From these considerations it will probably be at once admitted that the mass of a comet must be indeed a very small quantity in comparison with its bulk. When we attempt actually to weigh the comet, our efforts have proved abortive. We have been able to weigh the mighty planets Jupiter and Saturn; we have been even able to weigh the vast sun himself; the law of gravitation has provided us with a stupendous weighing apparatus, which has been applied in all these cases with success, but the same methods applied to comets are speedily seen to be illusory. No weighing machinery known to the astronomer is delicate enough to determine the weight of a comet. All that we can accomplish in any circumstances is to weigh one heavenly body in comparison with another. Comets seem to be almost imponderable when estimated by such robust masses as those of the earth, or any of the other great planets. Of course, it will be understood that when we say the weight of a comet is inappreciable, we mean with regard to the other bodies of our system. Perhaps no one now doubts that a great comet must really weigh tons; though whether those tons are to be reckoned in tens, in hundreds, in thousands, or in millions, the total seems quite insignificant when compared with the weight of a body like the earth.

The small mass of comets is also brought before us in a very striking way when we recall what has been said in the last chapter on the important subject of the planetary perturbations. We have there treated of the permanence of our system, and we have shown that this permanence depends upon certain laws which the planetary motions must invariably fulfil. The planets move nearly in circles, their orbits are all nearly in the same plane, and they all move in the same direction. The permanence of the system would be imperilled if any one of these conditions was not fulfilled. In that discussion we made no allusion to the comets. Yet they are members of our system, and they far outnumber the planets. The comets repudiate these rules of the road which the planets so rigorously obey. Their orbits are never like circles; they are, indeed, more usually parabolic, and thus differ as widely as possible from the circular path. Nor do the planes of the orbits of comets affect any particular aspect; they are inclined at all sorts of angles, and the directions in which they move seem to be mere matters of caprice. All these articles of the planetary convention are violated by comets, but yet our system lasts; it has lasted for countless ages, and seems destined to last for ages to come. The comets are attracted by the planets, and conversely, the comets must attract the planets, and must perturb their orbits to some extent; but to what extent? If comets moved in orbits subject to the same general laws which characterise planetary motion, then our argument would break down. The planets might experience considerable derangements from cometary attraction, and yet in the lapse of time those disturbances would neutralise each other, and the permanence of the system would be unaffected. But the case is very different when we deal with the actual cometary orbits. If comets could appreciably disturb planets, those disturbances would not neutralise each other, and in the lapse of time the system would be wrecked by a continuous accumulation of irregularities. The facts, however, show that the system has lived, and is living, notwithstanding comets; and hence we are forced to the conclusion that their masses must be insignificant in comparison with those of the great planetary bodies.

These considerations exhibit the laws of universal gravitation and their relations to the permanence of our system in a very striking light. If we include the comets, we may say that the solar system includes many thousands of bodies, in orbits of all sizes, shapes, and positions, only agreeing in the fact that the sun occupies a focus common to all. The majority of these bodies are imponderable in comparison with planets, and their orbits are placed anyhow, so that, although they may suffer much from the perturbations of the other bodies, they can in no case inflict any appreciable disturbance. There are, however, a few great planets capable of producing vast disturbances; and if their orbits were not properly adjusted, chaos would sooner or later be the result. By the mutual adaptations of their orbits to a nearly circular form, to a nearly coincident plane, and to a uniformity of direction, a permanent truce has been effected among the great planets. They cannot now permanently disorganise each other, while the slight mass of the comets renders them incompetent to do so. The stability of the great planets is thus assured; but it is to be observed that there is no guarantee of stability for comets. Their eccentric and irregular paths may undergo the most enormous derangements; indeed, the history of astronomy contains many instances of the vicissitudes to which a cometary career is exposed.

Great comets appear in the heavens in the most diverse circumstances. There is no part of the sky, no constellation or region, which is not liable to occasional visits from these mysterious bodies. There is no season of the year, no hour of the day or of the night when comets may not be seen above the horizon. In like manner, the size and aspect of the comets are of every character, from the dim spot just visible to an eye fortified by a mighty telescope, up to a gigantic and brilliant object, with a tail stretching across the heavens for a distance which is as far as from the horizon to the zenith. So also the direction of the tail of the comet seems at first to admit of every possible position: it may stand straight up in the heavens, as if the comet were about to plunge below the horizon; it may stream down from the head of the comet, as if the body had been shot up from below; it may slope to the right or to the left. Amid all this variety and seeming caprice, can we discover any feature common to the different phenomena? We shall find that there is a very remarkable law which the tails of comets obey—a law so true and satisfactory, that if we are given the place of a comet in the heavens, it is possible at once to point out in what direction the tail will lie.

A beautiful comet appears in summer in the northern sky. It is near midnight; we are gazing on the faintly luminous tail, which stands up straight and points towards the zenith; perhaps it may be curved a little or possibly curved a good deal, but still, on the whole, it is directed from the horizon to the zenith. We are not here referring to any particular comet. Every comet, large or small, that appears in the north must at midnight have its tail pointed up in a nearly vertical direction. This fact, which has been verified on numerous occasions, is a striking illustration of the law of direction of comets' tails. Think for one moment of the facts of the case. It is summer; the twilight at the north shows the position of the sun, and the tail of the comet points directly away from the twilight and away from the sun. Take another case. It is evening; the sun has set, the stars have begun to shine, and a long-tailed comet is seen. Let that comet be high or low, north or south, east or west, its tail invariably points away from that point in the west where the departing sunlight still lingers. Again, a comet is watched in the early morning, and if the eye be moved from the place where the first streak of dawn is appearing to the head of the comet, then along that direction, streaming away from the sun, is found the tail of the comet. This law is of still more general application. At any season, at any hour of the night, the tail of a comet is directed away from the sun.

More than three hundred years ago this fact in the movement of comets arrested the attention of those who pondered on the movements of the heavenly bodies. It is a fact patent to ordinary observation, it gives some degree of consistency to the multitudinous phenomena of comets, and it must be made the basis of our enquiries into the structure of the tails.

In the adjoining figure, Fig. 71, we show a portion of the parabolic orbit of a comet, and we also represent the position of the tail of the comet at various points of its path. It would be, perhaps, going too far to assert that throughout the whole vast journey of the comet, its tail must always be directed from the sun. In the first place, it must be recollected that we can only see the comet during that small part of its journey when it is approaching to or receding from the sun. It is also to be remembered that, while actually passing round the sun, the brilliancy of the comet is so overpowered by the sun that the comet often becomes invisible, just as the stars are invisible in daylight. Indeed, in certain cases, jets of cometary material are actually projected towards the sun.



In a hasty consideration of the subject, it might be thought that as the comet was dashing along with enormous velocity the tail was merely streaming out behind, just as the shower of sparks from a rocket are strewn along the path which it follows. This would be an entirely erroneous analogy; the comet is moving not through an atmosphere, but through open space, where there is no medium sufficient to sweep the tail into the line of motion. Another very remarkable feature is the gradual growth of the tail as the comet approaches the sun. While the body is still at a great distance it has usually no perceptible tail, but as it draws in the tail gradually develops, and in some cases reaches stupendous dimensions. It is not to be supposed that this increase is a mere optical consequence of the diminution of distance. It can be shown that the growth of the tail takes place much more rapidly than it would be possible to explain in this way. We are thus led to connect the formation of the tail with the approach to the sun, and we are accordingly in the presence of an enigma without any analogy among the other bodies of our system.

That the comet as a whole is attracted by the sun there can be no doubt whatever. The fact that the comet moves in an ellipse or in a parabola proves that the two bodies act and react on each other in obedience to the law of universal gravitation. But while this is true of the comet as a whole, it is no less certain that the tail of the comet is repelled by the sun. It is impossible to speak with certainty as to how this comes about, but the facts of the case seem to point to an explanation of the following kind.

We have seen that the spectroscope has proved with certainty the presence of hydrocarbon and other gases in comets. But we are not to conclude from this that comets are merely masses of gas moving through space. Though the total quantity of matter in a comet, as we have seen, is exceedingly small, it is quite possible that the comet may consist of a number of widely scattered particles of appreciable density; indeed, we shall see in the next chapter, when describing the remarkable relationship between comets and meteors, that we have reason to believe this to be the case. We may therefore look on a comet as a swarm of tiny solid particles, each surrounded by gas.

When we watch a great comet approaching the sun the nucleus is first seen to become brighter and more clearly defined; at a later stage luminous matter appears to be projected from it towards the sun, often in the shape of a fan or a jet, which sometimes oscillates to and fro like a pendulum. In the head of Halley's comet, for instance, Bessel observed in October, 1835, that the jet in the course of eight hours swung through an angle of 36 deg.. On other occasions concentric arcs of light are formed round the nucleus, one after another, getting fainter as they travel further from the nucleus. Evidently the material of the fan or the arcs is repelled by the nucleus of the comet; but it is also repelled by the sun, and this latter repulsive force compels the luminous matter to overcome the attraction of gravitation, and to turn back all round the nucleus in the direction away from the sun. In this manner the tail is formed. (See Plate XII.) The mathematical theory of the formation of comets' tails has been developed on the assumption that the matter which forms the tail is repelled both by the nucleus and by the sun. This investigation was first undertaken by the great astronomer Bessel, in his memoir on the appearance of Halley's comet in 1835, and it has since been considerably developed by Roche and the Russian astronomer Bredichin. Though we are, perhaps, hardly in a position to accept this theory as absolutely true, we can assert that it accounts well for the principal phenomena observed in the formation of comets' tails.

Professor Bredichin has conducted his labours in the philosophical manner which has led to many other great discoveries in science. He has carefully collated the measurements and drawings of the tails of various comets. One result has been obtained from this preliminary part of his enquiry, which possesses a value that cannot be affected even if the ulterior portion of his labours should be found to require qualification. In the examination of the various tails, he observed that the curvilinear shapes of the outlines fall into one or other of three special types. In the first we have the straightest tails, which point almost directly away from the sun. In the second are classed tails which, after starting away from the sun, are curved backwards from the direction towards which the comet is moving. In the third we find the appendage still more curved in towards the comet's path. It can be shown that the tails of comets can almost invariably be identified with one or other of these three types; and in cases where the comet exhibits two tails, as has sometimes happened, then they will be found to belong to two of the types.

The adjoining diagram (Fig. 72) gives a sketch of an imaginary comet furnished with tails of the three different types. The direction in which the comet is moving is shown by the arrow-head on the line passing through the nucleus. Bredichin concludes that the straightest of the three tails, marked as Type I., is most probably due to the element hydrogen; the tails of the second form are due to the presence of some of the hydrocarbons in the body of the comet; while the small tails of the third type may be due to iron or to some other element with a high atomic weight. It will, of course, be understood that this diagram does not represent any actual comet.



An interesting illustration of this theory is afforded in the case of the celebrated comet of 1858 already referred to, of which a drawing is shown in Fig. 73. We find here, besides the great tail, which is the characteristic feature of the body, two other faint streaks of light. These are the edges of the hollow cone which forms a tail of Type I. When we look through the central regions it will be easily understood that the light is not sufficiently intense to be visible; at the edges, however, a sufficient thickness of the cometary matter is presented, and thus we have the appearance shown in this figure. It would seem that Donati's comet possessed one tail due to hydrogen, and another due to some of the compounds of carbon. The carbon compounds involved appear to be of considerable variety, and there is, in consequence, a disposition in the tails of the second type to a more indefinite outline than in the hydrogen tails. Cases have been recorded in which several tails have been seen simultaneously on the same comet. The most celebrated of these is that which appeared in the year 1744. Professor Bredichin has devoted special attention to the theory of this marvellous object, and he has shown with a high degree of probability how the multiform tail could be accounted for. The adjoining figure (Fig. 74) is from a sketch of this object made on the morning of the 7th March by Mademoiselle Kirch at the Berlin Observatory. The figure shows eleven streaks, of which the first ten (counting from the left) represent the bright edges of five of the tails, while the sixth and shortest tail is at the extreme right. Sketches of this rare phenomenon were also made by Cheseaux at Lausanne and De L'Isle at St. Petersburg. Before the perihelion passage the comet had only had one tail, but a very splendid one.



It is possible to submit some of the questions involved to the test of calculation, and it can be shown that the repulsive force adequate to produce the straight tail of Type I. need only be about twelve times as large as the attraction of gravitation. Tails of the second type could be produced by a repulsive force which was about equal to gravitation, while tails of the third type would only require a repulsive force about one-quarter the power of gravitation.[33] The chief repulsive force known in nature is derived from electricity, and it has naturally been surmised that the phenomena of comets' tails are due to the electric condition of the sun and of the comet. It would be premature to assert that the electric character of the comet's tail has been absolutely demonstrated; all that can be said is that, as it seems to account for the observed facts, it would be undesirable to introduce some mere hypothetical repulsive force. It must be remembered that on quite other grounds it is known that the sun is the seat of electric phenomena.

As the comet gradually recedes from the sun the repulsive force becomes weaker, and accordingly we find that the tail of the comet declines. If the comet be a periodic one, the same series of changes may take place at its next return to perihelion. A new tail is formed, which also gradually disappears as the comet regains the depths of space. If we may employ the analogy of terrestrial vapours to guide us in our reasoning, then it would seem that, as the comet retreats, its tail would condense into myriads of small particles. Over these small particles the law of gravitation would resume its undivided sway, no longer obscured by the superior efficiency of the repulsion. The mass of the comet is, however, so extremely small that it would not be able to recall these particles by the mere force of attraction. It follows that, as the comet at each perihelion passage makes a tail, it must on each occasion expend a corresponding quantity of tail-making material. Let us suppose that the comet was endowed in the beginning with a certain capital of those particular materials which are adapted for the production of tails. Each perihelion passage witnesses the formation of a tail, and the expenditure of a corresponding amount of the capital. It is obvious that this operation cannot go on indefinitely. In the case of the great majority of comets the visits to perihelion are so extremely rare that the consequences of the extravagance are not very apparent; but to those periodic comets which have short periods and make frequent returns, the consequences are precisely what might have been anticipated: the tail-making capital has been gradually squandered, and thus at length we have the spectacle of a comet without any tail at all. We can even conceive that a comet may in this manner be completely dissipated, and we shall see in the next chapter how this fate seems to have overtaken Biela's periodic comet.

But as it sweeps through the solar system the comet may chance to pass very near one of the larger planets, and, in passing, its motion may be seriously disturbed by the attraction of the planet. If the velocity of the comet is accelerated by this disturbing influence, the orbit will be changed from a parabola into another curve known as a hyperbola, and the comet will swing round the sun and pass away never to return. But if the planet is so situated as to retard the velocity of the comet, the parabolic orbit will be changed into an ellipse, and the comet will become a periodic one. We can hardly doubt that some periodic comets have been "captured" in this manner and thereby made permanent members of our solar system, if we remark that the comets of short periods (from three to eight years) come very near the orbit of Jupiter at some point or other of their paths. Each of them must, therefore, have been near the giant planet at some moment during their past history. Similarly the other periodic comets of longer period approach near to the orbits of either Saturn, Uranus, or Neptune, the last-mentioned planet being probably responsible for the periodicity of Halley's comet. We have, indeed, on more than one occasion, actually witnessed the violent disturbance of a cometary orbit. The most interesting case is that of Lexell's comet. In 1770 the French astronomer Messier (who devoted himself with great success to the discovery of comets) detected a comet for which Lexell computed the orbit, and found an ellipse with a period of five years and some months. Yet the comet had never been seen before, nor did it ever come back again. Long afterwards it was found, from most laborious investigations by Burckhardt and Le Verrier, that the comet had moved in a totally different orbit previous to 1767. But at the beginning of the year 1767 it happened to come so close to Jupiter that the powerful attraction of this planet forced it into a new orbit, with a period of five and a half years. It passed the perihelion on the 13th August, 1770, and again in 1776, but in the latter year it was not conveniently situated for being seen from the earth. In the summer of 1779 the comet was again in the neighbourhood of Jupiter, and was thrown out of its elliptic orbit, so that we have never seen it since, or, perhaps, it would be safer to say that we have not with certainty identified Lexell's comet with any comet observed since then. We are also, in the case of several other periodic comets, able to fix in a similar way the date when they started on their journeys in their present elliptic orbits.

Such is a brief outline of the principal facts known with regard to these interesting but perplexing bodies. We must be content with the recital of what we know, rather than hazard guesses about matters beyond our reach. We see that they are obedient to the great laws of gravitation, and afford a striking illustration of their truth. We have seen how modern science has dissipated the superstition with which, in earlier ages, the advent of a comet was regarded. We no longer regard such a body as a sign of impending calamity; we may rather look upon it as an interesting and a beautiful visitor, which comes to please us and to instruct us, but never to threaten or to destroy.



CHAPTER XVII.

SHOOTING STARS.

Small Bodies of our System—Their Numbers—How they are Observed—The Shooting Star—The Theory of Heat—A Great Shooting Star—The November Meteors—Their Ancient History—The Route followed by the Shoal—Diagram of the Shoal of Meteors—How the Shoal becomes Spread out along its Path—Absorption of Meteors by the Earth—The Discovery of the Relation between Meteors and Comets—The Remarkable Investigations concerning the November Meteors—Two Showers in Successive Years—No Particles have ever been Identified from the Great Shooting Star Showers—Meteoric Stones—Chladni's Researches—Early Cases of Stone-falls—The Meteorite at Ensisheim—Collections of Meteorites—The Rowton Siderite—Relative Frequency of Iron and Stony Meteorites—Fragmentary Character of Meteorites—Tschermak's Hypothesis—Effects of Gravitation on a Missile ejected from a Volcano—Can they have come from the Moon?—The Claims of the Minor Planets to the Parentage of Meteorites—Possible Terrestrial Origin—The Ovifak Iron.

In the preceding chapters we have dealt with the gigantic bodies which form the chief objects in what we know as the solar system. We have studied mighty planets measuring thousands of miles in diameter, and we have followed the movements of comets whose dimensions are often to be told by millions of miles. Once, indeed, in a previous chapter we have made a descent to objects much lower in the scale of magnitude, and we have examined that numerous class of small bodies which we call the minor planets. It is now, however, our duty to make a still further, and this time a very long step, downwards in the scale of magnitude. Even the minor planets must be regarded as colossal objects when compared with those little bodies whose presence is revealed to us in an interesting and sometimes in a striking manner.

These small bodies compensate in some degree for their minute size by the profusion in which they exist. No attempt, indeed, could be made to tell in figures the myriads in which they swarm throughout space. They are probably of very varied dimensions, some of them being many pounds or perhaps tons in weight, while others seem to be not larger than pebbles, or even than grains of sand. Yet, insignificant as these bodies may seem, the sun does not disdain to undertake their control. Each particle, whether it be as small as the mote in a sunbeam or as mighty as the planet Jupiter, must perforce trace out its path around the sun in conformity with the laws of Kepler.

Who does not know that beautiful occurrence which we call a shooting star, or which, in its more splendid forms, is sometimes called a meteor or fireball? It is to objects of this class that we are now to direct our attention.

A small body is moving round the sun. Just as a mighty planet revolves in an ellipse, so even a small object will be guided round and round in an ellipse with the sun in the focus. There are, at the present moment, inconceivable myriads of such meteors moving in this manner. They are too small and too distant for our telescopes, and we never see them except under extraordinary circumstances.

When the meteor flashes into view it is moving with such enormous velocity that it often traverses more than twenty miles in a second of time. Such a velocity is almost impossible near the earth's surface: the resistance of the air would prevent it. Aloft, in the emptiness of space, there is no air to impede its flight. It may have been moving round and round the sun for thousands, perhaps for millions of years, without suffering any interference; but the supreme moment arrives, and the meteor perishes in a streak of splendour.

In the course of its wanderings the body comes near the earth, and within a few hundred miles of its surface begins to encounter the upper surface of the atmosphere with which the earth is enclosed. To a body moving with the appalling velocity of a meteor, a plunge into the atmosphere is usually fatal. Even though the upper layers of air are excessively attenuated, yet they suddenly check the velocity almost as a rifle bullet would be checked when fired into water. As the meteor rushes through the atmosphere the friction of the air warms its surface; gradually it becomes red-hot, then white-hot, and is finally driven off into vapour with a brilliant light, while we on the earth, one or two hundred miles below, exclaim: "Oh, look, there is a shooting star!"

We have here an experiment illustrating the mechanical theory of heat. It may seem incredible that mere friction should be sufficient to generate heat enough to produce so brilliant a display, but we must recollect two facts: first, that the velocity of the meteor is, perhaps, one hundred times that of a rifle bullet; and, second, that the efficiency of friction in developing heat is proportional to the square of the velocity. The meteor in passing through the air may therefore develop by the friction of the air about ten thousand times as much heat as the rifle bullet. We do not make an exaggerated estimate in supposing that the latter missile becomes heated ten degrees by friction; yet if this be admitted, we must grant that there is such an enormous development of heat attending the flight of the meteor that even a fraction of it would be sufficient to drive the object into vapour.

Let us first consider the circumstances in which these external bodies are manifested to us, and, for the sake of illustration, we may take a remarkable fireball which occurred on November 6th, 1869. This body was seen from many different places in England; and by combining and comparing these observations, we obtain accurate information as to the height of the object and the velocity with which it travelled.

It appears that this meteor commenced to be visible at a point ninety miles above Frome, in Somersetshire, and that it vanished twenty-seven miles over the sea, near St. Ives, in Cornwall. The path of the body, and the principal localities from which it was observed, are shown in the map (Fig. 75). The whole length of its visible course was about 170 miles, which was performed in a period of five seconds, thus giving an average velocity of thirty-four miles per second. A remarkable feature in the appearance which this fireball presented was the long persistent streak of luminous cloud, about fifty miles long and four miles wide, which remained in sight for fully fifty minutes. We have in this example an illustration of the chief features of the phenomena of a shooting star presented on a very grand scale. It is, however, to be observed that the persistent luminous streak is not a universal, nor, indeed, a very common characteristic of a shooting star.



The small objects which occasionally flash across the field of the telescope show us that there are innumerable telescopic shooting stars, too small and too faint to be visible to the unaided eye. These objects are all dissipated in the way we have described; it is, in fact, only at the moment, and during the process of their dissolution, that we become aware of their existence. Small as these missiles probably are, their velocity is so prodigious that they would render the earth uninhabitable were they permitted to rain down unimpeded on its surface. We must, therefore, among the other good qualities of our atmosphere, not forget that it constitutes a kindly screen, which shields us from a tempest of missiles, the velocity of which no artillery could equal. It is, in fact, the very fury of these missiles which is the cause of their utter destruction. Their anxiety to strike us is so great, that friction dissolves them into harmless vapour.

Next to a grand meteor such as that we have just described, the most striking display in connection with shooting stars is what is known as a shower. These phenomena have attracted a great deal of attention within the last century, and they have abundantly rewarded the labour devoted to them by affording some of the most interesting astronomical discoveries of modern times.

The showers of shooting stars do not occur very frequently. No doubt the quickened perception of those who especially attend to meteors will detect a shower when others see only a few straggling shooting stars; but, speaking generally, we may say that the present generation can hardly have witnessed more than two or three such occurrences. I have myself seen two great showers, one of which, in November, 1866, has impressed itself on my memory as a glorious spectacle.

To commence the history of the November meteors it is necessary to look back for nearly a thousand years. On the 12th of October, in the year 902, occurred the death of a Moorish king, and in connection with this event an old chronicler relates how "that night there were seen, as it were lances, an infinite number of stars, which scattered themselves like rain to right and left, and that year was called the Year of the Stars."

No one now believes that the heavens intended to commemorate the death of the king by that display. The record is, however, of considerable importance, for it indicates the year 902 as one in which a great shower of shooting stars occurred. It was with the greatest interest astronomers perceived that this was the first recorded instance of that periodical shower, the last of whose regular returns were seen in 1799, 1833, and 1866. Further diligent literary research has revealed here and there records of startling appearances in the heavens, which fit in with successive returns of the November meteors. From the first instance, in 902, to the present day there have been twenty-nine visits of the shower; and it is not unlikely that these may have all been seen in some parts of the earth. Sometimes they may have been witnessed by savages, who had neither the inclination nor the means to place on record an apparition which to them was a source of terror. Sometimes, however, these showers were observed by civilised communities. Their nature was not understood, but the records were made; and in some cases, at all events, these records have withstood the corrosion of time, and have now been brought together to illustrate this curious subject. We have altogether historical notices of twelve of these showers, collected mainly by the industry of Professor H.A. Newton whose labours have contributed so much to the advancement of our knowledge of shooting stars.

Let us imagine a swarm of small objects roaming through space. Think of a shoal of herrings in the ocean, extending over many square miles, and containing countless myriads of individuals; or think of those enormous flocks of wild pigeons in the United States of which Audubon has told us. The shoal of shooting stars is perhaps much more numerous than the herrings or the pigeons. The shooting stars are, however, not very close together; they are, on an average, probably some few miles apart. The actual bulk of the shoal is therefore prodigious; and its dimensions are to be measured by hundreds of thousands of miles.



The meteors cannot choose their own track, like the shoal of herrings, for they are compelled to follow the route which is prescribed to them by the sun. Each one pursues its own ellipse in complete independence of its neighbours, and accomplishes its journey, thousands of millions of miles in length, every thirty-three years. We cannot observe the meteors during the greater part of their flight. There are countless myriads of these bodies at this very moment coursing round their path. We never see them till the earth catches them. Every thirty-three years the earth makes a haul of these meteors just as successfully as the fisherman among the herrings, and in much the same way, for while the fisherman spreads his net in which the fishes meet their doom, so the earth has an atmosphere wherein the meteors perish. We are told that there is no fear of the herrings becoming exhausted, for those the fishermen catch are as nothing compared to the profusion in which they abound in ocean. We may say the same with regard to the meteors. They exist in such myriads, that though the earth swallows up millions every thirty-three years, plenty are left for future showers. The diagram (Fig. 76) will explain the way in which the earth makes her captures. We there see the orbit in which our globe moves around the sun, as well as the elliptic path of the meteors, though it should be remarked that it is not convenient to draw the figure exactly to scale, so that the path of the meteors is relatively much larger than here represented. Once each year the earth completes its revolution, and between the 13th and the 16th of November crosses the track in which the meteors move. It will usually happen that the great shoal is not at this point when the earth is passing. There are, however, some stragglers all along the path, and the earth generally catches a few of these at this date. They dart into our atmosphere as shooting stars, and form what we usually speak of as the November meteors.

It will occasionally happen that when the earth is in the act of crossing the track it encounters the bulk of the meteors. Through the shoal our globe then plunges, enveloped, of course, with the surrounding coat of air. Into this net the meteors dash in countless myriads, never again to emerge. In a few hours' time, the earth, moving at the rate of eighteen miles a second, has crossed the track and emerges on the other side, bearing with it the spoils of the encounter. Some few meteors, which have only narrowly escaped capture, will henceforth bear evidence of the fray by moving in slightly different orbits, but the remaining meteors of the shoal continue their journey without interruption; perhaps millions have been taken, but probably hundreds of millions have been left.

Such was the occurrence which astonished the world on the night between November 13th and 14th, 1866. We then plunged into the middle of the shoal. The night was fine; the moon was absent. The meteors were distinguished not only by their enormous multitude, but by their intrinsic magnificence. I shall never forget that night. On the memorable evening I was engaged in my usual duty at that time of observing nebulae with Lord Rosse's great reflecting telescope. I was of course aware that a shower of meteors had been predicted, but nothing that I had heard prepared me for the splendid spectacle so soon to be unfolded. It was about ten o'clock at night when an exclamation from an attendant by my side made me look up from the telescope, just in time to see a fine meteor dash across the sky. It was presently followed by another, and then again by more in twos and in threes, which showed that the prediction of a great shower was likely to be verified. At this time the Earl of Rosse (then Lord Oxmantown) joined me at the telescope, and, after a brief interval, we decided to cease our observations of the nebulae and ascend to the top of the wall of the great telescope (Fig. 7, p. 18), whence a clear view of the whole hemisphere of the heavens could be obtained. There, for the next two or three hours, we witnessed a spectacle which can never fade from my memory. The shooting stars gradually increased in number until sometimes several were seen at once. Sometimes they swept over our heads, sometimes to the right, sometimes to the left, but they all diverged from the east. As the night wore on, the constellation Leo ascended above the horizon, and then the remarkable character of the shower was disclosed. All the tracks of the meteors radiated from Leo. (See Fig. 74, p. 368.) Sometimes a meteor appeared to come almost directly towards us, and then its path was so foreshortened that it had hardly any appreciable length, and looked like an ordinary fixed star swelling into brilliancy and then as rapidly vanishing. Occasionally luminous trains would linger on for many minutes after the meteor had flashed across, but the great majority of the trains in this shower were evanescent. It would be impossible to say how many thousands of meteors were seen, each one of which was bright enough to have elicited a note of admiration on any ordinary night.

The adjoining figure (Fig. 77) shows the remarkable manner in which the shooting stars of this shower diverged from a point. It is not to be supposed that all these objects were in view at the same moment. The observer of a shower is provided with a map of that part of the heavens in which the shooting stars appear. He then fixes his attention on one particular shooting star, and observes carefully its track with respect to the fixed stars in its vicinity. He then draws a line upon his map in the direction in which the shooting star moved. Repeating the same observation for several other shooting stars belonging to the shower, his map will hardly fail to show that their different tracks almost all tend from one point or region of the figure. There are, it is true, a few erratic ones, but the majority observe this law. It certainly looks, at first sight, as if all the shooting stars did actually dart from this point; but a little reflection will show that this is a case in which the real motion is different from the apparent. If there actually were a point from which these meteors diverged, then from different parts of the earth the point would be seen in different positions with respect to the fixed stars; but this is not the case. The radiant, as this point is called, is seen in the same part of the heavens from whatever station the shower is visible.



We are, therefore, led to accept the simple explanation afforded by the theory of perspective. Those who are acquainted with the principles of this science know that when a number of parallel lines in an object have to be represented in a drawing, they must all be made to pass through the same point in the plane of the picture. When we are looking at the shooting stars, we see the projections of their paths upon the surface of the heavens. From the fact that those paths pass through the same point, we are to infer that the shooting stars belonging to the same shower are moving in parallel lines.

We are now able to ascertain the actual direction in which the shooting stars are moving, because a line drawn from the eye of the observer to the radiant point must be parallel to that direction. Of course, it is not intended to convey the idea that throughout all space the shooting stars of one shower are moving in parallel lines; all we mean is that during the short time in which we see them the motion of each of the shooting stars is sensibly a straight line, and that all these straight lines are parallel.

In the year 1883 the great meteor shoal of the Leonids (for so this shower is called) attained its greatest distance from the sun, and then commenced to return. Each year the earth crossed the orbit of the meteors; but the shoal was not met with, and no noteworthy shower of stars was perceived. Every succeeding year found the meteors approaching the critical point, and the year 1899 brought the shoal to the earth's track. In that year a brilliant meteoric shower was expected, but the result fell far short of expectation. The shoal of meteors is of such enormous length that it takes more than a year for the mighty procession to pass through the critical portion of its orbit which lies across the track of the earth. We thus see that the meteors cannot escape the earth. It may be that when the shoal begins to reach this neighbourhood the earth will have just left this part of its path, and a year will have elapsed before the earth gets round again. Those meteors that have the good fortune to be in the front of the shoal will thus escape the net, but some of those behind will not be so fortunate, and the earth will again devour an incredible host. It has sometimes happened that casts into the shoal have been obtained in two consecutive years. If the earth happened to pass through the front part in one year, then the shoal is so long that the earth will have moved right round its orbit of 600,000,000 miles, and will again dash through the critical spot before the entire number have passed. History contains records of cases when, in two consecutive Novembers, brilliant showers of Leonids have been seen.

As the earth consumes such myriads of Leonids each thirty-three years, it follows that the total number must be decreasing. The splendour of the showers in future ages will, no doubt, be affected by this circumstance. They cannot be always so bright as they have been. It is also of interest to notice that the shape of the shoal is gradually changing. Each meteor of the shoal moves in its own ellipse round the sun, and is quite independent of the rest of these bodies. Each one has thus a special period of revolution which depends upon the length of the ellipse in which it happens to revolve. Two meteors will move around the sun in the same time if the lengths of their ellipses are exactly equal, but not otherwise. The lengths of these ellipses are many hundreds of millions of miles, and it is impossible that they can be all absolutely equal. In this may be detected the origin of a gradual change in the character of the shower. Suppose two meteors A and B be such that A travels completely round in thirty-three years, while B takes thirty-four years. If the two start together, then when A has finished the first round B will be a year behind; the next time B will be two years behind, and so on. The case is exactly parallel to that of a number of boys who start for a long race, in which they have to run several times round the course before the distance has been accomplished. At first they all start in a cluster, and perhaps for the first round or two they may remain in comparative proximity; gradually, however, the faster runners get ahead and the slower ones lag behind, so the cluster becomes elongated. As the race continues, the cluster becomes dispersed around the entire course, and perhaps the first boy will even overtake the last. Such seems the destiny of the November meteors in future ages. The cluster will in time come to be spread out around the whole of this mighty track, and no longer will a superb display have to be recorded every thirty-three years.

It was in connection with the shower of November meteors in 1866 that a very interesting and beautiful discovery in mathematical astronomy was made by Professor Adams. We have seen that the Leonids must move in an elliptic path, and that they return every thirty-three years, but the telescope cannot follow them during their wanderings. All that we know by observation is the date of their occurrence, the point of the heavens from which they radiate, and the great return every thirty-three years. Putting these various facts together, it is possible to determine the ellipse in which the meteors move—not exactly: the facts do not go so far—they only tell us that the ellipse must be one of five possible orbits. These five possible orbits are—firstly, the immense ellipse in which we now know the meteorites do revolve, and for which they require the whole thirty-three years to complete a revolution; secondly, a nearly circular orbit, very little larger than the earth's path, which the meteors would traverse in a few days more than a year; another similar orbit, in which the time would be a few days short of the year; and two other small elliptical orbits lying inside the earth's orbit. It was clearly demonstrated by Professor Newton, of New Haven, U.S.A., that the observed facts would be explained if the meteors moved in any one of these paths, but that they could not be explained by any other hypothesis. It remained to see which of these orbits was the true one. Professor Newton himself made the suggestion of a possible method of solving the problem. The test he proposed was one of some difficulty, for it involved certain intricate calculations in the theory of perturbations. Fortunately, however, Professor Adams undertook the inquiry, and by his successful labours the path of the Leonids has been completely ascertained.



When the ancient records of the appearance of great Leonid showers were examined, it was found that the date of their occurrence undergoes a gradual and continuous change, which Professor Newton fixed at one day in seventy years. It follows as a necessary consequence that the point where the path of the meteors crosses the earth's track is not fixed, but that at each successive return they cross at a point about half a degree further on in the direction in which the earth is travelling. It follows that the orbit in which the meteors are revolving is undergoing change; the path they follow in one revolution varies slightly from that pursued in the next. As, however, these changes proceed in the same direction, they may gradually attain considerable dimensions; and the amount of change which is produced in the path of the meteors in the lapse of centuries may be estimated by the two ellipses shown in Fig. 78. The continuous line represents the orbit in A.D. 126; the dotted line represents it at present.

This unmistakable change in the orbit is one that astronomers attribute to what we have already spoken of as perturbation. It is certain that the elliptic motion of these bodies is due to the sun, and that if they were only acted on by the sun the ellipse would remain absolutely unaltered. We see, then, in this gradual change of the ellipse the influence of the attractions of the planets. It was shown that if the meteors moved in the large orbit, this shifting of the path must be due to the attraction of the planets Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and the Earth; while if the meteors followed one of the smaller orbits, the planets that would be near enough and massive enough to act sensibly on them would be the Earth, Venus, and Jupiter. Here, then, we see how the question may be answered by calculation. It is difficult, but it is possible, to calculate what the attraction of the planets would be capable of producing for each of the five different suppositions as to the orbit. This is what Adams did. He found that if the meteors moved in the great orbit, then the attraction of Jupiter would account for two-thirds of the observed change, while the remaining third was due to the influence of Saturn, supplemented by a small addition on account of Uranus. In this way the calculation showed that the large orbit was a possible one. Professor Adams also computed the amount of displacement in the path that could be produced if the meteors revolved in any of the four smaller ellipses. This investigation was one of an arduous character, but the results amply repaid the labour. It was shown that with the smaller ellipses it would be impossible to obtain a displacement even one-half of that which was observed. These four orbits must, therefore, be rejected. Thus the demonstration was complete that it is in the large path that the meteors revolve.

The movements in each revolution are guided by Kepler's laws. When at the part of its path most distant from the sun the velocity of a meteor is at its lowest, being then but little more than a mile a second; as it draws in, the speed gradually increases, until, when the meteor crosses the earth's track, its velocity is no less than twenty-six miles a second. The earth is moving very nearly in the opposite direction at the rate of eighteen miles a second, so that, if the meteor happen to strike the earth's atmosphere, it does so with the enormous velocity of nearly forty-four miles a second. If a collision is escaped, then the meteor resumes its onward journey with gradually declining velocity, and by the time it has completed its circuit a period of thirty-three years and a quarter will have elapsed.

The innumerable meteors which form the Leonids are arranged in an enormous stream, of a breadth very small in comparison with its length. If we represent the orbit by an ellipse whose length is seven feet, then the meteor stream will be represented by a thread of the finest sewing-silk, about a foot and a half or two feet long, creeping along the orbit.[34] The size of this stream may be estimated from the consideration that even its width cannot be less than 100,000 miles. Its length may be estimated from the circumstance that, although its velocity is about twenty-six miles a second, yet the stream takes about two years to pass the point where its orbit crosses the earth's track. On the memorable night between the 13th and 14th of November, 1866, the earth plunged into this stream near its head, and did not emerge on the other side until five hours later. During that time it happened that the hemisphere of the earth which was in front contained the continents of Europe, Asia, and Africa, and consequently it was in the Old World that the great shower was seen. On that day twelvemonth, when the earth had regained the same spot, the shoal had not entirely passed, and the earth made another plunge. This time the American continent was in the van, and consequently it was there that the shower of 1867 was seen. Even in the following year the great shoal had not entirely passed, and since then a few stragglers along the route have been encountered at each annual transit of the earth across this meteoric highway.

The diagram is also designed to indicate a remarkable speculation which was put forward on the high authority of Le Verrier, with the view of explaining how the shoal came to be introduced into the solar system. The orbit in which the meteors revolve does not intersect the paths of Jupiter, Saturn, or Mars, but it does intersect the orbit of Uranus. It must sometimes happen that Uranus is passing through this point of its path just as the shoal arrives there. Le Verrier has demonstrated that such an event took place in the year A.D. 126, but that it has not happened since. We thus seem to have a clue to a very wonderful history by which the meteors are shown to have come into our system in the year named. The expectations or a repetition of the great shower in 1899 which had been widely entertained, and on good grounds, were not realised. Hardly more than a few meteors of the ordinary type were observed.

Assuming that the orbit of the August meteors was a parabola, Schiaparelli computed the dimensions and position in space of this orbit, and when he had worked this out, he noticed that the orbit corresponded in every particular with the orbit of a fine comet which had appeared in the summer of 1862. This could not be a mere matter of accident. The plane in which the comet moved coincided exactly with that in which the meteors moved; so did the directions of the axes of their orbits, while the direction of the motion is the same, and the shortest distance from the sun to the orbit is also in the two cases identical. This proved to demonstration that there must be some profound physical connection between comets and swarms of meteors. And a further proof of this was shortly afterwards furnished, when Le Verrier had computed the orbit of the November meteors, for this was at once noticed to be precisely the same as the orbit of a comet which had passed its perihelion in January, 1866, and for which the period of revolution had been found to be thirty-three years and two months.

Among the Leonids we see occasionally fireballs brighter than Venus, and even half the apparent size of the moon, bursting out with lightning-like flashes, and leaving streaks which last from a minute to an hour or more. But the great majority are only as bright as stars of the second, third, or fourth magnitude. As the amount of light given by a meteor depends on its mass and velocity, we can form some idea as to the actual weight of one of these meteors, and it appears that most of them do not weigh nearly as much as a quarter of an ounce; indeed, it is probable that many do not weigh a single grain. But we have seen that a comet in all probability is nothing but a very loose swarm of small particles surrounded by gas of very slight density, and we have also seen that the material of a comet must by degrees be more or less dissipated through space. We have still to tell a wonderful story of the breaking up of a comet and what appears to have become of the particles thereof.

A copious meteoric shower took place on the night of the 27th November, 1872. On this occasion the shooting stars diverged from a radiant point in the constellation of Andromeda. As a spectacle, it was unquestionably inferior to the magnificent display of 1866, but it is difficult to say which of the two showers has been of greater scientific importance.

It surely is a remarkable coincidence that the earth should encounter the Andromedes (for so this shower is called) at the very moment when it is crossing the track of Biela's comet. We have observed the direction from which the Andromedes come when they plunge into the atmosphere; we can ascertain also the direction in which Biela's comet is moving when it passes the earth's track, and we find that the direction in which the comet moves and the direction in which the meteors move are identical. This is, in itself, a strong and almost overwhelming presumption that the comet and the shooting stars are connected; but it is not all. We have observations of this swarm dating back to the eighteenth century, and we find that the date of its appearance has changed from the 6th or 7th of December to the end of November in perfect accordance with the retrograde motion of the crossing-point of the earth's orbit and the orbit of Biela's comet. This comet was observed in 1772, and again in 1805-6, before its periodic return every seven years was discovered. It was discovered by Biela in 1826, and was observed again in 1832. In 1846 the astronomical world was startled to find that there were now two comets in place of one, and the two fragments were again perceived at the return in 1852. In 1859 Biela's comet could not be seen, owing to its unfavourable situation with regard to the earth. No trace of Biela's comet was seen in 1865-66, when its return was also due, nor has it ever been seen since. It therefore appears that in the autumn of 1872 the time had arrived for the return of Biela's comet, and thus the occurrence of the great shower of the Andromedes took place about the time when Biela's comet was actually due. The inference is irresistible that the shooting stars, if not actually a part of the comet itself, are at all events most intimately connected therewith. This shower is also memorable for the telegram sent from Professor Klinkerfues to Mr. Pogson at Madras. The telegram ran as follows:—"Biela touched earth on 27th. Search near Theta Centauri." Pogson did search and did find a comet, but, unfortunately, owing to bad weather he only secured observations of it on two nights. As we require three observations to determine the orbit of a planet or comet, it is not possible to compute the orbit of Pogson's, but it seems almost certain that the latter cannot be identical with either of the two components of Biela's comet. It is, however, likely that it really was a comet moving along the same track as Biela and the meteors.

Another display of the Biela meteors took place in 1885, just giving time for two complete revolutions of the swarm since 1872. The display on the 27th November, 1885, was magnificent; Professor Newton estimated that at the time of maximum the meteors came on at the rate of 75,000 per hour. In 1892 the comet ought again to have returned to perihelion, but in that year no meteors were seen on the 27th November, while many were seen on the 23rd from the same radiant. The change in the point of intersection between the orbit of the meteors and the orbit of the earth indicated by this difference of four days was found by Bredichin to be due to the perturbing action of Jupiter on the motion of the swarm.

It is a noticeable circumstance that the great meteoric showers seem never yet to have projected a missile which has reached the earth's surface. Out of the myriads of Leonids, of Perseids, or of Andromedes, not one particle has ever been seized and identified.[35] Those bodies which fall from the sky to the earth, and which we call meteorites, do not seem to come from the great showers, so far as we know. They may, indeed, have quite a different origin from that of the periodic meteors.

It is somewhat curious that the belief in the celestial origin of meteorites is of modern growth. In ancient times there were, no doubt, rumours of wonderful stones which had fallen down from the heavens to the earth, but these reports seem to have obtained but little credit. They were a century ago regarded as perfectly fabulous, though there was abundant testimony on the subject. Eye-witnesses averred that they had seen the stones fall. The bodies themselves were unlike other objects in the neighbourhood, and cases were even authenticated where men had been killed by these celestial visitors.

No doubt the observations were generally made by ignorant and illiterate persons. The true parts of the record were so mixed up with imaginary additions, that cautious men refused to credit the statements that such objects really fell from the sky. Even at the present day it is often extremely difficult to obtain accurate testimony on such matters. For instance, the fall of a meteorite was observed by a Hindoo in the jungle. The stone was there, its meteoric character was undoubted, and the witness was duly examined as to the details of the occurrence; but he was so frightened by the noise and by the danger he believed himself to have narrowly escaped, that he could tell little or nothing. He felt certain, however, that the meteorite had hunted him for two hours through the jungle before it fell to the earth!

In the year 1794 Chladni published an account of the remarkable mass of iron which the traveller Pallas had discovered in Siberia. It was then for the first time recognised that this object and others similar to it must have had a celestial origin. But even Chladni's reputation and the arguments he brought forward failed to procure universal assent. Shortly afterwards a stone of fifty-six pounds was exhibited in London, which several witnesses declared they had seen fall at Wold Cottage, in Yorkshire, in 1795. This body was subsequently deposited in our national collection, and is now to be seen in the Natural History Museum at South Kensington. The evidence then began to pour in from other quarters; portions of stone from Italy and from Benares were found to be of identical composition with the Yorkshire stone. The incredulity of those who had doubted the celestial origin of these objects began to give way. A careful memoir on the Benares meteorite, by Howard, was published in the "Philosophical Transactions" for 1802, while, as if to complete the demonstration, a great shower of stones took place in the following year at L'Aigle, in Normandy. The French Academy deputed the physicist Biot to visit the locality and make a detailed examination of the circumstances attending this memorable shower. His enquiry removed every trace of doubt, and the meteoric stones have accordingly been transferred from the dominions of geology to those of astronomy. It may be noted that the recognition of the celestial origin of meteorites happens to be simultaneous with the discovery of the first of the minor planets. In each case our knowledge of the solar system has been extended by the addition of numerous minute bodies, which, notwithstanding their insignificant dimensions, are pregnant with information.

When the possibility of stone-falls has been admitted, we can turn to the ancient records, and assign to them the credit they merit, which was withheld for so many centuries. Perhaps the earliest of all these stone-falls which can be said to have much pretension to historical accuracy is that of the shower which Livy describes as having fallen, about the year 654 B.C., on the Alban Mount, near Rome. Among the more modern instances, we may mention one which was authenticated in a very emphatic manner. It occurred in the year 1492 at Ensisheim, in Alsace. The Emperor Maximilian ordered a minute narrative of the circumstances to be drawn up and deposited with the stone in the church. The stone was suspended in the church for three centuries, until in the French Revolution it was carried off to Colmar, and pieces were broken from it, one of which is now in our national collection. Fortunately, this interesting object has been restored to its ancient position in the church at Ensisheim, where it remains an attraction to sight-seers at this day. The account is as follows:—"In the year of the Lord 1492, on the Wednesday before St. Martin's Day, November 7th, a singular miracle occurred, for between eleven o'clock and noon there was a loud clap of thunder and a prolonged confused noise, which was heard at a great distance, and a stone fell from the air in the jurisdiction of Ensisheim which weighed 260 pounds, and the confused noise was at other places much louder than here. Then a boy saw it strike on ploughed ground in the upper field towards the Rhine and the Ill, near the district of Gisgang, which was sown with wheat, and it did no harm, except that it made a hole there; and then they conveyed it from the spot, and many pieces were broken from it, which the Land Vogt forbade. They therefore caused it to be placed in the church, with the intention of suspending it as a miracle, and there came here many people to see this stone, so there were many remarkable conversations about this stone; the learned said they knew not what it was, for it was beyond the ordinary course of nature that such a large stone should smite from the height of the air, but that it was really a miracle from God, for before that time never was anything heard like it, nor seen, nor written. When they found that stone, it had entered into the earth to half the depth of a man's stature, which everybody explained to be the will of God that it should be found, and the noise of it was heard at Lucerne, at Villingen, and at many other places, so loud that the people thought that the houses had been overturned; and as the King Maximilian was here, the Monday after St. Catherine's Day of the same year, his Royal Excellency ordered the stone which had fallen to be brought to the castle, and after having conversed a long time about it with the noblemen, he said that the people of Ensisheim should take it and order it to be hung up in the church, and not to allow anybody to take anything from it. His Excellency, however, took two pieces of it, of which he kept one, and sent the other to Duke Sigismund of Austria, and there was a great deal of talk about the stone, which was suspended in the choir, where it still is, and a great many people came to see it."

Admitting the celestial origin of the meteorites, they surely claim our closest attention. They afford the only direct method we possess of obtaining a knowledge of the materials of bodies exterior to our planet. We can take a meteorite in our hands, we can analyse it, and find the elements of which it is composed. We shall not attempt to enter into any very detailed account of the structure of meteorites; it is rather a matter for the consideration of chemists and mineralogists than for astronomers. A few of the more obvious features will be all that we require. They will serve as a preliminary to the discussion of the probable origin of these bodies.

In the Natural History Museum at South Kensington we may examine a superb collection of meteorites. They have been brought together from all parts of the earth, and vary in size from bodies not much larger than a pin's head up to vast masses weighing many hundredweights. There are also models of celebrated meteorites, of which the originals are dispersed through various other museums.

Many meteorites have nothing very remarkable in their external appearance. If they were met with on the sea beach, they would be passed by without more notice than would be given to any other stone. Yet, what a history a meteorite might tell us if we could only manage to obtain it! It fell; it was seen to fall from the sky; but what was its course anterior to that movement? Where was it 100 years ago, 1,000 years ago? Through what regions of space has it wandered? Why did it never fall before? Why has it actually now fallen? Such are some of the questions which crowd upon us as we ponder over these most interesting bodies. Some of these objects are composed of very characteristic materials; take, for example, one of the more recent arrivals, known as the Rowton siderite. This body differs very much from the more ordinary kind of stony meteorite. It is an object which even a casual passer-by would hardly pass without notice. Its great weight would also attract attention, while if it be scratched or rubbed with a file, it would appear to be a mass of nearly pure iron. We know the circumstances in which that piece of iron fell to the earth. It was on the 20th of April, 1876, about 3.40 p.m., that a strange rumbling noise, followed by a startling explosion, was heard over an area of several miles in extent among the villages in Shropshire, eight or ten miles north of the Wrekin. About an hour after this occurrence a farmer noticed that the ground in one of his grass-fields had been disturbed, and he probed the hole which the meteorite had made, and found it, still warm, about eighteen inches below the surface. Some men working at no great distance had heard the noise made in its descent. This remarkable object, weighs 7-3/4 lbs. It is an irregular angular mass of iron, though all its edges seem to have been rounded by fusion in its transit through the air. It is covered with a thick black pellicle of the magnetic oxide of iron, except at the point where it first struck the ground. The Duke of Cleveland, on whose property it fell, afterwards presented it to our national institution already referred to, where, as the Rowton siderite, it attracts the attention of everyone who is interested in these wonderful bodies.

This siderite is specially interesting on account of its distinctly metallic character. Falls of objects of this particular type are not so frequent as are those of the stony meteorites; in fact, there are only a few known instances of meteoric irons having been actually seen to fall, while the observed falls of stony meteorites are to be counted in scores or in hundreds. The inference is that the iron meteorites are much less frequent than the stony ones. This is, however, not the impression that the visitor to the Museum would be likely to receive. In that extensive collection the meteoric irons are by far the most striking objects. The explanation is not difficult. Those gigantic masses of iron are unquestionably meteoric: no one doubts that this is the case. Yet the vast majority of them have never been seen to fall; they have simply been found, in circumstances which point unmistakably to their meteoric nature. Suppose, for instance, that a traveller on one of the plains of Siberia or of Central America finds a mass of metallic iron lying on the surface of the ground, what explanation can be rendered of such an occurrence? No one has brought the iron there, and there is no iron within hundreds of miles. Man never fashioned that object, and the iron is found to be alloyed with nickel in a manner that is always observed in known meteorites, and is generally regarded as a sure indication of a meteoric origin. Observe also, that as iron perishes by corrosion in our atmosphere, that great mass of iron cannot have lain where it is for indefinite ages; it must have been placed there at some finite time. Only one source for such an object is conceivable; it must have fallen from the sky. On the same plains the stony meteorites have also fallen in hundreds and in thousands, but they crumble away in the course of time, and in any case would not arrest the attention of the traveller as the irons are likely to do. Hence it follows, that although the stony meteorites seem to fall much more frequently, yet, unless they are actually observed at the moment of descent, they are much more liable to be overlooked than the meteoric irons. Hence it is that the more prominent objects of the British collection are the meteoric irons.

We have said that a noise accompanied the descent of the Rowton siderite, and it is on record that a loud explosion took place when the meteorite fell at Ensisheim. In this we have a characteristic feature of the phenomenon. Nearly all the descents of meteorites that have been observed seem to have been ushered in by a detonation. We do not, however, assert that this is quite an invariable feature; and it is also the case that meteors often detonate without throwing down any solid fragments that have been collected. The violence associated with the phenomenon is forcibly illustrated by the Butsura meteorite. This object fell in India in 1861. A loud explosion was heard, several fragments of stone were collected from distances three or four miles apart; and when brought together, they were found to fit, so as to enable the primitive form of the meteorite to be reconstructed. A few of the pieces are wanting (they were, no doubt, lost by falling unobserved into localities from which they could not be recovered), but we have obtained pieces quite numerous enough to permit us to form a good idea of the irregular shape of the object before the explosion occurred which shattered it into fragments. This is one of the ordinary stony meteorites, and is thus contrasted with the Rowton siderite which we have just been considering. There are also other types of meteorites. The Breitenbach iron, as it is called, is a good representative of a class of these bodies which lie intermediate between the meteoric irons and the stones. It consists of a coarsely cellular mass of iron, the cavities being filled with mineral substances. In the Museum, sections of intermediate forms are shown in which this structure is exhibited.

Look first at the most obvious characteristic of these meteorites. We do not now allude to their chemical composition, but to their external appearance. What is the most remarkable feature in the shape of these objects?—surely it is that they are fragments. They are evidently pieces that are broken from some larger object. This is apparent by merely looking at their form; it is still more manifest when we examine their mechanical structure. It is often found that meteorites are themselves composed of smaller fragments. Such a structure may be illustrated by a section of an aerolite found on the Sierra of Chaco, weighing about 30 lbs. (Fig. 79).

The section here represented shows the composite structure of this object, which belongs to the class of stony meteorites. Its shape shows that it was really a fragment with angular edges and corners. No doubt it may have been much more considerable when it first dashed into the atmosphere. The angular edges now seen on the exterior may be due to an explosion which then occurred; but this will not account for the structure of the interior. We there see irregular pieces of varied form and material agglomerated into a single mass. If we would seek for analogous objects on the earth, we must look to some of the volcanic rocks, where we have multitudes of irregular angular fragments cemented together by a matrix in which they are imbedded. The evidence presented by this meteorite is conclusive as to one circumstance with regard to the origin of these objects. They must have come as fragments, from some body of considerable, if not of vast, dimensions. In this meteorite there are numerous small grains of iron mingled with mineral substances. The iron in many meteorites has, indeed, characters resembling those produced by the actual blasting of iron by dynamite. Thus, a large meteoric iron from Brazil has been found to have been actually shivered into fragments at some time anterior to its fall on the earth. These fragments have been cemented together again by irregular veins of mineral substances.



For an aerolite of a very different type we may refer to the carbonaceous meteorite of Orgueil, which fell in France on the 14th May, 1864. On the occasion of its descent a splendid meteor was seen, rivalling the full moon in size. The actual diameter of this globe of fire must have been some hundreds of yards. Nearly a hundred fragments of the body were found scattered over a tract of country fifteen miles long. This object is of particular interest, inasmuch as it belongs to a rare group of aerolites, from which metallic iron is absent. It contains many of the same minerals which are met with in other meteorites, but in these fragments they are associated with carbon, and with substances of a white or yellowish crystallisable material, soluble in ether, and resembling some of the hydrocarbons. Such a substance, if it had not been seen falling to the earth, would probably be deemed a product resulting from animal or vegetable life!

We have pointed out how a body moving with great velocity and impinging upon the air may become red-hot and white-hot, or even be driven off into vapour. How, then, does it happen that meteorites escape this fiery ordeal, and fall down to the earth, with a great velocity, no doubt, but still, with very much less than that which would have sufficed to drive them off into vapour? Had the Rowton siderite, for instance, struck our atmosphere with a velocity of twenty miles a second, it seems unquestionable that it would have been dissipated by heat, though, no doubt, the particles would ultimately coalesce so as to descend slowly to the earth in microscopic beads of iron. How has the meteorite escaped this fate? It must be remembered that our earth is also moving with a velocity of about eighteen miles per second, and that the relative velocity with which the meteorite plunges into the air is that which will determine the degree to which friction is operating. If the meteorite come into direct collision with the earth, the velocity of the collision will be extremely great; but it may happen that though the actual velocities of the two bodies are both enormous, yet the relative velocity may be comparatively small. This is, at all events, one conceivable explanation of the arrival of a meteorite on the surface of the earth.

We have shown in the earlier parts of the chapter that the well-known star showers are intimately connected with comets. In fact, each star shower revolves in the path pursued by a comet, and the shooting star particles have, in all probability, been themselves derived from the comet. Showers of shooting stars have, therefore, an intimate connection with comets, but it is doubtful whether meteorites have any connection with comets. It has already been remarked that meteorites have never been known to fall in the great star showers. No particle of a meteorite is known to have dropped from the countless host of the Leonids or of the Perseids; as far as we know, the Lyrids never dropped a meteorite, nor did the Quadrantids, the Geminids, or the many other showers with which every astronomer is familiar. There is no reason to connect meteorites with these showers, and it is, therefore, doubtful whether we should connect meteorites with comets.

With reference to the origin of meteorites it is difficult to speak with any great degree of confidence. Every theory of meteorites presents difficulties, so it seems that the only course open to us is to choose that view of their origin which seems least improbable. It appears to me that this condition is fulfilled in the theory entertained by the Austrian mineralogist, Tschermak. He has made a study of the meteorites in the rich collection at Vienna, and he has come to the conclusion that the "meteorites have had a volcanic source on some celestial body." Let us attempt to pursue this reasoning and discuss the problem, which may be thus stated:—Assuming that at least some of the meteorites have been ejected from volcanoes, on what body or bodies in the universe must these volcanoes be situated? This is really a question for astronomers and mathematicians. Once the mineralogists assure us that these bodies are volcanic, the question becomes one of calculation and of the balance of probabilities.

The first step in the enquiry is to realise distinctly the dynamical conditions of the problem. Conceive a volcano to be located on a planet. The volcano is supposed to be in a state of eruption, and in one of its mighty throes projects a missile aloft: this missile will ascend, it will stop, and fall down again. Such is the case at present in the eruptions of terrestrial volcanoes. Cotopaxi has been known to hurl prodigious stones to a vast height, but these stones assuredly return to earth. The gravitation of the earth has gradually overcome the velocity produced by the explosion, and down the body falls. But let us suppose that the eruption is still more violent, and that the stones are projected from the planet to a still greater height above its surface. Suppose, for instance, that the stone should be shot up to a height equal to the planet's radius, the attraction of gravitation will then be reduced to one-fourth of what it was at the surface, and hence the planet will find greater difficulty in pulling back the stone. Not only is the distance through which the stone has to be pulled back increased as the height increases, but the efficiency of gravitation is weakened, so that in a twofold way the difficulty of recalling the stone is increased. We have already more than once alluded to this subject, and we have shown that there is a certain critical velocity appropriate to each planet, and depending on its mass and its radius. If the missile be projected upwards with a velocity equal to or greater than this, then it will ascend never to return. We all recollect Jules Verne's voyage to the moon, in which he described the Columbiad, an imaginary cannon, capable of shooting out a projectile with a velocity of six or seven miles a second. This is the critical velocity for the earth. If we could imagine the air removed, then a cannon of seven-mile power would project a body upwards which would never fall down.

The great difficulty about Tschermak's view of the volcanic origin of the meteorites lies in the tremendous initial velocity which is required. The Columbiad is a myth, and we know no agent, natural or artificial, at the present time on the earth, adequate to the production of a velocity so appalling. The thunders of Krakatoa were heard thousands of miles away, but in its mightiest throes it discharged no missiles with a velocity of six miles a second. We are therefore led to enquire whether any of the other celestial bodies are entitled to the parentage of the meteorites. We cannot see volcanoes on any other body except the moon; all the other bodies are too remote for an inspection so minute. Does it seem likely that volcanoes on the moon can ever launch forth missiles which fall upon the earth?

This belief was once sustained by eminent authority. The mass of the moon is about one-eightieth of the mass of the earth. It would not be true to assert that the critical velocity of projection varies directly as the mass of the planet. The correct law is, that it varies directly as the square root of the mass, and inversely as the square root of the radius. It is hence shown that the velocity required to project a missile away from the moon is only about one-sixth of that which would be required to project a missile away from the earth. If the moon had on its surface volcanoes of one-mile power, it is quite conceivable that these might be the source of meteorites. We have seen how the whole surface of the moon shows traces of intense volcanic activity. A missile thus projected from the moon could undoubtedly fall on the earth, and it is not impossible that some of the meteorites may really have come from this source. There is, however, one great difficulty about the volcanoes on the moon. Suppose an object were so projected, it would, under the attraction of the earth, in accordance with Kepler's laws, move around the earth as a focus. If we set aside the disturbances produced by all other bodies, as well as the disturbance produced by the moon itself, we see that the meteorite if it once misses the earth can never fall thereon. It would be necessary that the shortest distance of the earth's centre from the orbit of the projectile should be less than the radius of the earth, so that if a lunar meteorite is to fall on the earth, it must do so the first time it goes round. The journey of a meteorite from the moon to the earth is only a matter of days, and therefore, as meteorites are still falling, it would follow that they must still be constantly ejected from the moon. The volcanoes on the moon are, however, not now active; observers have long studied its surface, and they find no reliable traces of volcanic activity at the present day. It is utterly out of the question, whatever the moon may once have been able to do, that at the present date she could still continue to launch forth meteorites. It is just possible that a meteorite expelled from the moon in remote antiquity, when its volcanoes were active, may, under the influence of the disturbances of the other bodies of the system, have its orbit so altered, that at length it comes within reach of the atmosphere and falls to the earth, but in no circumstances could the moon send us a meteorite at present. It is therefore reasonable to look elsewhere in our search for volcanoes fulfilling the conditions of the problem.