of a crystal mirror-the streams, rejoicing in the woods, seem changed to molten silver-and the woods themselves, in the midst of their solemn and gloomy aspect, assume a gorgeous appearance from its latest smiles! B. B. The Birth-Day Gift. By MARY ANN BROWNE. London and Liverpool. We have here another small, elegant volume, in many particulars resembling the "Coronal," which we reviewed last summer, full of the same rich flow of poetry, gushing like the song of the nightingale in its fulness of imagery and glow of sensibility,—and although not confined to sacred subjects, yet in its general tone breathing holy aspirations, and expressing the hallowed feelings of a mind attracted by whatever is dear to religion and virtue. As an admirer of nature, our fair author is singularly endowed with the power to describe well that which she feels acutely; but when to this she adds the peculiar invention of the poet, we consider her more particularly delightful, and therefore offer the reader the following beautiful effusion : AURORA. How wouldst thou paint Aurora? Thus I said That else would fall, for sorrow at the lot Oh, I have seen her in many a form- I have seen the fresh light from her sudden On the mouldering arch and the ivy-clad wall; I have stood by the side of the mist-clouded rills, And seen her gush up, from the heart of the hills; I have felt her cool breeze on my feverish brow, And e'en in my visions I gaze on her now. "How would I paint her? Oh, fairer by far, Than yon image, the queen of the young Her form should be lovely as any of earth, And her veil with that cloud intermingled And with one fairy hand lightly shading her Lays and Legends of Various Nations. By W. J. THOMS, Editor of the Early English Prose Romances." 66 The superior ability and effective industry displayed in these works, which are published monthly, induce us to call the attention of our fair readers to them in the most decided manner. Every country has its nursery stories, its popular ballads, and short romances; all of which will be found, in many strong points, to resemble each other, yet will not fail also to be characteristic of the country from which we receive them. They belong at once to the great family of mankind, and to every brother of the race. Antediluvian mothers have told these stories of giants and ogres to their VOL. V.-No. 2. astonished children; the daughters of Japhet recited them in the ark, and their European descendants, according to the measure of their invention and taste, have handed them from the infancy to the age of the earth, gathering, as they rolled onward from each country, those aids which rocks and caverns, cataracts and forests, or palaces and pleasuregrounds, might furnish. We will, however, leave the excellent preface of Mr. Thoms to convince all who peruse them of their utility, and observe only, that the Irish and German legends appear to us the most fertile in imagination; and N we offer one of the latter, not as the best, but the shortest, which in our pages is an object of consideration : THE LEGEND OF PARACELSUS. "It once happened that Paracelsus was walking through a forest, when he heard a voice calling to him by name. He looked around, and at length discovered that it proceeded from a fir-tree, in the trunk of which was a spirit, enclosed by a small stopper, sealed with three crosses. "The spirit begged of Paracelsus to set him free. This he readily promised, on condition of the spirit bestowing upon him a medicine capable of healing all diseases, and a tincture which would turn every thing it touched to gold. The spirit acceded to his request; whereupon Paracelsus took his penknife, and succeeded, after some trouble, in getting out the stopper. A loathsome spider crept forth, which ran down the trunk of the tree. Scarcely, however, had it reached the ground, before it was changed, and became, as if rising out of the earth, a tall, haggard man, with squinting red eyes, and wrapped in a scarlet mantle. "He led Paracelsus to a high, overhanging, craggy mount, and with a hazel twig which he had broken off by the way, he smote the rock, which splitting with a crash at the blow, divided itself in twain, and the spirit disappeared within it. He, however, soon returned with two small phials, which he handed to Paracelsus: a yellow one, containing the tincture which turned all it touched to gold; and a white one, holding the medicine which cured all diseases. then smote the rock a second time, and thereupon it instantly closed again. He tree, he asked the spirit if he could possibly transform himself once more into a spider, and let him see him creep again into the hole. The spirit said it was not only possible, but that he should be most happy to make such a display of his art, for the gratification of his deliverer. 66 Accordingly, he once more assumed the form of a spider, and crept again into the well-known crevice. When he had done so, Paracelsus, who had kept the stopper all ready in his hand for the purpose, clapped it quick as lightning into the hole, hammered it in firmly with a stone, and with his knife made three fresh crosses upon it. The spirit, mad with rage, shook the fir-tree, as though with a whirlwind, that he might drive out the stopper which Paracelsus had thrust in; but his fury was of no avail. It held fast, and left him there, with little hope of escape: for, on account of the great drifts of snow from the mountains, the forest will never be cut down; and, although he should call day and night, nobody in that neighbourhood ever ventures near the spot. "Paracelsus, however, found that the phials were such as he had demanded, and it was by their means that he afterwards became such a distinguished man." These volumes are illustrated by wellconceived plates of outlines, and many of the lays are quaintly beautiful; not but we are disposed to put forth a strong caution, that this book is wholly unfit for children. Children of the present day may not tremble at ghosts, nor believe in magicians; but there is, in many cases, a confusion in the moral impressions given by the legends, that must be detrimental in early life. All must perceive that the evil one in the above story was honest and polite, and was therefore, fairly judging, a very ill-used "gentleman in "Both now set forth on their return; the spirit directing his course to Jasprach, to eize upon the magician who had banished him from that city. Now Paracelsus trembled for the consequences which his releasing the evil one would entail upon him who had conjured him into the tree, and bethought him how he might rescue himself. So, when they arrived once more at the firAnatomy of the Bones, Joints, and Muscles, as applicable to the Fine Arts. By GEORGE SIMPSON, Surgeon. 4to. Plates. The first part of this title would imply a rude subject of introduction to fair readers; but the second relieves us for what lady is not a patron of the fine arts? and what fair admirer of them has not had to complain of defects in painting and in sculpture, unaccountable otherwise than in a neglect of the principles here treated of? The author's attention has long been peculiarly directed to the subject, for the instruction of artists. He has, moreover, surpassed the Italians in their famous black." The impressions given to young minds should be simple and strong on all subjects connected with good and evil. art of modelling "the human form divine," in wax and in papier maché,* so as to exhibit it anatomically; and he has executed models in other substances, for instructing East Indians in anatomy, without violating Hindoo prejudices by the use of the knife. His present work has the excellence This substance is now found to be capable of very extensive application: it is to be seen beautifully applied, for the first time, by Mr. Bielefeld, in the cornice and figures above the arches of the new Pantheon. Life of Mrs. Siddons.—Italy, with Sketches of Spain and Portugal. of divesting science of its abstruse technicalities, and exhibiting the muscular action in all the grace and loveliness of which it is capable. Whoever would be The Life of Mrs. Siddons. A history of her who will long be identified with the British drama, and whose talent and character rendered her an ornament to British society-drawn from her own memoranda, and by the author of "The Pleasures of Hope"promises a literary luxury, in which our readers will not be disappointed. It appears that after intimate reception of the poet into the bosom of her family, Mrs. Siddons suggested to him the idea of his becoming her biographer. He had thus the best opportunity of collecting all those delightful traits that form the charm of biography, while her own notes of events and correspondence fixed important facts with an authenticity not otherwise to be obtained. Bold, indeed, would be the man who, without these, should pourtray this wonderful woman, such as we remember her, 99 correct in describing the various attitudes of the human figure, would do well to consult it; and we are sure it will not be so consulted in vain. By THOMAS CAMPBELL, Esq. in the bloom of youth and vigour of age delighting and informing the public' affording intellectual pleasure to royalty, and, at the same time, fulfilling all the duties of domestic life in the tenderest as well as most exemplary manner; and, what is still more, while her physical powers and form were the subject of universal admiration, labouring under a delicate and precarious state of health, that required her to subdue her voice in private conversation. Extracts might be made of every variety of excellence and interest, both from the accurate pen of Mrs. Siddons and the disquisitions of Mr. Campbell. The style of both are so superior to what is ordinarily met with, in these florid days of the entremets and contremets of literature, that we hail it with high estimation. Italy, with Sketches of Spain and Portugal; Letters written during a Residence, &c. By WILLIAM BECKFORD. 2 vols. 8vo. This is at once a delightful and curious book: it is the production of a person eminently distinguished for wealth and taste; who, half a century since, was prominently known from travelling en prince over Europe; who subsequently astonished his countrymen by his splendid edifice at Fonthill; and, in a green old age, is still ornamenting a residence near Bath, with a prospective regard for his amiable daughter, the Duchess of Hamilton. Why Flanders and Holland should have been omitted in the title we cannot conceive. On Italy, notwithstanding all that has been subsequently written, there is in this work a freshness of vivid description that renders it like one of yesterday; while the reader is constantly impressed with the finest transitions from the familiar to the sublime. The writer, after perhaps passing through highly fashionable scenes pour l'amour, starts at once on the charming melancholy of the picturesque, an inspiration known only to such as feel it. Every where the same agreeable surprise is excited, and new ideas created on scenes that have been written about for ages. Spain is treated as a sketch, but it is a sketch of Mr. Beckford's. Portugal is more particularly defined; for it was a peculiar scene of the writer's splendour, in a tolerably permanent residence, where he had better opportunities of judging of the character of the court and higher orders of the nation than any ambassador or other visiter could possibly obtain. There he built the beautiful English house called Montserrat, at Cintra; and re-edified a pavilion, also in the English taste, in the neighbourhood of the court at Lisbon, where, we are enabled to say, he is still holden in respectful remembrance. Of his character and condition in Portugal, the following facts on record there will suffice-Like the ancient crusaders, Mr. Beckford seems to have approached the Tagus by chance; and he entered the river in two vessels, which are said to have outrivalled the poetical description of Cleopatra, when "Her galley up the silver Cydnus row'd." An officer of state reported to Queen Mary I. that an English fidalgo had arrived in great splendour, &c. &c., and waited her commands. "Go," said she, "directly, and invite him to court. I wish a hundred such would enter the Tagus every year!" Mr. Beckford received the officer en prince; the services of plate seen on board astonished every beholder. From the moment of his arrival in the capital, the charm of Mr. Beckford's manners was such that he had access to the highest and most secret places his houses, in town and country, were constantly filled with the fashionable world. No court lady would be married without the Beckford to give her away; there was no fête of grandeur, religious or civil, of which he was not deemed the ornament, with a peculiar entrée; and when with general regret he quitted the country, the amiable Princess Beneditta granted him her favourite eléve, the young and talented Chevalier Franchi, to aid and superintend his collections in every department of virtù. It is but just to the general beneficence of Mr. Beckford to add, that he protected the young eléve so confided to him to a good old age, granting him finally an annuity of two hundred pounds a-year, with one of equal amount to Madame Franchi, his highly respectable widow, still living in Lisbon. It is hence evident how much on Portugal such a man as Mr. Beckford can write as matter of history; and he has not failed. His admirable characteristics of all the distinguished Portuguese of the time are perfectly unique. His playful touches on the grotesque manners and unimproved state of town and country, form good contrast with the general elegance of style, displayed wherever it is applicable. Altogether he has produced the most extraordinary book of the present age. Sketches of Natural History. The verse of Mrs. Howitt is well known; but in the present application of it she has surpassed all the previous poets for children. Hers is, indeed, the plan "to teach the young idea how to shoot." Among the many pleasing illustrations of natural history, there is an English version of By MARY HOWITt. the old Scotch song of The broom of Cowdenknowes, infinitely superior in ideas, as well as verse, to the original, and without any undue use of the delightful song of Burns, formerly quoted in "The Lady's Magazine." Advice to a Nobleman on Playing the Piano; with occasional Remarks on Singing. 4th edition. Longman and Co. As far as relates to practical instruction, this little book deserves great attention. We never met with any work in which the difficulties of fingering were equally well defined, and the manner of overcoming them so admirably explained. The silent exercise the author prescribes for strengthening the touch of the third and little finger, is well worthy of adoption by governesses, as a little task for children from four to seven years old. At that early age ten or fifteen minutes' exercise on the table would prevent much wear and tear of their own and other people's ears by practising fingering lessons on the instrument; and if they began thus early, it would prevent, it is to be hoped, the necessity for the aching of joints which the author thinks necessary. Here is the passage : "As the action of each finger is assisted by a separate tendon, except the third and fourth finger, which have only one tendon that branches into each, these two fingers are natu rally so much more feeble and awkward than the others, that the grand difficulty to be conquered is, by constant exercise, to bring them to such an equal degree of power and agility, that no perceptible difference can be discovered between them in the progress of execution. The usual manner is, of course, to begin with exercises expressly for this purpose; but if the learner would only habituate himself to hold down the other fingers and thumb, and at the same time keep alternately playing on these two (of course very slowly at first), he would much more easily accomplish these exercises; and, instead of leaving off when the fingers ache, that is the very time when he should continue the practice, tinue the practice, as they are then begin ning to divide and break from their stiffness; though he should then play slower, in order to avoid the worst of faults, the ruin of many players, that of not taking the one finger up when the other is put down on the key. This manner of exercise should be continued at intervals for half an hour at a time, as it is no great impediment to conversation, reflection, or even reading, therefore may soon become an involuntary motion, |