TO .31 iffram tty Htbraru af TfHtaUBBor Vntimttitt Imkinrtbge Harftetf> leqiwatlt* i* fag l?tm to % SItbrarg uf Priturrtott aUjniiogtrai g>?mtttarg BL 240 .C5 1869 Child, G. Chaplin The great architect C^e dfreat architect BE N E D I C I T E; ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE POWER, WISDOM, AND GOODNESS OF GOD, AS MANIFESTED IN HIS WORKS. / By G. CHAPLIN CHILD, M. D. TWO VOLUMES IN ONE. NEW YORK: G. P. PUTNAM AND SON, 66 1 Broadway. 1869. [Reprinted from the London edition of John Murray, issued December, 1866.] RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE : STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED RY H. O. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY. " Every advance in our knowledge of the natural world will, if rightly directed by the spirit of true humility, and with a prayer for God's blessing, advance us in our knowl- edge of Himself, and will prepare us to receive His revela- tions of His Will with profounder reverence." — Sir Robert H. Inglis, British Association, 1847. INTRODUCTORY NOTE. BY HENRY G. WESTON, D. D. HE work here offered to the American public, it is confidently believed, will be found worthy of a wide circulation. The author is an intel- ligent physician, at home in the various departments of natural science, who has in the treatment of his theme most happily avoided on the one hand the habit of many scientists of depreciating Revelation, and on the other the forced and strained arguments employed by some true but injudicious friends of Religion. Written in an easy and flowing style, abounding in illustrations and incidents, unincumbered by abstruse and scientific terms, the book cannot fail to interest as well as instruct. Science and Religion, Knowledge and Piety, walk together in these pages in unalloyed friendship ; while the charm thrown around the train of thought continues unbroken to the close. An occasional allusion to England and to the Estab- lished Church of that country will be noticed by the careful reader. This edition being an exact and literal reprint, these allusions are of course left untouched ; they are but few in number, do not at all affect the ar- gument, and are never offensively obtruded. A warm 2 Introductory Note. heart as well as a clear head is demanded for the pro- duction of a work like this, and such a heart must have a country and a church to love. Americans can under- stand and appreciate the feelings which find such almost involuntary utterance, and can respect in others what they cherish in themselves, — that patriotism which does not depreciate other lands while it regards with fondest affec- tion its own God-given home. New York, March, 1867. CONTENTS. ♦ PAGE Introduction. Babylon. Nebuchadnezzar and the Burning Fiery Furnace. The Song of the Three Children . 7 The Heavens 20 The Sun and the Moon. The Planets .... 27 The Stars of Heaven 51 Winter and Summer 72 Nights and Days 85 Light and Darkness 88 Waters above the Firmament . ... . . . 100 Lightning and Clouds . . . . , . , .106 Showers and Dew in Wells 122 Seas and Floods 134 The Winds of God. . 158 Fire and Heat 171 Frost and Cold. — Ice and Snow 182 Powers of the Lord 198 Mountains and Hills 220 The Earth 230 Green Things upon the Earth 251 Beasts and Cattle 286 Fowls of the Air 300 Whales, and All that move in the Waters . . 338 Concluding Reflections 362 GOD MAGNIFIED IN HIS WORKS, GOD MAGNIFIED IN HIS WORKS. Babylon — the glory of kingdoms, the beauty of the Chaldees'* ex- cellencyl — Isaiah xiii. 19. Her cities are a desolation, a dry land, and a wilderness, a land wherein no man divelleth. — Jeremiah li. 43. jN an outlying province of the Turkish empire, where sultan and firman are often superseded by |8§Sf the lawless will of sheik or pacha, two famous rivers — the Tigris and Euphrates — gradually converge, and, after mingling their waters together, glide gently on- ward to the Persian Gulf. In the fork thus formed be- tween them stretches a vast plain, made known to us in early Scripture History as Shinar, Chaldasa, and Babylon, as well as by other less familiar names, but to which the term Mesopotamia has been more usually applied, as it aptly designates a district " lying between rivers." The general aspect of this plain is one of desolation. Fertile strips here and there border the Euphrates' banks, and willows are still seen flourishing where the sorrowing Israelites once hung up their harps ; but away from those green fringes the eye wanders over wild, dreary wastes from which the last traces of cultivation are slowly dying out. Vast tracts lie soaked in permanent swamps, while much of the remaining land is, at one period of the year, flooded by the unheeded inundations of the neighboring rivers, and, at another, baked into an arid desert by the burning rays of the sun. It need scarcely be said that population has almost disappeared from those melancholy plains ; for the wandering Arab is little tempted to pitch 8 God magnified in his Works. his tent or to pasture his flocks on so sterile a soil. The doom that was so clearly foretold by the prophets has fallen upon it, and Babylon now " lies desolate in the sight of all that pass by." It has become the "habitation of the beasts of the desert." As the traveler plods onward over its unfrequented tracts, the startled wild-fowl rises with quick splash from the reedy pool, or a few scared gazelles may perhaps be descried bounding over the dis- tant plain. The " owl " and the "bittern," the jackal and the hyena add their testimony to the exactness with which the words of Scripture have been fulfilled. More rarely a solitary lion may be seen skulking among the strange, mysterious mounds and " heaps " of stones that loom here and there above the plain. Mournful and dreary though this land now be, it is and ever will remain one of the most interesting spots on earth. It was not always "desolate." No other place, perhaps, claims with a better title to be regarded as the scene where our first parents walked together in paradise. Such, at least, has been the common tradition ; and in a well-known edition of the Bible, published in 1599, may be found a map of the Garden of Eden, of which the site of Babylon forms the centre. But, be that as it may, there can be no doubt of its former greatness and fertility, for the record is plainly written all over the soil. Everywhere it is furrowed by ruined canals, of which some tell us of departed commerce and wealth, others of skillful irrigation and abundant crops. Heaps of rubbish are to be met with in which lie hidden fragments of pottery which bear witness to the former presence of a highly cultivated peo- ple ; and uncouth mounds rise strangely above the plain, in which the last relics of palaces and cities are buried to- gether. For centuries History appeared to have lost her hold upon those great places of the past, and it is only within the last few years that some of them have been rescued from the oblivion that was slowly creeping over God magnified in his Works, 9 them. Questioned by the light of modern knowledge those mysterious stones of the plains open up to us the first page in the history of nations — transport us back almost to the dawn where antiquity begins, and bring within our sight those to whom the deluge was a recent event. They impart a substance to scenes we have often tried in vain to realize. In imagination we see Nimrod the Mighty Hunter, busy with the. foundations of the city of Babel on the neighboring Euphrates' bank, and piling up the " tower that was to reach to heaven." Then it was that the patriarchal dignity of early Bible records expanded into royalty, and Babylon became the starting point in the long pedigree of kingdoms. Babylon touched the zenith of its grandeur two thou- sand four hundred and fifty years ago, when Nebuchad- nezzar sat upon the throne. He was the great warrior of that age. After overrunning Egypt he had returned to his capital laden with its spoil ; he had chastised his rebel- lious subjects and treacherous allies, and he had utterly crushed the power of the Kings of Judah. The wicked and faithless Jehoiakim, blind to the warnings he received, had brought a terrible doom upon his country ; for Nebu- chadnezzar, not content with plundering the treasures of the temple at Jerusalem, carried the king himself a pris- oner to Babylon. Among the captives on this occasion were included Daniel the Prophet and his three friends, — Ananias, Azarias, and Misael, who in the land of their exile received the Chaldean names of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. Nebuchadnezzar was no less great in the arts of peace than in those of war. He, therefore, encouraged learned men to make his capital their resort, and he also promoted the national prosperity by favoring agriculture and com- merce. He dug canals in all directions to fertilize the land by irrigation. His merchants traded along the rich shores of the Mediterranean, and penetrated even to re- io God magnified hi his Works. mote China. He provided for the security of Babylon by building or strengthening its walls, and he made it beauti- ful by adorning it with palaces. Its " hanging-gardens " were acknowledged throughout ancient times to be one of the wonders of the world, and their fame has endured up to this very hour. At the court of such a monarch, Daniel's learning was sure to procure for him distinction, and he soon became a member of the college of Magi or wise men. His subse- quent success in interpreting Nebuchadnezzar's dream, after all others had failed, raised him to the first rank in the tyrant's favor, and we are told that " he sat in the gate of the king." Nor in his prosperity did he forget his three Jewish friends, — Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed- nego, — who through his influence were promoted to be Governors in the province of Babylon. The history of Nebuchadnezzar and the burning, fiery furnace — so illustrative on the one hand of perfect trust in God, and, on the other, of God's power to deliver his servants from the assaults of their enemies — is endeared to all as one of the interesting Scripture narratives by which those who watched over us in the days of childhood endeavored to attract us onward to the knowledge of our Bible. In the book of Daniel it is related how Nebu- chadnezzar, after having been brought by the miraculous interpretation of his dream to acknowledge the " God of Gods and Lord of Kings," subsequently relapsed into idol- atry through the corrupting influence of worldly prosperity. In the full swell of his pride he set up a golden image, and commanded that all his subjects should fall down and worship it. The Babylonian nobles were jealous of the favor shown to the three captives ; and they, therefore, en- couraged this wicked fancy of the king, because it seemed to open out the means of effecting their ruin. They rightly calculated that the Hebrew Governors would never forsake the God of their Fathers, nor worship the image God magnified in his Works, \ i which the king had set up. And we know that when the hour of trial did come, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed- nego remained true to their faith; and were forthwith bound and cast into the burning, fiery furnace, as a pun- ishment for their disobedience to the tyrant's will. From the torments and dangers of this ordeal the Three Hebrews were miraculously preserved. Daniel tells us that Nebuchadnezzar himself saw them " loose and walk- ing in the midst of the fire." " Not a hair of their heads was singed, neither were their coats changed, nor had the smell of fire passed on them." Elsewhere, in the Song of the Three Children, we are told that " they walked in the midst of the fire, praising God, and blessing the Lord." After so signal a deliverance, it is easy to con- ceive the fervor with which their Hymn of gratitude was poured forth. The deepest consciousness of the merciful Power of God welled up in their hearts and burst from their lips, and the whole universe was ransacked for illus- trations to typify and express it. In whatever direction they turned, they beheld Nature crowded with emblems of His Greatness and Mercy, and they eagerly seized upon them as aids to bring their thoughts up to the fervor of their adoration. Shall not we also do wisely to profit by their example ? Our daily obligations to God may not be so miraculous, in the ordinary meaning of the term, but they are, nevertheless, great and countless beyond our power to conceive. Let us then, in humble consciousness of the poverty and imperfection of our thanksgivings, gladly make this suggestive hymn our own ; and let us on this, as on all occasions, accept with joy every aid that helps us to "bless, praise, and magnify the Lord." 12 God magnified in his Works, Benedicite, omnia opera. O all ye Works of the Lord, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. O ye Angels of the Lord, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. O ye Heavens, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and mag- nify him for ever. O ye Waters that be above the Firmament, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. O all ye Powers of the Lord, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. O ye Sun and Moon, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. O ye Stars of Heaven, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. O ye Showers and Dew, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. O ye Winds of God, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. O ye Fire and Heat, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. O ye Winter and Summer, bless ye the Lord: praise him, and magnify him for ever. O ye Dews and Frosts, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. O ye Frost and Cold, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. O ye Ice and Snow, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. O ye Nights and Days, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. O ye Light and Darkness, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. O ye Lightnings and Clouds, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. God magnified hi his Works. 13 O let the Earth bless the Lord : yea, let it praise him, and magnify him for ever. O ye Mountains and Hills, bless ye the Lord : praise him and magnify him for ever. O all ye Green Things upon the Earth, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. O ye Wells, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and mag- nify him for ever. O ye Seas and Floods, bless ye the Lord : praise him* and magnify him for ever. O ye Whales, and all that move in the Waters, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. O all ye Fowls of the Air, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. O all ye Beasts and Cattle, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. O ye Children of Men, bles ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. O let Israel bless the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. O ye Priests of the Lord, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. O ye Servants of the Lord, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. O ye Spirits and Souls of the Righteous, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. O ye holy and humble Men of heart, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. O Ananias, Azarias, and Misael, bless ye the Lord : praise him, and magnify him for ever. Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost ; As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be : world without end. Amen. The " Benedicite " forms a part of The Song of The 14 God magnified in his Works. Three Children, with whom tradition has identified Sha- drach, Meshach, and Abednego. But, whether tradition be right or wrong in this instance, the Canticle has an intrinsic interest of its own, both because it has been in- corporated with the Service of the Episcopal Church, and because it is one of the most suggestive and soul-stirring hymns in existence. In accordance with an injunction in King Edward the Sixth's First Book, it is customary to sing the " Benedicite " during Lent, and in some churches, we regret to think, it is never heard at any other time, while in a few it seems to be banished from the Service altogether. It is also true that Books of Common Prayer have been published in which this hymn finds no place. It is impossible, indeed, not to perceive that there is a " shyness " or even a repugnance with some in regard to it, which causes it to be sung at the times prescribed rather in obedience to custom or ecclesiastical authority, than from any feeling of its fitness for devotional use. And yet, as it cannot be denied that many find in it a valued help to adoration, the conviction rises strongly in the mind that it is equally fitted to become an aid to all. Whence comes, let us ask, this difference in the effect produced by the same thing — whence this absence of appreciation which spoils and renders distasteful to some a hymn from which others derive such heart-felt benefit ? May not the cause lie either in a too literal acceptance of the words themselves, or in the want of those few grains of knowledge which alone were needed to bring home to us the force of the hymn as an exposition of the Power and Mercy of God. When sculptors and painters repre- sent animals bellowing forth their praise from gaping mouths, they embody the literal meaning of the words, and give currency to that erroneous conception of their import which, with more or less distinctness, has found an entrance into the minds of many. It seems almost need- less to remark that such a gross realization of the hymn God magnified in his Works. i% misses its purpose altogether. The " beasts that perish " have no knowledge of their Creator, and are not suscep- tible of those emotions which constitute adoration ; while man is even less nobly distinguished from them by his form than he is by his moral nature, and his privilege of enjoying the perception of God and singing His praise. A literal interpretation given to the " Benedicite " clothes it with inconsistency, suggests an JEsopian fable rather than a Christian hymn, and tends to check rather than promote devotion. Every shade of such a meaning must be banished from the mind, and exchanged for another more true and elevating. It is only by the thoughts sug- gested by the wonderful perfections of animals that they can serve as aids to adoration ; and it is in the same sense only that dead things — such as stars, the sea, or the wind — can be properly associated with living things as pro- moting with equal fitness the same end. If this interpre- tation be not admitted the words degenerate into extrava- gance, and are stripped of all their beautiful significance in the minds of thoughtful men. Invested with the same indirect meaning, the names of Ananias, Azarias, and Misael are most fitly introduced among the invocations of the hymn. They have, it is true, long passed from the scene of their trials ; but, though no voice of praise may rise from the grave, their memories remain to us as sym- bols of God's mercy and power. In thinking of them we recall the example of men who trusted in the Lord and were not forsaken — who were ready to brave the most cruel death rather than deny their faith — and whom no tyrant could either terrify or hurt, because they were up- held by God's protection. Is there no aid to devotion in such examples, or in the thoughts that rise up in asso- ciation with such names ? On the contrary, no invoca- tion in the hymn is more profitable or suggestive. Thus, by their trusting faith when living, they continue, even though dead, to praise and magnify " the power of the Lord for ever." 1 6 God magnified in his Works. Though all are ready with the general admission that every thing in Nature exhibits the Power and Goodness of God, it will not be denied that a little knowledge of the way in which these are displayed would give additional distinctness to the feeling. Such knowledge, indeed, will often serve to change what is merely a tame and pas- sive acquiescence into a fervent sentiment of adoration founded on conviction and experience. Now, if there be any truth in this remark, it is surely well worth while to turn our attention to such subjects. Physical Science and Natural History liberally reward their votaries, for every onward step is fraught with pleasure, and brings an im- mediate reward in the interest with which it invests the common things around us. Many of their most elevating secrets are to be learnt without that preliminary drudgery which besets the portals of some other sciences : and an amount of knowledge, so moderate as to be within the reach of every body, is all that is required to open out to us a clear view of those proofs of Power and Goodness which cluster round the verses of the " Benedicite." It need scarcely be remarked, however, that knowledge of this kind is not to be acquired in church, but by pre- vious preparation at home and in our walks. The offer- ing up of praise within the sanctuary exacts our whole mind and our whole heart, and our thoughts at such mo- ments must not be encouraged to wander away in search of illustrations of the truths we are uttering. Experience will soon bring to us the welcome proof that the thought- ful consideration of God's works which is based upon a knowledge of their nature and of the Power and Good- ness they display, creates a condition of mind so impressi- ble that every solemn allusion to them instantly and with- out conscious effort raises feelings of adoration in unison with the subject. The details of the wonderful perfec- tions by which these feelings were originally developed may be absent, or even forgotten, but the deep devotional God magnified in his Works, 17 impress with which they once imbued the understanding never fades away. They who have acquired this sensibil- ity to those hymns of praise which are ever ascending from all God's works around, have found an aid to adora- tion, the value of which is known and thankfully acknowl- edged by themselves, but which must sometimes appear like extravagance or affectation to others who have never taken any pains to cherish it. It is only by such means that our sentiments can be brought into full harmony with the spirit of the hymn. But when the words of the " Benedicite " fall upon ears thus prepared by the under- standing and the heart, they speak the clearest language, and stand forth as the emblems of Power, Wisdom, and Goodness. All Thy works praise Thee, Lord. — Ps. cxlv. Of the fitness of the natural objects around us to awaken feelings of devotion there can be no doubt. All things are wonderfully made and wonderfully adjusted to each other ; and we alone, among created beings, have been endowed with faculties enabling us to recognize the perfections they exhibit, on purpose that we might praise God by the feelings they rouse within us. The Psalms of David are filled with beautiful illustrations to show how natural objects serve as aids to adoration, and it may be safely asserted that a Book of Praise was never yet writ- ten in which they were not thus used. If there be any skeptic who believes not in this power, let him make trial. Experience will soon convert him, and draw an answer of thankful consciousness from his own heart. The object of this book is to offer a series of illustra- tions of the Beneficence and Greatness of God, as they are suggested to our minds by the words of the " Benedi- cite." A few of the verses, it will be noticed, are omitted, not because they are inapplicable to devotion, but be- cause they do not come within range of that kind of illus- iS God magnified in his Works. tration to which I have thought it proper to confine my- self. But, within this limitation, enough and more than enough remains for the work on hand. It may, indeed, be truly said that he who undertakes to select from the many fields of Nature the most striking examples of God's Providence will find his chief difficulty to arise from the " embarrassment of riches." He is like a man wander- ing in a gallery where all is truth and perfection, and who has rashly engaged to single out that only which is pre- eminently the best. A feeling of this kind weighs on me now, for, while illustrations abound on every side, I fear lest I should select some examples where others ought to have been preferred, — not because they were more won- derful or more perfect, but because they were better adapted for the purpose here intended. Let me hasten to disclaim all pretension to instruct the learned or the sci- entific. It becomes me here rather to acknowledge with gratitude my own obligations to them. It would, indeed, be difficult to treat satisfactorily of the various matters contained in this book without seeking to profit by the labors of the Herschels, Whewell, Maury, Guillemin, Lardner, Owen, Darwin, and many others whose names are well known as the authors of standard works. I know beforehand that the subject, for its own sake, will be re- ceived with sympathy by those whose delight it is ever to be on the outlook for the suggestion of trains of thought which lead them to magnify God in His Works ; but it would be even more gratifying to me if I should succeed in awakening an interest in the " Benedicite " in some who, perhaps, may not have hitherto considered the ob- jects therein invoked under the aspect here given to them. Soon will they make the precious discovery that they cannot add a line to their knowledge of the natural objects around them without at the same time adding to the distinctness of the feeling with which they join in the words of the hymn. God magnified in his Works. 19 While endeavoring' to illustrate the effect of a little knowledge in developing that sensitiveness to the divine Power and Mercy which, while it softens the heart, beck- ons us onward to that worship which springs from the contemplation of natural objects, I wish carefully to guard against every appearance of desiring to elevate this means above its proper place. We are here dealing with the things that belong to the kingdom of nature, and not with those pertaining to the kingdom of grace ; and, if need be, it must often be recalled that how praiseworthy soever this meditative worship may be, it can never supersede, and must always be subordinate to, those higher motives for worship which are unfolded in the doctrines of Chris- tianity. The one is essential and must be done ; while all that can be said of the other is that it is both fitting and profitable, and ought not to be left undone. God has graciously endowed us with faculties to comprehend His Works, and with every new appreciation of His design we seem to be taken more and more into His confidence. Shall we then neglect or throw away this inestimable privi- lege, or can we ever hope to employ our talents in a no- bler or more elevating purpose? Experience will prove that God blesses our efforts to trace out the perfection of His Works with an immediate reward, for the pursuit is replete with rational pleasure no less than with moral im- provement. praise the Lord with me, let us magnify His name together. — Ps. xxxiv. THE HEAVENS. O ye Heavens, bless ye the Lord : praise Him, and magnify Him for ever. MONG all the sights the eye can look upon noth- ing is comparable to the Heavens for the senti- ment with which they charm the mind. The lan- guage they speak comes to us from remote, mysterious worlds ; but, though it may be imperfectly understood, it is at least universally felt. The great and the little — the civilized man and the savage, the philosopher and the rustic — all feel their influence, and are from time to time irresistibly drawn toward them by mingled emotions of admiration, gratitude, and awe, such as none of the other features of Nature can excite in an equal degree. No wonder, therefore, that the Three Children, intent on call- ing up every image by which God's Goodness to men and their dependence on Him could be depicted, should first of all turn toward the Heavens. Again and again the grand features of the firmament are passed in review, and invoked with fervor. In the eager intensity of their feel- ings order and method are but little regarded, and they pour forth their thoughts in song as these come welling up in their minds. So may it happily sometimes be with ourselves ; and in those moments when we too are drawn with desire to " bless, praise, and magnify the Lord " for the visible works of Creation, we shall surely find that the Heavens suggest to our conception the grandest symbols of His power and goodness. So strongly, however, is the idea of the " incompre- The Heavens. 21 hensible " associated by many with the mysteries of the firmament, that they are habitually prone to regard the teachings of astronomers as little else than scientific guess-work. Nevertheless, the best intellects in all coun- tries assure us, and demonstrate before our eyes, that, within certain limits, Astronomy is the most exact and per- fect of sciences, and that, even when it deals with dis- tances and magnitudes which are practically inconceivable, its conclusions, though often claiming to be approximative only, have yet no affinity whatever with guess-work. Let such skeptics think of the certainty with which sidereal events are predicted beforehand. Let them reflect on the evidence of the most exact knowledge of the heavenly bodies involved in the calculation of eclipses, in fixing the very moment when the moon's dark outline shall begin to creep over the sun's bright disk, or in predicting the in- stant when a planet's light shall be extinguished behind our satellite. How wonderful the tracking of a comet's wanderings — millions of miles beyond the far-off region of Uranus, and foretelling the time of its return after long years of absence ! Do not these, and a thousand other equally wonderful feats, attest both the soundness of the principles on which the astronomer works, and the reason- ableness of receiving his assurances with trust, even though it may be impossible for more than a few gifted minds to follow the calculations on which they are based ? Did any of our readers ever happen to bestow a glance upon the " Nautical Almanac " ? It is published by the British Government at a very cheap rate, in order to facil- itate its entrance into the cabin of every sea-going ship. Ostensibly it is a voluminous collection of dry figures and curious signs running on interminably page after page ; but, in reality, it is a yearly record of the soundness of the teachings of Astronomy, and of the blessings they bring to man. Eclipses of the sun and moon, of Jupiter's satel- lites, sidereal positions and distances, and a multitude of 22 The Heavens. other heavenly events and matters of the last importance to navigation, are there foretold with the most rigid exact- ness. Every single figure and every single sign represents an important sidereal fact, and is charged with a message from the skies for our guidance. On the trackless ocean this book is the mariner's trusted friend and counsellor, and daily and nightly its revelations bring safety to ships in all parts of the world. The acquisition of such rare and precious knowledge — this mapping out beforehand, almost to a hair-breadth, the exact order and track in which the heavenly bodies will run their course through space, and the precise relative position they will occupy at any given moment when they can be seen in any part of the world — is a fact which, if applicable to the current year only, might well fill us with astonishment. But it becomes infinitely more marvelous when we reflect that the " Nautical Almanac " is regularly published three or four years in advance, in order that the mariner, during the most distant voyages which commerce can exact, may never be without his faithful monitor. It is truly some- thing more than a mere book — it is an emblem of the Power and Order of the Creator in the government of the Heavens, and a monument of the extent to which His creatures are privileged to unravel the laws of the Uni- verse The year 1846 will ever be memorable for having wit- nessed one of the most striking illustrations of the truth of Astronomy. Few can have forgotten the astonishment with which the discovery of the planet Neptune was then received, or the fact that it was due not to a lucky or ac- cidental pointing of the telescope toward a particular quarter of the Heavens, but to positive calculations worked out in the closet ; thus proving that, before the planet was seen by the eye, it had been already grasped by the mind. The history of its finding was a triumph of human intel- lect. The distant Uranus — a planet hitherto orderly The Heavens. 23 and correct — begins to show unusual movements in its orbit. It is, somehow, not exactly in the spot where ac- cording to the best calculations it ought to have been, and the whole astronomical world is thrown into perplexity. Two mathematicians, as yet but little known to fame, liv- ing far apart in different countries and acting independ- ently of each other, concentrate the force of their pene- trating intellects to find out the cause. The most obvious way of accounting for the event was to have inferred that some error in previous computations had occurred ; and, in a matter so difficult, so abstruse, and so far off, what could have been more probable or more pardonable ? But these astronomers knew that the laws of gravity were fixed and sure, and that figures truly based on them could not deceive. By profound calculations each arrives at the conclusion that nothing can account for the " pertur- bation " except the disturbing influence of some hitherto unknown mass of matter exerting its attraction in a cer- tain quarter of the Heavens. So implicit, so undoubting is the faith of Leverrier in the truth of his deductions, that he requests a brother astronomer in Berlin to look out for this mass at a special point in space on a particu- lar night ; and there, sure enough, the disturber immedi- ately discloses himself, and soon shows his title to be admitted into the steady and orderly rank of his fellow- planets. The coincidence of two astronomers, Leverrier and our countryman Adams,* arriving at this discovery through the agency of figures based on physical observa- tion, precludes every idea of guess-work ; while such was the agreement between their final deductions that the point of the Heavens fixed upon by both as the spot where the disturber lay was almost identical. " Such a discovery," says Arago, " is one of the most brilliant manifestations of the exactitude of the system of modern astronomers." * Of Cambridge, England. 24 The Heavens, As the Heavens have irresistibly attracted the atten- tion of mankind in all ages, Astronomy naturally came to be the Father of sciences, and it was from remotest times cultivated with considerable success by the Chaldeans on the plains of Mesopotamia. Doubtless the Three He- brews at Nebuchadnezzar's court were well versed in the science of their day, but, whatever the amount of that knowledge might have been, it must have been extremely imperfect when measured by modern standards. Com- paratively speaking they knew but little of the grandeur of the Heavens ; and yet that little amply sufficed to point with its imagery the fervor of their worship. Since then, by God's blessing, the range of Astronomy has been widened, its views soar higher and probe deeper, its truths are better comprehended, its marvelous adjust- ments have been analyzed and traced more clearly upon the understanding. Shall we, then, with our better knowl- edge, find less aid in it to rouse our adoration than did the ^Three Children of old, and shall the more perfect view of the Heavens now vouchsafed to us fall cold and resultless upon our hearts ? If this, indeed, be the case, are we not treating with neglect an aid to adoration which God himself has spread out before our eyes, and are we not in some degree frustrating that purpose of praise and glorification for which both they and we were created ? Astronomy is without question the grandest of sciences. It deals with masses, distances, and velocities which in their immensity belong specially to itself alone, and of which the mere conception transcends the utmost stretch of our finite faculties. In no other branch of science is the limited grasp of our intellect more forcibly brought home to us. Yet, though baffled in the effort to rise to the level of its requirements, our strivings are by no means profitless. Is it not truly a precious privilege to be able to trace, imperfectly though it may be, the hand of the All-mighty Architect in these his grandest works, The Heavens. 25 and to obtain by this means a broader consciousness of his Omnipotence ? In raising our wonder and admiration other sciences need the help of details and expositions, but in Astronomy the mere enunciation of a few measure- ments suffices to elevate our ideas of His Power to the highest point to which man's finite faculties can carry them. The expense of suitable instruments, the preliminary study, the persevering patience, and the long night vigils that are necessary will probably always prevent the higher walks of scientific Astronomy from becoming a popular pursuit ; nevertheless, we earnestly recommend all who can to seize every opportunity that may fall in their way of having a thoughtful look at the Heavens through a good telescope. Their reward will be immediate. Even were they to take their peep with feelings not more ele- vated than those with which folks at a fair look at a rare show, the glance would bring some profit ; but, if they be prepared beforehand with their " few grains of knowl- edge," how useful and improving the survey becomes. The first look at the Heavens through a good telescope forms an epoch in our life. Our faith in the realities of Astronomy passes with sudden bound from theory into practice ; planets and stars become henceforth distinct and solid existences in our minds ; our doubts vanish, and our belief settles into conviction. We behold the myste- rious Moon of our childhood mapped into brilliant moun- tain-peaks, and dark precipices, and softly lighted plains ; we see Jupiter shining like another fair Luna, with attend- ant satellites moving round him in their well-known paths ; or we turn with admiration to Saturn encircled by his famous ring, with outlines as distinct as if that glorious creation lay but a few miles off. Perhaps we may behold the beauteous Venus shining with resplendent circular disk, or curiously passing through her many phases in mimic rivalry of the Moon. Or, leaving these near neigh- 26 The Heavens. bors far behind, we may penetrate more deeply into space, and mark how the brightest flashing stars are re- duced to a small, round, unmagnifiable point. A few evening explorations in propitious weather will suffice to grave all these objects and many other precious recollec- tions in our minds for ever. Then is realized, better than at any previous moment of our existence, the power of the Lord of Creation. While Astronomy, beyond all other sciences, thus lifts up man's conception of God's glory as displayed in His works, it is no less calculated to bring home to him the " littleness " of his own world amid the great creations of the Universe. The stupendous truths at which the finger of Astronomy is ever pointing ought to keep uppermost in his heart the wholesome lesson of humility. Well may the oft-told interjection rise to his lips, Lord, what is man that Thou art mindful of him ! Such thoughts, indeed, bring with them both humility and exultation. Man's habitation is in very truth a mere speck in the Universe, dwarfed and thrown into the shade by nearly all the worlds around it, and he himself is a mere atom creeping through his brief existence upon its surface. His high place in Creation is won by the loftiness of his moral nature, and, above all, by the destiny that awaits him. Apart from this revelation, man and his earth are but a grain of dust among the myriads of worlds that people the infinity of space. Therefore shall every good man sing of Thy praise without ceasing.— Ps. xxx. SUN AND MOON O ye Sun and Moon, bless ye the Lord ; praise Him, and magnify Him for ewer. HERE are not a few in this world who habitually receive God's blessings so much as a matter of course that they are scarcely conscious of any active feeling of gratitude in regard to them. The very regularity and profusion with which these blessings are showered on all alike seems to have the effect of deaden- ing the sense of individual obligation. A general admis- sion of thankfulness may occasionally be made at church or in the closet, but there is a want of that abiding con- sciousness of it with which we ought to be imbued, as well as of that frequent pondering upon details which, by illustrating the dependence of every creature upon God, causes the heart to swell with grateful adoration. Such thoughts never fail to improve our moral nature by bring- ing the truth home to us more and more that we are in- deed God's children. It would be no easy task for a thankful mind to sum up all the blessings diffused over our planet by the Sun. It is the mainspring of animated Nature. Without its genial rays the present system of the earth's government could not endure, and life itself would soon disappear from the globe. To it we are indebted for light and warmth — the twin stimulants of vital force — for our food and clothing, for our busy days and rest-bringing nights, for months and years, and happy alternations of the seasons. Its rays, in 28 Sun and Moon. short, are intertwined with all our wants and comforts ; they gladden the eye and cheer the heart. I will praise the name of God with a song, and magnify it with thanks- giving. — Ps. lxix. The Sun is the central pivot of the solar system, and round it the Earth and all the other planets keep whirl- ing in elliptical orbits. Its power and influence — its light, heat, and attraction — reach through a domain in space which it would require a line of more than 6000 millions of miles to span. With the greater part of this wide field astronomers are familiar, and it may be truly said that scarcely a man knows the roads of his own parish with more exactness than they do the highways of the skies. Not only can they map out to a nicety the paths of the planets careering through it like islands floating in a sea of ether, but they can look backward and tell the exact spot where each globe was at any moment of the remote past, or forward, and point to the place where each will be found at any given moment of the remote future. What is the mighty power which thus maintains such order in the Heavens, which steadies the planets in their orbits, and traces out for them a route so wisely planned as to avoid all chances of collision ? Two antagonistic forces — gravitation or attraction, combined with a cen- trifugal impulse — accomplish the wonderful task. To these faithful servants, which know neither fatigue nor slumber, God commits the safety of the Universe. Let us in imagination glance back to that far-off time when "in the beginning the Heavens and the Earth were created." Matter having been prepared sufficient, it may be, for the vast requirements of the solar system, every particle of it was endowed with the property of mutual attraction, and the force of this attraction was fixed so as to act in a certain proportion to mass and distance. In Sun and Moon. 29 other words, the law then impressed on matter was, that attraction should increase according to mass, and diminish according to the square of the distance. The matter of the solar system may have been created in separate por- tions, or it may have been divided into separate portions corresponding to the size of the different planets ; after which, the particles of each planet, being as yet mobile, arranged themselves in obedience to their mutual attrac- tion into globes, just as we see the mobile particles of water coalesce into a drop, or as quicksilver runs into globules. The Sun was placed in the centre, and became the pivot of the whole system, tying to itself the different planets by the cord of its superior attraction. In accord- ance with the law just mentioned, this loadstone power of the Sun was the inevitable result of its superior mass. It is obvious that in whatever corner of the Sun's do- main the planets had been placed, the searching power of his attraction would have found them out, and would in- evitably have destroyed them by dragging them in upon himself, had this tendency not been counteracted by some other influence. Another force, therefore, was established — the centrifugal. The Great Architect, "weighing in His hand," as the Psalmist figuratively, and yet almost literally expresses it, the mass of each orb, projected it on its course through space with exactly that force and at exactly that angle which was needed to counterbalance the attractive power of the Sun ; and the obedient globe, thus seized upon by the two balanced forces, was com- pelled to move onward in a path representing the diago- nal between both. And as these forces are permanent, the movements of the Earth and of the other planets must be permanent also ; nor can any thing stop the working of this most perfect machine except the Word which cre- ated it. The voice of the Lord is mighty in operation. — Ps. xxix. 30 Sun and Moon. How shall we mentally gauge the distance or estimate the size of the master-centre which thus holds all the planets in his grasp ? The immensity of both confounds our efforts. When we are told that the Sun is separated from us by a chasm of nearly 92 millions of miles, that its diameter is 850,000 miles, and its circumference about 2,671,000 miles, we can realize nothing beyond a vague idea of vastness, and we are forced to look round for other standards to help our laggard faculties. From the com- paratively small size of his disk when viewed from the Earth, we catch the idea how enormous that distance must be which is able thus to dwarf it down. It is 384 times as far off as the Moon. A cannon-ball fired from the earth and keeping up its velocity, would not reach it in less than 22 years. "A railway train," Brayley observes, "at the average speed of thirty miles an hour, continuously main- tained, would arrive at the Moon in eleven months, but would not reach the Sun in less than about 352 years ; so that if such a train had been started in the year 15 12, the third year of the reign of Henry VIII., it would only have reached the sun in 1864." The Sun's diameter is equally astounding. It exceeds by 107 times the mean diameter of the Earth. It is nearly four times greater than the radius of the Moon's orbit round the Earth ; so that if the Earth were placed in the centre of the Sun, the Moon's orbit, so far from extending to the circumference of the Sun, would scarcely reach to within 187,000 miles of its surface. The locomotive just mentioned, on its arrival at the Sun, "would be rather more than a year and a half in reaching the Sun's centre, three years and a half in passing across the Sun, suppos- ing it were tunneled through, and ten years and one eighth in going round it." " Now the same train would attain the centre of the Earth in five days and a half, pass through it in eleven days, and go round it in thirty-seven days." The bulk of the Sun is not less than 600 times as great Sun and Moon. 31 as that of all the planets put together ; and it would take 1,405,000 Earths to make a globe of equal magnitude. Great difference of opinion prevails among astronomers respecting the physical condition of the Sun, and both its surface and encircling atmospheres are full of mysteri- ous grandeur. Still, although not so well known as the planets, many points of interest have been partially made out. Its surface is much more rugged than that of our planet, with heights and clefts somewhat on the scale of its vast magnitude. A mountain in the Sun, however, in order to bear the same proportion to it as our highest Himalayan peaks do to our Earth, would require to attain an altitude of 600 miles : now none of its mountains have been estimated at more than 200 miles high. The moun- tains on the Earth have been compared to the inequalities upon the rind of an orange, while those of the Sun would in their proportion more resemble the tubercles of a pine- apple. Most astronomers consider the Sun to be an incandes- cent body encircled by two atmospheres. Its temperature probably varies in the different parts of its immensity, but, where most intense, it appears to transcend any thing we can conceive. Like the distances and velocities and nearly all else that relates to the heavenly orbs, the degree of the Sun's heat overtasks our power to imagine, and we should require for its comprehension some new standard of meas- urement. The minimum of solar temperature, indeed, seems to begin far above the point where terrestrial tem- perature leaves off. According to one philosopher the heat is " seven times as great as that of the vivid ignition of the fuel in the strongest blast furnace ; " while another, after a careful series of experiments, estimates it at nearly 13 millions of degrees of Fahrenheit ! To aid us in ap- preciating this temperature, or rather to show us how im- possible it is for us even to conceive it, it may be borne in mind that cast-iron requires for fusion a heat which 32 Sun and Moon. amounts only to 2786 degrees, and that the oxy-hydrogen flame — one of the hottest known — does not much ex- ceed 14000 Fahrenheit, which is scarcely one thousandth part of the temperature here ascribed to the Sun. Of the two atmospheres encircling the Sun, that which is nearest its surface is considered to be nonluminous, while the other floats upon it and forms the " photo- sphere " which we see in looking at the Sun's bright disk. From this photosphere, as well as, probably, from the sur- face of the Sun itself, are radiated the heat and light which are to vivify the planets of the solar system. Flame-like masses — some computed to be 150,000 miles in length — are piled upon or overlap each other, and sweep onward in constant agitation, like mountain-billows of living fire. Although the light afforded by this furnace pales that of every other luminary, its amount has been approximately ascertained, for the purpose, as we shall soon see, of serv- ing as a standard to astronomers when estimating the dis- tances of the stars by means of the light they evolve. Thus Wollaston calculated that 20 millions of stars as bright as Sirius, or rather more than 800,000 full moons, would be required in order to shed upon the Earth an illu- mination equal to that of the Sun. Another estimate makes sunlight equal to 5570 wax candles held at a dis- tance of only one foot from an object. Let us now turn our back upon the Sun, which for the sake of comparison may be represented by a globe two feet in diameter, and let us in imagination wing our way across the space filled by the solar system. A short flight of 37 millions of miles brings us to a world which, com- pared with the two-feet globe, is no bigger than a grain of mustard-seed, while it is so bathed in the Sun's dazzling rays that it is not easily distinguished when viewed from our Earth. This fussy little planet whirls round the Sun at the tremendous pace of a hundred thousand miles an hour, by which he proves his title to be called Mercury, Sun and Moon, 33 the " swift-footed " of mythology. The Sun being so near attracts it with jDrodigious force, and to counteract this de- structive tendency a corresponding centrifugal impulse was absolutely needed. From the strength of these two an- tagonistic forces its great velocity naturally results. The adjustment is perfect. At a distance of 68 millions of miles from the Sun we behold Venus, the brightest and most dazzling of the heavenly hosts. In comparative size, she may be represented by a pea. She is our near- est neighbor among the planets, and the conditions under which she exists recall many of those amid which we our- selves live. About 92 millions of miles from the Sun we come upon another "pea," a trifle larger than the one representing Venus, and in it we hail our old familiar mother Earth. Here we shall not now linger, but passing onward some 50 millions of miles we are attracted by the well-known ruddy glow of Mars, — an appearance which may depend either on the refraction of light in its atmosphere, resem- bling what we ourselves often see at sunset, or on the pre- vailing color of its soil, which may be as highly tinted as our "old red sandstone." The comparative size is that of a pin's head. Mars is a planet that has lived down a very bad character. For ages every star-poet, astrologer, and almanac-maker had an ill word to say about him, and all sorts of evil things, including "manslaughter, byrnings of houses, and warres," were ascribed to his cross nature. But truth has at length prevailed, and he is now established as an orderly member of the solar company. His mean orbital speed is 54,000 miles an hour — nearly our own pace — but, as he takes twice as much time to run round the Sun as we do, his year is consequently twice as long. Casting a glance behind we are reminded of the distance that now separates us from the Sun by the perceptible waning of his light. We next spread our wings for a very long flight. In. 3 34 Sun and Moon. passing through the " asteroid " zone of solar space, about 260 millions of miles from the Sun, we may chance to fall in with some worlds so small that a locomotive could travel round them in a few hours. We know not very much about them except that their ways are eccentric and mysterious. They want the smooth round outline of the old planets. Their rugged and fragmentary aspect sug- gests that they may be the mere ruins of some mighty parent-planet, shattered into pieces by the Word of the Architect, and skillfully stowed away in space, so as to harmonize with the nice balancings of the solar system. At length the shores of huge Jupiter are reached at a distance of nearly 500 millions of miles from the Sun. To carry on the comparison, he is a " small orange " to the " pea" of our Earth, or to the two-feet globe that rep- resents the Sun. His orbit is a path 3000 millions of miles long, which he accomplishes in an " annual " period of nearly 12 of our years. The Sun's light has now shrunk considerably, but four brilliant moons or satellites, one or more of which are always " full," help to afford some compensation. These moons, distant though they be from our Earth, are not without their use to man, and there is hardly a well-informed mariner that leaves our shores who cannot occasionally turn them to account in settling his position at sea. The principle is extremely simple. The exact moment when one of these moons is eclipsed behind Jupiter's disk has to be noted, by chro- nometer rated to Greenwich time, and by a reference to the " Nautical Almanac " it may be compared with the hour at which the same event is timed for Greenwich. The difference in time will give the longitude, 4 minutes being allowed for each degree. If the eclipse be in advance of Greenwich time, the ship is to the east of that place ; and to the west of it in the contrary case. Thus the good Lord has combined the lighting up of this far-off planet with a blessing to the inhabitants of our Earth. Sun and Moon. 35 Before we arrive at Saturn, in our " outward-bound " course, we have to pass through a space nearly equal to the distance of Jupiter from the Sun. We are now more than 900 millions of miles distant from the central pivot. Saturn's comparative size may be represented by an orange considerably smaller than the last. His year swal- lows up almost thirty of our own. The Sun, though hardly giving one ninetieth part of the light which we re- ceive, is still equal to 300 full moons, and is at least suf- ficient for vision, and all the necessary purposes of life. No fewer than eight satellites supplement thew aning sun- light, besides a mysterious luminous " ring " of vast pro- portions. Twice as far away from the Sun as Saturn, Uranus, rep- resented by a cherry, plods his weary way. Although he has a real diameter of 35,000 miles, he is rarely to be seen from the Earth by the naked eye. His annual journey round the Sun is 10,000 millions of miles, and he con- sumes what we should consider a lifetime — 84 years — in getting over it. His nights are lighted up by at least four moons that are known, but several others probably exist. The illumination received from the Sun even here is equal to several hundred moons. Our little Earth has now faded out of sight. Only a few years ago Uranus was the last planetary station of our system, but the discovery of Neptune in 1846 gave us another resting-place on the long journey into space. Here, at a distance of 2862 millions of miles from the Sun, we may pause awhile before entering upon the more remote exploration of the starry universe. We are approaching the frontier regions of our system, and the Sun's light and the power of his attraction are grad- ually passing away. Between the shores of our sun-sys- tem and the shores of the nearest star-system lies a vast, mysterious chasm, in the adjacent recesses of which may still lurk some undiscovered planets, but into which, so 36 Sun and Moon. far as we yet know, the wandering comets alone plunge deeply. We stand on the frontier of the Sun's domain, and we are in imagination looking across one of those broad gulfs which, like impassable ramparts, fence off the different systems of the Universe from each other. It seemed needful that the Great Architect should interpose some such barrier between the contending attractions of the giant masses of matter scattered through space — that there should be a sea of limitation in which forces whose action might disturb each other should die out and be extinguished. In it the light-flood of our glorious Sun gets weaker and weaker, and its bright disk wastes away by distance until it shines no bigger than a twinkling star. And the strong chain of its attraction, which held with firm grasp the planets in their orbits, after dwindling by fixed degrees into a force that would not break a gossa- mer, is finally dissipated and lost. It has been already stated that the Earth and its fel- low-planets are kept steady in their orbits by the exact adjustment of centrifugal and centripetal forces. They are in the position of the stone whirled round in a sling. If let go from the centre, they would fly off into space ; if surrendered to the sole influence of the Sun's attraction, they would inevitably be dragged into the vortex of its flames. As a curiosity in Astronomy, calculations have been made to show the time which each planet would re- quire for its fall into the Sun. Thus it appears that while Mercury, the nearest, would require a fortnight, Uranus, at a distance of r82o millions of miles, would be nearly r 5 years in falling • while our Earth would take 64^ days before it crashed into the Sun. Such calculations, however, have not always had a merely speculative interest. There was a time, not so very remote, when the possibility, or rather the certainty, of our Earth clashing headlong into the Sun seemed to be only too well established. Weak minds were terrified, Stm and Moon. 37 and even the soundest astronomers were perplexed at the alarming import of their own deductions. A hundred years have scarcely elapsed since the astronomer Halley startled the world by announcing the existence of a flaw in the construction of the solar system, by which the cer- tain though distant ruin of our Earth was involved. He was led to this supposed discovery by a comparison of the eclipses of his own time with those recorded by Ptol- emy in the second, and by Albutegnius in the ninth cen- tury. From this comparison it appeared to be established that the mean velocity of the Earth in her orbit was in- creasing. The philosophers of that day were puzzled, nor was the cause of this circumstance explained until Laplace demonstrated that it was due to a diminution in the eccentricity of the Earth's orbit round the Sun, pro- duced by certain perturbing influences in the planets. This orbit, as our readers know, is elliptical, and, as it was proved that this ellipsis tended to change into a "round " or circle, at the rate of about 41 miles annually, it followed that a perfectly circular orbit would be estab- lished in the course of 37,527 years. But the conclusion to which this discovery led was frightful. The sure effect would be to draw the Earth nearer and nearer to the Sun, until at length the centripe- tal would so overbalance the centrifugal force, that our globe would fall helplessly into it. It is true, the lease of existence thus given to the Earth, even on the most un- favorable estimate, was a long one ; but its direful end- ing appalled contemplation, and concentrated upon the question the whole intellectual strength of astronomers. Never was the surpassing construction of the solar sys- tem made more strikingly manifest than when Laplace demonstrated that this "weak point" had not been overlooked by the Great Architect. In a way which cannot be here explained, but which has received the assent of all succeeding astronomers, he showed that the 38 Sun and Moon. alteration in its orbit which the Earth is, now undergoing can only continue up to a certain point, and that, when this point is reached, other planetary influences will come into play, which, by gradually undoing the work that has been done, will ultimately bring back the Earth once more into her old ellipsoid orbit. And when the limit is again reached in the latter direction, the " influences " will again change, and a new progress toward circularity will re- commence. Thus, so far from leading to the destruction of our Earth, this regular oscillation specially provides for its unlimited endurance ; nor can any thing stop the per- fect machinery of our solar system, except the Word of the Almighty Artificer who created it. He hath made the round world so sure that it cannot be moved. — Ps. xciii. In gazing at our fellow-planets, as on a clear night they stand out with preeminent brightness among the twink- ling stars, who has not longed to penetrate the mystery of their being, and to know whether they, like our own Earth, are worlds full of life and movement ? The vast distance that intervenes between us forbids us to expect a direct solution of the question, for no instruments we can make, or even hope to make, will bring their possible in- habitants within the range of vision. We are reduced, therefore, to survey them with the sifting force of intel- lect, and to rest contented with such circumstantial proof as is derived from a knowledge of their general structure, and the analogies subsisting between them and our Earth. Among our nearest neighbors, Venus is nearly the size of our Earth ; and Mercury and Mars, though considera- bly smaller, would still form worlds which, to our ideas, would not in their magnitude be so very different from our own. All the planets revolve in elliptical orbits round the Sun, and the time consumed in this journey constitutes their year. Their polar axis is not " straight up and down," but leans over or is " inclined " to the Sun and Moon. 39 plane of their orbit, so that each pole is turned toward the Sun at one period of the year, and away from it at an- other. This arrangement insures the regular alternation of seasons and a variety of climates on their surface. The orbital inclination of Mars, for example, is much the same as that of the Earth, and therefore the relative proportion of his seasons must have a close resemblance to our own. It might be expected under these circumstances that ice would accumulate toward the poles in winter time, as on the Earth, and accordingly glacial accumulations have not only been observed by astronomers, but it has been re- marked that they occasionally diminish by melting dur- ing the heats of summer, while they increase in winter. Again, the planets, like the Earth, turn round on their axes with perfect regularity, and those just mentioned do so in very similar periods of time. Hence all have their days and nights. These divisions represent in our minds intervals mercifully set apart by Providence for the wel- fare of living creatures — times designedly arranged to regulate alternate labor and rest in beings whose require- ments in this respect would seem to be analogous to our own. Diurnal rotation, moreover, insures to each planet a determinate amount of light and heat from the Sun, which is necessary to the well-being both of animals and plants ; and it is measured out to them with a regularity equal to that with which we ourselves receive it. One can see no other purpose that could be served by diurnal rotation except the distribution of light and heat ; and, if the axes of the planets had been " inclined " very differ- ently to what is actually the case, this purpose would not have been so efficiently accomplished. The amount of light and heat received by the more distant planets must be necessarily small in comparison with our own supply ; thus at Neptune it is a thousand times less than at our Earth. Still it is easy to conceive that by a correspond- ing increase in the sensibility of the retina nearly every ao Sun and Moon, purpose of vision may be adequately fulfilled. Even on our own Earth there are animals which see with an amount of light which to us is little else than darkness. The next point of analogy is that most of the planets, if not all, are surrounded with atmospheres which distrib- ute and refract the light, while they retain and intensify the heat, just as on our Earth. In some of them, indeed, as in Venus, the soft twilight is as visible to astronomers, as our own twilight is to ourselves. Earth has its atmos- phere often charged with clouds, Jupiter is belted round with them ; from which may be inferred the existence of an atmosphere and of water. An atmosphere must neces- sarily give rise to currents of wind. From the vast size of Jupiter, and the velocity with which his surface moves round at the equator, there must likewise be trade-winds of much greater force than our own. One effect of those stormy trades would be to give a streaky character to the clouds encircling tropical districts — a theory with which the appearance of Jupiter's famous belts exactly corre- sponds. The main divisions of the surface into land and water can be distinguished and mapped out in Mars, while chains of mountains are to be descried in Mercury and Venus. Analogy carries the argument still further. Planets, like our Earth, have their moons, whose number and size are in some degree proportionate to the distance of the planet from the Sun, or, in other words, to the urgency with which supplemental " lamps " are needed. Mercury and Venus, lying near the Sun, bask in his light, and have no proper satellites, although they must act as moons to each other. Our Earth has one. Mars, though lying more remote from the Sun than we are, has none. Jupi- ter, five times more distant from the Sun than our Earth, has four satellites disposed with such careful design that some of them are always shining. Farther off, in the darker regions of the solar system, Saturn's night is Sun and Moon. 41 broken by the light of eight satellites, some of which are always full, as well as by his wonderful luminous " ring " ; while Uranus has not fewer than four moons, and proba- bly may have more over which distance has hitherto cast obscurity. As regards Neptune, his enormous distance must continue to make the number of his satellites a question of extreme difficulty. One, however, has already been discovered, and improved telescopes will probably reveal more. As corroborative evidence I need do no more in this place than merely allude to the recent results of spectrum analysis, or the chemical examination of the light itself which they transmit ; from which it appears that not only the Sun and planets, but even the stars, act- ually contain substances with which we are familiar here on Earth. That those planetary globes, with their continents and oceans so analogous to our own in the plan of their physi- cal conditions and so vastly surpassing them in extent of surface, should be void and barren and destitute of life in every form, seems scarcely consistent with our knowledge of the ways of the Creator. All over our globe, except, perhaps, among the polar snows or in the desert, we see life abounding. Space is everywhere economized by Na- ture, and thriftily allotted out to living creatures. To pro- mote the spread of life the most dissimilar spots have in- habitants expressly constructed for them, so that every place may become a home in which something living may exist. The abundance of Nature — the profusion of life — is proverbial, and forces itself on our notice in every di- rection. Is it likely that those vast orbs — with masses and densities so wonderfully modified and adjusted in ac- cordance with what we perceive to be the requirements of living creatures — with years and months, days and nights, seasons and climates — with atmospheres and twilights, trade-winds and currents — with clouds and rains, con- tinents and seas, mountains and polar snows — with sun, 42 Sun and M0071. moon, and stars, and, in short, with all the elements that make up the conditions of a habitable globe — is it likely that those glorious works of the Creator should have been formed to lie waste, sterile, and unprofitable ? Or even if we could bring ourselves to think that those masses, whose united bulk dwarfs our Earth to insignificance, had been created solely as make-weights to keep this little atom of Earth in its place, why should they have been provided with a complicated system of moons revolving round them to give them auxiliary light ? The Sun's light they share in common with ourselves ; but for what con- ceivable purpose should deserts void of life have been supplied with those wonderful lamps to light them up in the absence of the Sun ? Our own Moon, we know, was made " to rule the night," to give light to something that could profit by it ; has the same beautiful machinery been repeated, and even more extensively than here, for the sake of globes where nothing living exists to which it can be of use ? Not less wonderful, and for a purpose not less obvious, is the way in which the size and density of the different planets have been modified to harmonize with the probable strength and power of objects existing upon them. The very conditions that would be incompatible with our organization may, from the adjustments of crea- tive wisdom, be exactly suited to the beings called on to inhabit them. All life, even if it be essentially the same in principle, may not everywhere assume the same phase of outward existence, nor need we attempt to set limits in this respect to the Lord of Life. The spaces lie there furnished and ready — the Word only was required to people them with a life which may be different, but which, so far as we can understand the conditions, need not be very different, from life such as we see existing around us. Reflection upon these and other points seems to reverse the question with which we set out, and to make the dif- ficulty consist in believing, not that life in some shape ex- Sun and Moon. 43 ists upon our fellow-planets, but that they can be destitute of it. Such inquiries have an interest which goes beyond their mere astronomical import, for they touch our con- ceptions of God's greatness. Is there any one who does not long to be able reasonably to cherish the thought that, far away from this tiny speck of Earth, in the remote realms of space, we behold worlds inhabited by beings who, it may be, are privileged like ourselves to know their Creator, and to bless, praise, and magnify Him for ever ? We turn toward our nearest neighbor in the solar sys- tem with a sentiment bordering on familiar affection. We speak of it emphatically as " our Moon." The Sun we share with other planets, but this beauteous orb belongs exclusively to ourselves. Although we transmit to each other but little warmth, we yet cheer up the darkness of each other's nights by liberally reflecting the rays which each receives from the Sun. Like loyal friends we give and we take to our mutual advantage ; and, as the Earth is the larger reflecting body of the two, we repay with in- terest the light we borrow. To young and old the Moon is ever interesting and beautiful. The infant questions it with delighted eye, and stretches out its tiny arms to play with or to catch it. Erom moonland have descended some of the mysterious legends of childhood. The boy soon learns to recognize " the man in the moon," and the familiar face roots itself in his imagination for life. Its gentle light is associated with many pleasures. We wel- come its first curved streak in the west as a sign that our gloomy nights are past ; we watch it to " the full " with ever-increasing admiration, and we part from it at last with regret and hope. Our very dogs salute it with their bark ; a notice they bestow on no other celestial object. Floating in the clear sky, or poised among the fleecy, tinted clouds, silvering the water or piercing through the trees — in every phase and aspect it is beautiful. Like an enchanter it casts the charm of picturesqueness over the 44 Sun and Moon. meanest objects, and masses which look hard or ugly in the garish light of the Sun mellow into beauty when touched by the power of the moonbeam. The Moon's journey round our Earth — the lunar month — is accomplished in a little more than twenty-nine days and a half. When interposed between the Earth and Sun she is invisible, because her dark side is turned toward us ; but during nearly all the rest of her circuit she re- flects a portion of the light received from the Sun, and cheers our nights with brightness. The actual amount of light thus transmitted is small when compared with that which floods in upon us from the Sun, being scarcely equivalent to the 300,000th part ; and it has been calcu- lated that were the whole heavens covered with full moons, it would not equal the light of the Sun. The distance from the centre of the Earth to the centre of the Moon is 238,793 miles. An express train would easily clear the distance between the two globes in 300 days. Unlike the active Earth, which rotates on its axis every twenty-four hours, the Moon turns herself round only once in twenty-seven days seven hours and forty-four minutes. Every body must have observed that the well-known feat- ures of " the man in the moon " never change ; in other words, the same hemisphere of our satellite is always pre- sented toward us. That this peculiarity is the result of the coincidence in point of time which exists between her axial rotation — constituting her day — and her orbital ro- tation round the Earth, which constitutes our month, may be easily illustrated by experiment. Thus, if a person move slowly round a circular table, keeping his face, which we may suppose to represent the Moon, always di- rected toward the centre of the table, where we may sup- pose the Earth to be placed, he will find that in making one complete circle his face has rotated or turned round once also. Such is precisely the relation between Earth and Moon during the course of the month, and thus it Sun and Moon. 45 may be easily understood why we always see the same side of the Moon, notwithstanding her rotation. As the Moon revolves only once on her axis in the course of a month, it follows that during half of that time each hemisphere is turned toward the Sun, and during the other half it is turned away from it : — the whole period forming one long day and one long night. The Lunarians, therefore, if any exist, must be subject to a very singular climate. During their long " half-month " day the surface must be scorched by a Sun whose fierce- ness is tempered by no atmosphere ; and this must be succeeded by a " half-month " night, in which the Sun is altogether absent, and the darkness is broken only by star- light. During the day the temperature will far transcend the hottest tropical climate, while in the night it will sink far below the greatest cold of the arctic regions. He who once fairly surveys the Moon through a good telescope will never afterward forget its aspect. It charms and fascinates the eye, and, though resembling so many other things, it is yet always so specially its own in- dividual self. A good pictorial chart gives an idea which wonderfully approaches Nature, and it is as easy to follow upon it the various localities in the Moon, as it is to follow upon a map the various features of the land. If we look at the full Moon we take, as it were, a bird's-eye view from a great height, which levels inequalities. Its disk presents a smiling, brilliant yet softly lighted surface — a sunny land, from which all gloom is banished. But both before and after the full Moon, when we see its features more in profile, a different tale is told. Here and there softly shaded plains are still to be noticed, but the chief part of the surface appears to have been fashioned by the most vio- lent volcanic forces. It is scarred and rent, convulsed and burnt into an arid, cindery ruin. Serrated craters, some more than a hundred miles wide, are thickly dotted about, and inclosed within them are levels from whose centre 46 Sun and Moon. cones of igneous origin shoot up. The brightest peaks, the darkest precipices, the most jagged ridges crowd this rugged picture. To many minds the idea has suggested itself that some scathing doom has blighted the surface of our satellite, for nowhere else can Nature match this aspect of desolation. Fancy rather than science has tried to deal with such a scene. Some have conjectured that it might be an Earth burnt up and destroyed by the out- pouring of God's wrath. Others have supposed that it is a comparatively recent world — a globe in a state of chaos — whose crust has not yet been sufficiently worn down by the hand of Time to fit it for the abode of living creatures. Destitute of life it certainly appears to be at present, nor do its physical conditions seem to fit it for ever becoming the abode of that kind of life which we see existing on our own globe. Amid these conjectures let us fall back with thankfulness upon what is certain. Cosmically consid- ered it performs its part in upholding the balance of our solar system ; and, in reference to ourselves, we know that it was created by Our Father " to rule the night," and in other ways to shed blessings on His children. Many of the mountains in the Moon have been meas- ured by ingenious mathematical processes, and at least one has been found to attain a height of 26,691 feet, which, though not quite equal to that of our highest Him- alayan or Andean peaks, is yet proportionately higher, since the Moon's diameter is little more than a fourth of that of the Earth. As the rays of the Sun fall obliquely upon them they are seen in profile — being bright on the side next the Sun, and in dark shadow on the side turned away from it. Their peaked and jagged outline is best displayed along the inner margin of the crescent Moon. Mountains in the Moon present in miniature an exact counterpart of the effects which sunlight produces on the mountains of the Earth. In alpine districts the rays are first caught by the loftiest peaks, then the side next the Sun and Moon. 47 Sun is brightened, while the side turned away from it still remains in shade. Lastly the western slope becomes il- luminated, and the eastern in its turn passes into dark- ness. In the Moon the mountains may be observed to undergo changes in their lighting up which are precisely of the same nature. From the absence of those effects that would necessa- rily result from the refraction of light, astronomers con- clude either that the Mo/j and cold is the ocean. A maritime climate is for the most part moderate in its seasonal changes, in comparison to an inland climate on the same latitude. In Winter, the sea being warmer than the land, tempers the winds which blow toward it ; while, in Summer, as its temperature is lower than the heated surface of the shore, it imparts fresh coolness to the breezes. Warm or cold ocean currents, if they be extensive, have much influence on climate. Thus the great Gulf Stream, laden with the heat of the Tropics, by laving the shores of Western Europe, and more especially those of our own islands, sensibly moder- ates the rigor of the Winter ; while, on the other hand, the cold current from the Greenland Sea and Baffin's Bay, which streams past Newfoundland and the Atlantic shore of North America, materially lowers the climatic tempera- ture of those countries. As a general rule, the effect of a deep inland or con- tinental position in temperate regions is to give what is called an " extreme " character to the climate, — that is, to make it colder in Winter and hotter in Summer than other places on the same parallel of latitude which are surrounded by or near the sea. To illustrate this point, the climate of Warsaw in nearly 52 13' may be contrasted with that of Dublin in 53 21'. Warsaw lies on the great plain of Central Europe. In Winter, the surface over a wide tract around loses its temperature under the in- fluence of the long nights and keen frosts, while there is no neighboring sea to mitigate the cold. Had the ocean been near, as its temperature does not fall under 40 Fah- renheit, it would have corrected this rigor ; but, instead of the comparatively warm sea, there is an extensive land surface, which, being cooled down far below the freezing point, imparts to the air passing over Warsaw much of its own intense rigor. Dublin, on the other hair.1, by having a maritime position, enjoys during the Winter a far milder climate, although it lies more than a degree farther north. yS Winter and Summer, The temperature of its coldest month does not fall below a mean of 37 , while that of Warsaw sinks to 27 degrees. In Summer, however, the same physical conditions pro- duce exactly the contrary effect. The sandy plains round Warsaw get baked in the sun, and the air in passing over them is heated as in an oven ; but round Dublin there are no scorched plains, and the sea that encircles Ireland tends still further to cool the temperature. Hence, while the mean of the hottest month at Warsaw is 70 , that of Dublin is only 6o°. Thus Warsaw is 10 degrees colder than Dublin in Winter, and 10 degrees hotter in Summer. To similar causes is to be attributed the extreme char- acter of the climate throughout the greater part of North America. At New York, for example, the thermometer in Summer often rises to above ioo° in the shade ; while dur- ing the Winter of 1866 it fell to 15 below zero, and marked 2 8° in places more inland. The exjDlanation of this excessive rigor is that most of this vast continent lies far from the sea, while it stretches in unbroken continua- tion into the frozen regions. In the same way Central Asia chiefly owes its " extreme " climate to its distance from the ocean. Although there be no Winter or Summer within the tropics and in certain adjacent districts in the sense in which we understand them, there is nevertheless a division of the year into " wet and dry " periods, which, in their influence on the functions of animal and more especially of vegetable life, have effects analogous to those produced by the warm and cold seasons of higher latitudes. In the wet season vegetation is most vigorous ; but, after the dry season has continued for some time, the grass withers and dries up, the deciduous leaves fall, the growth of plants is arrested, and the vegetable world reposes very much as in the Winter of more northern climes. The analogy between these seasons is still more strikingly shown by the torpor into which some animals fall during Winter and Summer. 79 the dry season, just as elsewhere they pass into a state of hibernation during the Winter. Thus when that reptile- looking fish, the Lepidosiren of the river Gambia, per- ceives that the waters are falling on the approach of the dry season, and that food is becoming scarce, it buries itself in the mud, and there awaits in a dormant state the return of the rains. Sir J. E. Tennent has noticed other animals in Ceylon which become torpid during the dry season in the mud of the great water-tanks, and more ex- tended observation will probably add to the list. Nowhere, from the force of contrast, is Summer more brilliantly joyous or its approach welcomed with greater delight, than in polar regions, where amid perennial frost and snow Winter seems to be enthroned for ever. The long, continuous night, after passing through a tedious dawn, at length opens into that bright, brief interval in which Spring, Summer, and Autumn are blended into one. In rays of warmth the sun sends forth the signal, and Nature promptly answers to the call. As heat increases, the solitude once more shows signs of life and movement. The frozen lumps and ledges covering the sea begin to strain and crack and split asunder, and glacier masses breaking loose from their icy cables yield themselves up to the current and the wind. Food is no longer abso- lutely wanting, and many creatures that have been slum- bering through the Winter now shake off their torpor. Torpor enforced, but merciful ! As Winter approached, supplies of food ran short and then became exhausted, so God in kindness sent them sleep. Hunger was extin- guished in lethargy. It was needful to husband the forces of vitality until the time of abundance should again come round ; so the heart was made to beat, and the lungs to breathe, at the lowest rate that was compatible with ex istence. The expenditure of fuel to maintain animal warmth was thus brought down to its minimum, and the lamp of life was sparingly fed with the fat which Nature 8o Winter and Summer, had providentially stored up in the body when food was plenty. But now, called forth by light and warmth, the bear creeps from its lair of snow, and seals and walruses begin to gambol round the rocks where lately solid ice sealed up the surface of the deep. Myriads of migratory waterfowl from the warm South whiten the in-shore cliffs. Then the Esquimau, rousing himself from the enforced idleness of the long night, sallies forth to hunt and fish, and to gather up supplies of food in snow-built safes against the never-distant Winter. The short, thick grass and moss spread their carpet of green over every sheltered spot from which the snow has melted, and the rest of the scanty but often brightsome flora of remotest North puts on with marvelous rapidity its Summer aspects. Diversity of climate and season — of Winter and Sum- mer — over the globe has produced for man's advantage a corresponding variety of animal and vegetable life. Man himself has an organic strength which enables him to exist in every clime ; but other animals, and all plants, have a more limited geographical distribution, and are endowed with constitutions which fit them for thriving in certain regions only. By means of commerce, however, the short-comings of one climate are supplemented by the riches of another, and all the most useful productions growing upon the earth are thus most widely scattered. This necessary interchange, moreover, becomes a means of knitting the whole world in bonds of mutual dependence. We may rest assured that nothing in Nature has been established without benevolent design, and even the dif- ficulties arising from the proverbial uncertainties of cli- mate, as well as the impediments encountered in the cul- tivation of the soil, are not without their use. Every thing shows that we are here as in a training school, and surrounded by circumstances which, by demanding the energetic exercise of our faculties, tend to preserve and strengthen them. In man's contests with the so-called Winter and Summer. 8: faults of climate, he is, for the most part, reasonably vic- torious. His prudent foresight, his ingenious contrivances, his dexterous wielding of science to avert evils and im- prove opportunities, are continually showing how abun- dantly the Creator has supplied him with all means need- ful for his welfare, in whatever quarter of the world his lot may happen to be cast. Diversity of climate circumscribes within limits more or less narrow many of the most useful of our food-pro- ducing plants, but this unavoidable evil has sometimes been lessened or obviated in a way which affords another instance of the kind forethought of Our Father. One of the most useful articles of vegetable diet is sugar, and Nature has taken care that many substances in common use shall contain a fair proportion of it. At the same time, there are certain plants in which it exists so abun- dantly that we are accustomed to resort to them for our large supplies. Of these the chief is the well-known " cane." But the sugar-cane flourishes only in the tropics and adjacent regions ; and therefore all sugar from this source consumed in extra-tropical countries must be brought to them by commerce. Many a wide district, however, lying far in the interior of continents, is unfa- vorably situated for thus receiving its supplies, and it might either have been deprived of that article altogether, or at least have been inadequately provided with it, had not Providence, with kind intent, created other sugar- producing plants constitutionally suited to different cli- mates, for the purpose of distributing the gift more gen- erally over the world. Thus we find that, from the " cane " region to the Mediterranean, the supply of sugar is main- tained by several plants, among which may be mentioned the date-palm and the fig. Beyond this, in climates cor- responding to southern Europe, there are the sorghum and maize, from which much sugar is now manufactured in France and America. Farther to the north the beet- 6 82 Winter and Summer. root in the field and the maple in the forest extend the system of sugar-producing plants almost to the confines of the arctic circle. In another article of diet, which from its importance we are accustomed to call the " staff of life," a similar providential succession is observed. Farinaceous food is tropically represented by the rice- plant in great abundance ; in proceeding northward rice is associated with the maize or Indian corn \ that is suc- ceeded by wheat ; and lastly, we have oats and barley flourishing almost up to the North Cape. The same rep- resentative system is observed in regard to many other important vegetable principles with more or less distinct- ness. In this manner, then, the difficulties opposed by climate to the wide distribution over the globe of some of the most valuable products of the vegetable kingdom have been entirely surmounted. It is clear that, according to the laws which regulate the vegetable kingdom, it was impossible for the same useful plants to flourish every- where ; but Providence has created duplicates, as it were, to yield abundantly the same products, and has adapted them by their constitution to take up their position in the different climatic belts of the world, in order that no extensive region should be without them. With all their imputed faults of climate, we have no occasion in these favored islands* to envy the plantal glories of warmer regions. In absolute beauty who shall say that we are not on an equality, whilst the great charm arising from the well-marked progression of the seasons is more especially our own. Nothing is more frequently debated than the comparative attractions of the different periods of the year, and certainly no season — not even excepting Winter — need be without its admirers. The never-ending contrasts which every season spreads before us unquestionably contribute much to enhance our enjoy- ment. Never do " green things " seem so green or flowers * Great Britain. Whiter and Stimmer. 8$ so bright as when our first glimpses of them are caught through the opening portals of the Spring. Then do we feel more than at any other time the great value of this sea- sonal alternation. How gladly the eye wanders over and reposes upon the "universal garb" of Nature. To the beauties of Summer and Autumn we are led up as it were through an avenue which, by gradually preparing us for what is to follow, lessens in some degree the keenness of our relish. The banquet is more varied, but the freshness of the appetite is wanting. Though Winter may yield in beauty to other seasons, it is yet universally felt to have special attractions of its own. There is much to admire in the cheery, ruddy glow of the sun, in the noble and picturesque though naked forms of the woods, in the hoar-frost on the grass, in the sparkle of the ice-gemmed trees, the stalactites of crystal, and the wreaths of snow. Even in Winter's gloomiest moods the comforting thought is ever rising to our mind, that the stillness we see round is not death but needful repose spread over Nature in mercy, and that the woods will soon again be clothed in green, and vocal with the songs of birds. Winter has yet another aspect by which it is endeared to us. At Christmas-time it is crowned by the great Fes- tival of the Church and of the family. Then, while Na- ture slumbers in wood and field, Winter is brightly and lovingly awake around the hearth, gladdening millions of hearts with warm affection. Families that were scattered by the various calls of life once more gather together to enjoy the present, glance at the past, and treasure up new associations for the future. Then shops put on their gay- est looks, and young and old press eagerly forward in search of the little gifts that are to make others happy. Streets and railway stations are thronged with bustling groups hurrying on to claim from expectant friends the cordial welcome of the season. Here and there, too, may 84 Winter and Summer. be seen the " knotless threads " and waifs of the world drawn onward by the social influence of the season to- ward some genial home, where, for a time, the sense of loneliness will be forgotten. At Christmas the Church and the Home seem to draw closer to each other, and the thoughts awakened by the solemn festival mingle with and temper the current of family rejoicing. Christmas is pre- eminently the season of " good-will toward men." Un- der its kindly impulses the mind softens with sympathy, and, while keenly alive to the blessings that fall to its own lot, is more heedful, perhaps, than at other times of the plaints of the less fortunate. The parish work-house is for the day made radiant with merry faces, and Charity enters through its gloomy gates to spread the feast in honor of the Anniversary. In the good soil which Christ- mas thus prepares in the heart old friendships revive and new affections quickly strike their roots ; while animosi- ties, curbed by the gentle influences of the season, shrink out of sight, or are swept away altogether in the gush of better feelings. The lot is fallen unto me in a fair ground: yea, I have a goodly heritage. — Ps. xvi. NIGHTS AND DAYS. O ye Nights and Days, bless ye the Lord : praise Him, and mag- nify Him for ewer. E have already alluded to the earth's orbital movement round the sun, from which our year results ; and we have now to direct attention to that other movement of the earth by which, in turning upon its axis every 23 hours 56 minutes and 4 seconds, it gives rise to the division of time into Nights and Days. How perfect the working of that machine must be by which this division is meted out may be inferred from a calculation by Laplace, which demonstrated that " it was impossible that a difference of one hundredth of a second of time should have occurred between the length of the day in the earliest ages, and at the present time ! " Reverting for a moment to our impromptu orrery, it is obvious that if the ball of worsted, representing the earth, were to be held steady during its solar orbit, so as not to turn round on its axis, one hemisphere of its surface would be directed toward the sun for one half of its cir- cuit, and the remaining hemisphere during the other half. In other words, a whole year would be divided into one long day and one long night. During the day the sun would always be above the horizon, and the accumulation of heat which would thus accrue would far transcend the hottest tropical climate. In the other hemisphere, turned away from the sun, there would be a constant loss of heat from radiation, and as no compensatory rays would be re- ceived from that luminary, the temperature would sink be- 86 Nights and Days. low that of the frozen regions. It is clear that such an arrangement would be incompatible with the conditions under which life now exists upon our globe. Having re- gard to the constitution that has been given to animals and plants, it is absolutely necessary that heat and light should be meted out to them at intervals sufficiently fre- quent to guard against extremes of temperature. There- fore it is ordained that the earth shall revolve once upon its axis in a period nearly amounting to twenty-four hours, — an arrangement by which twelve hours of alternate day and night, of warm sunlight and cool darkness, are se- cured to each hemisphere. By the aid of certain cosmical conditions, elsewhere noticed, modifications in the distri- bution of light and heat are produced, by which animals and plants might obtain that particular length of day and night which is best suited to their nature and habits. The intervals of night and day are, moreover, in perfect harmony with that law of Nature by which all animals re- quire seasons of rest to alternate with periods of activity. The demand for repose is universally felt and obeyed. Even plants may be said to have their days and nights, in the sense of intervals for activity and rest ; but the hours for labor are struck by the seasons — by orbital and not by axial rotation. In spring, summer, and autumn the sap circulates briskly, the manufacture of wood proceeds without intermission, and the various special products, as gum, starch, sugar, and other matters, are elaborated. But on the approach of winter — or toward the evening of their long day of work — plants turn weary, and, by a poetical yet truthful figure, we habitually speak of them as " falling asleep." So necessary is this period of repose that, in the tropics where there is no winter's cold to chill them into rest, Nature wraps them in salutary torpor by means of the sun's fierce rays. And how gladdening the dawn after the long night when plants awake from their sleep, and burst forth once more to resume their day of work ! Nights and Days. &J Night mercifully beckons the world to rest. The busy- sounds of day cease to distract the ear, and Nature gently points toward repose. How sad when the silent hours of darkness refuse to steep in sweet oblivion the senses of the careworn, or to dull the racked nerves of him who languishes upon a bed of sickness. Sleep is best wooed by labor — it is the reward with which Nature blesses ex- ertion. How grateful sleep is to the busy workers of the world ; to the drones only is it apt to be, like their life, a listless, scarcely enjoyed vacuity. Night, too, calls us to meditation. When darkness drops its curtain over the things of earth, the mind is prompted to look inward. The brief but salutary retrospect of the day should then be made, and the account closed. In prayer the soul finds peace, and sleep steals softly on amid thoughts that recall the Divine protection. My trust is in the tender mercy of God for ever and ever. — Ps. lii. LIGHT AND DARKNESS. Oye Light and Darkness, bless ye the Lord : praise Him, and mag- nify Him for ever. iMONG those works of the Lord to which this hymn appeals there is not one more full of blessings to mankind than Light, or one which more praises and magnifies the Creator. But, though many of the laws by which Light is governed are now well known, its essential nature is still a mystery. Some phi- losophers suppose it to be an " emanation " from luminous bodies of inconceivably minute atoms which act on the retina of the eye like odorous particles on the nerves of smell. Others refer its phenomena to " undulations " ex- cited in a subtle ether pervading space, and traveling on- ward to the eye by a movement resembling waves in the ocean. This theory, therefore, points to an analogy with the sense of hearing. How wonderful is the construction of that little instru- ment by which light is made to minister to vision ! There is truly nothing in the whole range of Nature which more convincingly demonstrates design than the mutual adap- tations of eye and light. This organ, equally perfect in contrivance and in finish, exhibits the most wonderful combination of organic power with a mechanical appara- tus formed on the regular principles of optics. We see objects by reflected light ; in other words, the object must first be illuminated, and then it must reflect a cer- tain amount of this light into our eyes. But as the en- trance of too many or too bright rays would have dazzled Light and Darkness, 89 vision, while too few would have left it obscure and indis- tinct, an ever-vigilant sentinel — the iris, on which the color depends — was posted in front across the interior of the eye, to regulate, by the expansion or contraction of the pupil, the exact number of rays that ought to be admitted. It was also necessary that the rays, after en- tering the eye, should be made to converge so as to depict a distinct image on the retina, or nerve of vision, spread out at the back of the organ. For this purpose a lens, as clear as crystal, has been fixed up immediately behind the pupil, to " refract " or bend the rays into the proper focus. Not less careful has the Creator been in regard to the safety of so delicate an apparatus. To preserve the .eye from injury, it has been sunk as deeply in the face as was consistent with the free range of vision ; it is de- fended all round by strong ridges of bone, and made to move softly on an adipose cushion. Eyebrows, moreover, have been placed above, and fringing eyelashes in front, to guard against excessive light ; while, by the rapid movement of the eyelids, the tears are diffused over the surface of the eye exposed to the air so as to keep it moist and glistening. Such are a few only of the beauti- ful contrivances exhibited by this organ. Light, though colorless and invisible, is in reality made up of seven different tints, which again may be reduced to three — red, yellow, and blue — out of which the others are formed. The whole series is finely displayed in that separation of light into its constituent parts which takes place in a prism of glass or in the water-drops of the rainbow. Objects which absorb nearly all the rays are black ; those which reflect them all are white ; and we owe the charm of color to the circumstance that most bodies, while decomposing the rays of light that fall on them, absorb some of the constituent tints and reflect the others. By the endless combination of these last every variety of color is produced. In many ways colors are 90 Light and Darkness, convenient and useful, nor will any one deny that the face of Nature would have lost its highest charm had not this property been bestowed on light. The sun is the great fountain of Light ; but, without the cooperation of the atmosphere to diffuse it over objects, the illumination of this earth would have been most im- perfect, and light could never have become the universal blessing which it now is. Objects on which the direct rays of the sun fell would, of course, have reflected light and been visible ; but objects which were in shade, and which, therefore, did not receive any direct solar rays, would have been invisible. Let any one attempt to realize the confusion into which the world would thus have been thrown. Even in the brightest sunshine we should have seen things only in broken fragments. The varied beauty of scenery would have vanished, and every landscape would have been disfigured with seams and patches of inky blackness. The rays of the sun in passing through a window would have brightened the surfaces they touched, but all around would have been left in almost midnight darkness. In conversing with a friend, the side which was turned toward the sun would alone have been visible ; and, if our own face had happened to be opposite to his and in shade, he could not have seen it. If a cloud had passed over the sun both of us would have vanished into darkness, as if from a sudden eclipse. The azure tints of the firmament would have disappeared, and the stars would have shone at midday from a vault of utter blackness. To improve the illumination it was, therefore, essential that something should distribute the light, so as to supply objects that were in shade with a certain amount of rays, by the reflection of which they might be seen. This task was given by the Creator to the atmosphere. Many of the sun's rays fall directly on the earth, but the rest are caught up by the air, and are reflected and re- reflected from one particle to another, and are scattered Light and Darkness. 91 and diffused in every direction, until all objects within their influence are bathed in light. In this manner bodies in shade are illumined and become visible by reflecting into our eyes more or less of the light they have received at second-hand. The service, which the atmosphere renders to the sun, in diffusing its light equally over objects, is amply repaid by the sun in cooperating with plants to purify the atmos- phere. A healthy condition of the latter is of primary necessity to our welfare ; and, as the air is continually being vitiated in a variety of ways, some active agency is needed to check deterioration and preserve it in a state of purity. The essential constituent of the air is oxygen, which is diluted with nitrogen to a certain degree ; and with this mixture is invariably associated a small propor- tion of carbonic acid gas. The latter is poisonous ; but, under ordinary circumstances, the quantity existing in the air — only about one 2000th part of its volume — is too small to be attended with any inconvenience. There are, however, many causes in operation continually tending to destroy this balance, and to produce a noxious excess. In the first place, we manufacture the poison within our- selves to an extent which, though small in the individual, is enormous in the aggregate. With every inspiration we draw into the lungs a certain amount of oxygen, which, after combining with a certain amount of carbon or char- coal, is expired in the shape of carbonic acid gas. Now, although a small proportion of this acid was inspired as a constituent of the air, the quantity evolved exceeds by sixty times the quantity taken in ; so that the whole amount of carbon thus daily carried off from the lungs of a healthy adult is not less than from nine to twelve ounces. When we multiply this unit by the population of the world, and add to it the product of respiration in the lower animals, we may imagine the extent to which the at- mosphere is vitiated from this cause. 92 Light and Darkness. A quantity of carbonic acid gas still more enormous is produced by combustion, the decomposition of animal and vegetable matter, and by fermentation. Every can- dle and every lamp sends forth its little rill of poison into the air, while from fireplaces and furnaces it issues in streams. In all these cases the chemical action is the same ; — the carbon of the fuel is changed into carbonic acid by its union with oxygen gas. Notwithstanding these sources of vitiation it is found experimentally that the relative proportions of the con- stituents of the atmosphere vary very little, and that the amount of carbonic acid diffused through it never exceeds its due quantity. It is obvious, therefore, that the Cre- ator must have set some potent machinery in motion to correct and purify. Rain and surface water carry off more or less of the gas, and some mineral springs sparkle with it ; but the work is chiefly done through the agency of Light upon the leaves of plants. When it is said that we " viti- ate " the air in breathing, the expression refers only to its salubrity as regards ourselves and other animals ; but we should greatly err if we supposed that this apparent spoil- ing subserved no good purpose. That which vitiates the air to us only prepares and perfects it for the use of plants ; and the carbonic acid which would be poison to us is food to them. Thus the leaves, while bathed in air, extract from it the chief bulk of the carbon which is to build up the woody substance of the tree to which they belong. It is to be observed, however, that they can only perform this function so long as they are stimulated by Light. In darkness, plants, instead of purifying the air, tend to vitiate it still further by a slight evolution of the very gas which it is their special function to remove. But in the day-time, the leaf seizes upon the particles of car- bonic acid gas that come in contact with it ; and, while it " fixes " the carbon in its substance, it liberates into the air the oxygen which is to restore its purity. It might be Light and Darkness. 93 thought that, as there are no leaves in winter to purify, the atmosphere would then become poisonous. But by the cosmical conditions of our globe it has been wisely ordained that it never is winter all over the world at the same time. The work, therefore, is always going on, though the scene of the laboratory is shifted. But be- sides this, the period of a single winter, with its dispersing winds and currents, would be too short to allow any inju- rious accumulation to take place. Thus to vast causes of vitiation are opposed vast agencies that purify, whereby the balance which works for the good of all organized Nature is preserved. At midday the unprotected eye cannot face the sun. But at sunset he ceases to dazzle, because his rays, from their greater obliquity, lose much of their fierceness while passing through the less clear and more vaporous layers of the atmosphere immediately investing the earth. The light is not only weakened, but it is altered in its charac- ter. In their passage toward our eyes many rays are absorbed and lost altogether, and many others are decom- posed and only partially transmitted. Of the ray-frag- ments which thus survive and eventually reach our retina the red predominate ; and hence the glowing hues of sun- set. When looking at the sun just as he begins to set, it is curious to reflect that he is not really where he appears to oe, but actually below the horizon. We are, in fact, looking at his image or picture. There is a rim of the horizon interposed between us ; he is in the position of the hull of a ship when, as sailors express it, the ship is " hull-down." Hence, were it possible that a cannon-ball could be projected in a straight line right through the bright disk before us, it would not strike the sun, but would pass clean over it. This " lifting up " of the image of the sun is due to " refraction " — that property which has already been noticed as enabling the lens of the eye 94 Light and Darkness. to bend the rays of light, and bring them to a focus on the retina. Refraction is familiar to every boy who has thrust a stick into clear water, and noticed the broken or bent appearance it presents at the point of immersion ; and a spoon placed in a teacup into which a little water has been poured will exhibit it equally well. For our present purpose, however, this will be better illustrated by another very simple experiment. Let a shilling be laid at the bottom of a basin placed on the table, and let the ob- server then move slowly backward, keeping his eye fixed on the piece of money, until the rim of the basin just in- tercepts his view. If water be now poured into the basin without displacing the coin, the latter will be as it were lifted up out of its real position, and will become visible. At first the shilling was seen in its true place. When the rays proceeding from it to the eye were intercepted by the rim of the basin, it became invisible. But when the water was added some of the rays from the coin in pass- ing from the water into the air were " refracted," and bent downward toward the eye so as to fall within the range of vision. Now as in refraction objects are not seen in the direction in which the rays originally left them, but in the direction in which the rays ultimately enter the eye, it follows that the coin is visible in its " lifted up " position. In applying this experiment to the phenomena of sunset, we may consider the shilling as the sun, and the intercept- ing rim of the basin as the horizon behind which the sun has really sunk. The media of water and air represent the dense, vaporous, impure lower strata of the atmos- phere, which gradually "refract," or bend down toward our eye, the rays that come to us from the sun, and thus lift up its image above its real position. To the " reflecting " power of the atmosphere we owe that interval of half-light which in the morning we call the dawn, and in the evening the twilight. Were it not for this property, we should pass at once from darkness Light and Darkness. 95 to light and from light to darkness. When the sun sinks below the horizon, and when his direct rays have bid adieu to the dwellers on the plains, they still continue to tint the tops of the hills • and when, from the further dipping of the sun, these also have passed into shade, the slant- ing rays still enter freely into the higher regions of the atmosphere. Most of these rays continue their course into space and are lost to us entirely ; but others are caught up by the particles of air and vapor, as by mirrors of inconceivable minuteness, and are turned back and re- flected from layer to layer downward until at length they reach the earth. The same operation is repeated as the sun approaches from the east in the morning. The soft, mild light of twilight is especially grateful in summer to eyes that seek repose after the hot glare of the sun. It is linked in most minds with pleasant associations. This is the time for leisure strolls on land or gliding movements on the water. It brings us into acquaintance with many animals which select it as their favorite period of activity. Soon as the swallows have ceased their twit-twit, the bats issuing from their retreat begin to occupy the vacant hunt- ing ground, in which they display an activity on the wing scarcely less astonishing. The length of twilight varies according to the latitude and the season of the year. It is shortest within the tropics, whose inhabitants may be said to plunge almost at once from light into darkness ; and it lengthens as we proceed toward the poles. In the latitude of London, from the 2 2d May to the 21st July, so much light lingers behind between sunset and sunrise that, speaking astro- nomically, there is no night at all. At the north pole night lasts from November 12th to January 29th ; it is preceded by one long twilight continuing uninterruptedly from the autumnal equinox ; and it is followed by a dawn reaching to the vernal equinox. During the whole of this period of six months the sun is below the horizon. Those 96 Light and Darkness. who enjoy the blessing of alternate day and night every 24 hours, can hardly realize the intense thankfulness with which the dawn and the sun are welcomed by men who have just passed through the depressing influences of the dreary polar night. We can sympathize with Doctor Kane in his brig among the Greenland ice, as he records his eager watchings for the sun, and the calculations which, by revealing its daily progress toward him, per- mitted him to anticipate with certainty the day of its reap- pearance. We understand the thankfulness with which he must have watched the dawn growing brighter and bright- er, and the delight with which at length he scrambled up a neighboring height to catch a glimpse of the orb still hidden at the level of the deck. " I saw him once more, and from a projecting crag nestled in the sunshine. It was like bathing in perfumed water." When wintering in the far north, Captain Sherard Osborn thus describes the return of the sun after an absence of 66 days. On February 7th " the stentorian lungs of the Resolute' s boatswain hailed to say the sun was in sight from the mast-head ; and in all the vessels the rigging was soon manned to get the first glimpse of the returning god of day. Slowly it rose ; and loud and hearty cheers greeted the return of an orb which those without the frozen zone do not half appreciate because he is always with them. For a whole hour we feasted ourselves admiring the sphere of fire." Light is one of the best and cheapest of Nature's tonics, and, unless it be habitually absorbed, neither animal nor vegetable can permanently prosper. Except in a compar- atively narrow belt round the poles, this needful medica- ment is poured out at short intervals profusely over the world, and streams into every dwelling where it is not re- pelled by ignorance or folly. In man the habitual absence of sufficient light proclaims itself in the wan cheek and bloodless lip ; and in plants, by the general want of green Light and Darkness. 97 coloring matter. The blood that has been long shut off from the renovating influence of sunlight-air may circulate through the various organs, but it lacks the power to im- part to them a healthy vigor. In the night-time less car- bon is expired from the lungs, and the purification of the blood, therefore, goes on less actively than during the day. The inhabitants of towns, where light is more or less ex- cluded by lofty streets, are pale and feeble when compared with country cottages, although their food may be both better and more abundant. Those who pass their days in dark alleys, or in the basement dens of crowded cities, seldom enjoy perfect health ; and this is due not less, per- haps, to the want of light than to the want of air. Where light is defective elasticity forsakes both mind and body, and the spirits of few are so buoyant as to be altogether insensible to the difference between a bright and a dull day. In the weary polar night there is always a strug- gle against the depressing influence of darkness. When Kane, wintering in Smith's Sound, saw his crew drooping and dying round him, he probably did not err in attributing the calamity less to the want of good provisions than to the want of light. His dogs, too, perished one after the other with strange, anomalous symptoms which he attrib- uted to the same cause, and he looked forward with con- fidence to the return of sunlight as the charm that was to stay the pestilence. It would even appear that some plants, acted on by light, give off that mysterious kind of modified oxygen, termed ozone, which is believed to contribute so peculiarly to the healthy condition of the atmosphere. Nor is the pervading influence of light unfelt even in the inorganic world. To light we owe the beauties of photography ; and many other chemical actions can go on only under its stimulus. " And God said, Let there be Light." Who can ade- quately appreciate the evidences of Power, Wisdom, and 7 o8 Light and Darkness, Beneficence crowded into this glorious creation, and how little do they comprehend its full value who see nothing in it beyond its convenience or its beauty ! Light is an essential condition of animated nature — the pivot on which life turns. All that lives upon the earth lives by light. Without it plants could not grow, or assimilate their food, or breathe, or purify the air; and, without plants, animals must perish. From the mineral kingdom alone the food-supplies of the whole world are ultimately renewed, and plants are the appointed channels through which those supplies must pass. The vegetable organism rakes them together, gathers them up, and hands them over to animals in a state fit for food. " If," says Pro- fessor Draper, " we expose some clear spring water to the sunshine, though it may have been clear and transparent at first, it presently begins to assume a greenish tint, and after a while flocks of greenish matter collect on the sides of the vessel in which it is contained." This first addition to organized life is won by the power of Light out of the inorganic atoms round the germ ; it is, as it were, the mi- nute, base-material out of which the fabric of life is woven. " If the observation be made in a stream of water, the current of which runs slowly, it will be discovered that the green matter serves as food for thousands of aquatic insects which make their habitation in it." Next come fishes to snap up the insects, birds may seize upon the fishes, and both serve as food to man. In endless variety, and often through a much longer chain, some such general " succession of nutrition " is always going on. The whole movement was started by a beam of light ! Light is truly one of the great " Powers of the Lord." It summons the whole plantal world to labor in the purifi- cation of the air, and it regulates the hours of work. The wages it gives to plants for their willing service is their daily food of carbon. Hardly had the green matter in the stream begun to form under the influence of sunlight Light and Darkness. 99 than it commenced the manufacture of pure air for the use of man, and in token of its activity it was gemmed all over with bells of vital oxygen. Land plants are no less busy in the same task, although their labor is necessarily invisi- ble. Thus by the aid of Light no plant is idle, nor is it useless in Nature's economy, though it may be unseen. Every scattered leaf and blade of grass 1 has its appointed task, and every ray of light that falls upon them helps on the life of the world. This is the Lord's doing, and it is marvelous in our eyes. — Ps. cxviH. WATERS ABOVE THE FIRMAMENT. O ye 'waters that be abo