CHAPTER XI.

MORE ABOUT THE SOLAR SYSTEM.

We have now reached a point where it ought not to be difficult for

us to picture to ourselves, with something of vividness, the general

outlines of the Solar System. Awhile ago this Solar System was a very

simple matter in the eyes of astronomers. There was the great sun

fixed in the center, with seven planets circling round him--seven of

course, it was said, since seven was the perfect number--and a few

moons keeping pace with some of the planets, and an occasional comet,

and a vast amount of black, empty space. But astronomers now begin to

understand better the wonderful richness of the system as a whole; the

immense variety of the bodies contained in it; the perpetual rush and

stir and whirl of life in every part. Certainly there is no such thing

as dull stagnation throughout the family.

First, we have the great, blazing, central sun; not a sun at rest, as

regards the stars, but practically at rest as regards his own system,

of which he is always head and center. Then come the four smaller

planets, rapidly whirling round him, all journeying in the same

direction, and all having their oval pathways lying on nearly the same

flat plane in space. Then the broad belt of busy little planetoids.

Then the four giant planets,--Jupiter nearly five times as far as our

earth from the sun; Saturn nearly twice as far as Jupiter; Uranus

nearly twice as far as Saturn; Neptune as far from Uranus as Uranus

from Saturn,--all keeping on very nearly the same level as the four

inner planets.

[Illustration: POSITION OF PLANETS INFERIOR TO JUPITER--SHOWING THE

ZONE OF THE ASTEROIDS.]

And between and about these principal members of the system, with their

accompanying moons, we have thousands of comets flashing hither and

thither, with long, radiant trains; and myriads of meteorites, gathered

often into dense, vast herds or families, but also scattered thickly

throughout every part of the system, each tiny ball reflecting the

sun’s rays with its little glimmer of light.

Broad reaches of black and empty space! Where are they? Perhaps

nowhere. We are very apt, in our ignorance, to imagine that where we

see nothing, there must of necessity be nothing. But, for aught we

know, the whole Solar System, not to speak of sky-depths lying beyond,

may be bright with reflecting bodies great and small, from the mighty

Jupiter down to the fine diamond-dust of countless meteorites. In this

earth of ours we find no emptiness. Closer and closer examination with

the microscope only shows tinier and yet tinier wonders of form and

life, each perfect in finish. Not of form only, but of _life_. How

about that matter as regards the Solar System? Is our little world

the one only spot in God’s great universe which teems with life? Are

all other worlds mere barren, empty wastes? Surely not. We may safely

conclude that life of one kind or another has been, is, or will be,

upon our brother and sister worlds.

The same reasoning may be used for the distant stars--those millions

of suns lying beyond reach of man’s unassisted eyes. Are they formed

in vain? Do their beams pour uselessly into space, carrying light,

warmth, and life-giving power to nothing? Surely around many of them,

as around our sun, must journey worlds; and not only worlds, but worlds

containing life.

We shall have to speak of this matter again as we go on. Whether men

and women like ourselves could live on the other planets is another

question. In some cases it looks doubtful, in some it would seem to

be impossible. But the endless variety of life on this earth--life

on land, life in the air, life in water, life underground, life in

tropical heat, life in arctic cold--forbids us in anywise to be

positive as to what may or may not be.

If no animals that we know could exist there, animals that we do not

know might be found instead. Any one of the planets may, and very

likely does, abound with life. Nay, the very meteorites themselves,

before they catch fire and burn in our air, _may_ be the homes of tiny

animalcula, altogether different from anything we see on earth. We can

not fancy life without air, but neither could we fancy life in water,

if we had not seen and known it to be possible.

I have spoken of the probable _brightness_ of the Solar System as a

whole. We are so apt to think of things merely as we see them with our

short sight, that it is well sometimes to try to realize them as they

actually are. Picture to yourself the great central sun pouring out in

every direction his burning rays of light. A goodly abundance of them

fall on our earth, yet the whole amount of light and heat received over

the whole surface of this world is only the two-thousand-millionth

part of the enormous amount which he lavishly pours into space. How

much of that whole is wasted? None, though God gives his gifts with a

kingly profusion which knows no bounds. Each ray has its own work to

do. Millions of rays are needed for the lighting and nourishing and

warming of our companion-planets, while others are caught up by passing

comets, and myriads flash upon swift, tiny meteorites. Of the rays not

so used, many pass onwards into the vast depths beyond our system, and

dwindle down into dim, starlike shining till they reach the far-off

brother-stars of our sun.

Have they work to do there? We can not tell. We do not know how far the

sun’s influence reaches. As head and center, he reigns only in his own

system. As a star among stars, a peer among his equals, he may, for

aught we can tell, have other work to do.

In an early chapter, mention was made of the earth’s three motions, two

only being explained. First, she spins ceaselessly upon her axis. So

does the sun, and so do the planets. Secondly, she travels ceaselessly

round and round the sun in her fixed orbit. So does each one of the

planets. Thirdly, she journeys ceaselessly onward through space with

the sun. So also do the rest of the planets. These last two movements,

thought of together, make the earth’s pathway rather perplexing at

first sight. We talk of her orbit being an ellipse or oval; but how can

it be an ellipse, if she is always advancing in one direction?

The truth is, the earth’s orbit is and is not an ellipse. As regards

her yearly journey round the sun, roughly speaking, we may call it

an ellipse. As regards her movement in space, it certainly is not an

ellipse.

Think of the Solar System, with the orbits of all the planets, as lying

_nearly flat_--in the manner that hoops might be laid upon a table,

one within another. The asteroids, comets, and meteorites do not keep

to the same level; but their light weight makes the matter of small

importance.

Having imagined the sun thus in the center of a large table--a small

ball, with several tiny balls traveling round him on the table at

different distances--suppose the sun to rise slowly upwards, not

directly up, but in a sharp slant, the whole body of planets continuing

to travel round, and at the same time rising steadily with him.

By carefully considering this double movement, you will see that the

real motion of the earth--as also of each of the planets--is not a

going round on a flat surface to the same point from which she started,

but is a corkscrew-like winding round and round upwards through space.

Yet as regards the central sun, the shape of the orbit comes very near

being an ellipse, if calculated simply by the earth’s distance from him

at each point in turn of her pathway through the year.

An illustration may help to explain this. On the deck of a moving

vessel, you see a little boy walking steadily round and round the mast.

Now is that child moving in a circle, or is he not? Yes, he is. No, he

is not. He walks in a circle as regards the position of the mast, which

remains always the center of his pathway. But his movement _in space_

is never a circle, since he constantly advances, and does not once

return to his starting-point. You see how the two facts are possible

side by side. Being carried forward by the ship, with no effort of his

own, the forward motion does not interfere with the circling motion.

Each is performed independently of the other.

It is the same with the earth and the planets. The sun, by force of

his mighty attraction, bears them along wherever he goes--no exertion

on their part, so to speak, being needed. That motion does not in the

least interfere with their steady circling round the sun.

Just as--to use another illustration--the earth, turning on her axis,

bears through space a man standing on the Equator at the rate of one

thousand miles an hour. But this uniform movement, unfelt by himself,

does not prevent his walking backwards, or forwards, or in circles, as

much as he will.

So, also, a bird in the air is unconsciously borne along with the

atmosphere, yet his freedom to wheel in circles for any length of time

is untouched.

A few words about the orbits of the planets. I have more than once

remarked that these pathways are, in shape, not circles, but ellipses.

A circle is a line drawn in the shape of a ring, every part of which

is at exactly the same distance from the center-point or focus. But an

ellipse, instead of being, like a circle, perfectly round, is oval in

shape; and instead of having only one focus, it has two foci, neither

being exactly in the center. Foci is the plural word for focus. If

an ellipse is only slightly oval--or slightly _elliptical_--the two

foci are near together. The more oval or _eccentric_ the ellipse, the

farther apart are the two foci.

You may draw a circle in this manner. Lay a sheet of white paper on a

board, and fix a nail through the paper into the board. Then pass a

loop of thread--say an inch or an inch and a half in length--round the

nail, and also round a pencil, which you hold. Trace a line with the

pencil, keeping the loop tight, so that the distance of your line from

the nail will be always equal, and when it joins you have a circle. The

nail in the center is the focus of the circle.

To draw an ellipse, you must fix _two_ nails. Let them be about half an

inch apart; pass a loop over both of them, and again placing a pencil

point within the loop, again trace a line carefully all round, keeping

the thread drawn tight. This time an oval instead of a circle will

appear. By putting the nails nearer together or farther apart, you may

vary as you will the shape of the ellipse.

In the orbits of the earth and the planets, all of which are ellipses

in shape, the sun is not placed in the exact center, but in one of

the two foci, the second being empty. So at one time of the year the

planet is nearer to the sun than at another time. Our earth is no

less than three millions of miles nearer in winter than she is in

summer--speaking of the winter and summer of the northern hemisphere.

Three millions of miles is so tiny a piece out of ninety-three millions

of miles, that it makes little or no difference in our feelings of heat

or cold.

The orbits of the comets are ellipses also, but ellipses often so

enormously lengthened out, that the two foci are almost--if one may so

speak--at the two _ends_ of the oval. To draw a good comet orbit, you

must fix the two nails on your paper some five or six inches apart,

with a loop of thread just large enough to slip over them both, and to

allow the pencil to pass round them. When your ellipse is drawn, you

must picture the sun in the place of one of the two nails, and you will

see how, in their pathways, the comets at one time pass very near the

sun, and at another time travel very far away from him.

[Illustration: COMPARATIVE SIZE OF THE PLANETARY WORLDS.]

It is generally found in families, not only that the parent or head

of the family has great influence over all the members, but that each

member has influence over each other member. Brother influences

brother, and sister influences sister.

This, too, we find in the Solar System. Not only does the sun, by his

powerful attraction, bind the whole family together, but each member

of the family attracts each other member. True, the force of the sun’s

attraction is overpowering in amount compared with others. The sun

attracts the planets, and the planets attract the sun; but their feeble

pulling is quite lost in the display of his tremendous strength.

Among themselves we see the power more plainly. The earth attracts the

moon, keeping her in constant close attendance; and the moon attracts

the earth, causing a slight movement on her part, and also causing the

tides of the sea. Each planet has more or less power to hinder or help

forward his nearest brother-planet. For instance, when Jupiter on his

orbit draws near the slower Saturn on his orbit, Saturn’s attraction

pulls him on, and makes him move faster than usual; but as soon as he

gets ahead of Saturn then the same attraction pulls him back, and makes

him go more slowly than usual. Jupiter has the same influence over

Saturn; and so also have Saturn and Uranus over one another, or Uranus

and Neptune.

In early days astronomers were often greatly puzzled by these quickened

and slackened movements, which could not be explained. Now the

“perturbations” of the planets, as they are called, are understood and

allowed for in all calculations. Indeed, it is by means of this very

attraction that Neptune was discovered, and the planets have actually

been weighed. What a wonderful difference we find in this picture of

the Solar System, as we now know it to be, from the old-world notion of

our earth as the center of the universe!

When we think of all the planets, and of the magnificent sun; when we

pass onward in imagination through space, and find our sun himself

merely one twinkling star amid the myriads of twinkling stars scattered

broadcast through the heavens, while planets and comets have sunk to

nothing in the far distance,--then indeed we begin to realize the

unutterable might of God’s power! Why, our earth and all that it

contains may be regarded as but one grain of dust in the wide universe.

The story of the sun, moon, and stars · 第 11 / 33 章