This is, we have no hesitation in saying, the best work on deer-stalking which has yet been written; and the amount of information which it contains regarding the habits of the stag and roe, combined with the vivid pictures of which we have made such ample use, cannot fail to render it popular. In an antiquarian point of view, it is also highly interesting; for it embodies a large amount of traditionary lore, sketches of the clans, and fragments of Highland song, of much superior merit to those which have hitherto come into our hands. The disquisitions, too, upon the disappearance of some animals once indigenous to Scotland--such as the wolf, the elk, the wild bull, and the beaver--exhibit a great amount of research, and supply a gap which has long been wanted in the page of natural history. One word to the authors--though we fear our words must travel a long way before they can reach them in a foreign land. Why should they not recast and add to their second volume, so as to make it a single and unrivalled work upon the noblest sports of the Highlands? If it has proved so fascinating, as in truth we have felt it, in the more cumbrous shape of notes, how much better would it be if issued, not as an appendage to the poems, but in a distinct and articulate form? Perpend upon this, John Sobieski and Charles Edward, at your leisure; and let us add, that we trust some of your more gloomy anticipations may fall short of reality; that the walks of Eilean-Agais, that little Eden of the north, may again be gladdened by your presence; and that the sound of your hunting-horns may once more be heard in the woods of Tarnaway, and on the hills near the sources of the Findhorn. THE BURIED FLOWER. In the silence of my chamber, When the night is still and deep, And the drowsy heave of ocean Mutters in its charmèd sleep, Oft I hear the angel voices That have thrill'd me long ago,-- Voices of my lost companions, Lying deep beneath the snow. O, the garden I remember, In the gay and sunny spring, When our laughter made the thickets And the arching alleys ring! O the merry burst of gladness! O the soft and tender tone! O the whisper never utter'd Save to one fond ear alone! O the light of life that sparkled In those bright and bounteous eyes! O the blush of happy beauty, Tell-tale of the heart's surprise! O the radiant light that girdled Field and forest, land and sea, When we all were young together, And the earth was new to me! Where are now the flowers we tended? Wither'd, broken, branch and stem; Where are now the hopes we cherish'd? Scatter'd to the winds with them. For ye, too, were flowers, ye dear ones! Nursed in hope and rear'd in love, Looking fondly ever upward To the clear blue heaven above: