ce of success, when the artist worked for the
love of it, gave his whole manhood to a single volume, and mixed his
life with his pigments. But to please yourself is a different thing from
pleasing Tom, Dick, and Harry, which is the problem to be worked out by
whoever makes illustrations to be multiplied and sold by thousands. In
Dr. Palmer's "Folk-Songs," if we understand his preface rightly, the
artists have done their work for love, and it is accordingly much better
done than usual. The engravings make a part of the page, and the
designs, with few exceptions, are happy. Numerous fac-similes of
handwriting are added for the lovers of autographs; and in point of
printing, it is beyond a question the handsomest and most tasteful
volume ever produced in America. The Riverside Press may fairly take
rank now with the classic names in the history of the art. But it is for
the judgment shown in the choice of the poems that the book deserves its
chief commendation. Our readers do not need to be told who Dr. Palmer
is, or that one who knows how to write so well himself is likely to know
what good writing is in others. We have never seen so good and choice a
_florilegium_. The width of its range and its catholicity may be
estimated by its including William Blake and Dibdin, Bishop King and Dr.
Maginn. It would be hard to find the person who would not meet here a
favorite poem. We can speak from our own knowledge of the length of
labor and the loving care that have been devoted to it, and the result
is a gift-book unique in its way and suited to all seasons and all
tastes. Nor has the binding (an art in which America is far behind-hand)
been forgotten. The same taste makes itself felt here, and Matthews of
New York has seconded it with his admirable workmanship.

In Mr. Stoddard's volume we have a poet selecting such poems as
illustrate the loves of the poets. It is a happy thought happily
realized. With the exception of Dante, Petrarch, and Tasso, the choice
is made from English poets, and comes down to our own time. It is a book
for lovers, and he must be exacting who cannot find his mistress
somewhere between the covers. The selection from the poets of the
Elizabethan and Jacobian periods is particularly full; and this is as it
should be; for at no time was our language more equally removed from
conventionalism and commonplace, or so fitted to refine strength of
passion with recondite thought and airy courtliness of phrase. The