My Dog Quail contains some amusing anecdotes by the late Dr. Walsh; and in the Settlers, a dialogue, by Miss Leslie, of Philadelphia, are a few touching points of distinction between savage and civilized life; the Indian Island, by L.E.L., is more of a story; a Walk in a Flower Garden is from the accomplished pen of Mrs. Loudon, explaining to two juvenile inquirers the origin of the names and properties of certain plants; a Girl's Farewell to the River Lee, by Charles Swain, is plaintively interesting; Seven and Seventeen, by Mrs. S.C. Hall, is clever and lively, and full of home truth; the Sailor's Wife is a pensive ballad-tale of the sea, by M. Howitt, and likely to linger on the mind of childhood; the First Weavers, by the Rev. C. Williams, is as ingenious in its way as Professor Rennie's Bird or Insect Architecture: it enumerates many interesting processes of weaving by insects and birds, who, unlike human artificers, pursue their tasks in the untainted atmosphere of nature;--there are also two or three pretty playful prose sketches, and some clever lines by Miss Leslie, of Philadelphia, on C.R. Leslie's picture of Lady Jane Grey's reluctance to accept the crown of England. We quote the concluding lines, by L.E.L., to accompany the frontispiece:-- THE ROSE OF EDEN-DALE AND HER HOT-HOUSE FLOWERS. They were so beautiful this morn-- The lily's graceful wand Hung with small bells, as delicate As from a fairy's hand. The Indian rose, so softly red, As if in coming here It lost the radiance of the south, And caught a shade of fear. The white geranium vein'd with pink, Like that within the shell Where, on a bed of their own hues, The pearls of ocean dwell. But where is now the snowy white, And where the tender red? How heavy over each dry stalk Droops every languid head! They are not worth my keeping now-- She flung them on the ground-- Some strewed the earth, and some the wind Went scattering idly round. She then thought of those flowers no more, But oft, in after years, When the young cheek was somewhat pale, And the eyes dim with tears-- Then she recalled the faded wreath Of other happier hours, And felt life's hope and joy had been But only Hot-house Flowers! The Engravings, ten in number, with an inscription plate and vignette, are above the usual _calibre_ of the "juvenile" embellishments: they are better than mere pictures for children, and the chosen subjects harmonize with the benevolent tone and temper of the letter-press; all of them will tend to cherish kindly feelings in the hearts of the little readers. Among the best of the prints are Going to the Well, from Gainsborough; and the Industrious Young Cottager--a contented girl at work, with a bird in an opened cage beside her: the little scene is one of happy un-imprisonment and cheerful task. * * * * * THE GATHERER. * * * * *