LITERATURE OF THE ANNUALS.

As stated epochs are marked in the natural world by the appear- ance of certain productions, so it is in the world of trade. The snow- drop announces the approaching spring ; the Annuals indicate the coming book season. The spring may be long delayed, or the wea- ther continue so wild and bleak that January may seem to change into June; but the flower, at all events, assures us that the worst of the winter is gone. So, a slackness may still be felt in the pub- lishing world ere books become as plenty as the contemporaneous blossoms; but the lot of Annuals on our table proves that the season of 1835 is ended.

Peace be with it,—and turn we to the harbingers of the coming year. Of these, the Landscape Annual first challenges attention, by the weight of its name, the unity of its subject, and the repu- tation of its editor,—although we have met Mr. Roscoe with a more congenial theme and in a happier mood than on the pre- sent occasion. The province of Spain which Mr. ROBERTS this year illustrates by his exactly faithful pencil, is Andalusia; and Mr. ROSCOE has done what he can to give an additional interest to the glowing scenes or gorgeous Morisco structures presented in the plates. What is called the romantic has given place to what is called the real. A coup d mil of Andalusian, or rather of Spanish history, is presented to the reader, from the first arrival of the Saracenic conquerors till the expulsion of the Mahommedan race, and inci- dentally down to the siege of Gibraltar. With these more com- prehensive subjects, are intermingled historical anecdotes, de- scriptions of scenery and customs, and a scattering of informa- tion on useful things. As regards variety of matter, therefore, there is nothing to complain of; but something of freshness, spirit, and connexion of design is wanting. Mr. Roscoe has never seen the spots he writes about ; he appears to have thought that to give the great masses of history would have been too formal and weighty for his work ; and he had not room to evolve its romance.

Observing that the cities which form the principal points of what should have been a tour, are Cordova, Seville, Xeres, and Cadiz, we proceed to glean a few extracts.

CARTHUSIAN STRICTNESS.

No female is allowed to pollute the sanctity of the spot (the monastery of the Cartuja), except female royalty; and the present Queen honoured the brotherhood with a visit. A monk attended, and marked each slab upon which her feet rested; and they were carefully removed and replaced by others.

DEATH OF TWO HEROES.

The fate of the great matador, Pepehillo, the boast of Seville, was caused by the last suddetaeffort of an expiring bull,—a powerful animal of the old Ronda breed, ferocious as he was cunning. With the punica fides of the old Cartha- ginian, he pretended to be dead before be was, and gored his adversary after the latter had believed that he had given him the coop de grace. Both had that day exhibited their skill to the astonishment of the whole arena. The hero of Ronda had charged the band of picadores no less than ten times, slain two, and killed four of their horses : in the first, by a dextrous turn of the bridle-hand and right leg, the rider evaded the shock ; but in the second, he bore horse and rider to the ground. The former ruse no more, and his master lay perfectly motionless on his side, as his sole hope of escape. A thrilling silence ensued ; but the suspense lasted only a few moments. The spectators row; but the instant the bull, having despatched the home, prepared to gore the rider, the chicks, rushing with loud cries, waving their scarlet cloaks, threw themselves between him and his victim. Springing from the ground, the picador vaulted on another steed ; while the bull, darting upon the foot cham- pions, pursued them across the ring so closely, that the last man appeared to plant his foot upon his head as he cleared the outer palisade. Mr. Townsend observes, that he thought it was literally the case, such was the flying leap he took over the barrier. A tremendous shout of applause proclaimed the hero's safety ; and, master of the ring, the bull, instead of skulking round the sides, answered with a roar of defiance as he resumed his station in the centre. Again the gallant picador galloped to the assault ; the contest was renewed with various fortune. Half the morning had elaped ; ten horses had been successively disabled ; the noble bull, sore beset and wounded, yet remained dauntless as before, when the bugles sounded the death-note, and the presi- dent's signal was displayed. It was then that the graceful and skilful Pepehillo, the prince of Seville's mata- dores, prepared for the last scene. Throwing off his cloak, with a light fearless step he walked up till within six yards. and directly faced the bull. In one hand he bore a little red banner, in the other a short and broad sword. They stood some minutes surveying each other; for the bull's eye was evidently upon him, and his fixed as steadfastly on that of the hull. After the feats he had witnessed, Pepehillo felt he had undertaken no trivial task. Instead of provoking him, he stood on his guard, and left the honour of the attack entirely to his foe. At this moment the intense interest of the beholders was wound up to a degree of pain ; for it was felt that the president had undervalued the remaining power of the bull, and called the matador too early into play. He stood partly con- cealed by the red flag, so that the bull could see nothing of the sword. He made a desperate rush directly at his man ; who, quick ,as thought, wheeled half round, and the enraged beast passed under his banner, but recovered him- self for a fresh charge without receiving a hurt. Aa lie bore down on him again, the matador levelled his sword at the left side of the bull's neck, and turning sharply round, hit the exact line, and ran the steel up to the very hilt. The animal staggered and fell on his knees ; and the matador, calling for the poniards of his attendants from behind, and knowing the wound was mortal, did not repeat the blow. But ere they seine to his aid, while in the act of withdrawing his sword, the bull, as if endued with new life, sprang up and dashed him to the earth, falling at the same moment a lifeless heap upon the sand.

AN INVOLUNTARY PARRICIDE.

Among the historic associations of a wild and startling character connected With Italica and its vicinity, is an incident so strange and tragic as to excite at once the surprise and sympathy of the reader. Prince Maron, son of Abder. rahman, descended from King Abderrahman Anasir, in attempting to seek refuge within its walls till he could reach the coast, committed an action of the darkest dye, and involuntarily steeped his hands in blood. Ile was only sixteen years of age, of a noble disposition, distinguished already for his genius and erudi- tion, when so great a calamity fell upon him, and consigned him for the remainder of his days to captivity and remorse. He had been brought up at the court of Cordova with the most studious care, together with a daughter of one of the favourite slaves of Abderrahman. As children, they had nurtured a young attachment, which daily gained strength from a like nobleand surpassing beauty both of mind and person. The feelings produced by early companionship and sympathy of tastes at length ripened into a deeper passion. Abderrahman because too late aware of the danger to which he had exposed his son ; he sepa. rated him from the lovely companion of his infancy, the admiration of all eyes, in the opening 'splendour of her charms. A deep melancholy preyed on the mind of the youthful prince, the effect of which was to add fresh fuel to the passion which consumed him. Spite of all precautions, he gained access to the royal gardens; and, beholding at length the object of all his thoughts, " We have not a moment to lose," he exclaimed ; " let us fly, while it is yet night." She could not resist his ardent importunities, and he led her towards the spot by which he had entered.

In the very act of escaping through the gate, the young prince was rudely seised by a powerful arm : in vain he sought to shake off his aggressor ; and, in the rage of a thwarted passion like his, he smote his enemy with a short dagger to the heart. The cry of his own father struck upon his ear ; and in a few mo- ments he was surrounded by his slaves and disarmed. He was dragged before the chief cadi, and thrown into a dungeon. Ile was subsequently condemned by the grand council, assisted by the Princess Sobeiha, to a captivity equal to the number of his days,—a sentence confirmed by Hagen and his mother. The wretched lover and involuntary parricide employed his term of lingering durance in the composition of those wild and sad romances which have added a still more mournful celebrity to his name.

The Christian Keepsake is as staid in externals as it is possible to be with green and gold : we hardly know whether its literature is rightly amenable to secular criticisin,—for if its papers be considered apart from the peculiar object with which they were penned, a judgment may be given upon a partial view. Speaking with this qualification, the table of contents is distinguished by a full proportion of verse and a succession of prose papers, whose titles are adapted to the character of the Annual. Cautiously proceeding further in our examination, we find the verse, in spite of Dr. Jonsmosis reasons why sacred poetry should not succeed, capable of vying with that of any profane rival, and its prose distinguished by grave respectability,—though, like other respec- tables, somewhat formal and devoid of briskness. The Auto- biography of a Hindoo Convert is a singular picture of the growth of faith; and the description of Canton it specific, but not striking. The most generally interesting paper is the Recollec- tions of Witnsairoaca. Here are a few anecdotes from it.

A SECRET OF PARLIAMENTARY SUCCESS.

His extreme benevolence contributed largely to this success. I have heard him say, that it was one of his constant rules, on this question especially, never to provoke an adversary—to allow him fully sincerity and purity of mo- tite—to abstain from irritating expressions—to avoid even such political at- tacks as would indispose his opponents for his great cause. In fact, the be- nignity, the gentleness, the kind-heartedness of the man, disarmed the bitterest foes. Not only on this question did be restrain himself, but generally. Once be had been called during a whole debate, by a considerable speaker of the Opposition, "the religions Member," in a kind of scorn. The impropriety had been checked by the interference of the House. Mr. Wilberforce told me afterwards, that he was much inclined to have retorted by calling his opponent " tl a irreligious Member," but that he refrained, as it would have been a re- turning of evil for evil.

MODE OF PREPARATION.

He was accustomed to prepare himself fur every great debate, not by compos. ing or writing his speech, but by examining most closely and deliberately the. question which was to be discussed, and calling in two or three friends, perhaps, to consult with.

EQUANIMITY.

A friend told me that he found him once in the greatest agitation looking for a desiritch which lie had mislaid—one of the Royal Family was waiting for it: he had delayed the search to the last moment ; he seemed at last quite vexed. and flurried. At this unlucky instant, a disturbance in the nursery overhead occurred. My friend who was with him, said to himself, now for once Wilber- force's temper will give way. Ile had hardly thought thus, when Mr. Wilber.. force turned to him and said, " What a blessing it is to have these dear children ! —only think what a relief, amidst other hurries, to hear their voices, and know they are well !"

The peculiar feature of the English Annual appears to be, the limitation of its plates to aristocratic beauty or aristocratic man- sions. The letterpress, written to accompany these subjects, is of a very indifferent nature—flippant:when it should be gay, and dry instead of grave. The miscellaneous papers we have read are better—as good as the general run of Annual literature. Mr. IIAYNEs BAYLY has furnished some satirical lyrics, under the title of " Loves of the Lords and Ladies ; " and the book numbers several other lesser lights amongst its contributors. The spirit of the tales may be characterized by the term fashionable ; of which " Love and Diplomacy " is the best, or at least the shortest. Of the poetry we are not in a condition to speak.

The second volume of the New Year's Token is a considerable improvement upon the first. The papers have more variety, more merit, and a better tone—the spirit of hobbledehoyism has vanished. MARY HOW1TT is the queen of this Annual for youth; and dis- plays her quaint and true simplicity both in prose and poetry. Next to her follows Mrs. SHERWOOD; whose tale of "The Idler" is interesting, though its moral is not very obvious. Yielding the pus only to the ladies, and that perhaps as an affair of gallantry, comes time author of Trials and Triumphs ; whose story of " Better Days" is real, though somewhat literal. It may act as a warning--or as a recommendation—if we observe, that the whole of this little Annual is characterized by the same qualities which we pointed out a week or two since as appertaining to Juvenile books.

The Drawing-Room Scrap-Book is an apt title : its form, its decorative splendour, its plates, and (not least) its poetry, recom- mend it as a fit occupant for time tables of the boudoir or the with- drawing-room. The pieces are short,—so they will not long detain the reader, or render her unwilling to be interrupted : they are various,—and are thence adapted to all dispositions; when we add that Miss LANDON is the SAPPHO of the Scrap- Book, and BERNARD BARTON its SIMON1DES, enough has been said to show that it is a safe volume for the most fastidious Fashionable or the most demure Friend. Be the subjects of song ever so homely, they will meet nothing to startle at; for it is a peculiarity.of .these poets and their followers, not so much to pre- sent the inherent qualities of things, as the thoughts the timings suggest to themselves. This remark, taken as it is meant, only applies, however, to coarser matters : like the late Mrs. IIEmAxS, they are at home in the genteel. Take a specimen of something more.

THE (NOW-naor.

Thou beautiful new-corner, With white and maiden brow•; Thou fairy gift from slimmer, Why art thou blooming now ? This dim and sheltered alley Is dark with winter green; Not such as in the valley At sweet spring-time is seen.

The lime-tree's tender yellow, The aspen's silvery sheen, With mingling colours, mellow The universal green. Now solemn yews are bending Mid gloomy firs around; And in long ()ark wreaths descending, The ivy sweeps the ground.

No sweet companion pledges

Thy health as dew-drops pass"; No rose is on the hedges,

No violet in the grass. Thou art watching, and thou only, Above the earth's snow tomb; Thus lovely, and thus lonely, I bless thee for thy bloom.

Though the singing rill be frozen, While the wind forsakes the West, Though the singing-birds have chosen Some lone and silent rest ; Like thee, one sweet thought lingers In a heart else cold and dead,

Though the summer's flowers, and singers,

And sunshine, long bath fled : 'Tis the love for long years cherished, Yet lingering, lorn, and lone ; Though its lovelier lights have perished, And its earlier hopes have flown. Though a weary world hath bound it, With many a heavy thrall; And the cold. hath changed around it,

It blosaometh over all.

Friendship's Offering, the last of the Annuals at present before

us, opens with an announcement which might preclude criticism. A more inexorable power than that of the reviewer has been dealing with the accomplished men who erew bile superintended the work ; and if at any time allowances might fairly be made for the successor of PRINGLE and INGLis, indulgence may still more readily be conceded when their office was assumed at a late period.

If the volume, however, be compared with others of its class, we know not that any excuse will be needed. Friendship's Offer- ing exhibits the same due admixture as heretofore of tale, essay, and poetry ; and if some of the papers fall rather below the standard of the earlier volumes, others rise somewhat above it. Among these bettermost men, the author of 7'ruckleborough hull occupies the first place; and his two papers exhibit a quiet satire, and a knowledge of life and of human weakness, not very often displayed in the writers of an Annual. How capital, in his opening of " My Schoolmaster's Daughter," is the sly satire at the ease with which schoolmasters are made, and the mere rote knowledge which teachers possess! But as a whole, "The Last of the Name" is still better, from the more general applicability of its wit, and the greater interest of its subject ; the lies of heralds and the pride of ancestry being a higher quarry than the husband-hunting failures of Miss Crouch among the pupils of her father's establishment. The La -t of the Name is a widower, whose family came in with the Conqueror, and whose only daughter, horribile dictu 1 descends to marry Mr. Robert Sykes, the son of a cotton-spinner. Here is the praise of pride, which introduces the extinction of the Topplestonhaughs.

I like family pride : indeed I like pride of any kind, for I like to see my fellow creatures happy ; and, by means of pride, they may be made happy for a mere trifle. But family pride is best of all ; it possesses a recommendation which is often spoken of as belonging to certain goods in the linendrapery flue—it unites cheapness and durability. Ile that would be proud of his horses, equipage, wines, dress, or establishment, most needs be at a considerable expense for these things. It is not everybody that can afford to keep a carriage ; but family pictures and genealogical tables eat no oats and require no grooms to keep them in order. Then, again, how durable are the materials of family pride ! Riches, we know, may make to themselves wings and fly away ; a bad speculation or a wrong card may bring down the pride of a man's fortune to the very dust of poverty and humiliation ; but you may rattle dice at Crockford's from morning till night, and from night till morning again, without losing a single grandfather or grandmother, or great-grand-aunt, or forty-ninth great- grand-cousin, or any thing of the kind. What a villanous piece of twaddle is the sentiment- " Et genus at proms, et quo non fecimus ipsi,

`Ix ea nostra voco."

Stuff ! So our ancestors are not our own because we did not make them. If my grandfather is not mine, I should like to know whose he is ? In fact, nothing is so completely our own as ancestry. By some accident or other, every mortal possession besides may be lost ; but no pickpocket, swindler, or housebreaker, can rob a man of his great-grandfather. There was a coxcomb of a heathen philosopher who, in a case of shipwreck, when all the crew were bewailing their losses, boasted that he had lost nothing, for he always carried all his property with him. Ile alluded to his wisdom : but his ancestors, if he had happened to have any, were much more his own than even his wisdom, which he was so proud of; for a man may lose his wits, but he can never lose his ancestry. It is not everybody that has ancestors; but that is not their own fault, and they are more to be pitied than to be blamed ; and sometimes it happens that ancestry itself becomes a trouble to those who possess it, even as many other desirable blessings do. This was the case with Meredith Throat.. morton Topplestonhaugh, of Topplestonhaugh Place, Esq.