Songs in Sunshine. By the Rev. Frederick Langbridge. (Eyre and

Spottiswoode.)—Mr. Langbridge modestly commends his verses to the public, as being easy to read and made to sing. We accept both pleas. We may add that they are not only easy, bat pleasant reading, and may well be—but here we cannot speak of positive knowledge—effective when sung. Many, most, indeed, of the pieces have already been received with favour, as they have appeared in the pages of various magazines, and their reappearance in this collected, form is fully justified. Here is one, which has nothing remarkable about it, except it be that indefinable something, "go," to use a popular phrase, which some very clever writers of verse never seem able to attain :-

" WAITING 505 A LMTTER.

The postman's hour draws near,

And into the'quiet street

Through gossamer curtains peer Two wistful eyes and sweet.

For many a weary morn She has kept her station there, That brave little heart forlorn, That never will quite despair, Slowly she turns away, The crushed heart murmuring still, 'It has not come-to day- To-morrow I know it will.'

The postman knows her tale, And it makes his old heart bleed ; Those blush-rose cheeks grown pale Are pages a child might read.

Ah ! letters enough he brings—

Great circulars blue and grim,

Slight feminine scented things—

But never a line from him.

Slowly she turns away, The crushed heart murmuring still, • It has not come to-day- To-morrow I know it will.'

Bat•tat ! to the door she flies- 0 rapture keen and dumb I 0 eloquent cheeks and eyes! Her letter has come—has come !

0 postman pocket the gold— Full well host thou earned the fee—

And treasure the thanks untold, That are better than gold to thee !

Flow, happy fountains, flow, Sweet founts that have long been dry !

Sorrow may tears forego, But rapture must weep or die."