But our more immediate purpose here is with the poetry, of which
about one-half of each number is composed. It is all beautiful, must
of it of extraordinary merit, and equal to anything that any of our
known poets could write, save Tennyson, of whom the strains sometimes
remind us, although they are not imitations in any sense of the word.
[The Reviewer next proceeds to quote, with a few words of comment,
Christina Rossetti's "Sweet Death," John Tupper's "Viola and Olivia,"
Orchard's "Whit-Sunday Morn," and (later on) Dante Rossetti's "Pax
Vobis."]

Almost one half of the April number is occupied with a "Dialogue on
Art," the composition of an Artist whose works are well known to the
public. It was written during a period of ill health, which forbad
the use of the brush, and, taking his pen, he has given to the world
his thoughts upon art in a paper which the _Edinburgh Review_ in its
best days might have been proud to possess.

Sure we are that not one of our readers will regret the length at
which we have noticed this work.

* * * * * * *

The short and unpretending critique which I add from "Bell's Weekly
Messenger" was written, I believe, either by or at the instance of
Mr. Bellamy, a gentleman who acted as secretary to the National Club.
His son addressed me as editor of "The Germ," in terms of great
ardour, and through the son I on one occasion saw the father as well.

_Art and Poetry._ Nos. I., II., and III. London, Dickinson and Co.