he print. The
_Fisherman's Daughter_, from a painting by Bone, is pleasing; and
_Venice, with the Embarkation of the Doge_, is a stirring scene of
pageantry and triumph.

Among the _poetry_ is the Painter's Song, a pleasing composition, by
Barry Cornwall, who has also The Victim, a dramatic sketch of twenty
pages. Stanzas by Horace Smith, Esq. are a pleasant satire upon the
little vanities of great people. We give the _Dream of Eugene Aram_ in
full, although it consists of nearly two pages of small type.:--

* * * * *

THE DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM.

BY T. HOOD, ESQ.

[The late Admiral Burney went to school at an establishment where the
unhappy Eugene Aram was usher subsequent to his crime. The admiral
stated, that Aram was generally liked by the boys; and that he used to
discourse to them about _murder_ in somewhat of the spirit which is
attributed to him in this poem.]

'Twas in the prime of summer time,
An evening calm and cool,
And four-and-twenty happy boys
Came bounding out of school:
There were some that ran and some that leapt,
Like troutlets in a pool.

Away they sped with gamesome minds,
And souls untouch'd by sin:
To a level mead they came, and there
They drave the wickets in:
Pleasantly shone the setting sun
Over the town of Lynn.

Like sportive deer they coursed about,
And shouted as they ran,--
Turning to mirth all things of earth,
As only boyhood can;
But the Usher sat remote from all--
A melancholy man!

His hat was off, his vest apart,
To catch heaven's blessed breeze--
For a burning thought was in his brow,
And his bosom ill at ease:
So he lean'd his head on his hands, and read
The book between his knees!

Leaf after leaf he turn'd it o'er,
Nor ever glanc'd aside--
For the peace of his soul he read that book
In the golden eventide:
Much study had made him very lean,
And pale, and leaden-eyed.

At last, he shut the ponderous tome;
With a fast and fervent grasp
He strain'd the dusky covers close,
And fixed the brazen hasp;
"O God, could I so close my mind,
And clasp it with a clasp!"

Then leaping on his feet upright,
Some moody turns he took,--
Now up the mead, then down the mead,
And past a shady nook,--
And, lo! he saw a little boy
That pored upon a book!

"My gentle lad, what is't you read--
Romance or fairy fable?
Or is it some historic page,
Of kings and crowns unstable?"
The young b