independence could produce such monuments of glory, even in the midst of war and in a petty state. * * * * * The preceding extract has occupied so much space, that we can give little more than an enumeration of the other contents of the _Gem_. Among the prose, we have been most pleased with Walter Errick, a touching tale, by the Hon. Mrs. Norton, (author of Sorrows of Rosalie;) and the Mining Curate, by Mr. Carne; both of which, however, terminate somewhat too gloomily. Next is the Man and the Lioness, by Lord Nugent--not a "Lioness" of Exeter 'Change, but a cook and housekeeper to a country gentleman, by all around called _the Lioness_ a name, "in the strictest sense, _de guerre_." Knowing the noble author's _forte_ in gastronomy, we are almost induced to think the cook, or _Lioness_ a portrait from life. With respect to the name, his lordship observes "it might have had some reference to those ample and bushy ringlets, of a colour which by the friends of the wearer, is generally called bright auburn, and which, on those high days when Mrs. Grace was wont to stalk forth from her solitude, swelled around a sanguine countenance, in volume, in texture, and in hue, not unlike the mane of that awful animal." To our view, Mrs. Grace is a sort of Mrs. Subtle, but who, with better luck than the housekeeper in the play, marries the old gentleman, and after an odd adventure at a masquerade, buries him in the Abbey Church, Bath. It is pleasantly told, and there are in it many genuine touches of humour. Miss Mitford has next Little Miss Wren, a beautiful trifle for old and young; and last is the Count of Trionto, as deep a piece of Italian romance as need accompany one of Mr. Martin's designs. The poetical pieces, which are numerous, are of a less lugubrious cast than usual. Mr. Kenney, the playwright, has a rustic plaint: Dear Tom, my brave free-hearted lad, Where'er you go, God bless you! You'd better speak than wish you had, If love for me distress you. To me they say, your thoughts incline, And possibly they may so; Then, once for all, to quiet mine, Tom, if you love me, say so. --All this is mighty pleasant for a plaint, and just such as Mr. Kenney would write on one of the garden-seats of the Tuileries, or in the green-room of the little theatre in the Haymarket. The lines on a young collegian and his "dearest Lily," are equally playful: Farewell to the hound and the cover, Farewell to the heath and the glen! But when _Term_ and the _Little-go's_ over, He'll be with you, dear Lily again.