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Review. Friendship's Offering for 1830.

that if any female should eat of these, death, or some other signal punishment, would instantly follow. The chiefs were recommended to prepare these kinds of food for a public entertainment, of which both sexes should partake, that they might thereby demonstrate the idols' impotency, and the priests' deception. The prohibited food was dressed and served up in public, at the time appointed on the following day. After acknowledging the bounty and soliciting the blessing of the true God, Auura, his wife and friend, the Raiatean Christians, with their wives and chil: dren, sat down and partook, unitedly, of the sacred viands. The chiefs, and people who stood around, were not uninterested spectators; and when they saw this inflexible law of the gods thus openly vioJated, and neither convulsive agony nor instant death follow, they simultaneously exclaimed The priests bave deceived us.' And but for the influence of Anura and his friends, they would have fallen in rage upon the aged chief priest who was present. Notwithstanding the remonstrances of the chief, they instantly destroyed his house and plantations. The multitude then went to the temples, hurled the idols from the thrones they had for ages occupied, burnt to the ground their sacred buildings, and then proceeded, en masse, to the demolition of every temple in this island.

"When visited, three years after this event, Rurutu presented all the attractive peculiarities of its romantic scenery, improved by the change in its inhabitants. The Raiatean teachers had not only instructed the people in the use of letters, and the principles of reli

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On ranging through its interior decorations, our eyes are regaled with thirteen exquisitely finished engravings, every way worthy of the creative design that first called them into existence.

The presentation plate is tastefully designed, and neatly executed.

"Lyra" is a lovely picture, on the original of which, nature has lavished her bounties; while art has exhausted its powers in giving symmetry and attraction to a successful imitation. The arm and bosom might have been imagined, even though they had been less exposed. "Vesuvius" is an awful scene. The commotion with which the eruption disturbs the air, and deforms the sky, is finely conceived. Near the mouth of the crater, the rising flame conceals every other

gion, but had introduced among them a number of object; but beyond its range, the burning

useful mechanic arts, which, while they promoted industry, increased the comforts of the people. Near the spot once occupied by the temple of Rurutu's former god, stood a neat and spacious building for Christian worship; and within sight of this the school and dwellings of the teachers. Auura had built himself a white plastered cottage, and surrounded it with a neat and well-stocked garden. The comforts he enjoyed were shared by others, who regarded him with gratitude and admiration; and future generations will perhaps honour him as the Alfred of their history. The Austral Chief had the satisfaction of beholding his countrymen, whom a few years before he viewed as doomed to perish from the anger of malignant demons, now rescued from the dread delusion, and rapidly advancing to a state of intelligence and piety, industry and happiness."-p. 368-390.

The poetical articles coincide in moral and religious character with those in prose. Several of them are the productions of pens well known in the temple of fame. Being both spirited and appropriate, they add new laurels to the wreaths of those whose names they bear. Among these effusions, "An Old Man's Story," by Mary Howitt, is most pathetically told. It records a tragic deed with great feeling and simplicity; but having no room for further quotations, we take our leave of the Amulet under impressions of high gratification, and without any apprehension of being charged by the reader with having excited expectations that have been rewarded with disappointment.

REVIEW. Friendship's Offering: a Literary Album, and Christmas and New Year's Present for 1830. 12mo. pp. 394. Smith, Elder, and Co. Lon

don. IN the elegance and durability of its binding, "Friendship's Offering" excels all its contemporaries, kindred, and rivals. This was a tribute of respect merited by the preceding volume, and its conductors, satisfied with this ornamental superiority, have seen no reason this year to change its

coat.

stones which had been projected to indefinite heights in the atmosphere, returning with illuminated trains, resembling in miniature the tails of comets, have a fine effect. The expanse presented to the eye is enlightened by volcanic flames, and appears magnificent in awful barrenness. The town stretching at the base of the mountain, the inhabitants, the boats, and the water, all involved in portentous shade, add much to the gloomy grandeur of the whole.

"Echo" has selected a lovely retreat. It is a romantic valley, in which the wild sportings of nature appear in all their exuberance. Trees, waterfalls, projecting precipices, and edifices rendered indistinct through mere distance, may easily be conceived to furnish a spot in which the daughter of Aer and Tellus pined away for the love of Narcissus.

"Reading the News" is full of humour. The mechanic neglects his business, the baker forgets to carry home the dinner, a girl, with a huge child in her arms, listens with eager attention, and the boy neglects to trundle his hoop. The whole is so characteristic, that, even without his name, it might easily be known to be the production of Wilkie.

"Spoleto," a foreign scene, includes great variety; it presents to the eye an interesting landscape, and, among distant hills, and other wild irregularities of nature, displays buildings which recall to the mind departed heroes, who flourished in ages

now no more.

"Catherine of Arragon" is full of plainttive simplicity. The artist introduces us into the chamber, in which this disconsolate and much injured queen sits with an attitude and countenance marked by pen

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Review. Friendship's Offering for 1830.

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Cupid and Psyche. Venus pays them a visit, and, reclining in an attitude which might have been spared, and with an exposure which would have admitted a little more covering without any disadvantage to delicacy, moralizes on their future conduct.

sive solitude. Her maid, on a lute, endea- | the occasion. It is the Honey-moon of vours to divert her melancholy, but there is a worm at the root of the gourd, which nothing can remove. From the lines connected with the engraving, entitled "Queen Catherine's Sorrow," we learn, that the moment represented is that in which Anna Boleyn begins her triumphs, shines in all the pageantry of royalty, and enjoys the shouts of myriads, to whom "hosanna" and "crucify" are terms of equal indiffe

rence.

"Mine Own" is a lovely countenance. It is that of a young lady, in which the smiles of youth and beauty are heightened by all the charms of placidity and innocence. The figure is associated with every thing to attract, and with nothing to disgust. We cannot, however, command language to do it justice. To be known it must be seen; and seen, it cannot but be admired.

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Early Sorrow" is interesting beyond all expression. A little girl with a dejected countenance, a downcast look, and a tearful eye, is gazing with an intensity of feeling on a dead bird, just taken from the cage. Nothing can exceed the attitude in which the child is placed. The hands appear by their position to participate in the mental sorrow, and the fingers seem to express the anguish that is labouring within.

"Mary Queen of Scots presenting her Son to the Church Commissioners" is full of pathetic interest. The grouping is well conceived, and the arrangement of the figures, both male and female, well preserved. Its importance, however, is chiefly derived from the historical facts and circumstances with which this event is known to be connected.

"The Masquerade" displays the toilet of a lady in fashionable life, holding the mask in her hand, and preparing for midnight amusement and adventure. A servant is equipping her for the coming event, and just behind are two faces secretly exploring this abode of retirement, and gazing on a countenance which is intended to be concealed. The tale or dialogue, by Mrs. Hofland, on which this plate is founded, unfolds the dangers to which ladies are exposed, when visiting these genteeler sinks of iniquity. Happily for the lady in question, she is uniformly protected from ruin and insult by a faithful attendant in disguise, who finally appears to be her lover, just returned from a long and distant voyage.

"The Honey-moon" is rather too luscious in its appearance, but its character appears considerably modified in poetry which describes the subjects and

the

"The Spaewife" is a kind of gipsy scene, in which an old hag, in retired seclusion, examines the palm of a young lady's hand, and announces to her the decrees of fate. Two others are waiting to know the records of destiny, and in the countenances of all, the most intense interest is depicted. Just behind some rude palings, "Sly Sandy of the mill Lends in a hint to help the gipsy's skill;"

and, at the same time, overhears the fortune of the young ladies.

These designs, by various artists, display, in the plates which embellish this elegant volume, some fine specimens of graphic skill. Several of them are finished with superlative excellence, and scarcely one falls so low, as what, on other occasions, might be called creditable mediocrity. In works of this kind, sanguine expectation is strongly excited, and no engraving, unless of a superlative order, can hope to escape censure, much less to merit praise. Competition in the rival candidates for public favour is exceedingly great, and so far as we have inspected the annuals for 1830, their numerous and tasteful readers will be highly gratified; nor will Friendship's Offering be found deficient in its title to a large share of particular approbation.

Of this volume, the literary department, both in prose and verse, corresponds with the ornamental. A playful prologue occupies the station of a preface, and expresses sentiments which are highly liberal.

Il Vesuviano is replete with incident, character, and interest. The scene foreign, and, as a natural consequence, it contains a delineation of foreign vicissitudes and manners. Commotion, conflict, devastation, and blood, are its most distinguishing features.

The Outline of a Life is autobiographical. It contains much novelty in the events which it records. The style is energetic and pleasing. The author clothes his ideas in a happy variety of expression, enlivened by unexpected emanations of thought, which are suggested by a spirit of animation that diffuses its active operations through every part of the narration.

The Voyage Out, is a curious mixture of the humorous and the pathetic, such as

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Review.-Friendship's Offering for 1830.

may be supposed to arise from incidents occurring on a long and tedious voyage. But this topic has been so much hacknied, that imagination can hardly find any thing new, on which to exercise its inventive powers.

The Cobbler Over-the-way, is highly characteristic. He is a strange compound of industry and idleness, of sobriety and drunkenness, of poverty and contentment, of passion and philosophical cheerfulness.

The Lover's Leap is romantic. It is one of those tales in which the abilities of the writer are not less conspicuous than the exploits of his hero and heroine. Malcolm is enamoured of Marion, whose life he had saved; but her father is hostile to their union. After a long absence, they meet; she declines his hand; he attempts to drag her with him over a precipice; she narrowly escapes; and he perishes in the abyss below.

The White Bristol is a stage coach; and the adventures of the passengers form the substance of the tale. It embodies much sprightliness of thought, and vivacity of expression. It is a good picture, which may frequently find a mirror in reality. Variety atones for its length, and a careful preservation of character prevents it from becoming tedious.

Rodolph the Fratricide, is a tale of horror. Marrying beneath his dignity, he is disinherited, and all the feudal grandeur, wealth, and titles of the family, go to a younger brother. Rodolph, seeing this, laments his own condition, treats his wife with coldness and contempt, seizes an opportunity, murders his brother while asleep, and regains possession of the forfeited inheritance. His innocent wife, accidentally witnessing the deed, becomes a maniac; and Rodolph, the victim of remorse, dies in agony through the phantoms of his guilty imagination.

Mourad and Euxabeet is a Persian tale, and partakes largely of Oriental hyperbole, It is well written, contains a fair delineation of Eastern manners, and leads through various vicissitudes. It will be found interesting, by all who love to contemplate reality bordering on the marvellous.

Larry Moore, by Mrs. S. C. Hall, is a pretty little sketch of Irish indolence and procrastination. Poor Larry can never be induced to think of to-morrow.

Lucifer is a well-told tale. A painter, drawing the fiend, has mingled in his countenance some features suggested by the image of a lady which lay entangled among the fibres of his heart. Hence, he began both to hate and love the work of his own pencil. This conflict becomes at

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length so powerful, that the artist falls a victim to the workings of his own disor dered fancy.

The poetry in this volume is highly respectable, but the numerous pieces which it contains, we have neither room nor time distinctly to notice. From the prose department we would gladly have given some tale or narrative, but the objects of our selection are all too long for insertion. With the effusions of the muse this is not the case: we therefore give the following, almost, promiscuously taken, and thus bid adieu to this highly ornamented, lively, and interesting volume.

"A CHARACTER.

BY S. C. HALL.

"He was a very old man-and had seen
His children's children flourish as they grew;
Yet strong in mind as he had ever been-
Unworn by fourscore summers-still he drew
The eyes of all men on him; for his fame
Had gone forth to the nations; and his name
Was, like himself, time-honoured,—and his look
Was as the index to some well-penned book.
"It was his age's winter; yet he bore

His years with dignity, for, in his spring,
His wild shoots were well pruned-so that he wore
His summer garment bravely; age might bring
His full boughs nearer earth, but could not kill
The root that sent forth fruit and blossoms still;
The tempest o'er it many a time had passed,
Yet left it firm and noble to the last.
"He had a winning softness when he would;

Yet sometimes he was like the shower that sheds
Apparent wrath while it produces good,

And bends young buds to bid them raise their
heads,

That with more profit they may hail the sun;
And some were even by his harshness won,
Because they knew 'twas kindly meant, and kept
But as a spell to waken those who slept.
"Greatly he trod the earth, and men would bow,
The high and lowly, with respect to him-
Though many a furrow deeply marked his brow,
Though his once penetrating eye was dim,
And though the weight of age had bent the form
Which, for twice forty years, had stood the storm
That, bearing many a goodly one to earth,
Had left him-as if conscious of his worth.
"He was the friend of all who knew him-all-
A kindly fountain, with perpetual flow:
And well he knew and much he loved to call

The feelings forth, that give a brighter glow
To things of earth :-he fell the poet's fire,
Albeit his fingers never touched the lyre-
His was true inspiration, for his mind
Had ranged from God to nature, unconfined.
"But-must we say that he no longer lives?
And as the painter when his sketch he views—
Outlined from nature-pauses, ere he gives
The last touch of his pencil, lest he lose
The character of what he copies-here
We feel how bare our picture must appear,
Wanting the finish that to all should tell
How, having lived in honour, he died WELL."

"AN ISLAND OF THE WEST.
'It was a lovely scene: the moonlight lay
Restless and flickering on a glassy sea;
By fresh and crystal streams, stately and free
Grew palms and spicy shrubs; and in the grey
And silvery beauty of the night, the play

Of the light breeze, cool from the mountain lea,
Came breathing o'er the woodlands fragrantly.
And there were flowers that bloomed not in the day

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Review. The Gem for 1830.

But in the hour of silence and of sleep
Unclosed their sweetness to the moonlight air.-
It seemed an Eden, circled by the deep!
---But withthe day-break fled that vision fair:
For then came darkly forth to toil and weep
Sad myriads held in hopeless bondage there! H."

REVIEW.-The Gem for 1830. 12mo. pp. 275. W. Marshall, London.

WHEN a person is admitted to the luxuriance of a spacious garden, though all the varieties of floral beauty presented to his view may have their peculiar charms, he will be naturally led to prefer some before others, either on account of their superior fragrance, their greater delicacy, or their statelier appearance. His selection of a few in preference to the rest, will not, however, in reality detract from the worth of the latter, since he only makes an honest choice of such as are most congenial to his individual taste. We cannot say that the "Gem" ranks above other Annuals in our estimation, or that we can give it an equal place with some of those exquisite volumes which have lately come under our notice. It is, notwithstanding, an elegant little book, embellished externally with silk and gold, and internally adorned with several very choice engravings, which cannot fail to secure admiration. It also contains a pleasing melange of literary novelties, calculated, by their peculiar sprightliness of character, to afford amusement, without offering any violence to virtue.

To secure the literary department of the "Gem" from the charge of dulness or insipidity, we need only mention the names of T. K. Hervey, E. M. Fitzgerald, Mrs. Norton, Dr. Bowring, Miss Mitford, Sir Aubrey de Vere, Bernard Barton, Croly, &c. &c., as being among the number of

contributors.

The first engraving in the book is "Rose Malcolm," a finely executed picture of chivalric enterprise. "The infant Bacchus brought by Mercury to the Nymphs," is a sweet delineation of classic fable, though, in the eyes of those who perceive not the elegant allusion, it will seem to approach very near the bound where propriety ends and indelicacy begins. "The Gipsy Belle" is very characterestic, both in design and execution. "The Stolen Interview" is a happy effort. Wilkie's "Saturday Night"| needs no comment. "The Halt on the March" is full of exquisite feeling. "Verona" is a highly picturesque engraving. "Tyre" is a beautifully executed engraving, and the associations connected with this " of cities" must render it queen interesting. "The Ruins of Trionto" is a

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fine engraving, after a design from the giant hand of Martin.

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"Walter

"The

Among its literary contents, several articles, both in prose and verse, strongly attracted our attention, but coming late into our hands, we must rather mention their names, than transplant them into our pages. Festus and Fadilla," a tale of the third century, includes much feeling and incident, both of which seem characteristic of that distant age. Errick" will be read with great interest by all who delight to behold fiction approximating reality, or to follow marvellous adventure blending itself with active life. "The Mining Curate" has vicissitudes sufficiently prominent to arrest the reader's attention, and to create an anxiety to know the final event to which they lead. Man and the Lioness" is a ghost story. It contains many well-connected incidents, all tending to a delineation of character. The Lioness is an artful, designing woman, exercising a portentous influence over an unsuspecting gentleman, whom, after having poisoned an amiable rival, she induces to marry her. He falls a victim to his weakness, and she enjoys his property in triumph. "Little Miss Wren" is innocently humorous, but full of character. "The Two Esquires" contains the adventures of an honest gentleman and a bankrupt fortunehunter. The latter imposes on a proud and imperious lady, who, having rejected the former, sinks into poverty. "The Count of Trionto" is told with much tasteful pleasantry, but the scene being wholly foreign, much of its peculiarity and local character will be lost on the mere English reader of the narrative.

The paper in this volume, independently of the beautifully embossed lining of its silken robe, is of a very superior quality; and for typographical elegance and correctness, it rivals all the annuals which we have seen, for the coming year. In other respects it seems to bear the same relation to those of the first class, which the sweetbriar does to the rose. It exhales a rich perfume, and exhibits much simple beauty, if not distinguished by that aromatic odour, and exquisite involution of leaves, which characterize" the garden's pride." The following extracts will shew that it has an undeniable and a powerful claim on public patronage and support.

LOVE'S REPROACH-A RUSTIC PLAINT. (BY JAMES KENNEDY, ESQ.)

DEAR TOM, my brave free-hearted lad,
Where'er you go, God bless you!
You'd better speak, than wish you had,
If love for me distress you.

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Review.-Juvenile Forget-Me-Not for 1830.

To me, they say, your thoughts incline,
And possibly they may so;
Then, once for all, to quiet mine,
Tom, if you love me, say so.

On that sound heart and manly frame
Sits lightly sport or labour,
Good-humoured, frank, and still the same
To parent, friend, or neighbour:
Then why postpone your love to own
For me from day to day so,

And let me whisper still alone,
"Tom, if you love me, say so."

How oft when I was sick or sad
With some remembered folly,
The sight of you has made me glad-
And then most melancholy!

Ah, why will thoughts of one so good,
Upon my spirits prey so?
By you it should be understood,
Tom, if you love me, say so."

Last Monday at the cricket-match,
No rival stood before you;
In harvest time for quick despatch,
The farmers all adore you.

And evermore, your praise they sing,
Though one thing you delay so,
And I sleep nightly murmuring,
"Tom, if you love me, say so."

Whate'er of ours you chance to seek,
Almost before you breathe it,
I bring with blushes on my cheek,
And all my soul goes with it.

Why thank me then with voice so low,
And faltering turn away so?
When next you come, before you go,
"Tom, if you love me, say so."

When Jasper Wild, beside the brook,
Resentful round us lowered,

I oft recall that lion-look

That quelled the savage coward.
Bold words and free you uttered then;
Would they could find their way so,
When these moist eyes so plainly mean,
"Tom, if you love me, say so."

My friends, tis true, are well to do,
And yours are poor and friendless;
Ah! no, for they are rich in you,
Their happiness is endless.
You never let them shed a tear,
Save that on you they weigh so;
There's one might bring you better cheer:
"Tom, if you love me, say so."

My uncle's legacy is all

For you, Tom, when you choose it:

In better hands it cannot fall,

Or better trained to use it.

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"ONE on this sheltered bank, and only one :
Fair comer of rude March! the first to show
A smile of triumph o'er the season gone,-—
White in the winds as is the drifted snow.
Untended thou dost wear a cheerful look,
Cheerful as unto kindred sweets allied;
And from thee seems content breathed round this
nook,

With thine own worth and grace self-satisfied.
Here art thou safe, now largest ships are strewn
In shapeless wrecks about the restless sea:
Here dost thou smile, now giant arms are blown
From oaks, and pines lie prostrate on the lea.
Quiet in storms! Beauty in death! What power
Is in thy lowliness, sweet simple flower."

P. 83.

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REVIEW. Juvenile Forget - Me - Not.
London. 12mo. pp. 229. Westley and
Co. London.

WHILE SO many hibernal flowers are blos-
soming for the gratification of mature years,
we hail with pleasure the reappearance of
a spotless lily, peeping forth in simplicity
and innocence, to delight the sparkling
glance and rapturous feelings of childhood
and youth. The "Juvenile Forget-Me-Not"
yields little, in point of graphic elegance
and literary beauty, to the most elaborate
works, classing under the general name of
Annuals; but this sweet little volume is
adapted to the comprehension of the young,
and its features are exhibited under a pleas-
ing smile, calculated to engage the attention
of an intelligent child, and to amuse those
who are farther advanced towards ma-
turity.

The exterior of the volume is perhaps rather too delicate for the fingers of young masters and misses, seated snugly by the Christmas hearth; but this may easily be remedied by enclosing the book in a paper envelope. They who are approaching to maturer age, for whom it is equally well designed, will properly appreciate the value of this elegant gift; and it is unnecessary to suggest any caution to them for the preservation of its beauty. We can offer nothing more than a few general observations on the character of the work, with perhaps a brief extract, and then leave it in the hands of the public, assured that the parents and friends of children, and all young persons of taste, will give deserved support to a Christmas visitor, whose introduction to the family table will impart pleasure, and inculcate forcibly the necessity of religious and moral feeling in the days of youth.

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My Brother," the frontispiece, is so exquisite in design and execution, that the reader will, on a first glance, be impressed with a favourable opinion of the work. A sweet and innocent-looking girl is hanging affectionately on the neck of her little brother, a chubby-faced boy, whose countenance exhibits all the ingenuous archness of childhood. "Bob Cherry" is another happy attempt to characterize "the golden age" of human life. A little fellow, all hope and eagerness, is endeavouring to secure between his lips a cherry, held forth in a tantalizing manner by a little laughing, fairy-like girl. An interesting likeness is given of Hugh Littlejohn, Esq., seated, we presume in an antique chair at Abbotsford, and gazing with intense interest on the rainbow "beautiful in various dyes." "Heart's

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