This volume of “The Gift” is superior to any yet published. Mrs. Embury has an entertaining story, and Miss Leslie’s account of a “Family that Didn’t take Boarders” is also quite amusing. Mr. Simms has a well narrated tale—Mr. Seba Smith has another—Professor Frost another—Mrs. Ellet, also, and the author of “A New Home.” We ourselves have one which is not ended so well as it might be—a good subject spoiled by hurry in the handling. The poetry, in general, is insipid. Mrs. Sigourney has not done herself justice. Lieut. G. W. Patten, U. S. A. has three effusions, neither of which do credit to the Annual. This gentleman, who writes frequently, and should therefore write well, is singularly remiss in his metaphors, and often grievously deficient in his grammar. What does he mean, at page 309, by As sleep the brave so thou _should_ sleep (?) or, at page 165, by The storm is on the sea—I hear its _wings_ In _thunder fretting_ o’er the lifted wave (?) This is surely a most singular instance of metaphor run mad! Here are three conflicting images at one time in the brain of the poet. By the word “wings” the reader is made to understand the prosopopeia of the storm as a _bird_; by “thunder” (a _natural_ accompaniment of tempests) he is brought back to the impersonified storm; by “fretting” he is left in no doubt that the writer’s ideas are running upon a _horse_—and all this in the compass of one line and a half! The “Stanzas” by Park Benjamin have a rich simplicity which of all literary qualities is the most difficult of attainment, and of all merits the most uncertain of appreciation; but we are sorry to say that they are the _only_ good verses in the volume. The engravings are very fine. We will speak of them briefly one by one. The “Country Girl,” by Cheney from Sully, is a _truthful_ picture. The design is perfect. The only fault of the execution lies in the undue breadth of the face; this defect would be remedied by deepening the shade beneath the left ear. The work of the engraver is well done. “Vignette Head,” by Cheney from Sully—one of the latter’s favorite heads—the face that of a pouting hoyden. The hair is beautifully _massed_. The _vignetting_ is carried too low as regards the bosom, from which half an inch should be taken off at bottom, or otherwise some lines of shading introduced to relieve it of its blank appearance. The arm is execrable—the hand worse—both are too massive and sinewy. “Dulcinea,” by Cheney from Leslie. No fault can be found with this picture, which is admirable in every respect. The right arm, in especial, is exquisitely rounded and foreshortened.