Salvator handed him the picture, and his singular companion taking from his finger a ring, said

'Give this to my, I mean to Marie; and tell her, that the individual who once owned it is safe and well; tell her not what he is that gives it you, for her gentle soul would break to know I am-what I am. Come, sir, I will see you to the foot of the mountain; the moon is now up, and she will light us on our path. It is fortunate that there are no more of our band than these two here, the others might not bear our parting with so much equanimity as these gentlemen.' The brigands showed their white teeth from beneath their black and shaggy mustaches, and, as the student with their chief left, they waved an adieu.

A short time brought the two to their journey's end; the brigand gave a hearty shake of his hand to the young Salvator and departed.

DIFFUSION OF LIGHT.

The clouds obscure a great part of the sun's light, but they are never so dense as to obstruct it altogether. The light of the sun, when it strikes upon the particles of moisture forming the clouds, is diffused through their whole mass; therefore the light we receive on cloudy days, instead of coming in parallel rays directly from the sun, is diffused among the vapours in the air, which thus become a great reservoir of light, and transmit it to the earth in various directions. Even on the clearest day, a great portion of the light from the sun is diffused by the vapours of the atmosphere. It is this diffusion of the light that produces the bright appearance of the sky. Were the air to be perfectly transparent, the sky would appear almost black; because, as the rays of light are invisible, excepting when they strike directly upon the eye, if there were nothing above us that could reflect The following evening saw Salvator watching the them, no light could be perceived, and the sun himself ground which enshrined the gem dearest to his heart; would appear like a brilliant orb surrounded by the darkuntil the light of day had nearly faded he kept a respect-ness of night. In a fine dry climate the sky is of a much ful distance, but when the night had claimed the ascend- deeper blue than we ever behold in this country; and at ance, and there was but the shadowy light of the moon to the tops of high mountains, above the misty exhalations betray his movements, he was not long in drawing nearer. of the earth, the sky appears of a still deeper colour. It Scaling walls appeared familiar to him, to judge from is to the diffusion of light, by the vapours of the atmohis agility in doing so, and the readiness with which he sphere, that we are indebted for the twilight that ushers sought the least difficult place of access. A very short in the day and cheers its departure. In a perfectly transperiod brought him to a gate which was left open, and parent atmosphere, we should be left in darkness the innot apparently without cause, for, upon entering, it might stant the sun was set; but the clouds and vapours reflect easily be discovered that his was not the only form pre- the sun's diffused light long after he is below the horizon, sent there-a girl, graceful as a young fawn bound- and during the summer months spread a genial twilight ing about its mother, was soon pressed in his arms, and throughout the night.-Philosophical Conversations. kissing her fair forehead, which gleamed through a redundancy of clustering locks, he released her from his embrace, and they both sat down on a seat formed by the branching together of the arms of two trees.

The brow of Marie Gonzonelli was merrier than its wont, at least so thought her companion, for he asked whether she was the bearer of good tidings, that her eye danced with such pleasure.'

Marie's answer was a fit of most music-like laughter. The student looked grave-the maiden smiled-and Salvator said, in a serious tone

'I had not deemed that our prospects were so brilliant as to cause such merriment.'

'I must tell you all about it,' said Marie. You know my father, and what an enthusiastic favour he holds for youthful genius; he says-but you must not be vain-he says, that he never gave you credit for half the power you have exhibited in the last painting of yours which won the prize; and he says also and here she paused. What says he, dear Marie ?'

Why, he says that if you can do my resemblance from memory to his satisfaction, he will- and again she paused.

'Will-what, dear?'

COFFEE AMONG THE ARABS.

of it is drunk in Yemen than in the other provinces. The All the Arabs are extravagantly fond of coffee; yet less flavour is greatly improved by their mode of preparing it; instead of grinding the beans in a mill, they pound them better to express and preserve from evaporating those oily to an impalpable powder in a close mortar, which seems particles that give the decoction its peculiar relish. They also use a preparation from the husks, called cafe a la sultane, which is made by pounding and roasting them, and is esteemed an excellent beverage. The greatest care is taken of the powdered coffee, which is kept closely pressed down in a wooden box, and the quantity required for use is scraped from the surface with a wooden spoon. Two small pots are often used; in the one the water is boiled (generally mixed with the remains of the preceding meal); into the other is put the fresh coffee, and it is sometimes heated by standing near the fire before the boiling water is added. This latter mixture is then boiled two or three times, care being taken to pour a few drops of cold water upon it the last time, or to place over it a linen cloth dipped in cold water. After this process it is allowed to subside, and then emptied into the pot contain

'Be friends!' cried Marie, who thought she had hit on ing the boiling water. a famous plan of explaining her meaning delicately. The student smiled, for he understood her.

And now you must go,' she continued. A short period will bring you a message from him, and I would not that he should know of our secret meetings.'

She held out her hand; Salvator pressed it to his lips; it was a round, plump, little hand; just such a one as causes the beholder to turn from it to the owner's mouth

-so did our student, and imprinting one fervent kiss on her lips, he bounded away with a heart full of glad

ness.

Need more be said? Yes! for when the portrait of Marie was finished, every one remarked that it was almost as beautiful as the original.

Long after, when fame had brought wealth, and Salvator was the husband of the lovely Marie, he heard that a brother had left his home early in life, owing to an altercation with his father, and had never returned. Salvator said nothing-but he felt that he knew more of the fate of that brother than would be kind in him to impart to his wife.-Francis St John.

All classes use it without milk or

sugar: people of rank drink it out of procelain cups; the lower sort are content with coarser ware. In Hejaz it is served up to travellers in small earthen pots like bottles, containing from ten to fifteen cups. This vessel has a long narrow neck, with a bunch of dry herbs stuck into its mouth, through which the liquor is poured. At Mocha, Mrs Lushington observed that every lady, when she pays a visit, carries on her arm a little bag of coffee, which is boiled at the house where she spends the evening; and in this way she can enjoy society without putting her friends to expense. The Bedouin cooks this meal in the same rude manner that he does his cakes and his mutton. He roasts a few beans on an iron shovel, hammers them to atoms in a wooden mortar with his bludgeon, and boils his pot between two stones, over a fire lighted with tinder and composed of dry shrubs or camels' dung.-Edinburgh Cabinet Library.

ZENO.

This philosopher said to a garrulous youth-Nature gave us two ears and one mouth, that we might hear much and speak little.'

No. 10.

POETICAL RESEMBLANCES.

PRICE 1d.

which have come under our observation in the course of reading.

THE term Plagiarism, some may imagine, would be a more appropriate title for a paper like the present; but that term has always appeared to us uncharitable as well as unjust, in reference to many of the resemblances noticeable in the works of poets. The great sources of poetry being ever the same, it seems by no means unnatural, that two or more writers should hit upon the same image or incident. It sometimes happens that two individuals, unknown to each other, simultaneously bring to light some new principle in nature; and why should we deny to poets the same privilege in the discovery of new images or ideas? The supply of a certain want irresistibly impels the mechanical invention in a particular direction, just as the poet is impelled in the search for imagery or illustration. At the same time it may safely be averred, that if in the case of the mechanician we were to find the most minute portions of his machine of the same construction and placed in the same position as an existing machine, we would be much inclined to suspect his originality, especially if it happened that the one inventor had had opportunities of seeing the production of the other. So in the case of the poet we become suspicious in proportion as the ideas and modes of expression approach each other in similarity. But even in extreme cases the term plagiarism is unjust. A great poet, as well as painter or sculptor, must make himself familiar with the masterpieces in his particular art, before he can expect to rival their excellencies; and what more likely than that, in the course of his studies, he should unwittingly snatch some of their graces? The case of Macpherson should be a sufficient answer to those who would cavil at every is applied by Pollok to the great epic bard himself:trifling similarity. It is shown by Malcolm Laing that that gentleman, in manufacturing Ossian's Poems, has borrowed various images from poets who lived long subsequent to the era ascribed to the son of Fingal, and in particular from Milton and Gray; certainly a very striking proof of the difficulty of being thoroughly original, even when the whole credit of a work is staked on the circumstance. But, indeed, what high-minded and honourable man-and all great poets have been such would condescend wittingly and deliberately to appropriate the goods of another, and, like the jackdaw in the fable, consent to shine in borrowed plumes? The sup

At the outset it will be apparent that there are some things in the description of which poets cannot be expected much to vary. For example, in a mere detail of the qualities of external objects, dissimilarity is not to be expected, however different may be the associations which the contemplation of such objects is fitted to call up in different minds. Hence the substantial sameness in the following allusions to the evening star is only what might be anticipated :

Fairest of stars! last in the train of night,
If better thou belong not to the dawn.-MILTON.
Fairest of stars! eye of the morning.-POLLOK.
Thou ling ring star, with less'ning ray,

That lovest to greet the early morn.-BURNS.

In all description which partakes of this character, perfect originality is incompatible with truth. The same reason, however, does not hold good in the selection of imagery. Here the whole expanse of nature is spread out before the poet; and unless he should be thinking more of the volumes of men than the volume of nature, it is unlikely that he should choose the same example as another. At the conclusion of the battle-scene in Marmion, Scott says of the English forces, that

position is, on the face of it, one of the most unlikely

possible.

But although we disclaim the idea of affixing bad epithets to poets in matters of this kind, we hope it may be still so far interesting and curious to note the simi

From the charge they drew,
As mountain waves on wasted lands
Sweep back to ocean blue.

Pollok applies the same simile to the case of a brother
poet:-

So ocean from the plains, his waves had late
To desolation swept, retired in pride.

Milton's fine line

And thoughts that wander through eternity,

Whose numbers wandered through eternity. Moore has noticed that Burns's famous linesThe rank is but the guinea's stamp, The man's the goud for a' that, may possibly have been suggested by the following passage in Wycherley's play of The Country Wife:''I weigh the man, not his title; 'tis not the king's stamp can make the metal better.' Another part of Burns's song finds a singular parallelism of expression in Massinger's play of The Great Duke of Florence,' who says of princes that

This

merely

They can give wealth and titles, but no virtues;
That is without their power.

expression, one would almost suppose, had been
paraphrased by our national bard, in the lines-

The king can mak' a belted knight,

A marquis, duke, an' a' that;

But an honest man's aboon his might, &c.

larity of imagery and expression in a few instances But, as it seems to us, there is nothing in the idea of the

inherent equality of man that should render it difficult
of discovery; and we can readily believe that Burns,
without crediting him with a very high degree of saga-
city, or being necessitated to suppose that he borrowed
from others, soon saw the truth, and acted on it.
Thomson, in his 'Seasons,' makes this well-known re-
flection :-

What is the world to them--
Its pomp, its pleasure, and its nonsense all-
Who in each other clasp whatever fair
High fancy forms, or lavish hearts can wish?

It is somewhat curious that Byron, in one of his tales,
should have drawn the exact picture supposed by Thom-
son, and used precisely the same idea in its illustration;
for he says of two youthful lovers-

Oh! what to them is the world beside,
With all its change of time and tide?
Its living things, its earth and sky,

Are nothing to their minds and eye.

In that most exquisite effusion of pathos and feeling, 'To Mary in Heaven,' Burns uses a very fine image :

Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes
And fondly broods with miser care-
Time but th' impression deeper makes,
As streams their channels deeper wear;

:

is surely not of so hidden a character as to preclude more than one person from having suggested it.

A few more random resemblances, and we shall close this somewhat desultory paper.

With all respect for the genius of Delta,' we think
his poetry has been a little overpraised. It has great
sweetness, and a certain scholarly elegance, but is withal
deficient in originality. Few, however, have excelled Dr
Moir in forcible moral painting. We quote the follow-
ing extracts from his last published volume, Domestic
Poems,' as examples of similarities occurring through an
extensive knowledge of the works of his brother poets:—
We sat where once thy blossomy orchards smiled,
And yet where many an apple-tree grows wild.-DELTA.
Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled,
And still where many a garden-flower grows wild.
GOLDSMITH-Deserted Village.

Thy life was bliss; and can it be
That only now remains for thee?-DELTA.
Shrine of the mighty! can it be
That this is all remains of thee?

EHLENSCHLÆGER.

We

That parts not quite with parting breath. The writer of a paper in Fraser's Magazine, some years ago, entitled 'The Plagiarisms of Thomas Moore,' sets down every resemblance between that poet and his predecessors and cotemporaries as a direct theft. He occasionally finds, however, that, from the number of writers who have used the same illustration, it is often difficult to say which was the model that the Irish bard had followed; and to justify his attack on Moore, he is necessitated to charge upon each writer the crime of pilfering from the other. For example, in the following:-understood, and comparatively unknown and unappreci

WHILE in this age of scientific discovery and improvement
we enjoy facilities by which we can quickly visit the most
distant parts of the world, we have to a great extent
neglected the only means whereby we can hold an agree-
able personal intercourse with their inhabitants.
have not cultivated as we ought an acquaintance with
foreign languages and literature. It is true that both the
French and Italian languages receive a considerable share
of our attention, and are now regarded as branches of
fashionable education. It is otherwise, however, with the
language and literature of Germany, which are but little

See how, beneath the moonbeam's smile,
Yon little billow heaves its breast,
And foams and sparkles for a while,

And, murmuring, then subsides to rest!
Thus man, the sport of bliss and care,
Rises on Time's eventful sea,
And, having swell'd a moment there,
Then melts into Eternity.-MOORE.
On the vast ocean of his wonders here,
We, momentary bubbles, ride,

Till, crush'd by the tempestuous tide,
Sunk in the parent flood, we disappear.-FENTON.
All forms that perish other forms supply;
By turns we catch the vital breath, and die.
Like bubbles on the sea of matter borne,

They rise, they break, and to that sea return.-POPE.

A smoke, a flower, a shadow, and a breath,
Are real things compared with life and death.
Like bubbles on the sea of life we pass,

Swell, burst, and mingle with the common mass.--S. BOYSE. Here the idea is the same, and the expression often identical; yet it does not follow that one writer imitated another. The comparison of time to the ocean, and of human life to the bubbles which are raised by its surge,

ated, even by the well-educated of our fellow-country men. It has happened with the master spirits of Germany, as with some of those of our own country; their names have become familiar, they are spoken of and criticised, and this is deemed sufficient; few care to examine their works or possess themselves of the treasures with which these favoured sons of genius have blessed society. Few have cared to examine the first workings of the celestial fire in the breasts, or to trace the struggles of these mighty spirits in emerging from obscurity, and raising themselves to that exalted position which they occupy in the annals of literature and the history of their country. An occasional sketch of the more eminent of our continental neighbours will give our readers an opportunity of learning more concerning them than the mere