by means of an elegant extract from the poems of
Mr. Alfred Austin. This, undoubtedly, is a step in the right direction.
It is true that such aphorisms as

Graves are a _mother's dimples_
When we complain,

or

The primrose wears a constant smile,
And captive takes the heart,

can hardly be said to belong to the very highest order of poetry, still,
they are preferable, on the whole, to the date of Hannah More's birth, or
of the burning down of Exeter Change, or of the opening of the Great
Exhibition; and though it would be dangerous to make calendars the basis
of Culture, we should all be much improved if we began each day with a
fine passage of English poetry. How far this desirable result can be
attained by a use of the volume now before us is, perhaps, open to
question, but it must be admitted that its anonymous compiler has done
his work very conscientiously, nor will we quarrel with him for the fact
that he constantly repeats the same quotation twice over. No doubt it
was difficult to find in Mr. Austin's work three hundred and sixty-five
different passages really worthy of insertion in an almanac, and,
besides, our climate has so degenerated of late that there is no reason
at all why a motto perfectly suitable for February should not be equally
appropriate when August has set in with its usual severity. For the
misprints there is less excuse. Even the most uninteresting poet cannot
survive bad editing.

Prefixed to the Calendar is an introductory note from the pen of Mr.
William Sharp, written in that involved and affected style which is Mr.
Sharp's distinguishing characteristic, and displaying that intimate
acquaintance with Sappho's lost poems which is the privilege only of
those who are not acquainted with Greek literature. As a criticism it is
not of much value, but as an advertisement it is quite excellent. Indeed,
Mr. Sharp hints mysteriously at secret political influence, and tells us
that though Mr. Austin 'sings with Tityrus' yet he 'has conversed with
AEneas,' which, we suppose, is a euphemistic method of alluding to the
fact that Mr. Austin once lunched with Lord Beaconsfield. It is for the
poet, however, not for the politician, that Mr. Sharp reserves his
loftiest panegyric and, in his anxiety to smuggle the author of Leszko
the Bastard and Grandmother's Teaching into the charmed circle of the
Immortals, he leaves no adjective unturned, quoting and misquoting Mr.
Austin w