The _naïveté_ of this is similar to a little quotation which the author gives from a Servian elegy. A poor girl sings: “Our Lord has of every thing his fill; but of poor people he seems to have greater plenty than of anything else!” The following description, from a Servian lyric, we commend to contributors to Albums. It will keep them in comparisons for a life-time: Never since the world had a beginning, Never did a lovelier flow’ret blossom, Than the flow’ret in our own days blooming; Haikuna, the lovely maiden flower. She was lovely, nothing e’er was lovelier! She was tall and slender as the pine-tree; White her cheeks, but tinged with rosy blushes, As if morning’s beam had shone upon them, Till that beam had reached its high meridian. And her eyes, they were two precious jewels, And her eyebrows, _leeches from the ocean_, And her eyelids, they were wings of swallows; And her flaxen braids were silken tassels; And her sweet mouth was a sugar casket, And her teeth were pearls arrayed in order; White her bosom, like two snowy dovelets, And her voice was like the dovelet’s cooing; And her smiles were like the glowing sunshine; And her fame, the story of her beauty, Spread through Bosnia, and through Herz’govina. The simplicity of the ballads which Mrs. Robinson has so copiously translated, will win many readers who take but little interest in intellectual history. But it is as a history of literature that the book is deserving of most attention, and as a historian the author displays great learning, gracefully managed. The criticism is conducted on enlarged principles of taste, and the diction is uniformly clear, condensed, and elegant. The publisher has done his part towards making the volume attractive, by printing it in large type on good paper. * * * * * _Indiana. By George Sand. Translated by one of the Best French Scholars in this Country, a member of the Philadelphia Bar. Philadelphia. T. B. Peterson. 1 vol. 12mo._