The engravings are of larger size than heretofore, and, for the most part, more brilliant in design and execution than any previous year.  We can only notice the Sisters, (frontispiece) full of graceful and pleasing effect, by J.H.  Robinson, after Stephanoff; Cleopatra, on the Cydnus, a splendid aquatic pageant, by E. Goodall, after Danby; the Proposal, consisting of two of the most striking figures in Leslie’s exquisite painting of May Day in Queen Elizabeth’s time; a Portrait of Sir Walter Scott, from Leslie’s painting, and considered the best likeness; this is from the burin of an American artist of high promise.  We must not, however, forget Ehrenbreitstein, on the Rhine, by John Pye, from a drawing by J.M.W.  Turner, which is one of the most delightful prints in the whole series.

In the poetry are Cleopatra, well according with the splendid scene it is intended to illustrate—­and I think of Thee, a tender lament—­both by Mr. T.K.  Hervey; Mrs. Hemans has contributed four exquisite pieces:  Night, the Ship at Sea, and the Mariner’s Grave, by Mr. John Malcolm, only make us regret that we have not room for either in our columns; Mary Queen of Scots, by H.G.  Bell, Esq., is one of the most interesting historical ballads we have lately met with; the Epistle from Abbotsford, is a piece of pleasantry, which would have formed an excellent pendent to Sir Walter’s Study, in our last; Zadig and Astarte, by Delta, are in the writer’s most plaintive strain; the recollections of our happiest years, are harmoniously told in “Boyhood;” a ballad entitled “The Captive of Alhama,” dated from Woburn Abbey, and signed R——­, is a soul-stirring production, attributed to Lord John Russel; and the Pixies of Devon has the masterly impress of the author of Dartmoor.  And last in our enumeration, though first in our liking, are the following by the editor:—­Invocation to the Echo of a Sea Shell; King Pedro’s Revenge, with a well written historiette; the Youngling of the Flock, full of tenderness and parental affection; and some Stanzas, for our admiration of which we have not an epithet at hand, so we give the original.

ON BURNING A PACKET OF LETTERS.

By A.A.  Watts, Esq.

Relics of love, and life’s enchanted spring,
  Of hopes born, rainbow-like, of smiles and tears:—­
With trembling hand do I unloose the string,
  Twined round the records of my youthful years.

Yet why preserve memorials of a dream,
  Too bitter-sweet to breathe of aught but pain! 
Why court fond memory for a fitful gleam
  Of faded bliss, that cannot bloom again!

The thoughts and feelings these sad relics bring
  Back on my heart, I would not now recall:—­
Since gentler ties around its pulses cling,
  Shall spells less hallowed hold them still in thrall!

Can withered hopes that never came to flower
  Match with affections long and dearly tried
Love, that has lived through many a stormy hour,
  Through good and ill,—­and time and change defied!