A philosopher of the East, with a richness of imagery truly oriental,
describes the Atmosphere as “a spherical shell which surrounds our
planet to a depth which is unknown to us, by reason of its growing
tenuity, as it is released from the pressure of its own superincumbent
mass. Its upper surface cannot be nearer to us than 50, and can
scarcely be more remote than 500, miles. It surrounds us on all sides,
yet we see it not; it presses on us with a load of fifteen pounds on
every square inch of surface of our bodies, or from seventy to one
hundred tons on us in all, yet we do not so much as feel its weight.
Softer than the softest down, more impalpable than the finest gossamer,
it leaves the cobweb undisturbed, and scarcely stirs the lightest
flower that feeds on the dew it supplies; yet it bears the fleets of
nations on its wings around the world, and crushes the most refractory
substances with its weight. When in motion, its force is sufficient to
level the most stately forests and stable buildings with the earth--to
raise the waters of the ocean into ridges like mountains, and dash the
strongest ships to pieces like toys. It warms and cools by turns the
earth and the living creatures that inhabit it. It draws up vapours
from the sea and land, retains them dissolved in itself or suspended
in cisterns of clouds, and throws them down again as rain or dew when
they are required. It bends the rays of the sun from their path to
give us the twilight of evening and of dawn; it disperses and refracts
their various tints to beautify the approach and the retreat of the orb
of day. But for the atmosphere sunshine would burst on us and fail us
at once, and at once remove us from midnight darkness to the blaze of
noon. We should have no twilight to soften and beautify the landscape;
no clouds to shade us from the searching heat; but the bald earth, as
it revolved on its axis, would turn its tanned and weakened front to
the full and unmitigated rays of the lord of day. It affords the gas
which vivifies and warms our frames, and receives into itself that
which has been polluted by use and is thrown off as noxious. It feeds
the flames of life exactly as it does that of the fire--it is in both
cases consumed and affords the food of consumption--in both cases it
becomes combined with charcoal, which requires it for combustion and is
removed by it when this is over.”