"Annual Report of the Smithsonian Institution" for 1900, we quote
the following: "The discussion we have just given will prepare us to
believe that a planet with the size and mass of Mars may be expected
to be encompassed with an atmosphere. Our telescopic observations
completely bear this out. It is perfectly certain that there is a
certain shell of gaseous material investing Mars. This is shown in
various ways. We note the gradual obscuration of objects on the planet
as they approach the edge of the disk, where they are necessarily
viewed through a greatly increased thickness of Martian atmosphere.
We also observe the clearness with which objects are exhibited at the
centre of the disk of Mars, and though this may be in some measure
due to the absence of distortion from the effects of foreshortening,
it undoubtedly arises to some extent from the fact that objects in
this position are viewed through a comparatively small thickness of
the atmosphere enveloping the planet. Clouds are also sometimes seen
apparently floating in the upper region of Mars. This, of course, is
possible only on the supposition that there must be an atmosphere which
formed the vehicle by which clouds were borne along. It is, however,
quite obvious that the extent of the Martian atmosphere must be quite
insignificant when compared with that by which our Earth is enveloped.
It is a rare circumstance for any of the main topographical features,
such as the outlines of its so-called continents, or the coasts of
its so-called seas, to be obscured by clouds to an extent which is
appreciable except by very refined observations."
Professor W. H. Pickering made seven photographs of Mars on April 9,
and within twenty-four hours made seven additional photographs of
the same region. The second series of photographs showed an area of
white extending from the polar snow cap far down toward the equator,
covering a surface which he estimated to be as large as the United
States. It afterwards slowly disappeared. How shall we account for
this sudden apparition of a vast area of white which the photographs
of twenty-four hours before did not reveal. A boy of ten, as well as
the philosopher would simply say a snow-storm had taken place in Mars.
Is it, then, unreasonable to picture whirling snowflakes, snow-drifts,
and dazzling whiteness from the Sun's rays, and in the rapid melting
of the snow, broad rivers and turbulent brooks with water areas frozen
at night? But why should we be compelled to imagine as naked the
surface through which these waters find their way? Soil there must be
from the continual erosion of running water. The character of the rock
exposures we cannot guess at, but a picture of bare rock and lifeless
ground is unthinkable. Such wide-spread storms without an atmosphere
could not occur. The seasonal appearance of these snows and their slow
disappearance not only indicates an atmosphere, but an atmosphere
disturbed by established currents which convey the moisture-laden air
to regions of congelation.
A number of observers who have detected clouds in Mars described
them as being yellowish in color. What more probable than that these
yellowish masses are simply dust-storms such as one may often see
whirling along over our American deserts? When the gusts of wind
are fitful like squalls at sea, the obscuration would be fitful, to
clear up again. The vast areas of desert land in Mars renders this
supposition very probable.
Since the above was written, my attention has been called to an
early "Bulletin of the Lowell Observatory," in which Mr. Lowell,
in discussing the appearance of a certain large projection on the
terminator of Mars, says: "Finally, its color leads me to believe it
not a cloud of water-vapor, but a cloud of dust. Other phenomena of the
planet bear out this supposition."
XII
NOTES ON IRRIGATION
_Your theory of vegetation becomes more and more probable._
SCHIAPARELLI in a letter to Lowell.
Let one stand on some peak of the Verd Mountains, northeast from
Phoenix, Arizona, overlooking the Gila River as it follows its course
across the desert, and after the river is lost to view he will notice
that the foliage along its banks marks its course. If one takes this
view in winter time, the uniform gray of the plains, unbroken by a
single shade of color blends with the light blue of the distant Plomas
and Castle Dome Mountains on the southwest horizon. In the early spring
when the water is first let into the irrigating channels with their
innumerable divergent ditches, a shade of green may be seen emerging
from the monotonous yellow-gray of the hot and sterile plain, first
conspicuous near the source of the water supply, and then following
along to Phoenix, Tempe, and other regions till in full efflorescence
these cities stand out like great green carpets spread upon the Earth.
From this mountain top not a trace of an irrigating ditch, large or
small, would be discerned, except here and there a glint of reflected
sunlight, but the effects of the life-giving waters can be traced in
broad bands to the remotest limits of the water channels, when they
would end as abruptly as they had begun.
If we examine railroad maps, the lines of which represent the road-beds
utilized to convey passengers and freight to various places, we shall
observe that in mountainous regions the lines run very irregularly,
often paralleling mountain chains, or following rivers. On level areas
such as Iowa, Texas, and other states, the railroads run for hundreds
of miles in straight lines, at times converging towards large centres
of population. Their occasional parallelism and radiation from centres,
all present a certain _cachet_ in angles of approach and alignment
that reminds one strongly of similar features in the markings of
Mars. If each railroad were bordered by a wide growth of trees with
sterile desert between, these broad bands as seen from Mars would be
identical with the appearance of similar lines in Mars as seen from
the Earth. In Mars, however, there are no high elevations since the
terminator of Mars stands out clear cut and not jagged as in the Moon.
The planet being devoid of hill ranges, and large oceans, the canals
can run in straight lines for hundreds of miles. If it were possible
to conceive by analogy a creature on Mars furnished with a telescope,
he would undoubtedly correlate the irrigating regions of Arizona as
similar in nature to his own canals. The irregularity of the rivers
running through such regions would puzzle him quite as much as we are
puzzled by the absolute straightness of the Martian canals. He would,
of course, observe that in our winter the irrigating areas became
invisible, to appear again as our summer advanced. His own experience
of vegetation arising from irrigation alone and starting from the north
when the first water from the melting snow cap animated the growth of
plant life, and proceeding slowly towards the equator would prevent him
from understanding the reverse condition on our planet, with the shade
of green being perennial at the equator and spreading slowly north with
the advance of summer.
The marvels of irrigation are impossible to conceive of without first
seeing a parched land before the water channels are dug and the
exuberant vegetation springing with the water's advent. The illimitable
stretches of arid plain, no green, rarely an evidence of life, and
then usually in hideous shapes like the hissing and purple-mouthed
Gila monster; hot pale dust; blinding sunlight; ragged clumps of gray
sagebrush, rebuking by their hopeless color and dishevelled appearance,
the intolerable condition of their existence; angular cacti, surviving
because of their vicious needles, and then literally a step only from
this sterile waste, and one finds himself wading through rich, soft
alfalfa, under the deep shade of cottonwood trees, glistening threads
of water when the overhanging vegetation does not hide the channels,
brilliant flowers, singing birds, fat cattle and vociferous children.
In this apparently irreclaimable desert of Arizona, have sprung up
prosperous cities, great farms and fruit orchards. About Phoenix,
more than one hundred and twenty-five thousand acres are under the
richest and most profitable cultivation, and all due to a little narrow
canal which conveys the water from Salado River, and distributes it
by narrow ditches, so narrow, indeed, as to be invisible except on
the nearest approach. There have already been constructed in the
Gila Valley alone, two hundred and fifty miles of ditches, and four
hundred miles of parallels. Mr. Ray Stannard Baker, in the "Century"
for July, 1902, presents in a graphic way, the marvels of irrigation.
Major J. W. Powell, during the later years of his life devoted his
whole time and energy to urging the reclamation of desert lands in the
West by irrigation. In his reports on the subject he estimated that a
region equal in size to New England, New York, Pennsylvania, and West
Virginia could be recovered from the desert sands of Arizona and other
regions in the West. In India, millions of pounds have been spent for
irrigating canals and ditches. A single canal with its tributaries
drawing water from the Ganges measures 3,910 miles in length, bringing
into cultivation one million acres of land at an expense of fifteen
millions of dollars. The idea of irrigation is not due to the advanced
intellect of man; it has been the result of dire necessity and is of
great antiquity. Mr. Frank Hamilton Cushing discovered evidences of the
most extensive irrigating canals among the ancient Pueblo Indians of
Arizona.
Sir C. Scott Moncrief, in his address as president of the engineering
section of the British Association for the Advancement of Science,
describes the various forms of irrigation. The primitive method
consists in raising water by human labor. Early Egyptian sculpture
depicts laborers raising water by means of buckets, and along the
banks of the Nile the same method may be seen to-day. Other methods
of raising water are by pumps driven by windmills. In certain regions
Artesian wells furnish water for irrigation. The importance of
irrigation is best shown in the fact, that, while the rainfall in
Cairo is, on an average, one and four tenths inches a year, yet in the
immediate neighborhood land brings $750 per acre; this value being due
to irrigation alone. In speaking of water storage for supplying the
irrigating canals the author says: "When there is no moderating lake,
a river fed by a glacier has a precious source of supply. The hotter
the weather the more rapidly will the ice melt, and this is just when
irrigation is most wanted." (Judging from this dictum, the condition in
Mars is ideal.) In speaking of the great Assouan Reservoir in Egypt, he
says: "The sale value of land irrigated by its waters will be increased
by about $125,000,000. The increase in irrigation areas in our Western
States may be appreciated by the following figures. In 1889 it amounted
to 3,564,416 acres; in 1900, to 7,539,545 acres. Now it is at least
10,000,000 acres. Without irrigation this land sold for four or five
dollars per acre; with irrigation it brings forty dollars per acre.
XIII
VARIETY OF CONDITIONS UNDER WHICH LIFE EXISTS
_Not only does life but intelligence flourish on this globe
under a great variety of conditions, as regards temperature
and surroundings, and no sound reason can be shown why
under certain conditions which are frequent in the
universe, intelligent beings should not acquire the highest
development._
SIMON NEWCOMB.
The argument most often urged against the idea that life exists in Mars
is that there is no atmosphere in that planet, or if there is one it is
so rarefied that it could not sustain life as we know it. According to
Proctor, we have heretofore been led to consider the planet's physical
condition as adapted to the wants of creatures which exist upon our
own Earth rather than to ascertain the conditions which might obtain
to enable life to exist on the surface of other planets. It is highly
probable that if an air-breathing animal of our earth were instantly
immersed in an atmosphere as rare as that of Mars, it would perish in
a short time. Precisely what a species through thousands of generations
of selection and survival might adapt itself to, is an open question.
Leaving this contention for a moment, let us consider the almost
infinite variety of conditions under which life exists on our globe,
and we shall find that any and all conditions which the surface of Mars
may offer, if experienced gradually through successive generations,
would not be inimical to terrestrial life from the lowest to the
highest, including even man.
Mr. Garrett P. Serviss, in discussing the question of life, in his book
"Other Worlds," said: "Would it not be unreasonable to assume that
vital phenomena on other planets must be subject to exactly the same
limitations that we find circumscribing them in our world? That kind of
assumption has more than once led us far astray even in dealing with
terrestrial conditions. It is not so long ago, for instance, since life
in the depths of the sea was deemed to be demonstrably impossible. The
bottom of the ocean, we were assured, was a region of eternal darkness
and of frightful pressure, wherein no living creatures could exist. Yet
the first dip of the deep-sea trawl brought up animals of marvellous
delicacy of organization, which, although curiously and wonderfully
adapted to live in a compressed liquid, collapsed when lifted into a
lighter medium."
One has only to make himself familiar with the wide range of conditions
under which life in various forms exists on the Earth, to realize
that the introduction of Martian conditions here would not be such an
overwhelming calamity, and if these conditions could be introduced
by minute increments covering thousands of centuries, it is not
unreasonable to believe that myriads of forms would survive the change,
and among those that survive would be precisely the kinds that thrive
under the most diverse conditions here--namely, man and the higher
hymenoptera, the ants.
To enumerate, in the broadest way, the variety of conditions under
which life exists here, one has only to enumerate creatures living
in the deepest abysses of the ocean; high up on the slopes of the
Himalayas; swarming in arctic seas; withstanding the hot glare of a
tropical sun; living deep in the ground; breeding in the darkest caves;
flourishing in desert regions; thriving in water below freezing, and
again in water nearly at the boiling point. Professor Jeffries Wyman,
in a memoir on "Living Organisms in Heated Water," has collected data
showing that fishes are found living in water ranging from 104° to 135°
Fahrenheit. He also found that low forms of plant life exist in water
of various temperatures as high as:
168° F. observed by Dr. Hooker in Sorujkund;
174° " " " Capt. Strachey in Thibet;
185° " " " Humboldt in LaTrinchera;
199° " " " Dr. Brewer in California;
208° " " " Descloizeaux in Iceland.
If we consider man alone, we find him at Aden, on the Red Sea, at a
temperature of 130° in the shade, and in Siberia at 70° below zero;
grovelling in mines deep in the Earth, and living in great communities
ten thousand feet above sea-level; fighting battles on the slopes
of the Himalayas, at an altitude of 19,000 feet; nomadic on sterile
tracts; sweltering under the glaring sun of the equator, and existing
in regions of perpetual snow and ice, and without sunlight for six
months of the year. Such are a few of the varied conditions to which
man has become accustomed since he emerged from his tropical and
arboreal relatives.
The question finally comes down to the effect of the rarefaction of air
on life. An inquiry as to how far man can stand changes of atmospheric
pressure is of interest in this connection, for we know that sudden
changes are accompanied by mountain sickness, at great elevations,
and caisson disease under great pressure. Large birds soar among the
high peaks of the Andes and drop at once to sea-level. I have dredged
delicate mollusks at a depth of one hundred and fifty fathoms of water
and kept them alive for weeks in an aquarium. Man, while showing a
sensitiveness to changes in barometric pressure when experienced
suddenly, can nevertheless get accustomed to great ranges of pressure.
The cities of Bogota and Quito are 10,000 feet above the level of the
sea and yet in Quito when De Saussure, the naturalist, became so ill
from the rarefaction that he could hardly find energy enough to read
his instruments, and his servants, digging holes in the snow, fainted
from the exertion, the natives were pursuing their various activities,
and bull-fights were going on! One has only to read the accounts of the
English expedition to Thibet to learn that troops fought in skirmishes
at the height of 19,000 feet.
Mr. Douglas W. Freshfield (in "Scot. Geo. Mag.," April, 1905) gives an
account of mountain sickness in the Sikkim Himalaya. He says the effect
of high altitude was different in different individuals; some men were
entirely free from it, and among them a Goorkha, who ran back in a pass
at an altitude of 20,000 feet to hurry up some loiterers. Another
member of the party, an Englishman, actually gained in weight, and had
an increased appetite. Here, then, are a few men among a small number,
without previous experience in rarefied air, feeling no disturbance,
and, in one case, actually benefited by it!
The question arises as to what natural selection would do among a
hundred million say, who, through many centuries, might be subject
to a gradual attenuation of the air. The result of rarefaction of
the atmosphere and the absence of moisture is associated with marked
hygienic influences. The Hadley Climatological Laboratory of the
University of New Mexico has made special investigations as to the
increased lung capacity of those living at high altitudes, the relation
of dry soil to health, etc. Important work has been done by Drs. John
Weinzirl, C. Edw. Magnusson, F. S. Maltby, and Mrs. W. C. Hadley,
and their investigations go to prove that high altitudes and absence
of moisture are favorable to the health of man on this world, and by
analogy would not be inimical to the survival of certain forms of life
in Mars.
Dr. S. E. Solby (in "Medical Climatology," p. 43, 1897), in describing
the effects of rarefaction of the air says: "The amount of air taken
in at each breath becomes greater, and the air-cells, many of which
are at lower altitudes often unused, are dilated."
If we consider the atmospheric pressure under which a man can work and
live, we find equal adaptability.
Mr. Gardner D. Hiscox, in his work on "Compressed Air, Its Production,
Uses, and Applications," says: "Experience has taught that the ill
effects are in proportion to the rapidity with which the transmission
is made from compressed air to the normal atmosphere. That while the
pressure remains stationary all subjective phenomena disappear." He
speaks of pressure of forty or fifty pounds to the square inch, and
says that, at these pressures, taste, smell, and the sense of touch
lose their acuteness.
In the "Engineering Record" for January 23, 1904, there is an
interesting article on "Caisson Disease." It says that twenty pounds
pressure per square inch is common on foundation work in New York, and
that bridge piers have been built when pressures of nearly fifty pounds
were required. The deepest pneumatic work in New York was done in the
East River gas tunnel, when the maximum pressure was about forty-seven
to fifty pounds per square inch above atmospheric. In the gas tunnel
four men died from the effects of heavy pressure, while none died
from that reason under bridge work. The article further says that
ordinarily "strong young men in proper condition do not suffer from
working two four-hour shifts daily, under pressure up to twenty-five or
thirty pounds; above that limit injurious effects may be felt," etc.
Let any reasonable man consider the meaning of these data. Without
any selective action on the race, without even a graded increase of
pressure from boyhood up, these workmen perform hard labor of stone
excavation at these pressures, and in the same way, without previous
experience, men are fighting battles at 19,000 feet altitude, and in
one instance growing fat at 20,000 feet. Eminent German and French
scientists have studied the effects of pneumatic pressure by numerous
experiments on men and animals. One experimenter subjected a great
number of dogs, cats, rabbits, guinea-pigs, and other animals to
repeated pressures up to one hundred pounds, and carefully observed
the effects of the varying conditions, some of which were fatal, while
others were apparently harmless. The experiments showed that sudden
release from heavy pressures was fatal, but that if three or four hours
were occupied in reducing a pressure of one hundred pounds, it was
harmless.
With these facts one cannot help wondering whether even man himself
could not exist on Mars if allowed time to get accustomed to the rare
atmosphere through thousands of generations of minute increments of
adaptation.
As a matter of fact we use but a small portion of our lung capacity.
Let any one experiment with himself and observe that after he has
inspired the accustomed quantity of air he can continue for some time
to inspire more air, and also when he has expired the accustomed
quantity of air in normal breathing, he can continue to expire a
great deal more air. Professor Jeffries Wyman, the famous lecturer on
comparative anatomy at Harvard, used to tell us that we ordinarily
inspired about twenty cubic inches of air but we could inspire one
hundred cubic inches more by an effort; also that having expired the
ordinary quantity we could expire a hundred cubic inches more and when
the lungs were removed from the body, an extra hundred cubic inches
could be forced from them. A surgeon friend tells me that many men live
and work with the greater portion of both lungs diseased, and unable to
perform their functions.
It would be an interesting inquiry to ascertain what other species
of the animal kingdom has so wide a range as man. The dog evidently
follows him in all altitudes and at all temperatures.
The group of insects to which the bees, wasps, and ants belong, have
always been recognized as standing highest in intelligence among the
invertebrates. In the great work of Dr. and Mrs. Peckham on wasps are
shown manifestations of intelligence among the wasps that are simply
startling, and the remarkable work of Miss Adele M. Fielde on the ants
adds greatly to the evidences of their unique intelligence. The ant
stands among the invertebrates much as man does among the vertebrates.
One has only to state concretely that ants practise a division of
labor; distinguish certain colors; estimate numbers; recognize friends
and enemies; harvest seeds, and, it is said, raise them, hence are
called agricultural ants; have insect cows and milk them; collect
leaves which they chop up for the purpose of raising a kind of fungus
upon which they live; organize raids and fight battles in masses;
enslave other species; build covered ways and tunnels; and perform
other acts of a similar nature.
Bearing these statements in mind it is an interesting fact that at
altitudes in Arizona, where man finds it impossible to live except
by fetching water from regions below, the ant, equally dependent on
water, has survived on these high tablelands, and manages to raise huge
colonies. In wandering over the mesa at Flagstaff, at an elevation of
over 7,000 feet, the extreme dryness of the ground is indicated by long
cracks which appear on the surface. Here, where hardly any insect is
found except an occasional roaming butterfly, the ant has survived and
is met with in great numbers. Even a rare solitary insect known as the
velvet ant, and consequently without communal aid, is found chirping
merrily amidst these arid surroundings.