Part 5

"But we had not far to seek for inhabitants of this 'Vale of the Triads.' Immediately on the outer border of the wood which surrounded, at the distance of half a mile, the eminence on which the first of these temples stood, we saw several detached assemblies of beings whom we instantly recognized to be of the same species as our winged friends of the Ruby Colosseum near the lake Langrenus. Having adjusted the instrument for a minute examination, we found that nearly all the individuals in these groups were of a larger stature than the former specimens, less dark in color, and in _every respect_ an improved variety of the race. They were chiefly engaged in eating a large yellow fruit like a gourd, sections of which they divided with their fingers, and ate with rather uncouth voracity, throwing away the rind. A smaller red fruit, shaped like a cucumber, which we had often seen pendant from trees having a broad dark leaf, was also lying in heaps in the centre of several of the festive groups; but the only use they appeared to make of it was sucking its juice, after rolling it between the palms of their hands and nibbling off an end. They seemed eminently happy, and even polite, for we saw, in many instances, individuals sitting nearest these piles of fruit, select the largest and brightest specimens, and throw them archwise across the circle to some opposite friend or associate who had extracted the nutriment from those scattered around him, and which were frequently not a few. While thus engaged in their rural banquets, or in social converse, they were always seated with their knees flat upon the turf, and their feet brought evenly together in the form of a triangle. And for some mysterious reason or other this figure seemed to be an especial favorite among them; for we found that every group or social circle arranged itself in this shape before it dispersed, which was generally done at the signal of an individual who stepped into the centre and brought his hands over his head in an acute angle. At this signal each member of the company extended his arms forward so as to form an acute horizontal angle with the extremity of the fingers. But this was not the only proof we had that they were creatures of order and subordination. * * * * We had no opportunity of seeing them actually engaged in any work of industry or art; and so far as we could judge, they spent their happy hours in collecting various fruits in the woods, in eating, flying, bathing, and loitering about upon the summits of precipices. * * * * But although evidently the highest order of animals in this rich valley, they were not its only occupants. Most of the other animals which we had discovered elsewhere, in very distant regions, were collected here; and also at least eight or nine new species of quadrupeds. The most attractive of these was a tall white stag with lofty spreading antlers, black as ebony. We several times saw this elegant creature trot up to the seated parties of the semi-human beings I have described, and browse the herbage close beside them, without the least manifestation of fear on its part or notice on theirs. The universal state of amity among all classes of lunar creatures, and the apparent absence of every carnivorous or ferocious species, gave us the most refined pleasure, and doubly endeared to us this lovely nocturnal companion of our larger, but less favored world. Ever again when I 'eye the blue vault and bless the _useful_ light,' shall I recall the scenes of beauty, grandeur, and felicity, I have beheld upon her surface, not 'as _through_ a glass darkly, but face to face;' and never shall I think of that line of our thrice noble poet,

----'Meek Diana's crest Sails through the azure air, an island of the blest,'

without exulting in my knowledge of its truth."

With the careful inspection of this instructive valley, and a scientific classification of its animal, vegetable, and mineral productions, the astronomers closed their labors for the night; labors rather mental than physical, and oppressive, from the extreme excitement which they naturally induced. A singular circumstance occurred the next day, which threw the telescope quite out of use for nearly a week, by which time the moon could be no longer observed that month. The great lens, which was usually lowered during the day, and placed horizontally, had, it is true, been lowered as usual, but had been inconsiderately left in a perpendicular position. Accordingly, shortly after sunrise the next morning, Dr. Herschel and his assistants, Dr. Grant and Messrs. Drummond and Home, who slept in a bungalow erected a short distance from the observatory circle, were awakened by the loud shouts of some Dutch farmers and domesticated Hottentots (who were passing with their oxen to agricultural labor), that the "big house" was on fire! Dr. Herschel leaped out of bed from his brief slumbers, and, sure enough, saw his observatory enveloped in a cloud of smoke.

Luckily it had been thickly covered, within and without, with a coat of Roman plaster, or it would inevitably have been destroyed with all its invaluable contents; but, as it was, a hole fifteen feet in circumference had been burnt completely through the "reflecting chamber," which was attached to the side of the observatory nearest the lens, through the canvass field on which had been exhibited so many wonders that will ever live in the history of mankind, and through the outer wall. So fierce was the concentration of the solar rays through the gigantic lens, that a clump of trees standing in a line with them was set on fire, and the plaster of the observatory walls, all round the orifice, was vitrified to blue glass. The lens being almost immediately turned, and a brook of water being within a few hundred yards, the fire was soon extinguished, but the damage already done was not inconsiderable. The microscope lenses had fortunately been removed for the purpose of being cleaned, but several of the metallic reflectors were so fused as to be rendered useless. Masons and carpenters were procured from Cape Town with all possible dispatch, and in about a week the whole apparatus was again prepared for operation.

The moon being now invisible Dr. Herschel directed his inquiries to the primary planets of the system, and first to the planet Saturn. We need not say that this remarkable globe has for many ages been an object of the most ardent astronomical curiosity. The stupendous phenomenon of its double ring having baffled the scrutiny and conjecture of many generations of astronomers, was finally abandoned as inexplicable. It is well known that this planet is stationed in the system 900 millions of miles distant from the sun, and that having the immense diameter of 79,000 miles, it is more than nine hundred times larger than the earth. Its annual motion round the sun is not accomplished in less than twenty-nine and a half of our years, whilst its diurnal rotation upon its axis is accomplished in 10h. 16m., or considerably less than half a terrestrial day. It has not less than seven moons, the sixth and the seventh of which were discovered by the elder Herschel in 1789. It is thwarted by mysterious belts or bands of a yellowish tinge, and is surrounded by a double ring--the outer one of which is 204,000 miles in diameter. The outside diameter of the inner ring is 184,000 miles, and the breadth of the outer one being 7,200 miles, the space between them is 28,000 miles. The breadth of the inner ring is much greater than that of the other, being 20,000 miles; and its distance from the body of Saturn is more than 30,000. These rings are opaque, but so thin that their edge has not until now been discovered. Sir John Herschel's most interesting discovery with regard to this planet is the demonstrated fact that these two rings are composed of the fragments of two destroyed worlds, formerly belonging to our solar system, and which, on being exploded, were gathered around the immense body of Saturn by the attraction of gravity, and yet kept from falling to its surface by the great centrifugal force created by its extraordinary rapidity on its axis. The inner ring was therefore the first of these destroyed worlds (the former station of which in the system is demonstrated in the argument which we subjoin), which was accordingly carried round by the rotary force, and spread forth in the manner we see. The outer ring is another world exploded in fragments, attracted by the law of gravity as in the former case, and kept from uniting with the inner ring by the centrifugal force of the latter. But the latter, having a slower rotation than the planet, has an inferior centrifugal force, and accordingly the space between the outer and inner ring is nearly ten times less than that between the inner ring and the body of Saturn. Having ascertained the mean density of the rings, as compared with the density of the planet, Sir John Herschel has been enabled to effect the following beautiful demonstration. [Which we omit, as too mathematical for popular comprehension.--_Ed. Sun._]

Dr. Herschel clearly ascertained that these rings are composed of rocky strata, the skeletons of former globes, lying in a state of wild and ghastly confusion, but not devoid of mountains and seas. * * * * The belts across the body of Saturn he has discovered to be the smoke of a number of immense volcanoes, carried in these straight lines by the extreme velocity of the rotary motion. * * * * [And these also he has ascertained to be the belt of Jupiter.--But the portion of the work which is devoted to this subject, and to the other planets, as also that which describes the astronomer's discoveries among the stars, is comparatively uninteresting to general readers, however highly it might interest others of scientific taste and mathematical acquirements.--_Ed. Sun._]

* * * * "It was not until the new moon of the month of March, that the weather proved favorable to any continued series of lunar observations; and Dr. Herschel had been too enthusiastically absorbed in demonstrating his brilliant discoveries in the southern constellations, and in constructing tables and catalogues of his new stars, to avail himself of the few clear nights which intervened.

"On one of these, however, Mr. Drummond, myself, and Mr. Holmes, made those discoveries near the Bay of Rainbows, to which I have somewhere briefly alluded. The bay thus fancifully denominated is a part of the northern boundary of the first great ocean which I have lately described, and is marked in the chart with the letter O. The tract of country which we explored on this occasion is numbered 6, 5, 8, 7, in the catalogue, and the chief mountains to which these numbers are attached are severally named Atlas, Hercules, Heraclides Verus, and Heraclides Falsus. Still farther to the north of these is the island circle called Pythagoras, and numbered 1; and yet nearer the meridian line is the mountainous district marked R, and called the Land of Drought, and Q, the Land of Hoar Frost; and certainly the name of the latter, however theoretically bestowed, was not altogether inapplicable, for the tops of its very lofty mountains were evidently covered with snow, though the valleys surrounding them were teeming with the luxuriant fertility of midsummer. But the region which we first particularly inspected was that of Heraclides Falsus (No. 7), in which we found several new specimens of animals, all of which were horned and of a white or grey color; and the remains of three ancient triangular temples which had long been in ruins. We thence traversed the country southeastward, until we arrived at Atlas (No. 6), and it was in one of the noble valleys at the foot of this mountain that we found the very superior species of the Vespertilio-homo. In stature they did not exceed those last described, but they were of infinitely greater personal beauty, and appeared in our eyes scarcely less lovely than the general representations of angels by the more imaginative schools of painters. Their social economy seemed to be regulated by laws or ceremonies exactly like those prevailing in the Vale of the Triads, but their works of art were more numerous, and displayed a proficiency of skill quite incredible to all except actual observers. I shall, therefore, let the first detailed account of them appear in Dr. Herschel's authenticated natural history of this planet."

[This concludes the Supplement, with the exception of forty pages of illustrative and mathematical notes, which would greatly enhance the size and price of this work, without commensurably adding to its general interest.--_Ed. Sun._]

APPENDIX.

THE MOON AS KNOWN AT THE PRESENT TIME.

"Ye sacred muses, with whose beauty fir'd, My soul is ravish'd, and my brain inspir'd. Whose priest I am, whose holy fillets wear; Would you your poet's first petition hear; Give me the ways of wandering stars to know: The depths of heav'n above, and earth below. Teach me the various labours of the moon, And whence proceed th' eclipses of the sun. Why flowing tides prevail upon the main, And in what dark recess they shrink again. What shakes the solid earth, what cause delays The summer nights, and shortens winter days."

VIRGIL.

The picture on the title-page is probably the best and minutest view of the moon, that has ever been laid before the public. Most of our readers are aware that the mountains and hollows of the moon have been accurately and thoroughly mapped by astronomers, and baptized by appropriate names. For the benefit of meritorious students of astronomical geography, we subjoin the names of all those which have been christened. At the present season it will amply repay the possessor of a small telescope to identify the several localities with the aid of the map.

In olden time the moon was a goddess. Whatever the ignorant mind of the time was incapable of grasping was supernatural. Thus arose the pale, chaste Deity of the Night, robed in virgin white, roaming dreamily under the partial shade of trees, loving to see her fair image reflected in streams, and shedding a complacent light on tender meetings. We are not heathens--far from it: but who among us has not at some time or other paid homage to the Queen of Night[1], and thanked her for the gentle light which has shown the way to some fair hand.

We say, in blunt scientific terms, that she--or it--is a satellite of the earth, suspended in her--or its--present position by the contrasted attraction of the sun and the earth. This is the unromantic version of the naked fact.

There was a time when the earth was an uncomfortable semi-incandescent mass, in the act of cooling off for practical purposes. The atmosphere was tropical throughout the globe. All things were intensely impregnated--or, as the philosophers say, supersaturated--with carbon. Between the dry land and the waters there was no division. There was no ocean, and consequently no continents. All was hot mud, with here and there a lake or a short river, and here and there a dry, parched, torrid eminence. In those days there were animals and plants, but no human beings. Both animals and plants were like the age in which they flourished--to our notions monstrous. Monsters were the rule, both in the vegetable and the animated world. Creatures were born, and grew to sizes which dwarf the elephant. Plants thrust their heads above the mud, and, in that carboniferous atmosphere, attained heights which would have towered above the tallest trees of our forests. But in proportion to the rapidity of their growth was the brevity of their life; for these were the days of earthquakes and terrestrial convulsions. Probably no day elapsed without some earthquake or volcanic eruption.

The light of day was dull and obscured. Masses of opaque matter floated through the atmosphere as thickly as dust specks float through a ray of sunlight in a darkened room.[3] The hot air, thick and dull, hung a listless mist over the face of the earth, which was even then almost without form and void. When the sun went down, dense darkness covered the earth. There was no lesser light to rule the night; dim twinklings in the far distance, hardly piercing the pall which wrapped our planet, were the only contrasts to the Egyptian blackness of the dark hours.

But the internal fires which sprung from the vitals of the earth almost supplied the want of a nocturnal luminary. It is probable that there were but few spots on the globe which were out of view of some flaming volcano. We count the active volcanoes by integers. When we have enumerated Etna, Vesuvius, Hecla, Jorullo, Colima, and one or two others, we have reached the end of our list. In the days of Homer the volcanoes were counted by scores; in the carboniferous age they may have, must have, flourished by hundreds and thousands. That vast incandescent mass, of which the crust only had cooled, kept boiling up every few hours, and furiously pouring out the vials of its wrath upon an earth inhabited by transitory creatures. Go where the traveller may, he will still find traces of this terrible age. That tell-tale rock--"the trap"--is peculiar to no meridian; and from the Hudson's Bay territories nearly to Cape Magellan, from Spitzbergen to Borneo, either this, or some mountain range of volcanic origin, here with scoriæ disseminated through the more regular formations, there with copper or gold held in a native state in half-decayed quartz, tell a very legible story of the time when all the component parts of the earth were in a fluid state, and were thrown off by the boiling mass beneath as a kettle throws off froth and scum.

There came a day when the under crust could no longer bear the weight of the mass which, after being thrown off daily, returned, by the force of gravitation, to the surface of its parent. A time came when the incandescent and inchoate planet--if so daring a figure may be ventured--felt the necessity of unusually strenuous measures. It gathered all its fiery energies, and mustered all its fearful strength. The effect was universal, not local. With such bodies distances of 25,000 miles must be trifling, and the earth's meridian--a paltry 8000 miles--not worth mentioning. One can imagine the purpose and effort being common to the entire molten and raging mass.

It came at last. After throes of inconceivable agony, with a roar and a convulsion which must have destroyed every living thing then existent upon the face of the planet, in the midst of general chaos, confusion, and desolation, the earth relieved itself. It tore from its half-cooled surface immense masses, and projected them with monstrous force into space; not on one side alone, but on all. Lumps of earth four and five miles in thickness, and thousands of miles long and wide, were in an instant forced upwards with such force as to pass beyond the circle of the earth's attraction. These various masses, thus launched into space, soon felt the attraction of each other, and assembled together. They met, and, agreeably to the sublime law of celestial bodies, remained suspended in space at the point where the attraction of the earth meets that of the sun. That other celestial law which forbids the torpidity of any atom of matter compelled the aggregated mass to revolve, and the revolution forced the mass into a spherical shape.

Thus the moon came into being. An offshoot from the earth, it pays homage to its parent by revolving round it, and reflecting back to it a part of the sun's light during the period when that luminary is obscured to us. Had the force with which its substance was expelled from the body of the earth been less, it would have returned to our surface, just as those fragments of matter called aerolites do at regular intervals; had that force been greater, it would have entered upon the vast area which is the domain of the sun, and would have been attracted to that great cosmical body, and been fused by its intense heat. It was sent abroad with precisely the force necessary to sustain it _in equilibrio_ between the earth and the sun, and hence it is "the lesser light which rules the night."

This is not the only service which it renders us. By its creation it caused great hollows in the surface of the earth. Into these hollows the waters which lay on the face of the deep naturally gathered, and became oceans, lakes, seas, and rivers. The cavities drained the earth of the moisture which had rendered it unfit for the habitation of the higher order of vertebrated creatures. Thus by degrees were formed the great Atlantic and Pacific, the Northern and the Southern oceans, leaving here and there tracts of cool, dry land for man to inhabit at the word of his Creator. Nor did the office of the moon stop here. While it was upheld in space by the attraction of the earth, it returned the compliment by exercising a reciprocal attraction upon the waters for which it had created beds. With the beautiful regularity which is the characteristic of heavenly bodies, it affected them at uniform intervals, causing the tides to flow and to ebb, and to vibrate between the spring and the neap flow. Lastly, it relieved the earth of a vast quantity of superincumbent matter, equal, in fact, to over one-fiftieth of the whole bulk of the planet. One must imagine the earth in the condition of a gentleman who has dined copiously, and whose interior is troubled by an unusual burden; the convulsion which led to the creation of the moon is similar to the effect of the dose which the gentleman, if he be wise, will instantly take.

In departing from us, and setting up for herself, the moon forgot some articles of baggage which were essential to her future comfort and prosperity. Among these were air and water. How we came by these two useful commodities it were hard to say.

This is made quite certain by the discoveries of astronomers. Rains, dews, oceans, lakes, hail, snow, clouds, are all unknown to the moon. Nothing shields its surface from the burning rays of the sun. Wherever the light of that fierce luminary penetrates the moon's surface is incessantly hot.