CLOSING YEARS
ON several occasions during the early years at Silverton, my father had
trouble with drunken passengers. On one occasion a certain book salesman
came to the station and called for a ticket to Exeter, for which he
tendered 5_d._ The parliamentary fare being 7_d._, my father asked him
for the other 2_d._ The man began to abuse him and got on to the line,
and would have been killed by an express, but father jumped down and
dragged him back just in time to save both their lives. The man then
struck father in the face with his umbrella and swore tremendously.
After some trouble father succeeded in placing him outside the station
gate and locked him out. The man finally paid 7_d._ for his ticket, and
then threatened to kill father. Of course he was summoned and had to pay
heavy fines. Father wrote regarding this case: "If I had caused the
death of this man, I should have had to do at least twelve months' hard
labour in one of Her Majesty's country mansions, and there would have
been two and a half columns in _The Times_, _The Standard_, and _The
Daily Telegraph_, expatiating on the carelessness of railway officials;
but having saved his life at great risk of my own, I received as
complete and satisfactory a blackguarding as it is possible to
conceive."
On another occasion father was not so fortunate in averting disaster. In
1879 a lady came to the station in her carriage to meet some friends who
were going to spend Easter with her. It was the day before Good Friday,
and the trains were very late. The friends were coming in the down train
from London, and she also wanted to see her son-in-law who was passing
in the up train. While waiting she constantly crossed the line, first to
the down platform, then to the up. A down train was signalled and off
she went to the down platform. She was a very genial person and had been
chatting pleasantly to every waiting passenger. This train was an
express, and as soon as it passed by she saw an up train approaching.
She immediately attempted to cross the line, probably thinking it was
the stopping train, instead of which it was an express. Father rushed
out to warn her, but it was too late, for the engine was upon her, and
she was instantly killed. The shock was very great to both of my parents
and they could not sleep for weeks.
Up to 1874 father was single-handed, and used often to be on duty from 6
a.m. till 2 o'clock the following morning waiting for a coal train which
used to come at any time in those days. Afterwards a signalman was
appointed, and then father's duty hours were 6 a.m. till 10 p.m. There
are several people still living, both rich and poor, who could record
the great courtesy they received at Silverton station. Many a time he
would help some poor person along the lanes with her babies or her
bundles, or show the way with his lamp to some benighted place perhaps
two or three miles distant.
In the autumn of 1875 father was very ill, and when he got better he was
ordered away for a change of air, and I had the pleasure of going with
him. We visited some relations and went on to London. If we had gone to
the dullest place in the world I should have been quite happy so long as
father was with me, for on all occasions he was just the same age as his
children. But as it was we went to all the interesting places, and I
don't know which of us enjoyed things the most.
About this time the Great Western railway company took over what had
been known as the Bristol and Exeter railway, and began to lay down
narrow gauge-lines. The line near Silverton runs through a valley,
picturesque but wet. The station itself is about thirty feet lower than
the floor of Exeter Cathedral. For several weeks during this time there
had been a great deal of rain and the valley contained more water than
usual. Torrents ran down from the hills and flooded the valley of the
Culm to a depth of over five feet. A culvert which drains the main part
of these hills passes under the railway close to Silverton station, and
this became blocked by two hurdles which had been carried down the
stream and become fixed in an upright position right across the mouth of
the culvert. Consequently, leaves, brushwood, thousands of apples and
other rubbish got fixed on one side of the hurdles, completely staying
the torrent. The railway was quickly flooded, and at 10.30 p.m., after
the station was closed for the night, down came the express known as
"Madame Neilson's train," because it conveyed her regularly from London
to her Devonshire home. Owing to the work of laying down the
narrow-gauge rails there were a great many timbers collected on that
part of the line, and these were lifted by the sudden flood, and floated
about on the water. Mother went to look at the flood just in time to see
the express coming at a speed of sixty or seventy miles an hour, and she
wondered if it would get safely through. The thought had scarcely
entered her head when she saw the great engine rear itself up, as if it
were a real live thing, then as suddenly drop down again, and she knew
that it was off the line. The passengers got a shaking, but were
otherwise none the worse, not even wetting their feet as they passed
over planks laid across from their carriages to the platform. Madame
Neilson and Madame Patti were both among the passengers, so here was a
lively night for my mother and brothers. There is no railway hotel or
other house near, so mother did her best to accommodate all these
people, who were dreadfully hungry. They soon ate up all that was in our
house, and there they had to wait for a relief train from Exeter. My two
young brothers were called out of their beds, to escort two gentlemen to
the village of Silverton two miles away. They started off full of
excitement, and when they were about a quarter of a mile away the water
was nearly up to their necks; but they all four went on, and my brothers
had to try and get some bread for the hungry people. So they arrived in
due course wet through and tired out, but they were none the worse the
next day. Altogether it was a most exciting night. Father traced the
origin of the flood and drew up plans, and received the thanks of the
railway company.
Now there are some people, especially those who live in large towns, who
may think that a small country station is a very dull place to live in,
but that is because they have never tried it. Apart from such occasional
and exciting events as that just described, the country has interests
and amusements of its own. When country people are waiting for a local
train, particularly if it is a market train, and all the passengers,
both rich and poor, are more or less acquainted with each other, every
topic is discussed, and if the station-master has a few minutes to spare
his opinion is sure to be asked. For example, when Doctor Temple was
appointed Bishop of Exeter, it made such a stir that it was the talk of
every one, and father's opinion was asked by every passenger. Father had
read about Dr. Temple, though he had not seen him. His reply to their
question was always the same: "I rejoice to know that Dr. Temple is
appointed; such men are needed in the Church very much indeed. He will
be the right man in the right place, and he will thoroughly do his duty,
and he will be a hard worker. Moreover, he will make the clergy work,
and it is a thousand pities that so many churchmen have not yet realized
what a strong man they will have amongst them."
Then up spake a countryman, "Then, du yu 'old way un bein' a tay-totler,
Mr. Langdon?"
"Why, of course I do," replied father. "That is the essence of the whole
matter, and that is just why the Exeter people are against him; but I
for one am thankful, and I think it a great gain to the Church of
England to have at last a bishop who holds such opinions."
"Well now to be sure, Mr. Langdon, I knowed thee was long-headed, and I
knowed thee was an ole Liberal, now I knows thee beest an ole
tay-totler."
Father was a broad Churchman, and wished for Church reform. He liked to
hear good music and used to go regularly on Sunday evenings to
Thorverton Church, as the services there were very much to his liking.
He used to say that the Church was behind the times, and did not reach
the people generally, chiefly because the clergy were all taken from one
class, and in many cases they did not understand the poor. They were
also educated over the heads of the people. In politics he was a
supporter of Mr. Gladstone.
My father had now taken up photography and had made a collapsible dark
room that he could carry on his back. He succeeded, after a few
failures, in taking some very good pictures of the moon in 1880; and in
December 1882 he took a good one of the transit of Venus. He also made
an instantaneous shutter to his camera, by the help of which he was able
to get some very good pictures, notably one of the old broad-gauge train
known as the "Flying Dutchman." This was before dry plates were
invented. The next thing he made was an excellent camera. A gentleman
named Mr. Wellington gave him information both in regard to this and to
photography in general, for which father was very grateful.
In the winter of 1881 there was very deep snow, and our house was snowed
up to a height of several feet, so that before he could open the station
father had to dig his way out. No trains ran that day, and only one up
and one down on the two succeeding days. After that the line was pretty
clear again.
In 1888 father and mother received another fearful blow by the death of
my youngest brother, after a very short illness, at his lodgings in
Exeter. After this time father never appeared to be very well, and
before long his health entirely gave way.
During these years several visitors came to father's observatory, among
them Mr. Clifton Lambert, son of the General Manager of the Great
Western Railway. This gentleman wrote a sketch of father's life, which
was published in three different papers, _Wit and Wisdom_, June 1889,
the _Great Western Railway Magazine_, September 1889, and in the summer
number _Western Weekly News_, 1894, just one month before he died.
Visitors would call at all hours, in the day to see the spots on the
sun, and in the evening and at night to see the moon and stars.
For many a year father had been a wonder to the simple country folk.
They could not understand a man devoting his spare time to the study of
the heavens, for the mere love of science. They had an idea that he
could "rule the planets." Father used to say that he was astonished at
the amount of superstition prevailing in the minds of all sorts of
people, not only the uneducated. Even well-educated people would ask him
if he could "rule their planets." He would say that he was ashamed to
hear them ask such a question. People would come from long distances in
the dead of night to have a look through the telescope. When asked how
he had achieved so much, and brought up a large family in
respectability, his answer was: "It is through the woman that the
Almighty gave me; she has done the most."
It was in March 1894 that I went home to find father suffering from a
complaint from which he could not hope to recover. He got gradually
worse, and in July I was sent for again to come at once if I wished to
see him alive. Mother had done all she could do for him, and I was very
much shocked to find him suffering dreadfully. But he was very cheerful,
only longing for his sufferings to end. It was a painful time, but as we
all gathered around his bed, he often made us laugh by his jokes. Then
there were quieter moments when he prayed the Almighty to take him. On
the evening before he died, he repeated part of Psalm li. to me and some
hymns, and that was the last. He passed peacefully away in the morning.
Through the kindness of Sir Thomas Acland, he was buried in the private
burial ground of the Acland family, near his two sons.
So live that thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan which moves
To that mysterious realm where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death.
Thou go not, like the quarry slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but sustained and soothed.
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
* * * * *
Speak of me as I am, nothing extenuate,
Nor set down aught in malice.
APPENDICES
APPENDIX I
A LIST OF PARISH CLERKS OF THE PARISH OF CHISLEBOROUGH, COPIED FROM THE
REGISTER
Roger Langdon, Doctor of Music, and Clerk }
of the Parish of Chisleborough, in the } 1769
county of Somerset, from the year 1769 } 22 years.
to 1791. }
His son, James Langdon, held the Clerkship } 1791.
from 1791 until 1822. } 31 years.
Edward Langdon, grandson of Roger, held }
the office from 1822 until 1871, also } 1822.
Organist. (Father of the subject of } 49 years.
memoir.) }
Edward Langdon, great grandson of Roger, } 1871.
was also Parish Clerk and Organist from } 14 years.
1871 until 1885. }
Peter Langdon next held this same position }
and died recently. Great-great-grandson } 1885.
of Roger Langdon. }
APPENDIX II
OBSERVATIONS OF THE PLANET VENUS, WITH A 6-INCH SILVERED GLASS
REFLECTOR. BY R. LANGDON
_Communicated by J. Norman Lockyer, F.R.S._
[From the "Monthly Notices" of the Royal Astronomical Society. Vols.
31-32, June, 1872]
On May 1, 1871, I had a good view of the planet Venus, but I could not
at first see her to my satisfaction as her light was so bright. She had
more the appearance of a miniature sun than a star; but I put a
diaphragm of blackened card in the eye-piece, and made a small hole
through its centre with a piece of hot wire. I found this arrangement
keep out to a great extent the glaring rays. I also sometimes used a
slip of slightly tinted glass in front of the eye lens; this enabled me
to bring the planet entirely under subjection. Her shape was that of the
moon when a little more than half full. I distinctly saw a dull,
cloudy-looking mark along her bright limb, curving round parallel to it,
and extending nearly across the disc, each end terminating in a point;
joining this at the eastern extremity was another and darker mark of a
club shape, its small end joining the point of the mark previously
described. I watched these marks for half an hour. I saw some marks
again the next evening, but before I could examine them the planet was
hidden behind some clouds. On May 6, at 7.45 p.m., there was a
cloud-like mark extending straight across the disc, and a club-shaped
mark nearly in the centre, with its small end nearly touching the
straight cloud. On the western limb another dark mark had made its
appearance; it was not quite so large as the other, and it was not
club-shaped; but its sides were parallel to each other till they
approached the straight cloud, when they appeared to divide, each side
curving round away from the other. I took much interest in watching
these spots, as I had read that it was very doubtful whether any marks
had ever been seen on this planet. I called several men to look at them,
and they were able to describe them, although they had no previous
knowledge or idea of what they were likely to see. One man was very
confident it was the moon he was looking at, but when I pointed out to
him that the moon was not in the neighbourhood, he said he thought it
was the moon, because he could plainly see the dark patches on its
surface.
On May 13, at 7.30 p.m., there was a dark mark of a pear shape,
extending from near the western edge to two-thirds the distance across
the bright disc. This mark was not so dark as those seen on the 1st and
6th, but it was much larger.
On July 28, at 8 p.m., there were visible five dusky marks along the
planet's terminator, and one nearly in the centre of the crescent, but
they were not so well defined as those before described; but what seemed
to me more remarkable was that the southern horn was rounded off
considerably, whilst the northern horn was quite sharp, and ran out to a
very fine thread-like point.
On October 13, at 5.45 a.m., I saw Venus as a beautiful little crescent.
She was well defined, and both horns were as sharp as the finest pointed
needles. I think I detected a dusky cloud-like mark about half way from
the centre to the northern horn; but I am not quite sure about this as I
had to leave my telescope before I could complete my sketch.
On October 25, at 8.10 a.m., I was gratified with a sight which I had
waited for and longed to see for many years; that was to have a good
view of Venus by daylight. I now had the longed-for opportunity, and it
turned out as I expected. The superior light of the sun overcame that of
the planet to such an extent that I was able to see her better than I
had ever seen her before. I could now plainly perceive the jagged nature
of the terminator, the unevenness of which could not be mistaken; but
what was very remarkable, the northern horn was bent in towards the
centre of the planet; it appeared as if a notch had been cut in the
inside, and a slice cut off from the outside.
I have no idea what was the cause of this appearance; I had never seen
it so before, neither do I recollect ever having read of such a
phenomenon. I did not perceive any markings on this occasion, but there
was a kind of haziness along the whole length of the terminator; but I
considered this at the time to have belonged to the terminator rather
than to any markings on the disc. The terminator on this occasion was
inky black.
On November 9 I saw Venus every half hour during the day up to one
o'clock. I made a sketch at 12.20 p.m. I could now distinctly see the
jagged terminator; the nature of which was so much like that of the moon
as it was possible to conceive; except that if we compare the moon's
terminator to a piece of network, that of Venus would be represented by
a piece of fine lace. I could also see some thin, cloudy marks on her
disc. The southern horn was very sharp; the northern one was a trifle
rounded.
I saw Venus on February 5, 1870 (a few days before her inferior
conjunction with the sun), and the bright part was an exceedingly
beautiful fine crescent; but I and several other people could see the
whole body of the planet in the same manner as we see the dark limb of
the moon when _Earth-shine_ is falling upon it; but I did not make any
sketch at the time.
I have observed Venus a great many times besides those mentioned above,
having made it my special work to do so, and have on several occasions
strongly suspected markings to be visible; but I have not mentioned
them, and have only described those times upon which I have no doubt of
what I had seen.
SILVERTON STATION, NEAR CULLOMPTON, DEVON.
(Sketches illustrating this and the following paper can be seen at the
Royal Astronomical Society's rooms.)
APPENDIX III
OBSERVATIONS OF THE PLANET VENUS, WITH A 6-INCH SILVERED GLASS
REFLECTOR. BY R. LANGDON
[From the "Monthly Notices" of the Royal Astronomical Society, June
1873. Vol. 33, Page 500.]
On January 2, 1873, there was a cloudy mark, of a semicircular shape,
extending nearly across the disc, and a dark spot in the centre; the
illuminated disc itself was singularly egg-shaped. Bad weather prevented
me from constantly observing this planet, as I should like to have done,
but on April 17, at 8 p.m., I was viewing the planet with one of Mr.
Browning's excellent achromatic eye-pieces, when I saw two exceedingly
bright spots on the crescent--one close to the terminator towards the
eastern horn, and the other in the centre of the crescent. These spots
appeared like two drops of dew; they were glistening in such a manner as
to cause the surrounding parts of the bright crescent to appear dull by
contrast. Cloudy weather prevented me seeing the planet again until the
19th, when the spots had disappeared, but the planet on this occasion
was seen through the Aurora, and the irregular and uneven appearance of
the terminator was most beautifully depicted. The whole body of the
planet also was distinctly visible.
APPENDIX IV
A LETTER FROM THE MAN IN THE MOON
(_Left for the Editor at the Railway Station_)
[Reprinted from the _Exe Valley Magazine_]
DEAR COUSIN,--
Knowing how exceedingly anxious you must be to find out all you can
respecting this little planet on which I live, I take this opportunity
to send you a few lines to give you some little account of it.
The moon, in many particulars, is like the earth on which you dwell; and
perhaps there is no better way to give you a little more information
about this planet than by instituting a comparison between it and the
earth.
I must presume you are aware that the earth is a globe, nearly round,
like an orange; its circumference is about 24,000 miles, and its
diameter 8,000. The moon in this respect is like the earth, being also a
globe, but it is only 2,160 miles in diameter, and about 7,000 miles in
circumference. It would therefore take forty-nine moons to compose a
globe the size of the earth. If you will take two threads and suspend an
orange and a small cherry at six feet apart, you will then have a fair
representation of the relative size and distance from each other of the
earth and the moon. But the earth and the moon are not suspended by any
visible or tangible object, but were launched forth in the beginning,
and are kept in their places by the balance of attraction, constantly
revolving, and travelling onward by the direction of Him who also
created the insignificant worm, and whose tender care is over all His
works.
You know, dear cousin, that the surface of the earth is diversified with
large continents, which are dotted with chains of mountains and high
hills, some of which are in a state of volcanic eruption. You have also
great oceans of water lying in the hollows of your world. In the moon,
too, we have mountains and hills, some of them very high and steep,
thrown up ages ago by volcanic agency, though at present there is not a
trace of existing fire or volcanic action, and you may safely consider
the whole mass of the moon to be a huge, exhausted, burnt-out cinder.
Your mountains and hills are denuded--worn down--their sharp points and
angles are worn away by frost, rain, and snow, and other atmospheric
influences which have been constantly acting upon them for ages; but
here in the moon we have no such thing as an atmosphere: we therefore
have neither clouds nor rain, nor frost nor snow; and in the words of
the poet--
Here are no storms, no noise,
But silence and eternal sleep.
All here is as quiet and silent as the grave. Sometimes, from the great
heat of the sun, great masses of rock will split and crack, and come
tumbling down from the sides of the cliffs; yet if you were close on the
spot you would not hear the slightest sound, because there is no
atmosphere by which sound can be propagated and conveyed. Your fields
are clad with verdure, and your pastures with flocks, so that as one of
your inspired poets has sung--
The valley stands so thick with corn
That they do laugh and sing,
but neither verdure nor corn can exist upon the moon, as no plant-life
can grow in a vacuum where there is no moisture.
The crater mountains of the moon are its grand peculiarities. We see
here that its whole surface has been upturned, convulsed and dislocated
with forces of the greatest activity, the results of which remain to
this day; so that our rocks are not levelled down by the fury of
tempests, nor smoothed by the constant flow of water, as your earthly
mountains are, but stand up in all their primitive sharpness. These
volcanic craters are of all sizes, from fifty yards to as many miles
across, and in the centre of some of them there stand up lofty hills.
Now if you could take up your position upon the highest peak of one of
these central hills at the time the sun was rising, you would see the
tops of the distant mountains forming a circle round you all illuminated
by the sun's light; but as there is no atmosphere, there is no twilight,
and consequently the great valley immediately beneath your feet would be
in the very blackest of darkness.
I know that you and others have often wondered what those dark grey
patches are which you can see upon the moon, even with the unassisted
eye. Some people call them "The man in the moon, and his bundle of
sticks," and the story goes that I went stealing sticks on a Sunday, and
for my wickedness was banished (sticks and all) into the moon! Now I
most strongly protest against this cruel libel; I never stole any
sticks, even on a week-day, much less on a Sunday, and I must say the
people must have dreadful weak eyesight, and a dreadfully strong
imagination, to see anything in these dark patches that can possibly be
stretched into the shape of a man with a bundle of sticks at his back.
So I hope you will kindly contradict this calumnious story whenever you
can; indeed, in writing, it was partly my object to ask you to do so.
One of the smallest dark markings that you can see on the moon with the
naked eye is known to selenographers by the name of Mare Crisium, or the
Crisian Sea; its width across from north to south is 280 miles, and its
length is 354 miles from east to west, and it contains about 78,000
square miles, more than half as much again as the area of England and
Wales--rather a large size for a bundle of sticks, I opine. There are
several other dark or grey patches on the moon, some smaller and some
larger than the Mare Crisium, but they are all the beds or bottoms of
what were once oceans, seas, and lakes, the waters of which have been
dried up or evaporated many years ago. Some think they have all gone
over to that side of the moon which never turns round towards you, but I
can tell you that is not the case; for if any water did exist on the
moon's surface, the attraction of the earth would certainly draw it
round to that side nearest to you, and so you would be able to see some
signs of it, as well as clouds and vapours which would rise from it
during the time of full moon.
There are many other objects of interest, which I could mention to you,
but I must draw my letter to a close; I will therefore only just give
you the names of a few of those dark hollows which you can see with the
unaided eye when the full moon is shining brightly.
There is the "Sea of Tranquillity": its width from north to south is 432
miles, and from east to west 425 miles. There are also the "Sea of
Serenity," the "Sea of Fogs," the "Frozen Sea," the "Sea of Vapours" and
the "Gulf of Rainbows." This last named will appear to you of a greenish
tint, and it is surrounded on nearly all sides with very lofty and steep
mountains, some of them more than 15,000 feet high. Then there are the
"Ocean of Storms," the "Gulf of Dew," and the "Sea of Humours." This
last will also appear of a green tint; it is very level, and is 280
miles across.
Next come the "Sea of Nectar" and the "Sea of Fertility." All these were
named "seas," because the ancient astronomers thought they contained
water, and that they really were seas; but you are aware now that they
contain no trace of water, so I need not inform you of that fact. And
now dear cousin, I sincerely hope that what I have written will
interest you, and if it does, and you will kindly let me know, I will
write you another letter at some future time; but for the present I will
say--Farewell!
Your faithful servant and attached cousin,
"The Man in the Moon."
R. LANGDON.
APPENDIX V
A JOURNEY WITH COGGIA'S COMET
[Reprinted from _Home Words_]
This comet, which last year excited so much interest, is supposed by
some to be the same which appeared in the year 1737. If so, it is beyond
the power of the human intellect to calculate the number of miles
(millions upon millions) which it has travelled since that date; we may,
however, in imagination, travel with it on one of its journeys.
Starting off then, as soon as it has made its perihelion passage, we are
carried in the course of about six months to such a distance that this
comparatively insignificant world (of which nevertheless we are all
anxious to get a good slice) disappears entirely from our view, and the
larger planets of this system are reduced to mere specks of light. The
sun itself, which here scorches us at noonday, only appears there as a
very minute star, just a small yellow speck. But meantime other suns,
some of them of far greater magnitude and superior brilliancy than the
sun we have left behind, gradually come into sight, and some of the
"nebulae," which appear to us here as so many bits of faint hazy light,
some of them no larger than a crown piece, now appear to our unassisted
vision in all the glorious majesty of suns and worlds and systems of
worlds, all revolving round each other in the most regular and
systematic order; for, as Milton says in _Paradise Lost_, "Order is
Heaven's first law."
After our steed had carried us for the space of about seventy years in
a direct onward course through systems of worlds by us from this world
unseen, we should begin to return homewards, but by a different route
from that by which we went out; and we should consequently have a
constantly varying scene presented to our view. How awfully grand, for
instance, would be the change, as we gradually lost sight of our yellow
sun, to find ourselves arriving in sight and under the influence of a
sun of a rich crimson red colour, and again after a few years to find
ourselves in the presence of a green or a blue sun! Yet it is more than
probable that such would be the case, for the sky is spangled with suns
of all colours.
In the course of about 137 years from the time when we set out we should
be returned sufficiently near to this world to enable its inhabitants to
catch sight of our steed's tail. And then, after all this long journey
among the stars of 137 years, we should have seen but a mere atom, just
one grain of the works of Him who knows the number of the hairs of our
heads, and without whom a sparrow doth not fall to the ground!
Suppose we now inquire, What is the comet's probable business in coming
amongst us once in 137 years? Are its duties those of a messenger or a
scavenger, or both? It is well known that the sun is continually giving
off light and heat, and consequently it must of necessity be gradually
exhausting itself. It has been computed that were the mass of the sun
composed of Newcastle coal, with exhaustion going on at the present
rate, the whole mass would be burnt out in 25,000 years. If the sun,
then, is gradually being exhausted by giving off light and heat to his
family of planets, and if the planets cannot give any portion of it back
to him, seeing that they are entirely dependent upon the sun for their
own physical and material existence--how is the sun's strength to be
kept up so as to be equal to the demands made upon him?
It is but reasonable to suppose that the comets (of which the firmament
is said to be as full as the sea is of fishes) should bring some subtle
fluid of which this system is being exhausted, and at the same time
collect and carry away to other systems some noxious gas or other
essence of which we have a superfluity, but which might be quite
essential to the well-being of some other system; and that so a sort of
healthy circulation in the universe around us might be kept up.
Ought we not, therefore, to look upon the appearance of a comet with
some such feelings (only in a wider sense) as we would hail the arrival
of a ship from a long voyage to a foreign clime, feeling sure it must
come laden with some good store for the benefit of those whose business
it is to stay at home performing faithfully their own several duties in
their own several spheres?
R. LANGDON.
APPENDIX VI
THE PLANET VENUS
MY DEAR NELLY-BLY,--
According to promise I send a sketch showing the different positions of
the planet Venus with regard to the earth during the past few months.
I am astonished, not to say grieved, at the very great amount of
ignorance and superstition which exists respecting the apparition of
this planet recently as a "morning star."
If you will refer to the sketch I will try and point out the various
positions.
June 13, 1887, Venus began to appear low down towards the western
horizon as an "evening star," but as the evenings were then light I
suppose it did not attract public attention. Daily, however, the planet
for a time was seen--after sunset--higher and higher in the western sky,
until August 16, when it arrived in such a position with respect to the
earth that it sent towards us the greatest amount of reflected light
that it is possible it can send at any given time. The planet travelling
through space in her orbit at the rate of sixty-nine thousand miles an
hour overtook the earth (which is travelling in the same direction at
fifty-eight thousand miles an hour) on September 21, when she was
exactly in a straight line between us and the sun--called
astronomically, "inferior conjunction." The moment she passes this point
she becomes a morning star. She still moves on and leaves the earth
behind, and when she arrives at the position shown on October 28 she is
at her greatest brilliancy as a morning star. From this time the
planet's distance from us is rapidly increasing, and consequently her
apparent size and brilliancy are as rapidly decreasing, and she is soon
altogether lost in the rays of the sun and can only be seen by the aid
of a telescope.
Venus makes a complete revolution round the sun in 224 days and 17
hours, but as the earth moves in the same direction but at a slower rate
the planet overtakes the earth in about nineteen months, when we have
her again as an evening and morning star respectively as before, and so
on continually.
And this is the Star of Bethlehem which has caused such a stir within
the past two months. All sorts of ridiculous speculation and
superstitious nonsense have been said concerning it. Verily in this our
day of rapid advancement we are almost, if not quite, as ignorant of
astronomical matters as were the "wise men" of the East nearly two
thousand years ago, or the natives of Zululand of the present day.
I hope I have made this plain to you; or if there is anything you do not
understand, just ask the question and I will endeavour to supply the
information.
Yours affectionately,
R. LANGDON.
PS.--It is rather singular that Venus rotates upon her axis in such time
as to produce a Leap Year once in four years as with us.--R. L.
APPENDIX VII
SILVERTON,
_Jan. 31, 1888._
DEAR BLY,--
I thought I would send a sketch of the eclipse Annie and I stayed up to
see. We had a very beautiful, clear night, not a cloud to be seen. The
moon entered its eastern edge into the Penumbra at 8.29 and into the
dark shadow at 9.30; and at 11 p.m. the moon was in the centre of the
shadow or totally eclipsed, but we could still see it appearing like a
large orange and we could see all the principal craters and mountains
through the shadow, and I was very interested to watch the stars
disappear one after another behind the edge of the moon. Of course I
have not shown the sun in the sketch because there is not room, but you
must imagine the sun to be about the size of a round table a good
distance away to the left of the earth.
Now I will try and explain to you what the Penumbra is and how it is
produced. It is produced simply because the sun is so much larger than
the earth, and you can make a little experiment and show Freddy and
William how it is done. Place two lighted candles or lamps about the
width of this paper apart which will represent the sun, then a little
way off on a white cloth on the table place a teacup upside down which
will do very well to represent the earth, then you will have the black
shadow of the Penumbra or half shadow on each side of it. A sixpence
will represent the moon, which you can slide gradually across the
shadows, and you will have the eclipse to a "t."
It is necessary to have two candles or lamps because the sun is so much
greater than the earth and the two candles' light combined represents
the sun's light. A small orange perhaps would represent the earth as
well or better than a teacup, because the shadow of a cup would not run
out to a sharp point, but that of an orange would. That would not matter
much either way, only Freddy would most likely be asking the question
and you would not be able to answer him.
Your affectionate
DAD.
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[Transcriber's Notes:
Page 44, "shilings" changed to "shillings"
Page 55, the word "to" may have been omitted before the word "each". It
has been added in this text. "We got near enough to speak to each other
..."]