ich
this annual distribution will cherish, and the innumerable intertwinings
of hands and hearts which this shower of _bon-bons_ will produce; and
such warm friends are we to this social scheme, that our presentation
copies are already in the fair hands whither we had destined them.

We begin with the parent-stock,

The Forget-Me-Not.

_Edited by Frederic Shoberl_, Esq.

The present volume, in its graphic and literary attractions is decidedly
superior to that of last year, an improvement which makes us credit what
the Ettrick Shepherd says of the proprietor--"There's no a mair just,
nay, generous man in his dealings wi' his authors, in a' the tredd, than
Mr. Ackermann."

This beautiful Annual contains the original of our ENGRAVING, from a
plate by A. Freebairn, after an admirable picture by S. Prout, of which
the following story is illustrative:--

THE MAGICIAN OF VICENZA.

In the year 1796, on one of the finest evenings of an Italian autumn,
when the whole population of the handsome city of Vicenza were pouring
into the streets to enjoy the fresh air, that comes so deliciously along
the currents of its three rivers; when the Campo Marzo was crowded with
the opulent citizens and Venetian nobles; and the whole ascent, from the
gates to the Madonna who sits enthroned on the summit of Monte Berrico,
was a line of the gayest pilgrims that ever wandered up the vine-covered
side of an Alpine hill; the ears of all were caught by the sound of
successive explosions from a boat running down the bright waters of the
Bachiglione. Vicenza was at peace, under the wing of the lion of St.
Mark, but the French were lying round the ramparts of Mantua. They had
not yet moved on Venice; yet her troops were known to be without arms,
experience, or a general, and the sound of a cracker would have startled
her whole dominions.

The boat itself was of a singular make; and the rapidity with which this
little chaloupe, glittering with gilding and hung with streamers, made
its way along the sparkling stream, struck the observers as something
extraordinary. It flew by every thing on the river, yet no one was
visible on board. It had no sail up, no steersman, no rower; yet it
plunged and rushed along with the swiftness of a bird. The Vicentine
populace are behind none of their brethren in superstition, and at the
sight of the flying chaloupe, the groups came running from the Campo
Marzo. The Monte Berrico was speedily left without