"In a chamber, faintly crying, With its mother o'er it sighing, Lay a baby pale and wan; Ever turning--restless turning-- Much she dreaded fever burning, Sickness slow or sickness hasting, Cough, convulsion, ague wasting. Bitter tears there fell upon The pale face of her little son. "The evening chimes had ceased their ringing, And the even song was singing In the old kirk grey with years; Through the air sweet words came welling-- Words of peace, unto that dwelling; Hymns they sang, how angels shielded Those who ne'er to sin had yielded:-- And her pale face lost its fears-- That lonely mother dried her tears. "In her arms the babe soon slumber'd; That little son, whose days seem'd number'd, Smiled upon his mother sleeping. The Lord indeed had sorely tried her, But his angel knelt beside her; Heavenly breezes cool'd the fever Of her child--He shall not leave her! And this mother ceased her weeping." The "Expected Return" is quite in Redgrave's best manner "Fancy, impatient of all painful thoughts, Pictured the bliss should welcome his return; * * * * * And hope and memory made a mingled joy."--SOUTHEY This is a lovely figure; a loving and lovable gentle creature! and many such have we seen by Redgrave's hand. Not Raffaelle himself could more truly paint the pure mind--that precious jewel, innocence, in its most lovely casket. Severn has two plates, which may be called companions; racy and good are they, and of one vintage. We are not quite satisfied with either face or figure of the maiden in the "Roman Vintage." Hers is not a face of feeling; nay, we would almost beg Mr Severn's pardon, and pronounce her a bit of a fool. The "Neapolitan" is much better. They are executed in a very bold, broad, free style of etching, and effective. Horsley's "English Peasant" might be allowed to be a little weatherbeaten; but, at first sight, we should say that he was not of the temperance society when the aquafortis was on the table. It is black, from being overbitten. Yet, after a while, we see through the darkness into the character. He is an honest fellow, but a little "disguised." His "Twilight" is very good, yet perhaps is the light a little too sharp and strong for that hour. The subject is from verses by Redgrave, and good and quaintlike old gentle rhymes they are. But how comes it that the figures are both feminine?--that does not accord with the lines.