Ackermann's Juvenile Forget-me-Not: A Christmas, New Year's, and Birth-Day Present, for Youth of both Sexes, for 1830. Edited by Frederic Shoberl. London. Ackermann and Co. 12mo. Pp. 274. We have already reviewed the Juvenile Forget-me-Not, edited by Mrs S. C. Hall. That before us is quite a distinct book, though varying in title only by having Ackermann's name prefixed to it. This is awkward, and should have been avoided, if possible. Mrs Hall, in the preface to her volume, thus mentions the subject:" It gives me pain to allude to the fact, that the success of The Juvenile Forget-me-Not' has given rise to a similar publication under a title so nearly the same, that it is more than probable the one will be often mistaken for the other. Fair and honourable competition is at all times beneficial; and if the work to which I allude had received any other name, I should have been the last to complain; but I cannot consider it either fair or honourable to take advantage of that popularity for which the publishers of The Juvenile Forget-me-Not' had anxiously and successfully laboured during a period of two years." In the preface to Ackermann's Juvenile Forget-me-Not no allusion is made to this matter; and as some explanation was certainly called for, we must suppose that silence implies culpability. Had it been even alleged that the title of Mrs Hall's Juvenile Forget-me-Not was an infringement on the title of the original Forget-me-Not, the argument would have been worth something; but as this is not stated, we must conclude that Mrs Hall's publishers had Ackermann's consent to christen their bantling by the name they gave it, in which case his present interference with that name is harassing and injurious. "Non nobis," however," tantas componere lites." Ackermann's Juvenil Forget-me-Not is an exceedingly elegant little volume; indeed, we suspect the most elegant of all the Juvenile Annuals in external appearance, although we certainly prefer Mrs Hall's embellishments. The stories and poetry too, in Ackermann, are good, and well adapted for children, which is the great thing. The "True Story of Web Spinner," by Mary Howitt, is quite delightful. Who is Mary Howitt? She has proved herself, by the Annuals for 1830, to be one of the very cleverest of our female writers, yet we know next to nothing about her. Is she a Quakeress? We see there are a William and a Richard Howitt also, (clever, too, though not so clever as Mary)—are they her brothers, or is one of them her husband? Will any benevolent Christian inform us on these particulars? for we are sorry to say that Mary Howitt's personal history is totally unknown to the literati of Edinburgh; yet she is one who deserves to be known, and who is fast making herself so. This little volume contains also by far the best thing which James Montgomery has contributed to any of the Annuals we have yet seen. Indeed, we were beginning to fear that Montgomery had lost his poetical talents altogether, so entirely did they appear to be frittered away upon the most insignificant subjects, until we met with the gem now before us. It is called "The Snake in the Grass;" but, as we can only give a part of it, we shall entitle it THE BIRD'S NEST. By James Montgomery. "She had a secret of her own, The little girl of whom we speak, O'er which she oft would muse alone, Till the blush came across her cheek, A rosy cloud that glow'd awhile, Then melted in a sunny smile. "There was so much to charm the eye, So much to move delightful thought, Awake at night she loved to lie, Darkness to her that image brought; She murmur'd of it in her dreams, Like the low sounds of gurgling streams. "What secret thus the soul possess'd Of one so young and innocent? O'er which in ecstasy she bent: "When first it flash'd upon her sight, Bolt flew the dam above her head: She stoop'd and almost shriek'd for fright; But spying there that little bed, With feathers, moss, and horse-hair twined, Wonder and gladness fill'd her mind. "Breathless and beautiful she stood; Her ringlets o'er her bosom fell; With hand uplift-in attitude, As though a pulse would break the spell; While through the shade her pale fine face Shone like a star amidst the place. "She stood so silent, staid so long, The parent birds forgot their fear: Cock-robin soon renew'd his song, In notes like dew-drops, trembling clear; From spray to spray the shyer hen Dropt softly on her nest again. "Then Lucy mark'd her slender bill On this side, and on that her tail Peer'd on the edge,-while, fix'd and still, Two bright black eyes her own assail, Which in eye-language seem'd to say, Peep, pretty maiden; then, away!" "Away, away, at length she crept, So pleased, she knew not how she trode, Yet light on tottering tip-toe stepp'd, As though birds' eggs strew'd all the road; Close cradling in her heart's recess, The secret of her happiness." They who are determined not to buy Mrs Hall's Jurenile Forget-me-Not, have nothing to do but to ask for Ackermann's Juvenile Forget-me-Not. 4to. Edin Lothian's Historical Atlas of Scotland. burgh. 1829.-Lothian's County Atlas of Scotland. 4to. Edinburgh. 1826-28. A COUNTY Atlas of Scotland, of a convenient size, and at a moderate price, has long been a desideratum. The maps in Mr Lothian's publication, besides that they supply this want, are as accurate as the scale upon which they are projected admits, and are executed with the greatest neatness. His Historical Atlas contains several curious relics of antiquity, and is a valuable present to the student of our national history. It serves to throw light on many passages in our older historians, where the author's incorrect notions of Scottish geography render him unintelligible to the reader, who has in his mind's eye a true picture of the relative localities of the country. Entertaining so favourable an opinion of the merits of these two works, we are happy to learn that the enterprise of their publisher is likely to reap its due reward. The Historical Atlas has suggested to us a few remarks connected with the history of map-making, which we shall submit to our readers. It is with no small unwillingness that we feel obliged to commence, by acknowledging that the art or science of map-making is in this country at a much lower grade of perfection than it is on the Continent. The necessities of our trade and navigation have produced many accurate marine charts-perhaps more than are to be found in any other nation-although France and Holland, if not exactly equal to us in this department, are treading close upon our heels;— but in land maps we are miserably deficient and this is the more unpardonable, because, in respect to all the mechanical aids which go to their construction-good engravers, accurate mathematical instruments, and the likewe are better off than any country in Europe. this make-shift was Lehmann, latterly a major in the service of Saxony, and director of the royal plan-chamber in Dresden. It is impossible to enter here into an historical account of the progress of his invention ;-the result was this. A map is a representation, on a plane surface, of a portion of land, supposed to be extended horizontally beneath the spectator. To a person so situated relatively to the land itself, all those portions of the surface which lay parallel to the horizontal line would appear in a strong light; all those which, forming a declivity, deviated from the horizontal line, and receded from the eye, would appear in shade, and this shade would be more or less intense, in proportion to the angle which the line of decli vity formed with the horizontal line. Upon these data Lehmann formed his system. All planes parallel to this horizontal line were left white;-all inclined planes, which formed a greater angle than 45 deg. with the horizontal line, were viewed as perpendiculars, and marked as invisible, by a deep black line; all inclined planes from 0 deg. to 45 deg. were denoted by different degrees of shade, beginning with a very slight admixture of black, deepening in proportion to the increase of the angle ;—all the black strokes, by which the process of shading was effected, were drawn perpendicular to the horizontal line. By this means, a representation of the inequalities of a country, upon a plane surface, was obtained, as exact as could be afforded by a model upon the same scale. The most splendid specimen of Lehmann's talents, and the most satisfactory proof of the practicability and sufficiency of his system, is the map of the kingdom of Saxony, in A brief retrospect of what has been done towards perfecting the construction of maps, during the last century, will clearly establish the assertion with which we have set out. The earliest maps aspired to do little more than to give an approximating idea of the relative situations and distances of several places. More accurate notions of the longitude and latitude, together with more accurate means of ascertaining them, suggested the mode of projecting a sphere upon a plane surface, and thus of giving greater accuracy to maps. The discovery of America, which gave the first impulse in modern times to the more general study of geography, by turning the attention of Europe for a while almost exclusively to maritime enterprises, was the cause that marine charts were more speedily brought to a degree of perfection than the other class. Voyages were undertaken, observations and soundings made, in all directions, in order to diminish, by the discovery and accurate notation of the hidden dangers of the ocean, the perils of the mariner. In this manner, the outlines of all such countries as were bounded by the sea came to be exactly pourtrayed. Their interior, however, and the relative situation of inland nations, were more slovenly represented. There was no peril of life and limb to be incurred by ignorance in this respect, and men were content to rest upon the vague information to be attained from casual and ignorant travellers. It did not even once occur to them that more could be effected in land maps than had been in sea charts-the representation of distance and relative situation. They never entertained the idea that any correcter notion of the inequalities of the surface could be conveyed otherwise than by a hierogly-eight large sheets, taken and projected by him, now enphic similar to that used to denote a town, placed as nearly as might be in the situation of any very conspicuous eminence. Such was the state of map-making all over Europe down to a comparatively late period. A more extended and scientific inspection of the surface of the earth, has taught us that every portion of land rises gradually from the sea towards some central pointthat the mountains are not casual elevations rising in a chain, but partial terminations of this ascent-that they hang together in chains, united by the necessity of an internal organization-and that the courses of rivers are determined by this uniform rising of the land, and the position and direction of the chains of mountains. A knowledge of these peculiar features in every territory is of importance to the landed proprietor, since upon the elevation of his possessions depend the natural products they are capable of yielding-to the merchant, that he may know the easiest routes of travel-to the military leader, as upon a thorough acquaintance with his ground his whole art depends-to the statesman, as it is his to wield the combined forces of all the three. All the details can be but imperfectly expressed in words, and it became therefore an interesting problem, whether they might not by some means or other be represented on maps. The first plan devised was rude enough. For the old isolated representatives of hills, were substituted links of them placed in the direction of the principal chains of mountains. This was obviously very deficient. The general rise of land which determines the main direction of rivers, and the exposure of the soil, does not always coincide exactly with the mountain ranges, and could not therefore be expressed in this manner. Besides, it was an attempt to unite two irreconcilable ways of representing an object. In a map, we are supposed to take a bird's-eye view of the territory, but on this plan the spectator was placed at the base of the hills, and made to look towards them. Still something was gained, and the ingenuity of many engineers gave to this method a degree of perfection, which, when we take into consideration its utter want of a systematic theory to direct it, is almost inconceivable. The best maps executed in this manner are those constructed by order of the French government during the war in Italy. The first who substituted a more sufficient method for graving at the royal plan-chamber of Dresden. Lehmann's system has been adopted, with some slight modifications, by the engineers of Prussia and Austria. Of their alterations, we would say, that although perhaps less accurate, they are better adapted for speed in cases of emergency. The French, too, have adopted as much of the system as serves to give their maps a plausible appearance; but as far as we can judge from those we have yet seen, they do not adhere to it with that strictness which is necessary to ensure accuracy. Britain alone remains behind. Her military engineers keep still by the old system, which attempts to unite perspective with plan-drawing. Her surveyors are, in general, men of too confined and desultory education, to be masters of their trade. Those few of them who have attempted to introduce something like the system of Lehmann, have too confused a notion of the principles upon which it rests, to do so to any purpose. The great misfortune with us is, that no person of sufficient education has devoted himself to the construction of maps. With the exception of that constructed under the auspices of government (and which seems to have stuck in the middle) upon the trigonometrical survey, and perhaps one or two others of less importance, all our English maps are published as speculations by some one of the trade. Arrowsmith's are the best, and yet his are almost always copies, sometimes not very correct ones, of some Continental map. The excellency of their engraving is their chief recommendation. The Bijou An Annual of Literature and the Arts. 66 THE two embellishments of greatest interest in this Annual (there are only nine altogether) are, Ada, a Portrait of a Young Lady," from a picture by Sir Thomas The first Lawrence, and "The Bagpiper," by Wilkie. is a perfect gem: it is the head of a little girl, five or six years old, who, if she be not Lord Byron's daughter, as the name leads us to hope, ought to be. We have seldom seen in a youthful face so much intelligence, combined with so much infantine simplicity and innocence. Had Lawrence never painted any thing but this, it would have been enough to hand his name down to posterity. As to Wilkie's "Bagpiper," it is of course inimitable. The And little sprouts come by and by, "But, ah! as thistles on the blast "Then, Thomas, change that grublike skin, And fly, and swear that 'tis a sin To be a bachelor." We have no room for further quotations. The volume is a handsome one; and we have no doubt will make a very satisfactory New Year's present. weatherbeaten, strongly marked, acute, and truly Highland countenance of the old man, playing one of the favourite airs of his mountain land with all his fingers and with all his soul, is full of the fire and energy of Wilkie's genius. His piper is just the man to march at the head of the Forty-Second into the field of battle. The glory of old Scotland is in his heart, and he could move up with his bagpipe to a serried phalanx of bayonets, or to the mouth of a cannon. He is the chief's piper, and he might almost be the chief himself. Many a bloody field, and many a merry meeting, has he witnessed. There is a history of something or other in every corner of his face. He is like one of Sir Walter Scott's novels.-The portrait of his Majesty, which serves as the frontispiece, does not charm us much; and that of Mrs Arbuthnot, which, if we mistake not, we have already seen in "La Belle Assemblée," does not strike us as remarkably beautiful. It is odd, but it is nevertheless true, that celebrated beauties never make very fine pictures. What can be more insipid, for example, than the face of Mrs Agar Ellis in the THOUGH In some parts a little coarse, this is, on the Keepsake? and this of Mrs Arbuthnot is just a very good whole, a clever and amusing book. We have already face for an English wife, without being in any way re-given our readers an extract from some of the sheets markable. The truth is, that beauty does not agree with the atmosphere and the habits of fashion, and that white satin gowns, gold chains, and rings, have little or nothing to do with it. Life on Board a Man-of-War; including a Full Account which were sent to us as it was passing through the press, and now that we have the completed work before us, we propose adding, for their entertainment, one or two extracts more. The title-page describes very well the nature of the book, which is a good deal more than can be said for all title-pages. The author has evidently seen what he undertakes to speak about. Though of respect seventeen, and voluntarily became a common seaman on board a man-of-war. Soon after his arrival at Liverpool, whither he had come by steam from Glasgow, he got himself entered for his Majesty's ship Genoa. He was, however, in the first place, along with a good number of other new hands, sent on board the Bittern sloop of war, in order to be broken into his new profession, before he went upon actual service. From the Bittern he was draughted to the brig Reynard, in which he made a cruise, at the end of which he came into Plymouth Sound, and was at Few eminent names appear among the contributors to the Bijou; and, in looking over the contents, we confess this circumstance was to us quite refreshing. We have been dabbling so much in Annuals for the last two orable parentage, he chose to run away when only a lad of three weeks, that we have got heartily tired of " eminent names." Besides, we are satisfied that there are a great number of very clever people whom the world has never heard any thing about; and we flattered ourselves that the editor of the Bijou, trusting to his own judgment, was determined to prefer talented things from persons without a name, to stupid things from persons with a very large name. We hoped that he was, in this way, about to " give the world assurance" of an Annual that would stand ponderibus librata suis, and would trust to no fictitious celebrity whatever. We have been somewhat dis-length delivered over to the Genoa. In her he sailed, appointed, however; for, on perusing the book, we find, that instead of stupid things by well-known people, we are, for the most part, presented with stupid things from unknown people. Thus, we have "The Fisher's Wife, by a young Lady," "Oswald and Leonora," "Lines written under a Butterfly painted in an Album," "Sontiet on Emigration," ," "Sonnet by the Rev. Alexander Dyce," "Sonnet by Commander Hutchinson," "Sonnet by T. E. R.," "Sonnet by A B C," " Sonnet by X Y Z." This is rather tiresome. One might as soon expect to extract the ottar of roses out of a decoction of boiled pebbles, as poetry out of subjects like these. Nevertheless there are, of course, some things a good deal better, among which we class the following little poem : BACHELORS. "As lone clouds in autumn eves, As a tree without its leaves, As a shirt without its sleeves, "As syllabubs without a head, As jokes not laugh'd at when they're said, "As creatures of another sphere, Such are bachelors. "When, lo! as souls in fabled bowers, "These perform their functions high; under Captain Bathurst, first to Lisbon, then to Malta, and finally to Navarino, soon after which battle he quitted the service, and returned to Glasgow, his native city. Although, comparatively speaking, the writer is still but a young sailor, it is evident that he is an acute and intelligent observer in his own sphere; and many of the scenes he describes, for graphic accuracy and strength of colouring, would do no discredit even to the pen of Smollett. We look upon his book as giving the same kind of pictures of the naval service, that the memorials of the soldier of the 71st give of a private's military career. In both instances, we are presented with somewhat novel views of human life; and though these are occasionally more repulsive than could be wished, yet whatever is true to nature ought to be known, and, if honestly told, will be read with interest. For our own part, we hesitate not to say, that we have perused the whole of this volume with much entertainment, and, we think, some profit. Without farther comment, we subjoin as much as our space will allow us to extract, beginning with A SAILOR'S YARN." Well, d'ye see, when I was on board the Barfleur in the West Ingees under old Tommy Harvey, we had a rum time of it; for he was a real tartar. He was none of your wishy-washy old women; for, if a man came before him once, he was as sure of his five dozen as he had his biscuit to crack for dinner, and you know that's always sure. Well, as I was saying, the old fellor had a quare notion as how the ship's company was in a state of mutiny, thof there was not a more peaceabler set of men in the grand fleet at the time than we were. The master at-arms was just, d'ye see, the two ends and the middle of a twice laid rotten strand of a bloody rascal,* and then, d'ye Twice laid is applied to ropes made of old yarns. The two ends and the middle of course comprise the whole. Strand means one of the plies of a rope. see, he had a lot of fancy men that told him every thing as was done in the ship. No sooner did he know it than you might as well have told a boatswain's mate to keep a secret as him, for aft it went to old Tom directly. Well, as we were lying one night in the Bay of Antigua, a fine calm night it was, the ports all up for the heat, and every one in their hammocks, Jack Gibson as was a messmate of mine happened to go to the birth for a drink of water, his coppers being rather hot, when what did he see but an infernal black cat pitching into it a four pound piece of beef that had been left from dinner. Aha!' says Jack, have I catched you at last? Go and take a swim after your meal,' said he, for the good of your soul!' As he pitched it out the port, the cat made a hell of a splash in the water, and swam towards the shore. Jack went to his hammock, but had scarcely turned in, when the whole ship was in an uproar. Dme, there could not be more noise if the bloody ship had been overboard! They beat to quarters, and every one was there before you would say trap stick. The second cutters was called away to pursue the man as they thought was overboard, Now, d'ye see, 'twas two of them superfine vagabonds that had been skulking in the forechains just over the port where Jack launched the cat, and they were trying to hear what we were convarsing about as we lay in our hammocks; well, d'ye see, shippies, they were just like these two elders you read about in what you call that 'ere book in the Bible; no, it's not in the Bible either; it's a kind of Pothecary I thinks they call it, right in midships between the Bible and Testament. Now, d'ye see, them two fellors went aft to old Tom himself, and pitched him the bloodiest twister as ever you heard, about as how they heard two of the men convarsing together about delivering up the ship to the French, and that they came to the conclusion that one was to jump over into the water; and, oh! I'm dd, if I can tell you the half they were going to do! The Admiral ordered them to beat to quarters, and dispatched the cutter, manned and armed, after the cat. When we was at our quarters we was called to muster on the quarter-deck. Old Tom then said he wouldn't muster till they brought the mutinous rascal aboard. We was all waiting, like a parcel of bumboat-men on a pay day. Old Tom's nephew was looking over the quarter through his bring-em-near, and turning to old Tom, told him they had just picked up the rascal, and was bringing him aboard. Master-at-arms,' said he, get a pair of irons to clap the scoundrel in directly.' Jack Ketch, always glad of a job, was off in a twinkling, and quickly brought up a pair of the strongest irons in the ship. Laying them on the deck, the precious rascal stood rubbing his hands, his fingers itching to be putting the shackles round what he thought a man's legs. The boat neared the ship, and soon came alongside. The middy came on the quarter-deck, with a face like a wet swab or methody parson. Have you got him?' said old Tom. Yes, sir,' was the reply, 'he is in the boat.' 'Bring him here,' said he, and get your irons ready, master-at-arms; clap him on the poop, and to-morrow morning, I'm dif I don't see his back-bone!' I very much doubt, sir,' said the middy, if you have got a pair of irons in the ship that will fit the gentleman, for he is not very thick about the ankle. Bring him up, bring him up,' said Tom; ‘I'll have him on the poop all night, if I should tie him with the mizen top-sail haul-yards myself; but where is he?' He is coming, sir,' said the middy, but we will need to carry him up,' said he, for the poor fellor is so weak that he can't come out of the boat.'Get a whip on the mainyard,' said old Tom, and hoist the rascal in.' ‹ He is here, sir,' said the middy, advancing on the quarter-deck, and showing the Admiral the black cat, which he carried under his arm! Now, if you'll believe me, old Tom had not a word to throw to a dog, and the whole ship's company was like to split their sides with laughing at him and his spies, and the mutinous cat; but there never was a word about mutiny all the time we was out after that, which was three years and eight months, and the spies and Jack Ketch had the devil's own life of it till we came home !" To this we shall add some more ANECDOTES OF THE BATTLE OF NAVARINO.-" About half past three o'clock, as near as I could guess, the bight of the main-sheet hung just down before our gun, and incommoded us in the pointing of it. I was ordered, along with another, to go on deck, and haul in the slack, to keep it out of the road of the muzzle. I can't say I liked this job, for, during the action, a deep impression lay on my mind that I was safer at my gun than anywhere else; however, go I must. On gaining the main-deck, the scene of carnage and devastation far exceeded what was on the lower deck. Shortly before this, I had heard a dreadful crash, as if the whole ship's side had been stove in, and I now learned that it was occasioned by two marble-shot of 120 pound weight each, striking the main-deck abreast of the mainhatchway. They had knocked two ports into one, and wounded five men, among whom was my dear messmate, Morfiet; but this I did not know at the time. I saw Captain Bathurst coming down the poop ladder, when the tail of his cocked hat was carried away by a splinter from the bulwarks of the ship. He took off the hat, looked at it, and smiled; then coming down on the quarter-deck, which was the most imminently exposed part of the ship, issued his orders with the same calmness as if he had been exercising guns at sea. There was something at once noble and ludicrous in the appearance and situation of the old man, as he proudly walked the quarter-deck, with his drawn sword and shattered hat, amid showers of shot and splinters, insensible apparently to the danger that surrounded him. My companion and I essayed with all our might to haul in the slack of the main-sheet, but could not effect it, the rope being so heavy. The rigging of the ship was torn in pieces, her yards topped up and down, and some of them fore and aft, the lifts shot away, and the quarter-deck so bestrewed with splinters of wood, that it presented the appearance of a carpenter's shop. The Captain came forward to us, and looking up, exclaimed, ' By G-, the Union Jack's shot away! Go aft on the poop, and tell Davy, the signal man, to give me another Union Jack.' I went aft, and found Davy looking out with his glass at the Asia, which was about a cable's length astern of us, The Admiral was standing on the poop-netting, and, with a speaking trumpet, was hailing our ship with Genoa, ahoy!— Sir Edward,' was the reply of the signal man. 'Send a boat with a hawser to swing my ship's stern clear of a fire-ship that's drifting down upon us.'- Ay, ay, sir,' said Davy, and was going away, when I told him what the Captain had sent me for. He said he had a Union Jack in his breast, where he had stowed it at the beginning of the action, to be ready for any unlucky accident that might happen, and proceeded to the Captain. "When I came forward to the place I had left, I saw that the message I had been sent was the means of saving my life, for, during my absence, the hammock netting had been torn completely to pieces with shot, and the poor fellow, Holmes, who came up with me, was stretched on the deck. The Captain was at the gangway, looking into our opponent's vessel. Did you bring the Union Jack, Davy?' said be. 'Yes, sir,' replied Davy; and at the same time told him what the Admiral wanted. The Captain snatched the flag out of Davy's hand, and, walking smartly forward, demanded, Who would go and nail the British Union Jack to the fore-royal-mast-head?' A good-looking man, of the name of Neil, stept forward at once, and took it out of the Captain's hand, and, without speaking, began to make the best of his way up the two or three tattered shrouds that were left in the fore-rigging. The Captain then ordered half-a-dozen of the nearest men-among whom I was oneto man a boat and take a hawser for the Asia. Having got over the side into the boat, we sat waiting, while two of the men were occupied in coiling it in. I had here a fine view of the contending fleets, and could see that we had a galling fire to sustain at this time from two line-of-battle ships, one of which, although on fire, still kept up a constant cannonading upon us. The Asia, which was astern of us, had at this time only one large vessel, a liner, and a double-bank frigate, playing upon her. I trembled for the fate of our ship, because I was sure, that if the game continued to be played so unequally, we would stand a chance of coming off second best. I looked aloft to see how Neil had got up with the Union Jack. I saw him clinging with his feet to the royal-mast, and hammering away with a serving mallet. I watched till he got on deck in safety, and could not but admire the cool and determined manner in which he accomplished what he had undertook. The hawser being coiled in the stern sheets of the boat, we shoved off and proceeded to the Asia. The face of the water was covered with pieces of wreck; masts and yards drifted about on the surface, to which clung hundreds of poor wretches whose vessels had been blown up. Numbers of them imploringly cried upon us, in the Turkish language, a small smattering of which the most of us had picked up at Smyrna. We kept paying out the hawser as we pulled along, but, just as we came within six fathoms of the Asia, our hawser terminated, and we could not proceed any farther. The crew of the Asia, at the gunroom port, seeing our dilemma, hailed us, and hove a rope's end to make fast to our hawser; but this we could not manage. A man, then, of the name of George Finney, captain of our main-top, seeing there could be no other way of getting it done, jumped into the water and swam the distance between the boat and the flag-ship; the end of a hawser was then put out of the port, and Finney, catching hold of it, swam back to the boat, bearing the end of the heavy rope in one hand, and swimming with the other. We soon made what sailors call a Carrick bend of the two ends, and began to pull back for the Genoa. The Admiral appeared on the poop, in a plain blue surtout, and signed, with a handkerchief, for us to make all speed. Scarcely had we gained half-way between the Asia and our own ship, when the former ship's mizen went over the quarter with a crash. We thought the Admiral was involved in the wreck, as we saw him standing at the place not a minute before the mast went over; but we were relieved from this apprehension by his re-appearance on a conspicuous situation. We picked up, on our way back, ten of the poor drowning wretches who were drifting about during the storm of fire and thunder, that made the ancient Island of Sphalactria tremble again. Several of them were Arabs, quite black, but all were Mahometans, as we saw by the lock of hair left on the crown of their heads, by which Mahomet, according to their own belief, lifts them to Paradise. "Not a shot had struck the boat since we left our own ship, although several pieces of burning wood and showers of burned rice and olives, from the Turkish ships, rained down upon us in plentiful profusion; but as one of our men, called Buckley, was hauling a tall, stout young Moslem out of the water, a shot blew the head of the Turk to pieces, upon which Buckley, turning coolly about, said, D- -me, did ever you see the like of that?" "Cool, however, as a British sailor is in danger, nothing can approach the Turk in this respect. George Finney so very pretty a book coming out of Liverpool. Many Of its twelve embellishments, the three which are engraved by Edinburgh artists appear to us the best. These are, "Sunset on the Welsh Coast," and "Dordt from the Harbour," both engraved by William Miller, and "The Peasant's Grace," by W. H. Lizars, after Jan Stein. We do not say that these paintings could not have been better engraved by London artists, but this we say, that they are exceedingly well engraved, and that there are not many artists, either in London or any where else, who could have done them more justice. The frontispiece to the Winter's Wreath, which, according to the rule usually observed in Annuals, ought to have been one of the best things in the volume, disappoints us greatly. It is so wretchedly engraved, that it is impossible to say whether the original painting be an interesting one or not. in fur-whom the editor is pleased to designate "The It represents a female figure a young lady half buried Idol of Memory;" but we beg leave to say, that if this mentioned before-had hauled one into the boat, a fine-looking fellow, and elegantly dressed. He was no sooner seated be his idol, he is rather ill off, for she looks so very uninin the bow of the boat, than, taking out a portable appara-teresting, that we should be inclined to set her down as a tus, he began to fill his pipe, which having done, he struck false idol. a light from the same conveniency, and commenced sending forth, with inconceivable apathy, volumes of smoke from his mouth. Do you see that Turkish rascal,' said Finney, who was provoked at this singular instance of indifference. Well, since he cares so little for being hauled out of his Botanic Majesty's clutches, we'll soon send him where he came from. So saying, he made a spring forward, and seizing the Turk, who could not understand how he had offended, tumbled him overboard before any one could prevent him. The Turk soon recovered, and got upon a piece of the wreck of one of his own ships, where he was picked up by the Albion's boat. Another instance of Turkish coolness I may mention, which, although it did not happen in our ship, was told me under well-authenticated circumstances. Some of the crew of the French frigate Alcyone had picked up a Turk, who, by his dress, appeared to be a person of rank in their navy. When he was brought aboard, he found his arm so shattered, that it would need to undergo amputation; so he made his way down the cockpit ladder with as much ease as if he had not been hurt, and as much dignity as if he had made a prize of the frigate. He pointed to his shattered arm, and made signs to the surgeon that he wanted it off. The surgeon obliged him so far, and having bound up the stump and bandaged it properly, the Turk made his way to the deck, and, plunging into the water, swam to his own vessel that was opposed, along with another, to the very frigate he had been aboard of. He was seen climbing the side with his one arm, but had not been aboard many minutes when it blew up, and he, among others of the crew, in all probability, perished in the explosion." Many little volumes, far less entitled to success than this, have been successful. We shall be glad to know that the author of "Life on Board a Man-of-War" does not go unrewarded for his lively descriptions and interesting anecdotes. The Winter's Wreath, for 1830. A Collection of Ori- This is a Liverpool Annual, and we are pleased to see As to the letter-press of the Winter's Wreath, it is, on the whole, very respectable; but the truth is, we are at this moment so satiated with all the little tid-bits and delicacies of the Annuals, that we have no stomach for swallowing any more of them with a healthy appetite. A single apricot or orange is eat with delight; but spread out a bonquet of rich fruit, and in a very short time the palate becomes cloyed, and the eye looks upon the whole with indifference. This is to be regretted, but such is human nature; and the feeling is of course stronger with us, who, within the last ten days, have had fifteen or sixteen Annuals through our hands, than it can be with those who as yet have had only a peep or two at a stray copy. We think we could now write a receipt for an Annual which would, in no single instance, fail to produce the thing wanted, and by which the whole process would be rendered simple and certain. Let us try ; Take twelve paintings, and get these engraved as well as possible; take from three to four hundred pages of the best wire-wove paper, gilt at the edges; print a title-page, with a pretty motto in the middle of it; write a preface of three or four pages, in which you return your most grateful thanks to all the artists and all the contributors, and declare the book to be the most splendid that ever issued from the press; put in several poems by Mrs Hemans, some verses "written in an album" by James Montgomery, a great quantity of "Stanzas and "Sonnets to,' and a few prose tales by the "authors of &c. &c. &c."; have the whole bound in red silk; and you may then safely send your Annual to all the editors, who will be sure to say, that it is one of the most delightful books for a Christmas present they have ever seen. More seriously, the Winter's Wreath is "enriched by contributions" that, we believe, is an approved phrase— from Mrs Hemans, Mary Howitt, Miss Mitford, Miss Jewsbury, Dr Bowring, Derwent Conway, J. H. Wiffen, W. Roscoe-to whom the work is dedicated-Hartley Coleridge, William Howitt, and others. The selection of anonymous contributions reflects credit on the |