rence; and, ere he accepts the hand of Alicia, he confesses to her his desertion of a young Italian, whom he had deceived by a false marriage. This desertion has been palliated to his own feelings, by his discovery that he had not been Lorença's first love, and by her subsequent disappearance and misconduct. After her father's death, Alicia receives a letter from her friend, Mrs. Beresford, formerly Miss M'Manus, residing abroad, conjuring her to forbear all intercourse with St. Lawrence, re-stating his abandonment of a young female, and inclosing her portrait. Alicia presents the portrait to St. Lawrence; and, until he can clear himself from his supposed second crime, she refuses to unite her fate with his. The portrait is that of Lorença. The Earl has been deceived; the disappearance of Lorença had been caused by indignation and grief on the discovery of her invalid marriage, and the story of her infamy, both before and after her meeting St. Lawrence, had been a base fabrication, invented by, and to serve the purposes of, an abandoned woman. Convinced of her innocence, the passion of St. Lawrence for the beautiful Italian revives; and, re work, or rather two works, essentially different in nature and object from that|| which we have just dismissed; we mean the "Coming Out, and the Field of The Forty Footsteps," by Jane and Anna Maria Porter, briefly mentioned at page 81. The former, a tale of modern fashionable life, by Anna Maria Porter, we shall first notice. The heroine, Alicia, upon whose London entrée this tale is chiefly founded, is the daughter of a Colonel and Mrs. Barry. While yet a child, and residing in Ireland, her exceeding loveliness attracts the admiration of Lady Donnington, the undisputed sovereign of fashion in the metropolis; and a thoughtless expression from her Ladyship excites the hope in the Colonel that Alicia may come out under her auspices. With a view to this desirable object, Alicia is educated at home, where she leads a life of total seclusion, until she attains the age of seventeen. To keep up the consequence of the family, needless expenses are incurred. Marcus Barry, the brother of Alicia,|| a young officer, exchanges into the Foot Guards. A thoughtless giddy career of a few months, in London, in the train of Lady Donnington, terminates in the total ruin of the family. Appearances are, how-leased from his engagement with Alicia, ever, still kept up. Marcus departs for India; and the Colonel, having discovered the extent of his losses, to escape arrest, but ostensibly to visit his West Indian property, leaves Ireland for Jamaica. The only family with which Alicia has been intimate, is that of Mr. M'Manus. Jocelyn Hastings, an orphan boy, entrusted to that gentleman's charge, has been her playmate from infancy. Jocelyn is educated for the church; but, as he ad-ness, pathos, and depth of interest, than vances in life, his prospects are clouded. They brighten, however, at the period of the Colonel's leaving England. Previously to this, Lady Donnington, to answer her own purpose, takes charge of Alicia; and, with the most selfish indifference, exposes her to all the perils to which a beautiful but portionless girl, destitute of friends, can be subjected. Earl St. Lawrence's addresses are accepted, more from com-rably sustained. Indeed, all the characters, pliance with the wishes of her parents than from ardour of affection. Their marriage is delayed by the sudden death of Colonel Barry. A deep sorrow, how ever, weighs upon the heart of St, Law his union with her is shortly solemnised. Marcus Barry falls in the field, and his family are reduced to the most painful extremities of poverty, from which they are rescued by the generosity of Hastings, whose long-tried and devoted attachment to Alicia is finally rewarded by her hand. Such is a faint outline of this charming and valuable tale; charming, no less from its intrinsic delicacy and beauty, tender from the accurate pictures of fashionable life which it most forcibly delineates ; and valuable, from the importance and impressiveness of its moral. It is a book which ought to be not merely read, but deeply, deeply studied by every mother moving in the higher circles, and having the interest of her children at heart.-The character of Lady Donnington is most ably, most admi numerously and extensively varied as they are, are distinct, individualised, and well supported. The chief, almost the only fault that we can find with the work is, that it is a continued parrative, undivided, un broken, into chapters. We love the old custom of affording resting places to the reader. "Coming Out," ought to have been printed in three volumes instead of two ; and still more desirable is it that "The Field of The Forty Footsteps," should I have been in two volumes instead of one. A volume of 680 pages is absolutely unwieldly from its bulk. We have intimated that Miss Jane Porter's romance is founded upon a tradition relating to the Field of the Forty Footsteps, a portion of which yet remains unbuilt upon, near the north western angle of Russell Square. All, therefore, that we feel it necessary to add to what has been stated at page 81, is the following passage, from the opening pages of the tale: As that field, and all the rest just mentioned, are quickly becoming lost, under the daily extension of London in that direction; before further streets and squares quite obliterate every trace of the awful marks from which it takes its name, one of those solitary persons, an old Toxophilite who often trod them, would fain preserve some record of the tale they told, and some description of the local situation of the spot in which they lay; a spot whose appalling history, while it deterred common wayfarers from making it a path, proved the greater excitement | to a few wonder-loving idlers to ramble thither at vacant hours, to pace over and over again, alone or together, in awed contemplation, the mysterious memorials it displayed; and which the finger of a very aged herdsman, the usual narrator of the tradition, pointed out as "the written voice, that crieth against blood from the ground!" The footsteps were in the middle of the field, and forty in number; and, the old man said, were each imprinted by the approach and strug gle of two combatants, who had fought, and perished there, in the dead lock of mutual hatred. The tale brought in many lofty names, long laid low, even then; as we now find their humble historian to be, who died some years ago in Saint Pancras work-house. But for the petty orchard cottage he inhabited, only an easy walk from the field of his legend, and often a place of refreshment for his listeners, no one can trace where it stood. Therefore, before the most material parts which rendered his singular narrative so riveting to attention, be in like manner buried from sight, and swept to oblivion, every recollection of "the tale he told," that yet survives amongst those listeners, have been sedu lously gathered together; and the spot, too, where the fearful event occurred, sought out, and been discovered by a still-remaining remnant of its peculiar marks. The story is of the time of the Commonwealth. To furnish an outline of the fable would greatly injure the effect of the work in perusal; but we may observe, that the leading characters are amongst the first of their day, the incidents are of the most heart-searching description. No one but Jane Porter could have written this romance. Its every page reminds us of the fine, the lofty, the noble poetic spirit displayed by its gifted author in that soul-thrilling epic, "The Scottish Chiefs." "One Hundred Fables, Original and Selected, by James Northcote, R.A., &¤., embellished with Two Hundred and Eighty Engravings on Wood," must be regarded as a curious and beautiful volume, as a volume reflecting high credit upon the state of modern art in wood-cutting. Mr. Northcote, it appears, sketched the whole of the designs for the Fables, and Mr. William Harvey transferred them to the wood, for the engravers. "The ornamental letter at the beginning of each fable, and the vignette at the end, are solely the invention of Mr. Harvey." Many of these are full of taste and genius. The style, too, in which most of them are executed, is high in the order of excellence. It seems no more than justice to mention the names of the artists. Head and tail pieces, and initial letters included, no fewer than seventy-eight of these cuts are by Mr. Jackson; his coadjutors are the Branstons, the Nesbits, the Whites, the Dodds, the Bonners, Mason, Mosses, Slader, Smith, Williams, Sears, Wright, and Miss Thompson. It is with pleasure we perceive that proofs of the cuts may be had separately from the letterpress. NEW MUSIC. GUITAR. L'Aurore, ou Journal de Guitarre. No. 4, choisi et corrigé par Floretzky. This very praiseworthy little work is, we are glad to see, going on prosperously; the fourth number contains the usual variety of solos, song, and instrumental pieces. The vocal department is the least interwoven with the air amongst our effective. sweetest reminiscences, that we can pardon the homeliness of the "Tobacco Box," and "Tarry nether Garments," even in preference to the sentimentalities, of the new adaptation. PIANO-FORTE. The Battle of Navarino, a characteristic Divertimento, by Aug. Voigt.-Cramer, and Co. "Bless the Lord," an Anthem for four A Grand Naval Divertimento, by William Voices, by Wm. Poole. Carnaby, Mus. Doc.-Willis and Co. Mr. Horncastle has been exerting him- These are two, probably of the best, self beyond his wont, to do honour to his from amongst the host of ephemeral proown poetry. "The Enthusiast" is not a ductions which are always emitted from song for the million; it makes great pre- the press on such occasions. Mr. Voigt's tension, but has considerable beauty and divertimento consists of the airs, "Rule merit; the accompaniments are peculiarly || Britannia," a Turkish Air, "Hearts of rich, but require some study previous to Oak," " Partant pour la Syrie," "Schorië performance. If we might drop a hint to|| Minka," a Greek Air, a Russian Air, "God Mr. Horncastle, we should say, "Ne sutor save the King," and "See the Conquering ultra crepidam." "Deep mid the Battle's Hero comes," with about four pages of Rage," is a flashy but easy stage song, pantomimic music, in the "Battle of without any pretension at all. The com- Prague" style, all concocted after the poser has sung it in Dublin with con- most approved method, for the delight of siderable effect. "Day is departing, || boarding-school misses, and the amazeLove," is a very pleasing and ingenious ment of their admiring mammas. air, by Mr. Willis (the publisher) on Carnaby's production is cast in a very three notes; simplicity, of course, the similar mould, only that instead of firing predominant feature; the idea is not pop-guns, and galloping horse-marines, new; Rousseau's Romance, on the same the doctor has favoured us with a grand intervals, is well known, and admired; || march, to be entitled "The Duke of Clabut we think Mr. W.'s quite equal to it. ||rence's March." That this march is a Mr. Poole's anthem is possibly very corfavourite with the learned Doctor is very rect, probably very useful, but certainly evident, as he has repeated it three or very common place. four times in divers places; but we very Dr. "The Festive Halls are lighted," by Wil-much doubt whether the public will be liam Ball.-Chappel. of the same opinion. It is altogether a "Sweet Home, fare thee well," composed by very so-so sort of affair. J. Percy.-Willis and Co. "Poor Maco!" a Song, composed by T. Cooke.-Do. Mr. Ball has a very pretty knack at adaptation, which he is at present exercising by presenting us with some of the sweetest Italian arietti, in an English garb; the present is a pleasing specimen of the series. The idea of darning unmentionables was always a sore objection, in the eyes of several of our fair friends, to the lovely ballad of "Wapping Old Stairs;" Mr. Willis has, therefore, published a new edition, with a most unobjectionable set of words. But we confess that the sorrows of Poor Molly are so J. N. Hummel's Amusement à l'Autre- ENGLISH THEATRICALS. THE KING'S THEATRE. MADAME PASTA made her debut for the season at an earlier period even than we expected though too late for notice in our last month's report on the 26th of January. Tancredi was the piece and character selected for the occasion. This great actress a still greater actress than she is a singer—was, in every point, perfectly herself. Her Di tanti palpiti was, as usual, encored; and, with the exception of considerable slovenliness and blundering on the part of Curioni, the opera went off with the happiest effect. On the Tuesday following, Zelmira, another of Rossini's productions, in which Madame Pasta performs a favourite and distinguishing part, was brought forward. Perhaps the composer's genius is displayed to more advantage in this, than in any other of his works. Here, as in Tancredi, Madame Pasta's incomparable acting gives effect to a story of but little dramatic interest. The look, the tenderness of expression, with which she gave the air Perché mi guardi, e piangi, was absolutely thrilling. It was admirably accompanied by Willman, on the corno di bassetto. Pasta's air, Tuoni a sinistra il cielo, was almost equally effective. Into the accompanied recitatives, which in this opera are full of genius and spirit, she seemed to throw her entire soul. Mdlle. Brambilla's Emma was very successful; as, acting with Pasta, she seemed desirous of emulating her spirit and feeling. Still resting on Rossini, the next revival in favour of Madame Pasta was Otello, in the last act of which, this prima donna uniformly attains the acme of greatness. On the night in question, however, she laboured under the effects of a cold, which considerably impaired her voice. In Otello, a part originally composed for Garcia, and which that actor personated with extraordinary spirit and effect, Curioni was attentive, and really successful. Several of the other performers were reprehensibly imperfect in their parts. The opera was succeeded by a new ballet, of mediocre merit, entitled Phillis et Mélibée, ou l'Amour Constant. Its greatest merit was its brevity. An opera of Meyer's, entitled La Rosa Bianca e la Rosa Rossa, the scene of which is faid at York, at the time of the conflict between the Rival Houses of York and Lancaster, has been produced. In this, also, Pasta, who per Caradori was ill, and as several omissions were consequently made, it should not be judged with two much severity. Excepting in her duet with Curioni, In tal momento, in which she was truly exquisite, Pasta had little opportunity of displaying her powers. We must remark, too, that her figure is too short and full to appear to advantage in male attire. Madame Schutz, the contralto from the Italian Zuchelli, Pesarone, and Mdlle. Sontag are exOpera at Paris, has reached London; and pected to follow in succession. Amongst the succeeding operas of the season, will be La Clemenza di Tito, Il Crociato in Egitto, La Donna del Lago, and La Gabriela di Vergi. In the ballet department, Albert and Anatole are to be replaced by other dancers of acknowledged merit. DRURY LANE. Edward the Black Prince, a compilation from Shirley and Beaumont and Fletcher, with a few "original" touches from the brilliant pen of Mr. Reynolds, has been produced at this establishment, and after an ineffectual attempt to thrust it upon the town, has been withdrawn. Little remains to be said on this precious production: it was badly conceived and vilely executed. Mr. Macready, as Ribeaumont, laboured somewhat industriously. Wallack wore armour, and looked chivalrous enough as the Black Prince. Harley smiled as a cowardly English soldier, and Miss Love, as a sentimental operatic lady, wore white satin! All, however, would not do, and the Black Prince, about which there had been much puffing in the daily prints, was doomed to condemnation. Don Juan's Early Days next calls for notice. It is an operatic piece, founded upon the first five cantos of Byron's Don Juan. Nothing could be possibly less dramatic than his Lordship's poem: Byron might have taken the honest confession of the knife-grinder as a motto for his work: CC Story I have none to tell you." Miss Love personates the gallant hero, and sings her way through the piece with tolerable success. Miss E. Tree plays the child of nature and passion-Haidee. She looks and speaks the part. Nothing can be more characteristic of the creation of the poet than the appearance of the actress. We might proceed, minutely detailing the "incidents" of this production, but as we think it most likely that even before this notice meets the eyes of our readers, The Early Days of Juan may be consigned to silence, the labour would be as vain as it must be unin sonates Enrico, Earl of Derby, sustains the prin- || teresting. There is some pretty music by Reeve, cipal part. The music of the opera is agreeable rather than striking. However, as Madame some very elegant dancing by Mr. and Mrs. Noble, and some most exquisite scenery by Stanfield; to these attractions alone is the very equivocal success of the piece to be attributed. COVENT GARDEN. THE industrious Mr. Planché has favoured us with a comedy, picked out from two of the elder dramatists, Mayne and Rowley, called The Merchant's Wedding; or London Frolics in 1638. Mr. Planché, without possessing a jot of original dramatic talent, has yet sufficient perseverance, with a degree of taste enough to fit him for the character of an adapter. The comedy is in many respects judiciously arranged, more especially towards the conclusion. Its besetting fault is a want of interest in the first three acts; these are chiefly particularised by the "frolics" (and mighty dull ones by the way) of a set of roystering spirits at a tavern; hence, the interest of the auditor is not awakened sufficiently early to enjoy the concluding scenes they surprise rather than gratify him, occurring when he is become listless and altogether careless of the final destination of the parties. The actors laboured very industriously. Charles Kemble played the hero; a fine, high-mettled youth full of love and the noblest dispositions, which throw a certain charm over the excesses of the man of pleasure. We never saw Farren to better advantage: he played Warehouse, an old, miserly Merchant. In order to disinherit his heir, he marries, as he imagines, a puritanical maiden-a lover of conventicles, whom he discovers to be the most arrant fine lady; extravagant as Cleopatra, and about as prudent. The horror with which the miser contemplates his condition the sudden despair which seizes him, with his resolution to carry it off with a look of contentment, and even of jollity-all this was admirably displayed by the actor. Mr. Keeley performed Timothy Seathrift, a most simple young gentleman, smitten with the love of fine clothes. Several of the diurnal critics call Mr. Keeley the Atlas of the comic drama: we have every disposition to praise the gentleman, but really we never thought him more than a clever second-rate. His tediousness, which some critics laud as humour, was more than usually evident || in Timothy. Blanchard's Old Seathrift was of || course excellent. Mr. Bartley played Captain Quartfield, a Pistol of the second class: the part was well adapted to the general boisterousness of the actor. Miss Chester played Amelia, the rich heiress and scornful lady. The actress looked beautiful, but, altering the line of Romeo, we may say, "in her brow scorn would scorn to sit:" she cannot give birth to the vindictiveness of scorn; she cannot embody that "crushing wit," characteristic of the part. It was, of course, played with elegance, but not with requisite spirit. Mrs. Chatterley performed Penelope No. 39.-Fol. VII. Plotwell very respectably: she would, we think, act better were she to strive less; as it is, her constant endeavours to make an cc impression," give to her style an unprofitable character of speciousness. Mrs. Hughes (late Miss Jones) played Dorcas, a wily Abigail, with considerable acuteness. The dialogue of The Merchant's Wedding is, we may say, of the most refreshing character; it relishes of all the strength and exuberance of the old masters. The Somnambulist is a translation by Mr. Moncrieff. The piece has a great similitude to Love's Dream, in which Miss Kelly (as she does in the present production) acted most enchantingly: indeed, to her, alone, is the success of the piece to be attributed; her acting is beyond all eulogy. FINE ARTS' EXHIBITIONS, &c. BRITISH INSTITUTION. CROAKING Connoisseurs may say what they please_we must insist that patronage and talent, in the art of painting, are making a rapid progress hand in hand. Sufficient proof of the correctness of this position may be obtained by the slightest excursion of the eye around the rooms of the British Institution, this season. Certainly this is one of the best assemblages of modern art that it has ever had to boast: it presents a greater number of good, with a smaller number of bad, pictures than we have witnessed in any of its former exhibitions. On our first entrance, we were struck, not with a heterogeneous massing of garish hues, but with comparative harmony, and a more than usually subdued tone of colour. If we mistake not, the hanging and distribution of the pictures, this season, are also in better taste than we have been accustomed to see them: the good pictures are not all confined to one room: on the contrary, there are, perhaps, as many of superior merit in the middle and south rooms, as there are in the north room. Amongst others, it may be mentioned, that Etty's Judith and Holofernes, which attracted much attention at Somerset House, last year, now occupies the central position at the south end of the south room, where it is seen to great advantage. In the north room, Etty, who has lately been elected a Royal Academician, in the room of the late Mr. Flaxman, has two small companion pieces: "Venus now wakes, and wakens Love," from Milton's Comus (5); and Cupid intercedes for Psyche (19). Neither of them deserves to be ranked with the artist's most successful productions. In the first, the principal figure, though a fine voluptuous woman, is not, either in supremacy of beauty, or according to any received description of the love-inspiring goddess, a Venus in both, the colouring of the flesh is : S |