The Winter's Wreath.
This is a provincial, but not a first appearance in London; the present being the fourth "Wreath" that has been entwined for the lovers of song and sentiment. It is culled from Liverpool, (next to our own metropolis) the most literary city in the empire; but many of its flowers have been gathered from our metropolitan parterre. Thus, in addition to the respected names of Roscoe, Currie, and Shepherd, (of Liverpool), we have among the contributors those of Hemans, Bowring, Howitt, Opie, with Mitford, Montgomery, and Wiffen. The editorship has passed into different hands, and "the introduction of religious topics has been carefully avoided" as unsuited to a work of elegant amusement.
The plates are twelve in number, among which are Lady Blanche and her Merlin, after Northcote (rather too hard in the features); an exquisite View of the Thames near Windsor, after Havell; Medora and the Corsair, after Howard; the Sailor Boy, by Lizars; and a beautiful Wreath Title-page, after Vandyke. All these will bear comparison with any engravings in similar works.
The Wreath contains 132 pieces or flowers, some of them perennials—others of great, but less lasting beauty—and but few that will fade in a day. Among those entitled to special distinction, in the prose department, are an Italian Story, of considerable interest; the Corsair, a pleasing sketch; and Lough Neagh, a tale of the north of Ireland. One of the perennials is a Journey up the Mississippi, by Audubon, the American naturalist. Kester Hobson, a legendary tale of the Yorkshire Wolds, which turns upon a lucky dream, will probably set thousands dreaming—and we hope with the same good effect—viz. half-a-bushel of gold. "A Vision," by the late Dr. Currie, is a successful piece of writing; Le Contretems is a pleasant tale enough, with a sprinkling of French dialogue. Next is a well-told historiette of the eventful times of the Civil Wars.—The Memoir of a young Sculptor can scarcely fail to awaken the sympathy of the reader. The introduction of the paper on Popular Education, in what the editor himself calls "a work of elegant amusement like the present," is somewhat objectionable, and the writer's sentiments will be very unpalatable to a certain party. The Ridley Coach is a sketch in the style of Miss Mitford, who has contributed only one article, and that in verse. Mrs. Opie has a slight piece—The Old Trees and New Houses—but our prose selection is, (somewhat abridged)—