Annie's Story. By S. Selous. (Edward Jones.)—This is a story
in verse, lively, graceful, and in parts pathetic. The verse is a little monotonoue, and wanting in variety of rhythm and movement. The objection to it as a story is that Philip is delineated as far too utterly selfish and soulless at tfie opening, to become what he becomes at the close. We are astonished at the rapidity of the
conversion, and on looking back can hardly believe the earlier account of him. Here is a fair specimen of the verse :—
"For now—she turned and sighing looked At Philip by her side, And still she felt the preteher's 0; es Across the transept wide.
The candles flickered up and down, Shadows rose here and there— She tried to turn her eyes away And tried to think of prayer ; And still that solemn voice thrilled on, Like some imprisoned soul's, Rolling as through the listening night The stormy thundee rolls.
The pillars loomed, like spectres tall, Grim through the misty air, And Annie felt the listening hush W■13 more than she could bear.
She could not see her husband's face, But throu;h the twilight dim Those eyes met hers—she seemed alone, Alone there but for him.
'Philip!' she whispered, speak to me,' How dark it grew around her !
Her heart stopped beating, some strange spell Seemed sudden to have bound her.
Philip!' she cried, I'm frightened—speak The darkness grew more deep,
And Annie shuddering hid her face— For Philip was asleep."
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