Besides the host of cuts incorporated with the text, each art has a whole page embellishment exquisitely engraved on wood; the designs of which are the very acme of taste. The head and tail, and letter pieces of the chapters are in equally good taste; and taken altogether, the "Young Lady's Book," either as a production of usefulness or illustratration of art, is the finest production of its day. It has been erroneously noticed, from its publication at this season, as an "Annual," but it displays infinitely more pains-taking than either of those elaborate productions--and is, we should judge, neither the labour of one or two years.
We had almost overlooked the imitative Mechlin lace-facings, which would deceive any Nottingham factor.
The design of this "Annual" is good, we may say, very good; but we are alike bound to confess that the execution falls short of the idea. It contains an account of the Gardens and Museum of the Zoological Society, but this is too much interlarded with digressions. All the introductory matter might have been omitted with advantage to the author as well as the public. The descriptions are divided by poetical pieces, which serve as _reliefs_, one of which we extract:--
Morn rose upon the purple hills, In all his pomp display'd; Flash'd forth like stars a hundred rills, In valley, plain, and glade. The foaming mist, day's chilly shrine, Into the clouds upcurl'd, Forth broke in majesty divine The Grampians' giant world.
It was a glorious sight to view Those mountain forms unfold,-- The Heavens above intensely blue, The plains beneath like gold. Day woke, a thousand songs arose, Morn's orisons on high, Earth's universal heart o'erflows To Him beyond the sky.
The shepherd roused him from his sleep, And down the vale be hied, Like guardian good, to count his sheep, His _firstling_ by his side. His firstling! 'twas his only child-- A boy of three years old, The father's weary hours beguiled Whilst watching o'er his fold.
And many an hour the child and he Joy'd o'er the vale together; It was a lovely thing to see That child among the heather. The vale is pass'd, the mountains rear Their rugged cliffs in air, He must ascend to view more near His distant fleecy care.