Art. VII. 1. The Landscape Annual for 1832. Edited by T. Roscoe, Esq. 2. The Amulet for 1832. Edited by S. C. Hall. 3. Friendship's Offering for 1832. Edited by Thomas Pringle, Esq. 4. The Winter's Wreath for 1832. 5. The Juvenile Forget-me-not for 1832. Edited by Mrs. S. C. Hall. LET no one envy a Reviewer the arrival of a batch of 'Annuals'. It is one thing to receive, as a token of kind remembrance, a Souvenir or Keepsake, radiant with crimson and gold, and, after glancing at the embellishments, and scanning the contents of the gay volume, to reserve the future treat for an idle hour; and it is quite another thing, to have half a dozen of such pretty things all at once clamouring to be read, and quarrelling for the precedence. To be obliged to read a book of amusement, not for the sake of being one's self amused, but merely to be able to answer the question, What do you think of it? is, we can assure the gentle reader, a very dull affair. Nothing may seem to be more easy, than to fill up a dozen or score pages of our Journal with extracts culled from these publications; but we can assure our readers, that the preliminary labour of running over some thousands of pages, in order to make the selection, is a trial of patience; and that to discharge our duty at once conscientiously and kindly, as becomes us, neither lavishing unmeaning and indiscriminate praise upon what is not praiseworthy, nor too harshly judging the ingenious effort to please,-is a task of some delicacy. Shall we confess it?-The Juveniles have most attraction for our grave and venerable selves: but this is, perhaps, a peculiarity. For instance, we delight in a child's story far more than in a tale of romance; prefer Miss Leslie to Miss Porter; and have been more pleased with 'Mabel Dacre's First Lessons', by L. E. L., than with her prettiest verses. As to poetry, we have not yet met with any thing in the adult Annuals, that, in melodious versification and the happy treatment of a natural thought, surpasses the following poem. THE YOUNG SPORTSMAN. By Laman Blanchard. Hush!-your step some note is giving-- Caution!-now you're nearer creeping, How your eyes begin to twinkle! Yes, you have it in your tether, Never more to skim the skies: Hear it—hark!-among the bushes Time, thy feathers turn to arrows; Wasting it on hopes, like sparrows, On what captures I've been counting, Half my life I've been pursuing Plans I'd often tried before, Rhapsodies that end in ruin I, and thousands more. This, young sportsman, be your warning- What hath been my holiest treasure! Love, and peace, and hope, and pleasure? Spirits that we think to capture By a false and childish scheme, Thus are objects loved the dearest, Thus have children of all ages, Seeing bliss before them fly, Found their hearts but empty cages, And their hopes-on high!" Mrs. Hall's Juvenile Forget-me-not. We cannot dismiss this very pleasing volume without taking from it a prose extract or two. Frank Finlay' is the title of an American tale, by a Philadelphia contributor (Miss Leslie), giving us an amusing insight into the manners of the young republican folk in that country. Here is a specimen. 'Aura. Stay, Lewis, and listen to me. This is my birth-day party, and I am determined it shall be select. Lewis. Select! That is one of the words you have learned at boarding-school. I am tired of it already. We never were select before, and why should we be so now? Come, let us, however, make a beginning with the invitations. Where shall I go first? To Big 'Possum or to Honing Town? 'Aura. As to Big 'Possum, I intend for the rest of my life to cut every man, woman, and child in that whole settlement. And as to the place you call Honing Town, I won't answer you till you give it its new name of Science-ville. Are there not two Lyceums located there? Lewis. Lyceums! Fiddlesticks! Two log school-houses, where Increase Frost of Vermont sets up in opposition to Maintain Bones of Connecticut! 'Aura. Well, I must own, that, after all, the preceptors are nothing more than mere Yankee schoolmasters. But there is Monsieur Nasillard's French-study. 'Lewis. Yes, the back-room of his wife's barber-shop. Aura. You need not trouble yourself about the invitations. I shall write notes and send them by Pompey. The Miss Dawsons would be horrified to receive theirs in any other way, and so would their brother, Mr. Richard Dawson, who reads law. Lewis. He might as well read Tom Thumb, for all the good his law-books will ever do him. The lawyers that get forward on this side of the Allegany, are made of different stuff from Dick Dawson. Nothing could have started him west, but the prospect of no business in Philadelphia. That's also Frank Finlay's opinion. Now I talk of Frank Finlay, I can certainly go over and give him his invitation without the ceremony of a note. Aura. Now you talk of Frank Finlay, he shall have no invitation at all. Lewis. No invitations at all! Aura, you are not in earnest ? 'Aura. Yes I am. Frank Finlay shall not be of the sleighingparty. Do you think I could live and see him there before the Miss Dawsons, in that vile purple and yellow waistcoat that he always wears on great occasions. Lewis. I never knew a girl go so much by waistcoats. A fellow is in or out of favour with you just according to his waistcoat. Aura. As to Frank Finlay, his waistcoat is not the worst of him either. Think of his head! 6 Lewis. Inside or out? 'Aura. I mean the way in which his hair is cut. Lewis. Why, his hair is well enough. I can prove that it was not done by a pumpkin-shell, as I cut it for him myself the last time it wanted trimming. Aura. Oh! then, no wonder it is all in scallops! Lewis. Well, as Frank is a good-natured fellow, I can easily prevail on him to get over his scruples about having his hair cut by a woman, and I'll go with him to Madame Nasillard, and she shall give him a touch of her trade. Aura. Then, his pantaloons are always too short. Lewis. That is because he grows so fast. But he got a new pair the other day, with two tucks in them, and if he should grow considerably between this and Wednesday, it is very easy to let out a tuck. Aura. Altogether, his costume is intolerable, and he shall not come to the party. Ungentility makes me nervous, particularly in the presence of the Miss Dawsons. Suppose now, that Frank was to ask one of the Miss Dawsons to dance? Lewis. No fear of that as long as they can get other partners, for I can assure you, he likes them as little as I do.-A set of insolent, affected, pretending flirts, whose father, being unable to support their folly and extravagance in Philadelphia, has come to this side of the mountains in hopes of bettering his fortune and living cheap. You were just beginning to get a little over the boarding-school, when these Dawsons came into the neighbourhood; and finding our house a convenient visiting-place, they were glad enough to establish an intimacy with you, and have turned your head all over again. Aura. Lewis, you may say what you please, but even in a republican country, there are certain distinctions in society, and it is the duty of genteel people to keep them up. Lewis. I heard Dick Dawson say these very words last Friday. Aura. You cannot deny that the Dawson family and ours are at the head of society in the neighbourhood of Science-ville. ‹ Lewis. I shall still call it Honing Town. 'Aura. Nonsense!--And is there an estate in the whole country that can vie with my father's plantation? Lewis. Farm, farm! Aura. No such thing! Nobody shall call me a farmer's daughter. Is not my father in the Assembly, in the State Legislature? Lewis. Well, and so might Frank Finlay's father have been, only he would not run for candidate when they asked him, as he knew himself to be not clever at making speeches (as my father is), and he did not wish to be out-talked by the lawyer-members whenever he felt himself to be in the right. And as to the value of the Finlay Farm and ours, there is not the toss up of a copper between them. You'll see what Frank will make of that tract of hickory when he gets it into his own hands, and also the dog-wood bottom. 6 Aura. As to that, he will be more likely to go farther west, than to stay on his father's land. Lewis. And though Frank has not had a city education, there is not a smarter fellow to be found on this side the Allegany, or one that is more acute at reading, writing, and ciphering. Aura. That is all he can boast of. Lewis. No, it is not all. He reads five or six newspapers every day, besides other things. He can also tell you as much about the revolutionary war as if he had fought in it. Aura. Ah! he got all that information from his two grandfathers and his five old uncles, who did fight in it. 'Lewis. Well, and their having done so, proves that he is come of a good stock. And he has at his finger-ends the Life of Dr. Franklin, after whom he was called. Aura. That's nothing. the Life of Dr. Franklin. Almost every child in America has read 'Lewis. As to the Constitution of the United States, I believe he knows it by heart. And then, when there are none present but boys, you would be amused to hear how he can talk of rail-roads, and canals, and steam-boats, and manufactures, and coal, and other things of the highest importance to the nation. But, above all, he knows the whole history of Buonaparte. 'Aura. Still, he does not make such a figure as Richard Dawson. 'Lewis. So much the better. 'Aura. There is no elegance whatever about Frank Finlay. Lewis. Nonsense! Now I insist on it, that he is a fine-looking fellow, besides being one of the best shots in the country. Is he not as straight as an Indian, and has he not red cheeks, and white teeth, and bright black eyes? Aura. But still, as the Miss Dawsons say, he wants manner. Think how they must be struck with the difference between Frank Finlay and their Brother! 'Lewis. Yes, there is indeed a difference. Do you remember the story of the backwoodsman that went to a gunsmith to buy a new rifle, and the gunsmith asked if he would have a gun, that when discharged made a spitter-spitter-spattering, or one that went jè-bunk? Do you see the moral? Frank Finlay always goes jè-bunk, and is, of course, far preferable to Dick Dawson with his spitter-spitter-spattering.' |