bound" has sails, they rather wait for, than feel, the wind; there is
the village church still in view, and will yet be an hour and more. The
sky is, though really printers' ink, like many a sooty vapour converted
into light-shedding yet faint clouds--we can see the colour--it is a
grey, in which is gold and ultra-marine. The boat is conveying the
"outward bound" to the vessel; there is the moving and the waiting. It
is poetical. "The Castle" we do not much admire; it is a villa castle,
and on no agreeable river. "Low Water" is quite another thing; it is a
beautiful etching. He thus describes it with his pen--

"The flowing tides that spread the land,
And turn to sea again."

The "River Scene," illustrating lines from Southey, is delicately
touched, and a pleasing scene; yet we feel sure it is not from nature.
Why, we can hardly tell. Is it that there is a bridge, apparently
without a bank on one side to rest upon? "The Terrace," from lines by
Andrew Marvel, is a most fascinating upright plate. It is perfectly
true, giving all the thousand intricacies and shades of such a scene;
and there is grace in the forms, and the figures well suit the whole.
All is gentleness and ease; not a light is too strong, or a shadow too
deep; there is no violence--which too many are apt to express when they
would give powerful effect. His "Fishing Scene on the Coast of Ireland"
is not to our taste, yet is it not without meaning--it is windy and
sunny. "The Oriental Palace" is solemn, with its ancient yew in the
silence of the crescent moon; but the ruin is to fill up, and does no
good.

We have read with pleasure, and extracted, some of Mr Townsend's poetry;
let us now see his etching. "Boyhood:" those who delight in the easy,