s--
That lonely mother dried her tears.

"In her arms the babe soon slumber'd;
That little son, whose days seem'd number'd,
Smiled upon his mother sleeping.
The Lord indeed had sorely tried her,
But his angel knelt beside her;
Heavenly breezes cool'd the fever
Of her child--He shall not leave her!
And this mother ceased her weeping."

The "Expected Return" is quite in Redgrave's best manner

"Fancy, impatient of all painful thoughts,
Pictured the bliss should welcome his return;
* * * * *
And hope and memory made a mingled joy."--SOUTHEY

This is a lovely figure; a loving and lovable gentle creature! and many
such have we seen by Redgrave's hand. Not Raffaelle himself could more
truly paint the pure mind--that precious jewel, innocence, in its most
lovely casket.

Severn has two plates, which may be called companions; racy and good are
they, and of one vintage. We are not quite satisfied with either face or
figure of the maiden in the "Roman Vintage." Hers is not a face of
feeling; nay, we would almost beg Mr Severn's pardon, and pronounce her
a bit of a fool. The "Neapolitan" is much better. They are executed in a
very bold, broad, free style of etching, and effective. Horsley's
"English Peasant" might be allowed to be a little weatherbeaten; but, at
first sight, we should say that he was not of the temperance society
when the aquafortis was on the table. It is black, from being
overbitten. Yet, after a while, we see through the darkness into the
character. He is an honest fellow, but a little "disguised." His
"Twilight" is very good, yet perhaps is the light a little too sharp and
strong for that hour. The subject is from verses by Redgrave, and good
and quaintlike old gentle rhymes they are. But how comes it that the
figures are both feminine?--that does not accord with the lines.

"Time was no more for them: the sun had gone,
The stars from sunset glow began to peer;
Yet 'neath those stars that pair still linger'd on,
Unconscious of the night, fast drawing near!
His voice to her was daylight, and her smile
A sunny morning breaking o'er his soul:
Such hours of bliss come only once--the while
Long-silent love speaks forth without control,
And of its hopes and fears first telleth out the whole."

"Welsh Gossips."--

"At every word a reputation dies."

For the c