THE largest and most finished picture, which Mr Allan has painted upon any subject not oriental, (or at least not partaking of an oriental character,) is that of the Press-Gang. The second time that I went to his house, he was in the act of superintending the packing up of this fine piece, for being sent into the country; so that I was lucky in having a view of it at all—for I certainly was not allowed time to contemplate it in so leisurely a manner as I could have wished. It is of about the same dimensions as the Circassian Slaves, and the canvass, as in it, is filled with a very large number of figures; but I am not prepared to say, that I think the same happy effect is produced by this circumstance as in the other.

I question, however, whether any scene of actual British Life could have been selected more happily calculated for such a pencil as Mr Allan’s. The moment one sees the picture, one cannot help being struck with wonder, that such a subject should have been left so long unhandled; but where, after all, was ever the British artist that could have occupied it in such a manner, as to throw any difficulties in Mr Allan's way, or even to take away the least of the originality, which he has displayed in its management? The canvass represents the house of a fisherman by the sea-side—neat and cleanly, as the houses of respectable fishermen are always found—but more picturesque in its interior than the house of any other poor man can well be, from the mixture of suspended nets and fishing-tackle everywhere diversifying the more usual kinds of peasant-plenishing. It is supposed, that the son of the fisherman has just returned from a long voyage in a merchantship—his parents are preparing to welcome the wanderer with their fatted calf—and his mistress, having heard the news of his arrival, has hurried, half-clothed as she was, in the eagerness of her unsuspecting love, to be folded in his arms.