on board, an unfortunate old Moonshee, who was returning from a pilgrimage to Mecca, for his better instruction in oriental languages. One fine morning, when it was blowing a fresh gale up the gulf, Caffara discovered to his dismay a large fleet of ships evidently bearing upon his own vessel. There was now no remedy but to run the latter on shore and fly for refuge into the interior of a barbarous country, though that country was under the jurisdiction of the man whose vessel he had burned, and who had offered an immense premium for his head. Caffara, however, disguised himself in the costume of a Bedouin. His ship was stranded on a desolate coast not far from Suez, and the crew separated, each one deeming it safest to take a different route. Caffara chose out for himself the least practicable and least frequented path. With a leathern girdle girt round his loins, which contained all his precious stones, a small goat-skin full of water, and a small bag of biscuits securely strapped on to his back, he, with the assistance of a pocket compass and a small chart, securely and uninterruptedly traversed that immense tract of desert lying between Jedda and Gaza, reaching the latter place in safety after twenty days of intense suffering from want, heat, and thirst. At Gaza he encountered some wealthy Turkish merchants returning from their pilgrimage to Mecca. With those he had hoped to drive a good trade; but he had barely disposed of half-a-dozen stones, and accumulated almost two hundred pounds, when the greater part of his dishonestly gained riches was forever lost to him. He had secured a passage on board a native boat proceeding to Latachia, and had shipped his box, which contained all his money, when, in an unguarded hour, he was set upon by a party of Arabs, who had obtained a clew to his secret, and was stripped, beaten, robbed, and left by the seashore in such a condition that he had barely sufficient strength left in him to crawl on board the boat, which immediately sailed for Latachia. On arriving at the town last mentioned, his version of the story excited sympathy and pity. He was feelingly spoken of as "a wealthy Indian merchant robbed of the fruits of many years' hard labour!" Such was Caffara considered in those days, and, though I was then a mere child, I have a distinct recollection of Caffara's There was only one other At the time I am now alluding to, I was entirely ignorant of this man's real character, and consequently gladly availed myself of his patronage and wise counselings. One day he told me that he had a scheme in his head, which would enable me in a few years to make a large fortune. At midnight he introduced me into an inner chamber, and locked the door. He then touched a spring in a huge chest of drawers; the door flew open and exposed to my admiring gaze heaps of glittering gold and silver coins. The truth at once flashed upon my mind. I pleaded a headache for that night. Next morning I shifted my quarters to the other end of the town, and the false coiner, Caffara, thought it safest to depart also, after which period there is a vacuum in his history. I believe he went to America, and from thence to China and India. About twelve years ago, however, he appeared upon the field again; he was then in Servia, living somewhere on the banks of the Danube. Here he ingratiated himself so much with the pasha, that that individual advanced him sufficient funds to construct two handsome brigs, which he built with great care and skill; but unhappily, as the pasha thought, they had never recollected that to get these vessels out to sea, they would have to pass over the iron-gates, as a dangerous rocky ledge in the Danube is called. This appeared to the pasha a physical impossibility, for the vessels already drew more water than was to be had on this bar at the highest tide. Not so thought Caffara, who, by the aid of inflated goat-skins, and empty tar barrels, succeeded in accomplishing what had never before been undertaken, and safely floated two huge brigs over the dangerous reef, and into the deep waters of the Danube. This feat alone was sufficient to raise him in the estimation of the Turks. The pasha of Belgrade offered to sell him two complete cargoes of grain, upon his bill of exchange; Caffara accordingly drew a bill on a house, that he well knew had not a fraction of his in their possession. The pasha received the bill, and, happily for himself, dispatched it by an express Tartar to Constantinople. Meanwhile the vessels continued loading, and Caffara, to complete his character, turned hypocrite, attending regularly twice a day at the masses held in the Greek Church. This so ingratiated him with the bishop of that communion, that that venerable prelate, who had been long waiting for a favorable opportunity, intrusted to his charge a very large sum of money, destined for the patriarch at Constantinople. I believe that for once Caffara would have acquitted himself honestly of this charge, had not an unforeseen event retarded his progress down the river. He had arrived as far as Tulcha, near the mouth of the Danube, when orders came to arrest the progress of the vessels, and the infuriated pasha went on board with Caffara's bill in his hand, which had been sent back from Constantinople, indorsed "not known." The pasha began to rave and storm, when Caffara, with the utmost sangfroid, told him it was all a mistake; his agents must have been drunk or mad; but, however, that mattered little at the present, as he presumed his excellency would be well contented to receive the money in ready cash. Nothing could exceed the amazement of the pasha at this proposition, and he was of course mollified. Out came the poor bishop's bags of money; the sum was told down in gold; the pasha left the vessel under the firm persuasion that Caffara was a magician, and Captain Alexis Caffara pursued his voyage, and duly arrived at Constantinople. There he met with eminent success in disposing of the cargoes; but not contented with this, he sold his patron's vessels also, and having realized a handsome sum, was on the eve of departure for America, when the authorities of the Greek Church got an inkling of the matter; the British consulgeneral arrested Caffara, his effects were seized, and the money he was found possessed of proved fully adequate to liquidate the claims both of the bishop and of the owner of the vessels, leaving, I believe, a surplus balance in Caffara's favor. As a lenient punishment, however, he was detained eight months in prison. No sooner was he liberated than he went direct to London, to claim redress for what he had the audacity to term a false imprisonment. For two long years he, like an ogre, haunted the officials in Downing-street, till at length, his wrath getting the better of his sagacity, he published a fulminating pamphlet, which caused him to be sent out of the country after a few hours' notice. From that time till I very unexpectedly met him yesterday, I have never heard anything further of the man. Such was the truthful account given by the French factor, of this extraordinary and miserable old man. The last trick he played, was after leaving us at Alexandretta, and this was by no means the least impudent or ludicrous. The doctor of our quarantine establishment was absent on leave at Smyrna. Knowing that, as a government officer, the doctor was entitled to travel at government expense, Caffara rested a day among the mountains, where he occupied himself forging the necessary documents, and had by this means traveled free of expense as far as Adana, where he was being feasted with all honors by the nazir of that establishment, when, who should make his appearance but the veritable Simon, the real doctor of Alexandretta, now on his return to join his station. The confusion that ensued was ludicrous in the extreme, and there is no saying how THE THEORY OF LIGHT. all might have terminated, had not the How he perished, or whether he died of want and fatigue, is unknown to man ; parts, however, of his mangled carcass were found by the guardians who had been dispatched from Adana to overtake and bring him back. But dogs and jackals had found the dead man long before their arrival. Unhappy man, he had thrown away a lifetime! THE THEORY OF LIGHT. ROM the most primitive days of spec FROM ulative philosophy, the origin and composition of light have been involved in doubtful obscurity, and have given rise in all ages to a vast deal of theoretical controversy and discussion. The views of the earliest philosophers were so extremely limited, that they could scarcely be said to have entertained any correct ideas upon the subject; their knowledge being restricted to the laws which govern the phenomena of light when propagated through a vacuum, or uniform uncrystalized medium, with a very slight insight into the laws of reflection. In elucidation of the sensation of sight, they reasoned, that, as in our knowledge of all tangible bodies we arrive at a true perception of their form and qualities by the sense of touch, so it must be with respect to sight; for, assuming that no two distant bodies could communicate without a connecting medium, they directly concluded that rays, or emanations, must be constantly emitted from the eye, and, by their impulse upon distant bodies, cause our perceptions of their color and form; which proved to be a singularly unfortunate idea, not only on account of the formation of the optic axis, but likewise because it gave no reason why objects should not be equally discernible in the dark. Although glimpses of more advanced ideas were given forth by Descartes and Hooke in the earliest part of the seventeenth century, it was not until the mighty genius of Newton arose, that anything approaching a comprehensive theory was adduced; but even his hypothesis upon this subject was not marked by that simple majesty of plan, otherwise so highly characteristic of his discoveries; for in the place of comprehensiveness and mathematical arrangement he substituted mere elegance of style. He supposed, that all luminous bodies gave forth particles of an inconceivable minuteness, which, darting along with extreme velocity, fell upon the eye, and were thence depicted upon the retina, thus producing a perception on the system of nerves; that each particle of matter had its pole of attraction and repulsion, and, turning on its center as it advanced on its course, alternately presented its positive or negative pole; so that, arriving at the surface of a body, it was either repelled (i. e. reflected) or attracted, so as to enter the surface, according to the pole in advance. This, although generally termed the Newtonian theory, was never positively advanced by him, but was so carefully given forth in such general terms, that, let the real principles be what they may, they will, when discovered, be sure to have many coincident ideas in the theory of Newton; thus showing, that, if we really possess any new or peculiar views on a subject to which we wish to lay an undisputable claim, we should be especially careful in the perspicuity of our language and in the avoidance of all ambiguity of expression. Cotemporaneous with this philosopher was Huyghens, a most rigid mathematician, and one who, by his originality of conception, will always retain a distinguished place in the annals of science. He immediately saw the fallacies of Newton, and in the place of particles of matter substituted undulatory vibrations of an elastic ether, universally diffused through nature; to illustrate which, nothing can be more fitting than the following extract from one of the elegant memoirs of Sir W. Hamilton : "This is the theory of Huyghens, who compared the gradual propagation of light, not to the motion of a projectile, but to the spreading of sound through air, or of waves through water. It was, according to him, no thing in the ordinary sense, no body which moved from the sun to the earth, or from a visible object to the eye; but a state, a motion, a disturbance, which was first in one place, and then in another, as, when we hear a cannon which has been fired at a distance, no bullet, no particle, even of air, makes its way from the cannon to the ear, but only the aërial motion spreads; the air near the cannon is disturbed first, then that which is a little farther, and, last of all, the air that touches us. Or, like the waves that spread and grow upon some peaceful lake, when a pebble has stirred its surface: the floating waterlilies rise and fall, but scarcely quit their place, while the enlarging wave passes on, and moves them in succession. So that great ocean of ether, which bathes the farthest stars, is ever newly stirred by the waves that spread and grow from every source of light, till they move and agitate the whole with their minute vibrations; yet, like sounds through air, or waves on water, these multitudinous disturbances make no confusion, but freely mix and cross, while each retains its identity, and keeps the impress of its proper origin." This, then, is a fundamental view of a theory which has shown itself peculiarly felicitous in its adaptation to the various phenomena of light, and which won from Herschell the observation, that, "if not true, it fully deserved to be so." Still the supposition that light is but a continuous series of ethereal vibrations will scarcely accord with our conceptions of its influence on chemical combinations, or with the manner of its affecting both animal and vegetable life. Up to the present day, the subject has continued to receive the strictest attention and research from men of the highest talent and industry; the whole of Huyghens' theory has been carefully analyzed and considered by Young, Fresnal, and Cauchy, who have, in fact, remodeled many of its primary elements, thus causing it to bear upon many important points where it was previously highly defective. Having thus briefly reviewed the abstract theory of light, from the earliest period to the present time, we conclude with the full impression on our mind, that the real secret has still eluded our search, and that it will be found at a fitting time; possibly as a subtile fluid, pervading all space and matter, bearing a strong similarity in its laws and action to the mysterious electric fluid. [For the National Magazine.] THE RAIN AT NIGHT. THE rain comes softly, silently, While all is damp and chill; Kind nature's wholesome cheer, "Tis dropping, dropping, soothingly, A breathing out of God's own love And now with some soft gust of wind It seems as if love's whisper said, O, little, gentle, crystal drops, So pure, so true, and bright; "The morn will soon grow red, "And sure as you to earth descend, So, gentle drops, you've preach'd to me M. G. P. RE A MODEL CHARACTER. A STUDY FOR YOUNG MEN. EADER, does your heart ever sicken at the universal follies and corruptions of men-the selfishness of demagogues, the unscrupulousness of money-makers, the bigotry of religionists, the infirmities (and the vice, often self-disguised under the plea of infirmity) which deform professedly good men? Have you turned away disgusted, if not hopeless, from their assemblies their caucuses, or conventions -where the common good was proposed, but personal passions guided everything? Have you-conscious amidst such scenes that your own soul was receiving the malign infection-escaped away to seek selfcontrol and purification in quiet, in prayer, in the tranquil asylums of nature? Take up then the volume that now lies on our table,* and learn to hope yet for your Bulwer, in one of his latest and best books, recommends again and again Robert Hall's life, as a solace to men struggling with incurable bodily suffering. Men despairing of humanity should read Buxton's Memoirs; they will learn in the contemplation of his grand and beautiful life, to respect their race for its capability of virtue, and themselves as members of it. Buxton was a Christian-very remarkable as an entire man and an entire Christian-and his life demonstrated what race. the Christian revelation teaches respecting the capacity of men for moral excellence, the possibility of a life wholly pure amidst those circumstances where usually the worst vices ripen and putrefy. We can recall few, if any, examples which more fully give reality to the very ideal of Christian excellence. More fervid saintship may be found in the records of retired or solitary piety, but larger or more genuine virtue scarcely anywhere. We know not of a better exemplification of Christianity in practical life-the Christianity which the characteristics of our own age demand, and which must, at least till another phase comes over the active world, supersede, to a great extent, the Quietistic piety of other times. Some years have passed since we first read this memoir; but its impression, upon our own mind and heart, has been per 66 a manent, and we were, therefore, prepared to greet the great philanthropist again with a warm heart, in the pages of Binney's recent book, where he is presented as study for young men.' We can read anything with profit that comes from the pen of Binney, himself a superb mannext, perhaps, to Melville, among the pulpit characters and religious writers of London; and so much in contrast, by his manly sense and good taste, with the charlatanism of the only London religious author who seems just now to have much But we have popularity among us.† closed his present little book with unusual satisfaction. It befits its theme. It is an analysis of the character of Buxton, and the portraiture is drawn and colored with a masterly hand-bold, pliant, dişcriminating and conclusive. Like a portrait by a great artist, it shows few of the particularities of nice work, but is perfect by the complement of all strong and essential traits. It is not with the book, however, that we now have to do, but with its subject. We wish to send out, on a few of our pages, into the parlors, the log-cabins, the hands, and if possible the hearts, of the many young men who read this Magazine, a few of the lessons of this noble "study," from the life of a man who was of the best style of greatness. And one thing which the world hardly cares about as an attribute or a condition of human greatness, we wish to emphasize in the outset, the fact, namely, that Buxton had a robust physique—a fit panoply for his noble, robust soul. He was "Herculean," say the biographers, almost "awkward" in his magnitude. By "idleness," (some of the good but mistaken members of his family thought,) rather by instinct inspired by generous nature herself, he betook himself to athletic exercises and sports through most of his boyhood. Nature would hardly allow him to study down to the period-his fifteenth year-in which only a boy should begin hard study. He delighted in fishing, boating, shooting; and nature, we repeat, the God of nature let us say reverently, was responsible for these imputed faults. God Sir Thomas Fowell Buxton, Bart. A Study for Young Men. By Rev. T. Binney. New* Memoirs of Sir Thomas Fowell Buxton, &c., York: Carter and Brothers. by his Son. London: John Murray. † Dr. Cumming. |