nly partly disarmed by the comical reiteration of
confession that he has failed in his appointed task. For what he has
to say in the way of making known to the world the man JOHN LEECH, a
very thin volume would have sufficed, even had he included the more
useful of his remarks on LEECH's work and his method. But there being
two volumes to fill, Mr. FRITH genially summarises _The Physiology of
Evening Parties_, by Mr. ALBERT SMITH; _Mr. Sponge's Sporting Tour_,
and other not very high-class literature, whose only claim to being
remembered is that LEECH illustrated them. Of _The Marchioness of
Brinvilliers_, ALBERT SMITH's attempt to rival the attractions of the
_Newgate Calendar_, Mr. FRITH positively gives two whole chapters! He
allots one to the _Bon Gaultier Ballads_, and nineteen mortal pages
to telling the _Story of Miss Kilmansegg_, with copious extracts from
that easily accessible work.

This is not Memoir-writing, it is book-making. The reader can skip
these chapters, and, diligently searching, will find here and there a
ray of light thrown on this beautiful placid life, weighed down as it
was from earliest manhood by family circumstances at which Mr. FRITH
delicately hints. "Give, give!" was, truly, the cry of the daughters
of the horseleach. There are, however, several other anecdotes
contributed by personal friends of LEECH's, who have come to Mr.
FRITH's assistance, and succeed in the main in making the book an
interesting one, as giving the outside world some glimpses of a sweet
and manly character. The volumes are crowded with illustrations.
These are LEECH's own work, and make the volumes worth more than their
published price.

THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS & CO.

* * * * *

TO EVANGELINE.

Oh, come and be my Queen,
And share my lot
In some artistic cot
At Turnham Green,
EVANGELINE!

The painted tambourine
Shall grace its wall,
And many a table small
And folding screen
Shall on its floor be seen,
EVANGELINE!

Your beauty's dazzling sheen
Upsets me quite--
Of late my appetite
Has wretched been,
EVANGELINE!

I shun the soup tureen
And pine for you;
At pudding, joint, and stew
My face turns green--
What do the symptoms mean,
EVANGELINE?

If Fate should come between
My Love and me,
This countenance will be
No more serene,
EVANGELINE!

With nit