y,
marries the old gentleman, and after an odd adventure at a masquerade,
buries him in the Abbey Church, Bath. It is pleasantly told, and there
are in it many genuine touches of humour. Miss Mitford has next Little
Miss Wren, a beautiful trifle for old and young; and last is the Count
of Trionto, as deep a piece of Italian romance as need accompany one of
Mr. Martin's designs.

The poetical pieces, which are numerous, are of a less lugubrious cast
than usual. Mr. Kenney, the playwright, has a rustic plaint:

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.
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.

--All this is mighty pleasant for a plaint, and just such as Mr. Kenney
would write on one of the garden-seats of the Tuileries, or in the
green-room of the little theatre in the Haymarket. The lines on a young
collegian and his "dearest Lily," are equally playful:

Farewell to the hound and the cover,
Farewell to the heath and the glen!
But when _Term_ and the _Little-go's_ over,
He'll be with you, dear Lily again.

--But these are hardly polished enough for the _Gem_. In another
vein, Dr. Bowring has some fine stanzas "to GOD," from the Dutch. A few
lines by the unfortunate John Keats strongly tell his frenzied hours. A
Legend of the Mirror has too much chivalry to belong to our lists, but
is very pretty. The Lone Old Man, by the Hon. Mrs. Norton, has all the
pathos of her best compositions. Still, the most striking of the poetry
are the Tichborne Dole, a ballad of rare antique beauty, by Lord
Nugent--and a Highland Eclogue, by the Ettrick Shepherd--both which are
too long for extract.

In its Illustrations, the _Gem_ is more than usually fortunate, and
their selection and execution is honourable to the taste and talent of
R. Cooper, Esq. R.A. The Frontispiece, Rose Malcolm, from his pencil,
by C. Rolls, is extremely beautiful. Wilkie's Saturday Night is ably
engraved by J. Mitchell; and Tyre, by S. Lacy, from a picture by T.
Creswick contended for our choice with Verona, which we have adopted.
Three or four of the plates have much fun and humour: the Stolen
Interview, after Stephanoff--an old lady being asleep at noonday in an
easy chair, her daughter profits by the nap to return the attentions
of he