s thrown into some concealed part of the house and covered
with rubbish. Imelda hastened to him, following the tracks of his blood,
as soon as the brothers were gone; found him, and supposing him not
quite dead, generously, as our own Queen Eleanor had done about the same
time, sucked the poison from the bleeding wound, the only remedy which
could possibly save his life; but it was too late: Imelda's attendants
found her a corpse, embracing that of her beloved Bonifazio.'"

The success of the Landscape Annual is very far from problematical. All
our _travelled_ nobility and people of fortune will buy it to refresh
their acquaintance with the beautiful scenes it includes; and it is
hardly possible to imagine a more agreeable book-companion on the
journey itself.

* * * * *

LITERARY SOUVENIR.

(_Concluded from Supplement, page 336_.)

The _poetry_ of the _Souvenir_ is, as usual, for the most part
excellent. Among the best pieces are The Dying Mother to her Infant, by
Caroline Bowles; Bring back the chain, by the authoress of the "Sorrows
of Rosalie;" and The Birth-day, by N.P. Willis, a popular American
writer. There are likewise some very graceful and touching pieces by Mr.
Watts, the editor, one of which will be found in our next number. There
are too some pleasant attempts at humorous relief; but "Vanity Fair" is
a very poor attempt at jingling rhyme. We quote one of these light
pieces for the sake of adding variety to our sheet:

WHERE IS MISS MYRTLE?

AIR--_Sweet Kitty Clover._

Where is Miss Myrtle? can any one tell?
Where is she gone, where is she gone?
She flirts with another, I know very well;
And I--am left all alone!
She flies to the window when Arundel rings:
She's all over smiles when Lord Archibald sings;
It's plain that her Cupid has two pair of wings;
Where is she gone, where is she gone?
Her love and my love are different things:
And I--am left all alone!

I brought her, one morning, a rose for her brow
Where is she gone, where is she gone?
She told me such horrors were never worn now:
And I--am left all alone!
But I saw her at night with a rose in her hair,
And I guess who it came from,--of course I don't care!
We all know that girls are as false us they're fair;
Where is she gone, where is she gone?
I'm sure the lieutenant's a horrible bear;
And I--am left all alone!

Whenever we go on t