A COINCIDENCE.
tvo TIM EDITOR Or TUX 'EPROTATOR:1
SIR,—The last line of Mr. Munby's poem in your issue of November 23rd runs thus :— " There is our haven of rest, there is the home of the soul."
An obscure anonymous volume of verse, published in 1876, contains a piece in the same metre, whose last line runs :—
" Where is our haven of rest ? Where is the home of our soul?" Had this occurred between two well-known authors, what a cry there would have been of plagiarism ! Yet it is perfectly certain that Mr. Munby either never read Lie obscure prede- cessor's piece, or, if by any millionth chance he did once read it, had long ago forgotten it entirely. In all probability the coincidence is a pure coincidence, and on that account worth