Review.

Ah ! faithless Shadow ! For the light Is even now a-fadiug from your eye , The passing footstep echoes on the night , The voice repeats , " Good bye ! " We also think that the Prose has a good deal of merit , and we take the following pleasing story as full of promise and pathos :

A MAN OF SCIENCE . I WAS walkin g along Oxford Street on a certain rainy , and windy , and unpleasant afternoon in the month of April , 1876 . " A mornthe loveliest that the year had

, seen , last of the Spring , yet fresh with all its green , " had wooed me from my chambers and had drawn me to the streets . In the square on which my chamber windows look the trees and the grass were of " a glad bright green" as Chaucer sweetly sayeth

, , and the sparrows chirped cheerfully . By way of a spring-tide marvel the London skies were blue ; and being in a lazy mood , and being made still lazier by the beauty of the day , I strolled into the streets bent on passing an idle hour or two in the

pursuit which is pleasantest to me . To flaunt an umbrella or an overcoat in the face of such a morning would have seemed an unwarrantable outrage on its lovel y promise . I left umbrella and overcoat at

home . I was not alone in the foolish confidence I had reposed in the bright skies and warm sunshine . For when the skies suddenly darkened , and a sharp gust of wind , moistened with coming rain , flew

round the corner , and I , dreading the impending downfall , took shelter beneath the blind of a photographer ' s shop , I found myself in company with a good halfhundred others , who blocked up the pavement and huddled close to the

shopfront for shelter . The rain and wind beat in fierce gusts upon us , and the cover was inadequate . The rain danced from the pavement opposite as though myriads of sparkling tiny creatures were madl y waltzing there . The crowd about the

hotop grapher's shop grew denser , and wet wayfarers , gleariug aud breathless , moistened those against whom thev pressed as they sought a place in the centre of the throng .

I could afford to be amused at the sight , since I held the one place of greatest advantage . There is always enough in such an assemblage to amuse you if you only care to look for it . But I saw suddenly what I had not looked for and had not expected to find there .

You have seen , of course , the splended performance of Mr . Jefferson in " Rip Van Winkle . " You remember distinctly that picturesque waving scanty grey hair , that venerable beard—that look of' bepuzzlement of precasting terror and sorrow with

which he wakes on the Katskill mountains . The sig ht I saw recalled these things at once , and irresistibly . If you will think of it you will probably be of opinion that a very bad hat of the chimney-top pattern

would somewhat detract from the dignity of Kip Van Winkle ' s figure as he stands there in Sleepy Hollow in the first tragic surprise of his awakening . The old man who reminded me of Rip Van Winkle wore such a hat , and looked dignified in it . The native manhood of face and figure

shone like that of the returning Ulysses through rags and tatters . A venerable beard . A face livid and furrowed . A pair of shaggy aud overhanging eyebrows . Eyes large , full , mournful , desolate , as though they looked fixedly at some great

grief . What grief the inward vision might look on I could not guess , but I saw iu another second that those mournful eyes were dark . The dignified tatterdemalian was blind .

To me , living as I do by my eyes and through them ; finding my livelihood and most of what makes it worth having by the fact that I can see , there is something especially dreadful about blindness . I fancy that my terror of it and my pity for it are something intenserthan common . Haveyou

any faith in that occult force you sometimes hear of , which is said to convey an emotion , or a sympathy , or a thought , without any apparent medium whatever 1 Have you ever looked at a friend with the fixed intention of compelling that friend

to look at you ? My look or my pity somehow brought those blind open mournful eyes upon me , and they looked at me , seeing nothing , until my own almost drooped . There was a look of hunger in the face which almost made you forget the physical want so clearly lined there .