ALL

AROUND THE MOON

FROM THE FRENCH OF

JULES VERNE

AUTHOR OF "FROM THE EARTH TO THE MOON", "TO THE SUN!" AND "OFF ON ACOMET!"

BY

EDWARD ROTH

ILLUSTRATED

PHILADELPHIADAVID MCKAY, PUBLISHER23 SOUTH NINTH STREET

CONTENTS. 

 PRELIMINARY

 I. FROM 10 P. M. TO 10. 46' 40''

 II. THE FIRST HALF HOUR

 III. THEY MAKE THEMSELVES AT HOME AND FEEL QUITE COMFORTABLE

 IV. FOR THE CORNELL GIRLS

 V. THE COLDS OF SPACE

 VI. INSTRUCTIVE CONVERSATION

 VII. A HIGH OLD TIME

 VIII. THE NEUTRAL POINT

 IX. A LITTLE OFF THE TRACK

 X. THE OBSERVERS OF THE MOON

 XI. FACT AND FANCY

 XII. A BIRD'S EYE VIEW OF THE LUNAR MOUNTAINS

 XIII. LUNAR LANDSCAPES

 XIV. A NIGHT OF FIFTEEN DAYS

 XV. GLIMPSES AT THE INVISIBLE

 XVI. THE SOUTHERN HEMISPHERE

 XVII. TYCHO

XVIII. PUZZLING QUESTIONS

 XIX. IN EVERY FIGHT, THE IMPOSSIBLE WINS

 XX. OFF THE PACIFIC COAST

 XXI. NEWS FOR MARSTON!

 XXII. ON THE WINGS OF THE WIND

XXIII. THE CLUB MEN GO A FISHING

 XXIV. FAREWELL TO THE BALTIMORE GUN CLUB

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 

 1. HIS FIRST CARE WAS TO TURN ON THE GAS

 2. DIANA AND SATELLITE

 3. HE HELPED ARDAN TO LIFT BARBICAN

 4. MORE HUNGRY THAN EITHER

 5. THEY DRANK TO THE SPEEDY UNION OF THE EARTH AND HER SATELLITE

 6. DON'T I THOUGH? MY HEAD IS SPLITTING WITH IT!

 7. POOR SATELLITE WAS DROPPED OUT

 8. THE BODY OF THE DOG THROWN OUT YESTERDAY

 9. A DEMONIACAL HULLABALOO

10. THE OXYGEN! HE CRIED

11. A GROUP _à la Jardin Mabille_

12. AN IMMENSE BATTLE-FIELD PILED WITH BLEACHING BONES

13. NEVERTHELESS THE SOLUTION ESCAPED HIM

14. IT'S COLD ENOUGH TO FREEZE A WHITE BEAR

15. THEY COULD UTTER NO WORD, THEY COULD BREATHE NO PRAYER

16. THEY SEEMED HALF ASLEEP IN HIS VITALIZING BEAMS

17. THESE ARCHES EVIDENTLY ONCE BORE THE PIPES OF AN AQUEDUCT

18. ARDAN GAZED AT THE PAIR FOR A FEW MINUTES

19. OLD MAC DISCOVERED TAKING OBSERVATIONS

20. FOR A SECOND ONLY DID THEY CATCH ITS FLASH

21. HOW IS THAT FOR HIGH?

22. EVERYWHERE THEIR DEPARTURE WAS ACCOMPANIED WITH THE MOST TOUCHING SYMPATHY

PRELIMINARY CHAPTER, RESUMING THE FIRST PART OF THE WORK AND SERVING AS AN INTRODUCTION TOTHE SECOND. 

A few years ago the world was suddenly astounded by hearing of anexperiment of a most novel and daring nature, altogether unprecedentedin the annals of science. The BALTIMORE GUN CLUB, a society ofartillerymen started in America during the great Civil War, hadconceived the idea of nothing less than establishing directcommunication with the Moon by means of a projectile! PresidentBarbican, the originator of the enterprise, was strongly encouraged inits feasibility by the astronomers of Cambridge Observatory, and tookupon himself to provide all the means necessary to secure its success. Having realized by means of a public subscription the sum of nearly fiveand a half millions of dollars, he immediately set himself to work atthe necessary gigantic labors. 

In accordance with the Cambridge men's note, the cannon intended todischarge the projectile was to be planted in some country not furtherthan 28° north or south from the equator, so that it might be aimedvertically at the Moon in the zenith. The bullet was to be animated withan initial velocity of 12, 000 yards to the second. It was to be firedoff on the night of December 1st, at thirteen minutes and twenty secondsbefore eleven o'clock, precisely. Four days afterwards it was to hit theMoon, at the very moment that she reached her _perigee_, that is to say, her nearest point to the Earth, about 228, 000 miles distant. 

The leading members of the Club, namely President Barbican, SecretaryMarston, Major Elphinstone and General Morgan, forming the executivecommittee, held several meetings to discuss the shape and material ofthe bullet, the nature and position of the cannon, and the quantity andquality of the powder. The decision soon arrived at was as follows:1st--The bullet was to be a hollow aluminium shell, its diameter ninefeet, its walls a foot in thickness, and its weight 19, 250 pounds;2nd--The cannon was to be a columbiad 900 feet in length, a well of thatdepth forming the vertical mould in which it was to be cast, and3rd--The powder was to be 400 thousand pounds of gun cotton, which, bydeveloping more than 200 thousand millions of cubic feet of gas underthe projectile, would easily send it as far as our satellite. 

These questions settled, Barbican, aided by Murphy, the Chief Engineerof the Cold Spring Iron Works, selected a spot in Florida, near the 27thdegree north latitude, called Stony Hill, where after the performance ofmany wonderful feats in mining engineering, the Columbiad wassuccessfully cast. 

Things had reached this state when an incident occurred which excitedthe general interest a hundred fold. 

A Frenchman from Paris, Michel Ardan by name, eccentric, but keen andshrewd as well as daring, demanded, by the Atlantic telegraph, permission to be enclosed in the bullet so that he might be carried tothe Moon, where he was curious to make certain investigations. Receivedin America with great enthusiasm, Ardan held a great meeting, triumphantly carried his point, reconciled Barbican to his mortal foe, acertain Captain M'Nicholl, and even, by way of clinching thereconciliation, induced both the newly made friends to join him in hiscontemplated trip to the Moon. 

The bullet, so modified as to become a hollow conical cylinder withplenty of room inside, was further provided with powerful water-springsand readily-ruptured partitions below the floor, intended to deaden thedreadful concussion sure to accompany the start. It was supplied withprovisions for a year, water for a few months, and gas for nearly twoweeks. A self-acting apparatus, of ingenious construction, kept theconfined atmosphere sweet and healthy by manufacturing pure oxygen andabsorbing carbonic acid. Finally, the Gun Club had constructed, atenormous expense, a gigantic telescope, which, from the summit of Long'sPeak, could pursue the Projectile as it winged its way through theregions of space. Everything at last was ready. 

On December 1st, at the appointed moment, in the midst of an immenseconcourse of spectators, the departure took place, and, for the firsttime in the world's history, three human beings quitted our terrestrialglobe with some possibility in their favor of finally reaching a pointof destination in the inter-planetary spaces. They expected toaccomplish their journey in 97 hours, 13 minutes and 20 seconds, consequently reaching the Lunar surface precisely at midnight onDecember 5-6, the exact moment when the Moon would be full. 

Unfortunately, the instantaneous explosion of such a vast quantity ofgun-cotton, by giving rise to a violent commotion in the atmosphere, generated so much vapor and mist as to render the Moon invisible forseveral nights to the innumerable watchers in the Western Hemisphere, who vainly tried to catch sight of her. 

In the meantime, J. T. Marston, the Secretary of the Gun Club, and a mostdevoted friend of Barbican's, had started for Long's Peak, Colorado, onthe summit of which the immense telescope, already alluded to, had beenerected; it was of the reflecting kind, and possessed power sufficientto bring the Moon within a distance of five miles. While Marston wasprosecuting his long journey with all possible speed, ProfessorBelfast, who had charge of the telescope, was endeavoring to catch aglimpse of the Projectile, but for a long time with no success. Thehazy, cloudy weather lasted for more than a week, to the great disgustof the public at large. People even began to fear that furtherobservation would have to be deferred to the 3d of the following month, January, as during the latter half of December the waning Moon could notpossibly give light enough to render the Projectile visible. 

At last, however, to the unbounded satisfaction of all, a violenttempest suddenly cleared the sky, and on the 13th of December, shortlyafter midnight, the Moon, verging towards her last quarter, revealedherself sharp and bright on the dark background of the starry firmament. 

That same morning, a few hours before Marston's arrival at the summit ofLong's Peak, a very remarkable telegram had been dispatched by ProfessorBelfast to the Smithsonian Institute, Washington. It announced:

That on December 13th, at 2 o'clock in the morning, the Projectile shotfrom Stony Hill had been perceived by Professor Belfast and hisassistants; that, deflected a little from its course by some unknowncause, it had not reached its mark, though it had approached near enoughto be affected by the Lunar attraction; and that, its rectilineal motionhaving become circular, it should henceforth continue to describe aregular orbit around the Moon, of which in fact it had become theSatellite. The dispatch went on further to state:

That the _elements_ of the new heavenly body had not yet beencalculated, as at least three different observations, taken at differenttimes, were necessary to determine them. The distance of the Projectilefrom the Lunar surface, however, might be set down roughly at roughly2833 miles. 

The dispatch concluded with the following hypotheses, positivelypronounced to be the only two possible: Either, 1, The Lunar attractionwould finally prevail, in which case the travellers would reach theirdestination; or 2, The Projectile, kept whirling forever in an immutableorbit, would go on revolving around the Moon till time should be nomore. 

In either alternative, what should be the lot of the daring adventurers?They had, it is true, abundant provisions to last them for some time, but even supposing that they did reach the Moon and thereby completelyestablish the practicability of their daring enterprise, how were theyever to get back? _Could_ they ever get back? or ever even be heardfrom? Questions of this nature, freely discussed by the ablest pens ofthe day, kept the public mind in a very restless and excited condition. 

We must be pardoned here for making a little remark which, however, astronomers and other scientific men of sanguine temperament would dowell to ponder over. An observer cannot be too cautious in announcing tothe public his discovery when it is of a nature purely speculative. Nobody is obliged to discover a planet, or a comet, or even a satellite, but, before announcing to the world that you have made such a discovery, first make sure that such is really the fact. Because, you know, shouldit afterwards come out that you have done nothing of the kind, you makeyourself a butt for the stupid jokes of the lowest newspaper scribblers. Belfast had never thought of this. Impelled by his irrepressible ragefor discovery--the _furor inveniendi_ ascribed to all astronomers byAurelius Priscus--he had therefore been guilty of an indiscretion highlyun-scientific when his famous telegram, launched to the world at largefrom the summit of the Rocky Mountains, pronounced so dogmatically onthe only possible issues of the great enterprise. 

The truth was that his telegram contained _two_ very important errors:1. Error of _observation_, as facts afterwards proved; the Projectile_was_ not seen on the 13th and _could_ not have been on that day, sothat the little black spot which Belfast professed to have seen was mostcertainly not the Projectile; 2. Error of _theory_ regarding the finalfate of the Projectile, since to make it become the Moon's satellite wasflying in the face of one of the great fundamental laws of TheoreticalMechanics. 

Only one, therefore, the first, of the hypotheses so positivelyannounced, was capable of realization. The travellers--that is to say ifthey still lived--might so combine and unite their own efforts withthose of the Lunar attraction as actually to succeed at last in reachingthe Moon's surface. 

Now the travellers, those daring but cool-headed men who knew very wellwhat they were about, _did_ still live, they _had_ survived thefrightful concussion of the start, and it is to the faithful record oftheir wonderful trip in the bullet-car, with all its singular anddramatic details, that the present volume is devoted. The story maydestroy many illusions, prejudices and conjectures; but it will at leastgive correct ideas of the strange incidents to which such an enterpriseis exposed, and it will certainly bring out in strong colors the effectsof Barbican's scientific conceptions, M'Nicholl's mechanical resources, and Ardan's daring, eccentric, but brilliant and effective combinations. 

Besides, it will show that J. T. Marston, their faithful friend and a manevery way worthy of the friendship of such men, was only losing his timewhile mirroring the Moon in the speculum of the gigantic telescope onthat lofty peak of the mountains. 

CHAPTER I. 

FROM 10 P. M. TO 10 46' 40''. 

The moment that the great clock belonging to the works at Stony Hill hadstruck ten, Barbican, Ardan and M'Nicholl began to take their lastfarewells of the numerous friends surrounding them. The two dogsintended to accompany them had been already deposited in the Projectile. The three travellers approached the mouth of the enormous cannon, seatedthemselves in the flying car, and once more took leave for the last timeof the vast throng standing in silence around them. The windlasscreaked, the car started, and the three daring men disappeared in theyawning gulf. 

The trap-hole giving them ready access to the interior of theProjectile, the car soon came back empty; the great windlass waspresently rolled away; the tackle and scaffolding were removed, and in ashort space of time the great mouth of the Columbiad was completely ridof all obstructions. 

M'Nicholl took upon himself to fasten the door of the trap on the insideby means of a powerful combination of screws and bolts of his owninvention. He also covered up very carefully the glass lights withstrong iron plates of extreme solidity and tightly fitting joints. 

Ardan's first care was to turn on the gas, which he found burning ratherlow; but he lit no more than one burner, being desirous to economize asmuch as possible their store of light and heat, which, as he well knew, could not at the very utmost last them longer than a few weeks. 

Under the cheerful blaze, the interior of the Projectile looked like acomfortable little chamber, with its circular sofa, nicely padded walls, and dome shaped ceiling. 

All the articles that it contained, arms, instruments, utensils, etc. , were solidly fastened to the projections of the wadding, so as tosustain the least injury possible from the first terrible shock. Infact, all precautions possible, humanly speaking, had been taken tocounteract this, the first, and possibly one of the very greatestdangers to which the courageous adventurers would be exposed. 

Ardan expressed himself to be quite pleased with the appearance ofthings in general. 

"It's a prison, to be sure, " said he "but not one of your ordinaryprisons that always keep in the one spot. For my part, as long as I canhave the privilege of looking out of the window, I am willing to leaseit for a hundred years. Ah! Barbican, that brings out one of your stonysmiles. You think our lease may last longer than that! Our tenement maybecome our coffin, eh? Be it so. I prefer it anyway to Mahomet's; it mayindeed float in the air, but it won't be motionless as a milestone!"

[Illustration: TURN ON THE GAS. ]

Barbican, having made sure by personal inspection that everything was inperfect order, consulted his chronometer, which he had carefully set ashort time before with Chief Engineer Murphy's, who had been charged tofire off the Projectile. 

"Friends, " he said, "it is now twenty minutes past ten. At 10 46' 40'', precisely, Murphy will send the electric current into the gun-cotton. Wehave, therefore, twenty-six minutes more to remain on earth. "

"Twenty-six minutes and twenty seconds, " observed Captain M'Nicholl, whoalways aimed at mathematical precision. 

"Twenty-six minutes!" cried Ardan, gaily. "An age, a cycle, according tothe use you make of them. In twenty-six minutes how much can be done!The weightiest questions of warfare, politics, morality, can bediscussed, even decided, in twenty-six minutes. Twenty-six minutes wellspent are infinitely more valuable than twenty-six lifetimes wasted! Afew seconds even, employed by a Pascal, or a Newton, or a Barbican, orany other profoundly intellectual being

 Whose thoughts wander through eternity--"

"As mad as Marston! Every bit!" muttered the Captain, half audibly. 

"What do you conclude from this rigmarole of yours?" interruptedBarbican. 

"I conclude that we have twenty-six good minutes still left--"

"Only twenty-four minutes, ten seconds, " interrupted the Captain, watchin hand. 

"Well, twenty-four minutes, Captain, " Ardan went on; "now even intwenty-four minutes, I maintain--"

"Ardan, " interrupted Barbican, "after a very little while we shall haveplenty of time for philosophical disputations. Just now let us think ofsomething far more pressing. "

"More pressing! what do you mean? are we not fully prepared?"

"Yes, fully prepared, as far at least as we have been able to foresee. But we may still, I think, possibly increase the number of precautionsto be taken against the terrible shock that we are so soon toexperience. "

"What? Have you any doubts whatever of the effectiveness of yourbrilliant and extremely original idea? Don't you think that the layersof water, regularly disposed in easily-ruptured partitions beneath thisfloor, will afford us sufficient protection by their elasticity?"

"I hope so, indeed, my dear friend, but I am by no means confident. "

"He hopes! He is by no means confident! Listen to that, Mac! Pretty timeto tell us so! Let me out of here!"

"Too late!" observed the Captain quietly. "The trap-hole alone wouldtake ten or fifteen minutes to open. "

"Oh then I suppose I must make the best of it, " said Ardan, laughing. "All aboard, gentlemen! The train starts in twenty minutes!"

"In nineteen minutes and eighteen seconds, " said the Captain, who nevertook his eye off the chronometer. 

The three travellers looked at each other for a little while, duringwhich even Ardan appeared to become serious. After another carefulglance at the several objects lying around them, Barbican said, quietly:

"Everything is in its place, except ourselves. What we have now to do isto decide on the position we must take in order to neutralize the shockas much as possible. We must be particularly careful to guard against arush of blood to the head. "

"Correct!" said the Captain. 

"Suppose we stood on our heads, like the circus tumblers!" cried Ardan, ready to suit the action to the word. 

"Better than that, " said Barbican; "we can lie on our side. Keep clearlyin mind, dear friends, that at the instant of departure it makes verylittle difference to us whether we are inside the bullet or in front ofit. There is, no doubt, _some_ difference, " he added, seeing the greateyes made by his friends, "but it is exceedingly little. "

"Thank heaven for the _some_!" interrupted Ardan, fervently. 

"Don't you approve of my suggestion, Captain?" asked Barbican. 

"Certainly, " was the hasty reply. "That is to say, absolutely. Seventeen minutes twenty-seven seconds!"

"Mac isn't a human being at all!" cried Ardan, admiringly. "He is arepeating chronometer, horizontal escapement, London-made lever, capped, jewelled, --"

His companions let him run on while they busied themselves in makingtheir last arrangements, with the greatest coolness and most systematicmethod. In fact, I don't think of anything just now to compare them toexcept a couple of old travellers who, having to pass the night in thetrain, are trying to make themselves as comfortable as possible fortheir long journey. In your profound astonishment, you may naturally askme of what strange material can the hearts of these Americans be made, who can view without the slightest semblance of a flutter the approachof the most appalling dangers? In your curiosity I fully participate, but, I'm sorry to say, I can't gratify it. It is one of those thingsthat I could never find out. 

Three mattresses, thick and well wadded, spread on the disc forming thefalse bottom of the Projectile, were arranged in lines whose parallelismwas simply perfect. But Ardan would never think of occupying his untilthe very last moment. Walking up and down, with the restless nervousnessof a wild beast in a cage, he kept up a continuous fire of talk; at onemoment with his friends, at another with the dogs, addressing the latterby the euphonious and suggestive names of Diana and Satellite. 

[Illustration: DIANA AND SATELLITE. ]

"Ho, pets!" he would exclaim as he patted them gently, "you must notforget the noble part you are to play up there. You must be models ofcanine deportment. The eyes of the whole Selenitic world will be uponyou. You are the standard bearers of your race. From you they willreceive their first impression regarding its merits. Let it be afavorable one. Compel those Selenites to acknowledge, in spite ofthemselves, that the terrestrial race of canines is far superior to thatof the very best Moon dog among them!"

"Dogs in the Moon!" sneered M'Nicholl, "I like that!"

"Plenty of dogs!" cried Ardan, "and horses too, and cows, and sheep, andno end of chickens!"

"A hundred dollars to one there isn't a single chicken within the wholeLunar realm, not excluding even the invisible side!" cried the Captain, in an authoritative tone, but never taking his eye off the chronometer. 

"I take that bet, my son, " coolly replied Ardan, shaking the Captain'shand by way of ratifying the wager; "and this reminds me, by the way, Mac, that you have lost three bets already, to the pretty little tune ofsix thousand dollars. "

"And paid them, too!" cried the captain, monotonously; "ten, thirty-six, six!"

"Yes, and in a quarter of an hour you will have to pay nine thousanddollars more; four thousand because the Columbiad will not burst, andfive thousand because the Projectile will rise more than six miles fromthe Earth. "

"I have the money ready, " answered the Captain, touching his breechespocket. "When I lose I pay. Not sooner. Ten, thirty-eight, ten!"

"Captain, you're a man of method, if there ever was one. I think, however, that you made a mistake in your wagers. "

"How so?" asked the Captain listlessly, his eye still on the dial. 

"Because, by Jove, if you win there will be no more of you left to takethe money than there will be of Barbican to pay it!"

"Friend Ardan, " quietly observed Barbican, "my stakes are deposited inthe _Wall Street Bank_, of New York, with orders to pay them over to theCaptain's heirs, in case the Captain himself should fail to put in anappearance at the proper time. "

"Oh! you rhinoceroses, you pachyderms, you granite men!" cried Ardan, gasping with surprise; "you machines with iron heads, and iron hearts! Imay admire you, but I'm blessed if I understand you!"

"Ten, forty-two, ten!" repeated M'Nicholl, as mechanically as if it wasthe chronometer itself that spoke. 

"Four minutes and a half more, " said Barbican. 

"Oh! four and a half little minutes!" went on Ardan. "Only think of it!We are shut up in a bullet that lies in the chamber of a cannon ninehundred feet long. Underneath this bullet is piled a charge of 400thousand pounds of gun-cotton, equivalent to 1600 thousand pounds ofordinary gunpowder! And at this very instant our friend Murphy, chronometer in hand, eye on dial, finger on discharger, is counting thelast seconds and getting ready to launch us into the limitless regionsof planetary--"

"Ardan, dear friend, " interrupted Barbican, in a grave tone, "a seriousmoment is now at hand. Let us meet it with some interior recollection. Give me your hands, my dear friends. "

"Certainly, " said Ardan, with tears in his voice, and already at theother extreme of his apparent levity. 

The three brave men united in one last, silent, but warm and impulsivelyaffectionate pressure. 

"And now, great God, our Creator, protect us! In Thee we trust!" prayedBarbican, the others joining him with folded hands and bowed heads. 

"Ten, forty-six!" whispered the Captain, as he and Ardan quietly tooktheir places on the mattresses. 

Only forty seconds more!

Barbican rapidly extinguishes the gas and lies down beside hiscompanions. 

The deathlike silence now reigning in the Projectile is interrupted onlyby the sharp ticking of the chronometer as it beats the seconds. 

Suddenly, a dreadful shock is felt, and the Projectile, shot up by theinstantaneous development of 200, 000 millions of cubic feet of gas, isflying into space with inconceivable rapidity!

CHAPTER II. 

THE FIRST HALF HOUR. 

What had taken place within the Projectile? What effect had beenproduced by the frightful concussion? Had Barbican's ingenuity beenattended with a fortunate result? Had the shock been sufficientlydeadened by the springs, the buffers, the water layers, and thepartitions so readily ruptured? Had their combined effect succeeded incounteracting the tremendous violence of a velocity of 12, 000 yards asecond, actually sufficient to carry them from London to New York in sixminutes? These, and a hundred other questions of a similar nature wereasked that night by the millions who had been watching the explosionfrom the base of Stony Hill. Themselves they forgot altogether for themoment; they forgot everything in their absorbing anxiety regarding thefate of the daring travellers. Had one among them, our friend Marston, for instance, been favored with a glimpse at the interior of theprojectile, what would he have seen?

Nothing at all at first, on account of the darkness; except that thewalls had solidly resisted the frightful shock. Not a crack, nor a bend, nor a dent could be perceived; not even the slightest injury had theadmirably constructed piece of mechanical workmanship endured. It hadnot yielded an inch to the enormous pressure, and, far from melting andfalling back to earth, as had been so seriously apprehended, in showersof blazing aluminium, it was still as strong in every respect as it hadbeen on the very day that it left the Cold Spring Iron Works, glitteringlike a silver dollar. 

Of real damage there was actually none, and even the disorder into whichthings had been thrown in the interior by the violent shock wascomparatively slight. A few small objects lying around loose had beenfuriously hurled against the ceiling, but the others appeared not tohave suffered the slightest injury. The straps that fastened them upwere unfrayed, and the fixtures that held them down were uncracked. 

The partitions beneath the disc having been ruptured, and the waterhaving escaped, the false floor had been dashed with tremendous violenceagainst the bottom of the Projectile, and on this disc at this momentthree human bodies could be seen lying perfectly still and motionless. 

Were they three corpses? Had the Projectile suddenly become a greatmetallic coffin bearing its ghastly contents through the air with therapidity of a lightning flash?

In a very few minutes after the shock, one of the bodies stirred alittle, the arms moved, the eyes opened, the head rose and tried to lookaround; finally, with some difficulty, the body managed to get on itsknees. It was the Frenchman! He held his head tightly squeezed betweenhis hands for some time as if to keep it from splitting. Then he felthimself rapidly all over, cleared his throat with a vigorous "hem!"listened to the sound critically for an instant, and then said tohimself in a relieved tone, but in his native tongue:

"One man all right! Call the roll for the others!"

He tried to rise, but the effort was too great for his strength. He fellback again, his brain swimming, his eyes bursting, his head splitting. His state very much resembled that of a young man waking up in themorning after his first tremendous "spree. "

"Br--rr!" he muttered to himself, still talking French; "this reminds meof one of my wild nights long ago in the _Quartier Latin_, onlydecidedly more so!"

Lying quietly on his back for a while, he could soon feel that thecirculation of his blood, so suddenly and violently arrested by theterrific shock, was gradually recovering its regular flow; his heartgrew more normal in its action; his head became clearer, and the painless distracting. 

"Time to call that roll, " he at last exclaimed in a voice with somepretensions to firmness; "Barbican! MacNicholl!"

He listens anxiously for a reply. None comes. A snow-wrapt grave atmidnight is not more silent. In vain does he try to catch even thefaintest sound of breathing, though he listens intently enough to hearthe beating of their hearts; but he hears only his own. 

"Call that roll again!" he mutters in a voice far less assured thanbefore; "Barbican! MacNicholl!"

The same fearful unearthly stillness. 

"The thing is getting decidedly monotonous!" he exclaimed, stillspeaking French. Then rapidly recovering his consciousness as the fullhorror of the situation began to break on his mind, he went on mutteringaudibly: "Have they really hopped the twig? Bah! Fudge! what has notbeen able to knock the life out of one little Frenchman can't havekilled two Americans! They're all right! But first and foremost, let usenlighten the situation!"

So saying, he contrived without much difficulty to get on his feet. Balancing himself then for a moment, he began groping about for the gas. But he stopped suddenly. 

"Hold on a minute!" he cried; "before lighting this match, let us see ifthe gas has been escaping. Setting fire to a mixture of air and hydrogenwould make a pretty how-do-you-do! Such an explosion would infalliblyburst the Projectile, which so far seems all right, though I'm blest ifI can tell whether we're moving or not. "

He began sniffing and smelling to discover if possible the odor ofescaped gas. He could not detect the slightest sign of anything of thekind. This gave him great courage. He knew of course that his senseswere not yet in good order, still he thought he might trust them so faras to be certain that the gas had not escaped and that consequently allthe other receptacles were uninjured. 

At the touch of the match, the gas burst into light and burned with asteady flame. Ardan immediately bent anxiously over the prostrate bodiesof his friends. They lay on each other like inert masses, M'Nichollstretched across Barbican. 

Ardan first lifted up the Captain, laid him on the sofa, opened hisclenched hands, rubbed them, and slapped the palms vigorously. Then hewent all over the body carefully, kneading it, rubbing it, and gentlypatting it. In such intelligent efforts to restore suspendedcirculation, he seemed perfectly at home, and after a few minutes hispatience was rewarded by seeing the Captain's pallid face graduallyrecover its natural color, and by feeling his heart gradually beat witha firm pulsation. 

At last M'Nicholl opened his eyes, stared at Ardan for an instant, pressed his hand, looked around searchingly and anxiously, and at lastwhispered in a faint voice:

"How's Barbican?"

"Barbican is all right, Captain, " answered Ardan quietly, but stillspeaking French. "I'll attend to him in a jiffy. He had to wait for histurn. I began with you because you were the top man. We'll see in aminute what we can do for dear old Barby (_ce cher Barbican_)!"

In less than thirty seconds more, the Captain not only was able to situp himself, but he even insisted on helping Ardan to lift Barbican, and deposit him gently on the sofa. 

[Illustration: HELPED ARDAN TO LIFT BARBICAN. ]

The poor President had evidently suffered more from the concussion thaneither of his companions. As they took off his coat they were at firstterribly shocked at the sight of a great patch of blood staining hisshirt bosom, but they were inexpressibly relieved at finding that itproceeded from a slight contusion of the shoulder, little more than skindeep. 

Every approved operation that Ardan had performed for the Captain, bothnow repeated for Barbican, but for a long time with nothing like afavorable result. 

Ardan at first tried to encourage the Captain by whispers of a livelyand hopeful nature, but not yet understanding why M'Nicholl did notdeign to make a single reply, he grew reserved by degrees and at lastwould not speak a single word. He worked at Barbican, however, just asbefore. 

M'Nicholl interrupted himself every moment to lay his ear on the breastof the unconscious man. At first he had shaken his head quitedespondingly, but by degrees he found himself more and more encouragedto persist. 

"He breathes!" he whispered at last. 

"Yes, he has been breathing for some time, " replied Ardan, quietly, still unconsciously speaking French. "A little more rubbing and pullingand pounding will make him as spry as a young grasshopper. "

They worked at him, in fact, so vigorously, intelligently andperseveringly, that, after what they considered a long hour's labor, they had the delight of seeing the pale face assume a healthy hue, theinert limbs give signs of returning animation, and the breathing becomestrong and regular. 

At last, Barbican suddenly opened his eyes, started into an uprightposition on the sofa, took his friends by the hands, and, in a voiceshowing complete consciousness, demanded eagerly:

"Ardan, M'Nicholl, are we moving?"

His friends looked at each other, a little amused, but more perplexed. In their anxiety regarding their own and their friend's recovery, theyhad never thought of asking such a question. His words recalled them atonce to a full sense of their situation. 

"Moving? Blessed if I can tell!" said Ardan, still speaking French. 

"We may be lying fifty feet deep in a Florida marsh, for all I know, "observed M'Nicholl. 

"Or, likely as not, in the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico, " suggestedArdan, still in French. 

"Suppose we find out, " observed Barbican, jumping up to try, his voiceas clear and his step as firm as ever. 

But trying is one thing, and finding out another. Having no means ofcomparing themselves with external objects, they could not possibly tellwhether they were moving, or at an absolute stand-still. Though ourEarth is whirling us continually around the Sun at the tremendous speedof 500 miles a minute, its inhabitants are totally unconscious of theslightest motion. It was the same with our travellers. Through their ownpersonal consciousness they could tell absolutely nothing. Were theyshooting through space like a meteor? They could not tell. Had theyfallen back and buried themselves deep in the sandy soil of Florida, or, still more likely, hundreds of fathoms deep beneath the waters of theGulf of Mexico? They could not form the slightest idea. 

Listening evidently could do no good. The profound silence provednothing. The padded walls of the Projectile were too thick to admit anysound whether of wind, water, or human beings. Barbican, however, wassoon struck forcibly by one circumstance. He felt himself to be veryuncomfortably warm, and his friend's faces looked very hot and flushed. Hastily removing the cover that protected the thermometer, he closelyinspected it, and in an instant uttered a joyous exclamation. 

"Hurrah!" he cried. "We're moving! There's no mistake about it. Thethermometer marks 113 degrees Fahrenheit. Such a stifling heat could notcome from the gas. It comes from the exterior walls of our projectile, which atmospheric friction must have made almost red hot. But this heatmust soon diminish, because we are already far beyond the regions of theatmosphere, so that instead of smothering we shall be shortly in dangerof freezing. "

"What?" asked Ardan, much bewildered. "We are already far beyond thelimits of the terrestrial atmosphere! Why do you think so?"

M'Nicholl was still too much flustered to venture a word. 

"If you want me to answer your question satisfactorily, my dear Ardan, "replied Barbican, with a quiet smile, "you will have the kindness to putyour questions in English. "

"What do you mean, Barbican!" asked Ardan, hardly believing his ears. 

"Hurrah!" cried M'Nicholl, in the tone of a man who has suddenly made awelcome but most unexpected discovery. 

"I don't know exactly how it is with the Captain, " continued Barbican, with the utmost tranquillity, "but for my part the study of thelanguages never was my strong point, and though I always admired theFrench, and even understood it pretty well, I never could converse in itwithout giving myself more trouble than I always find it convenient toassume. "

"You don't mean to say that I have been talking French to you all thistime!" cried Ardan, horror-stricken. 

"The most elegant French I ever heard, backed by the purest Parisianaccent, " replied Barbican, highly amused; "Don't you think so, Captain?"he added, turning to M'Nicholl, whose countenance still showed the mostcomical traces of bewilderment. 

"Well, I swan to man!" cried the Captain, who always swore a littlewhen his feelings got beyond his control; "Ardan, the Boss has got therig on both of us this time, but rough as it is on you it is a darnedsight more so on me. Be hanged if I did not think you were talkingEnglish the whole time, and I put the whole blame for not understandingyou on the disordered state of my brain!"

Ardan only stared, and scratched his head, but Barbican actually--no, not _laughed_, that serene nature could not _laugh_. His cast-ironfeatures puckered into a smile of the richest drollery, and his eyestwinkled with the wickedest fun; but no undignified giggle escaped theportal of those majestic lips. 

"It _sounds_ like French, I'd say to myself, " continued the Captain, "but I _know_ it's English, and by and by, when this whirring goes outof my head, I shall easily understand it. "

Ardan now looked as if he was beginning to see the joke. 

"The most puzzling part of the thing to me, " went on M'Nicholl, givinghis experience with the utmost gravity, "was why English sounded so like_French_. If it was simple incomprehensible gibberish, I could readilyblame the state of my ears for it. But the idea that my bothered earscould turn a mere confused, muzzled, buzzing reverberation into a sweet, harmonious, articulate, though unintelligible, human language, made mesure that I was fast becoming crazy, if I was not so already. "

"Ha! ha! ha!" roared Ardan, laughing till the tears came. "Now Iunderstand why the poor Captain made me no reply all the time, andlooked at me with such a hapless woe-begone expression of countenance. The fact is, Barbican, that shock was too much both for M'Nicholl andmyself. You are the only man among us whose head is fire-proof, blast-proof, and powder-proof. I really believe a burglar would havegreater difficulty in blowing your head-piece open than in bursting oneof those famous American safes your papers make such a fuss about. Awonderful head, the Boss's, isn't it M'Nicholl?"

"Yes, " said the Captain, as slowly as if every word were a gem of theprofoundest thought, "the Boss has a fearful and a wonderful head!"

"But now to business!" cried the versatile Ardan, "Why do you think, Barbican, that we are at present beyond the limits of the terrestrialatmosphere?"

"For a very simple reason, " said Barbican, pointing to the chronometer;"it is now more than seven minutes after 11. We must, therefore, havebeen in motion more than twenty minutes. Consequently, unless ourinitial velocity has been very much diminished by the friction, we musthave long before this completely cleared the fifty miles of atmosphereenveloping the earth. "

"Correct, " said the Captain, cool as a cucumber, because once more incomplete possession of all his senses; "but how much do you think theinitial velocity to have been diminished by the friction?"

"By a third, according to my calculations, " replied Barbican, "which Ithink are right. Supposing our initial velocity, therefore, to have been12, 000 yards per second, by the time we quitted the atmosphere it musthave been reduced to 8, 000 yards per second. At that rate, we must havegone by this time--"

"Then, Mac, my boy, you've lost your two bets!" interrupted Ardan. "TheColumbiad has not burst, four thousand dollars; the Projectile has risenat least six miles, five thousand dollars; come, Captain, bleed!"

"Let me first be sure we're right, " said the Captain, quietly. "I don'tdeny, you see, that friend Barbican's arguments are quite right, and, therefore, that I have lost my nine thousand dollars. But there isanother view of the case possible, which might annul the bet. "

"What other view?" asked Barbican, quickly. 

"Suppose, " said the Captain, very drily, "that the powder had notcaught, and that we were still lying quietly at the bottom of theColumbiad!"

"By Jove!" laughed Ardan, "there's an idea truly worthy of my ownnondescript brain! We must surely have changed heads during thatconcussion! No matter, there is some sense left in us yet. Come now, Captain, consider a little, if you can. Weren't we both half-killed bythe shock? Didn't I rescue you from certain death with these two hands?Don't you see Barbican's shoulder still bleeding by the violence of theshock?"

"Correct, friend Michael, correct in every particular, " replied theCaptain, "But one little question. "

"Out with it!"

"Friend Michael, you say we're moving?"

"Yes. "

"In consequence of the explosion?"

"Certainly!"

"Which must have been attended with a tremendous report?"

"Of course!"

"Did you hear that report, friend Michael?"

"N--o, " replied Ardan, a little disconcerted at the question. "Well, no;I can't say that I did hear any report. "

"Did you, friend Barbican?"

"No, " replied Barbican, promptly. "I heard no report whatever. "

His answer was ready, but his look was quite as disconcerted as Ardan's. 

"Well, friend Barbican and friend Michael, " said the Captain, very drilyas he leered wickedly at both, "put that and that together and tell mewhat you make of it. "

"It's a fact!" exclaimed Barbican, puzzled, but not bewildered. "Why didwe not hear that report?"

"Too hard for me, " said Ardan. "Give it up!"

The three friends gazed at each other for a while with countenancesexpressive of much perplexity. Barbican appeared to be the leastself-possessed of the party. It was a complete turning of the tablesfrom the state of things a few moments ago. The problem was certainlysimple enough, but for that very reason the more inexplicable. If theywere moving the explosion must have taken place; but if the explosionhad taken place, why had they not heard the report?

Barbican's decision soon put an end to speculation. 

"Conjecture being useless, " said he, "let us have recourse to facts. First, let us see where we are. Drop the deadlights!"

This operation, simple enough in itself and being immediately undertakenby the whole three, was easily accomplished. The screws fastening thebolts by which the external plates of the deadlights were solidlypinned, readily yielded to the pressure of a powerful wrench. The boltswere then driven outwards, and the holes which had contained them wereimmediately filled with solid plugs of India rubber. The bolts oncedriven out, the external plates dropped by their own weight, turning ona hinge, like portholes, and the strong plate-glass forming the lightimmediately showed itself. A second light exactly similar, could becleared away on the opposite side of the Projectile; a third, on thesummit of the dome, and a fourth, in the centre of the bottom. Thetravellers could thus take observations in four different directions, having an opportunity of gazing at the firmament through the sidelights, and at the Earth and the Moon through the lower and the upperlights of the Projectile. 

Ardan and the Captain had commenced examining the floor, previous tooperating on the bottom light. But Barbican was the first to get throughhis work at one of the side lights, and M'Nicholl and Ardan soon heardhim shouting:

"No, my friends!" he exclaimed, in tones of decided emotion; "we have_not_ fallen back to Earth; nor are we lying in the bottom of the Gulfof Mexico. No! We are driving through space! Look at the starsglittering all around! Brighter, but smaller than we have ever seen thembefore! We have left the Earth and the Earth's atmosphere far behindus!"

"Hurrah! Hurrah!" cried M'Nicholl and Ardan, feeling as if electricshocks were coursing through them, though they could see nothing, looking down from the side light, but the blackest and profoundestobscurity. 

Barbican soon convinced them that this pitchy blackness proved that theywere not, and could not be, reposing on the surface of the Earth, whereat that moment, everything was illuminated by the bright moonlight; alsothat they had passed the different layers of the atmosphere, where thediffused and refracted rays would be also sure to reveal themselvesthrough the lights of the Projectile. They were, therefore, certainlymoving. No doubt was longer possible. 

"It's a fact!" observed the Captain, now quite convinced. "Then I'velost!"

"Let me congratulate you!" cried Ardan, shaking his hand. 

"Here is your nine thousand dollars, friend Barbican, " said the Captain, taking a roll of greenbacks of high denomination out of hisporte-monnaie. 

"You want a receipt, don't you, Captain?" asked Barbican, counting themoney. 

"Yes, I should prefer one, if it is not too much trouble, " answeredM'Nicholl; "it saves dispute. "

Coolly and mechanically, as if seated at his desk, in his office, Barbican opened his memorandum book, wrote a receipt on a blank page, dated, signed and sealed it, and then handed it to the Captain, who putit away carefully among the other papers of his portfolio. 

Ardan, taking off his hat, made a profound bow to both of hiscompanions, without saying a word. Such formality, under suchextraordinary circumstances, actually paralysed his tongue for themoment. No wonder that he could not understand those Americans. EvenIndians would have surprised him by an exhibition of such stoicism. After indulging in silent wonder for a minute or two, he joined hiscompanions who were now busy looking out at the starry sky. 

"Where is the Moon?" he asked. "How is it that we cannot see her?"

"The fact of our not seeing her, " answered Barbican, "gives me verygreat satisfaction in one respect; it shows that our Projectile was shotso rapidly out of the Columbiad that it had not time to be impressedwith the slightest revolving motion--for us a most fortunate matter. Asfor the rest--see, there is _Cassiopeia_, a little to the left is_Andromeda_, further down is the great square of _Pegasus_, and to thesouthwest _Fomalhaut_ can be easily seen swallowing the _Cascade_. Allthis shows we are looking west and consequently cannot see the Moon, which is approaching the zenith from the east. Open the other light--Buthold on! Look here! What can this be?"

The three travellers, looking westwardly in the direction of _Alpherat_, saw a brilliant object rapidly approaching them. At a distance, itlooked like a dusky moon, but the side turned towards the Earth blazedwith a bright light, which every moment became more intense. It cametowards them with prodigious velocity and, what was worse, its path layso directly in the course of the Projectile that a collision seemedinevitable. As it moved onward, from west to east, they could easily seethat it rotated on its axis, like all heavenly bodies; in fact, itsomewhat resembled a Moon on a small scale, describing its regular orbitaround the Earth. 

"_Mille tonerres!_" cried Ardan, greatly excited; "what is that? Can itbe another projectile?" M'Nicholl, wiping his spectacles, looked again, but made no reply. Barbican looked puzzled and uneasy. A collision wasquite possible, and the results, even if not frightful in the highestdegree, must be extremely deplorable. The Projectile, if not absolutelydashed to pieces, would be diverted from its own course and draggedalong in a new one in obedience to the irresistible attraction of thisfurious asteroid. 

Barbican fully realized that either alternative involved the completefailure of their enterprise. He kept perfectly still, but, never losinghis presence of mind, he curiously looked on the approaching object witha gladiatorial eye, as if seeking to detect some unguarded point in histerrible adversary. The Captain was equally silent; he looked like a manwho had fully made up his mind to regard every possible contingency withthe most stoical indifference. But Ardan's tongue, more fluent thanever, rattled away incessantly. 

"Look! Look!" he exclaimed, in tones so perfectly expressive of hisrapidly alternating feelings as to render the medium of words totallyunnecessary. "How rapidly the cursed thing is nearing us! Plague takeyour ugly phiz, the more I know you, the less I like you! Every secondshe doubles in size! Come, Madame Projectile! Stir your stumps a littlelivelier, old lady! He's making for you as straight as an arrow! We'regoing right in his way, or he's coming in ours, I can't say which. It'staking a mean advantage of us either way. As for ourselves--what can_we_ do! Before such a monster as that we are as helpless as three menin a little skiff shooting down the rapids to the brink of Niagara! Nowfor it!"

Nearer and nearer it came, but without noise, without sparks, without atrail, though its lower part was brighter than ever. Its path lyinglittle above them, the nearer it came the more the collision seemedinevitable. Imagine yourself caught on a narrow railroad bridge atmidnight with an express train approaching at full speed, its reflectoralready dazzling you with its light, the roar of the cars rattling inyour ears, and you may conceive the feelings of the travellers. At lastit was so near that the travellers started back in affright, with eyesshut, hair on end, and fully believing their last hour had come. Eventhen Ardan had his _mot_. 

"We can neither switch off, down brakes, nor clap on more steam! Hardluck!"

In an instant all was over. The velocity of the Projectile wasfortunately great enough to carry it barely above the dangerous point;and in a flash the terrible bolide disappeared rapidly several hundredyards beneath the affrighted travellers. 

"Good bye! And may you never come back!" cried Ardan, hardly able tobreathe. "It's perfectly outrageous! Not room enough in infinite spaceto let an unpretending bullet like ours move about a little withoutincurring the risk of being run over by such a monster as that! What isit anyhow? Do you know, Barbican?"

"I do, " was the reply. 

"Of course, you do! What is it that he don't know? Eh, Captain?"

"It is a simple bolide, but one of such enormous dimensions that theEarth's attraction has made it a satellite. "

"What!" cried Ardan, "another satellite besides the Moon? I hope thereare no more of them!"

"They are pretty numerous, " replied Barbican; "but they are so small andthey move with such enormous velocity that they are very seldom seen. Petit, the Director of the Observatory of Toulouse, who these last yearshas devoted much time and care to the observation of bolides, hascalculated that the very one we have just encountered moves with suchastonishing swiftness that it accomplishes its revolution around theEarth in about 3 hours and 20 minutes!"

"Whew!" whistled Ardan, "where should we be now if it had struck us!"

"You don't mean to say, Barbican, " observed M'Nicholl, "that Petit hasseen this very one?"

"So it appears, " replied Barbican. 

"And do all astronomers admit its existence?" asked the Captain. 

"Well, some of them have their doubts, " replied Barbican--

"If the unbelievers had been here a minute or two ago, " interruptedArdan, "they would never express a doubt again. "

"If Petit's calculation is right, " continued Barbican, "I can even forma very good idea as to our distance from the Earth. "

"It seems to me Barbican can do what he pleases here or elsewhere, "observed Ardan to the Captain. 

"Let us see, Barbican, " asked M'Nicholl; "where has Petit's calculationplaced us?"

"The bolide's distance being known, " replied Barbican, "at the moment wemet it we were a little more than 5 thousand miles from the Earth'ssurface. "

"Five thousand miles already!" cried Ardan, "why we have only juststarted!"

"Let us see about that, " quietly observed the Captain, looking at hischronometer, and calculating with his pencil. "It is now 10 minutes pasteleven; we have therefore been 23 minutes on the road. Supposing ourinitial velocity of 10, 000 yards or nearly seven miles a second, to havebeen kept up, we should by this time be about 9, 000 miles from theEarth; but by allowing for friction and gravity, we can hardly be morethan 5, 500 miles. Yes, friend Barbican, Petit does not seem to be verywrong in his calculations. "

But Barbican hardly heard the observation. He had not yet answered thepuzzling question that had already presented itself to them forsolution; and until he had done so he could not attend to anything else. 

"That's all very well and good, Captain, " he replied in an absorbedmanner, "but we have not yet been able to account for a very strangephenomenon. Why didn't we hear the report?"

No one replying, the conversation came to a stand-still, and Barbican, still absorbed in his reflections, began clearing the second light ofits external shutter. In a few minutes the plate dropped, and the Moonbeams, flowing in, filled the interior of the Projectile with herbrilliant light. The Captain immediately put out the gas, from motivesof economy as well as because its glare somewhat interfered with theobservation of the interplanetary regions. 

The Lunar disc struck the travellers as glittering with a splendor andpurity of light that they had never witnessed before. The beams, nolonger strained through the misty atmosphere of the Earth, streamedcopiously in through the glass and coated the interior walls of theProjectile with a brilliant silvery plating. The intense blackness ofthe sky enhanced the dazzling radiance of the Moon. Even the starsblazed with a new and unequalled splendor, and, in the absence of arefracting atmosphere, they flamed as bright in the close proximity ofthe Moon as in any other part of the sky. 

You can easily conceive the interest with which these bold travellersgazed on the Starry Queen, the final object of their daring journey. Shewas now insensibly approaching the zenith, the mathematical point whichshe was to reach four days later. They presented their telescopes, buther mountains, plains, craters and general characteristics hardly cameout a particle more sharply than if they had been viewed from the Earth. Still, her light, unobstructed by air or vapor, shimmered with a lustreactually transplendent. Her disc shone like a mirror of polishedplatins. The travellers remained for some time absorbed in the silentcontemplation of the glorious scene. 

"How they're gazing at her this very moment from Stony Hill!" said theCaptain at last to break the silence. 

"By Jove!" cried Ardan; "It's true! Captain you're right. We were nearforgetting our dear old Mother, the Earth. What ungrateful children! Letme feast my eyes once more on the blessed old creature!"

Barbican, to satisfy his companion's desire, immediately commenced toclear away the disc which covered the floor of the Projectile andprevented them from getting at the lower light. This disc, though it hadbeen dashed to the bottom of the Projectile with great violence, wasstill as strong as ever, and, being made in compartments fastened byscrews, to dismount it was no easy matter. Barbican, however, with thehelp of the others, soon had it all taken apart, and put away the piecescarefully, to serve again in case of need. A round hole about a foot anda half in diameter appeared, bored through the floor of the Projectile. It was closed by a circular pane of plate-glass, which was about sixinches thick, fastened by a ring of copper. Below, on the outside, theglass was protected by an aluminium plate, kept in its place by strongbolts and nuts. The latter being unscrewed, the bolts slipped out bytheir own weight, the shutter fell, and a new communication wasestablished between the interior and the exterior. 

Ardan knelt down, applied his eye to the light, and tried to look out. At first everything was quite dark and gloomy. 

"I see no Earth!" he exclaimed at last. 

"Don't you see a fine ribbon of light?" asked Barbican, "right beneathus? A thin, pale, silvery crescent?"

"Of course I do. Can that be the Earth?"

"_Terra Mater_ herself, friend Ardan. That fine fillet of light, nowhardly visible on her eastern border, will disappear altogether as soonas the Moon is full. Then, lying as she will be between the Sun and theMoon, her illuminated face will be turned away from us altogether, andfor several days she will be involved in impenetrable darkness. "

"And that's the Earth!" repeated Ardan, hardly able to believe his eyes, as he continued to gaze on the slight thread of silvery white light, somewhat resembling the appearance of the "Young May Moon" a few hoursafter sunset. 

Barbican's explanation was quite correct. The Earth, in reference to theMoon or the Projectile, was in her last phase, or octant as it iscalled, and showed a sharp-horned, attenuated, but brilliant crescentstrongly relieved by the black background of the sky. Its light, rendered a little bluish by the density of the atmospheric envelopes, was not quite as brilliant as the Moon's. But the Earth's crescent, compared to the Lunar, was of dimensions much greater, being fully 4times larger. You would have called it a vast, beautiful, but very thinbow extending over the sky. A few points, brighter than the rest, particularly in its concave part, revealed the presence of loftymountains, probably the Himalayahs. But they disappeared every now andthen under thick vapory spots, which are never seen on the Lunar disc. They were the thin concentric cloud rings that surround the terrestrialsphere. 

However, the travellers' eyes were soon able to trace the rest of theEarth's surface not only with facility, but even to follow its outlinewith absolute delight. This was in consequence of two differentphenomena, one of which they could easily account for; but the otherthey could not explain without Barbican's assistance. No wonder. Neverbefore had mortal eye beheld such a sight. Let us take each in its turn. 

We all know that the ashy light by means of which we perceive what iscalled the _Old Moon in the Young Moon's arms_ is due to theEarth-shine, or the reflection of the solar rays from the Earth to theMoon. By a phenomenon exactly identical, the travellers could now seethat portion of the Earth's surface which was unillumined by the Sun;only, as, in consequence of the different areas of the respectivesurfaces, the _Earthlight_ is thirteen times more intense than the_Moonlight_, the dark portion of the Earth's disc appeared considerablymore adumbrated than the _Old Moon_. 

But the other phenomenon had burst on them so suddenly that theyuttered a cry loud enough to wake up Barbican from his problem. They haddiscovered a true starry ring! Around the Earth's outline, a ring, ofinternally well defined thickness, but somewhat hazy on the outside, could easily be traced by its surpassing brilliancy. Neither the_Pleiades_, the _Northern Crown_, the _Magellanic Clouds_ nor the greatnebulas of _Orion_, or of _Argo_, no sparkling cluster, no corona, nogroup of glittering star-dust that the travellers had ever gazed at, presented such attractions as the diamond ring they now saw encompassingthe Earth, just as the brass meridian encompasses a terrestrial globe. The resplendency of its light enchanted them, its pure softnessdelighted them, its perfect regularity astonished them. What was it?they asked Barbican. In a few words he explained it. The beautifulluminous ring was simply an optical illusion, produced by the refractionof the terrestrial atmosphere. All the stars in the neighborhood of theEarth, and many actually behind it, had their rays refracted, diffused, radiated, and finally converged to a focus by the atmosphere, as if by adouble convex lens of gigantic power. 

Whilst the travellers were profoundly absorbed in the contemplation ofthis wondrous sight, a sparkling shower of shooting stars suddenlyflashed over the Earth's dark surface, making it for a moment as brightas the external ring. Hundreds of bolides, catching fire from contactwith the atmosphere, streaked the darkness with their luminous trails, overspreading it occasionally with sheets of electric flame. The Earthwas just then in her perihelion, and we all know that the months ofNovember and December are so highly favorable to the appearance of thesemeteoric showers that at the famous display of November, 1866, astronomers counted as many as 8, 000 between midnight and four o'clock. 

Barbican explained the whole matter in a few words. The Earth, whennearest to the sun, occasionally plunges into a group of countlessmeteors travelling like comets, in eccentric orbits around the grandcentre of our solar system. The atmosphere strikes the rapidly movingbodies with such violence as to set them on fire and render them visibleto us in beautiful star showers. But to this simple explanation of thefamous November meteors Ardan would not listen. He preferred believingthat Mother Earth, feeling that her three daring children were stilllooking at her, though five thousand miles away, shot off her bestrocket-signals to show that she still thought of them and would neverlet them out of her watchful eye. 

For hours they continued to gaze with indescribable interest on thefaintly luminous mass so easily distinguishable among the other heavenlybodies. Jupiter blazed on their right, Mars flashed his ruddy light ontheir left, Saturn with his rings looked like a round white spot on ablack wall; even Venus they could see almost directly under them, easilyrecognizing her by her soft, sweetly scintillant light. But no planet orconstellation possessed any attraction for the travellers, as long astheir eyes could trace that shadowy, crescent-edged, diamond-girdled, meteor-furrowed spheroid, the theatre of their existence, the home of somany undying desires, the mysterious cradle of their race!

Meantime the Projectile cleaved its way upwards, rapidly, unswervingly, though with a gradually retarding velocity. As the Earth sensibly grewdarker, and the travellers' eyes grew dimmer, an irresistible somnolencyslowly stole over their weary frames. The extraordinary excitement theyhad gone through during the last four or five hours, was naturallyfollowed by a profound reaction. 

"Captain, you're nodding, " said Ardan at last, after a longer silencethan usual; "the fact is, Barbican is the only wake man of the party, because he is puzzling over his problem. _Dum vivimus vivamus_! As weare asleep let us be asleep!"

So saying he threw himself on the mattress, and his companionsimmediately followed the example. 

They had been lying hardly a quarter of an hour, when Barbican startedup with a cry so loud and sudden as instantly to awaken his companions. 

The bright moonlight showed them the President sitting up in his bed, his eye blazing, his arms waving, as he shouted in a tone reminding themof the day they had found him in St. Helena wood. 

"_Eureka!_ I've got it! I know it!"

"What have you got?" cried Ardan, bouncing up and seizing him by theright hand. 

"What do you know?" cried the Captain, stretching over and seizing himby the left. 

"The reason why we did not hear the report!"

"Well, why did not we hear it!" asked both rapidly in the same breath. 

"Because we were shot up 30 times faster than sound can travel!"

CHAPTER III. 

THEY MAKE THEMSELVES AT HOME AND FEEL QUITE COMFORTABLE. 

This curious explanation given, and its soundness immediatelyrecognized, the three friends were soon fast wrapped in the arms ofMorpheus. Where in fact could they have found a spot more favorable forundisturbed repose? On land, where the dwellings, whether in populouscity or lonely country, continually experience every shock that thrillsthe Earth's crust? At sea, where between waves or winds or paddles orscrews or machinery, everything is tremor, quiver or jar? In the air, where the balloon is incessantly twirling, oscillating, on account ofthe ever varying strata of different densities, and even occasionallythreatening to spill you out? The Projectile alone, floating grandlythrough the absolute void, in the midst of the profoundest silence, could offer to its inmates the possibility of enjoying slumber the mostcomplete, repose the most profound. 

There is no telling how long our three daring travellers would havecontinued to enjoy their sleep, if it had not been suddenly terminatedby an unexpected noise about seven o'clock in the morning of December2nd, eight hours after their departure. 

This noise was most decidedly of barking. 

"The dogs! It's the dogs!" cried Ardan, springing up at a bound. 

"They must be hungry!" observed the Captain. 

"We have forgotten the poor creatures!" cried Barbican. 

"Where can they have gone to?" asked Ardan, looking for them in alldirections. 

At last they found one of them hiding under the sofa. Thunderstruck andperfectly bewildered by the terrible shock, the poor animal had keptclose in its hiding place, never daring to utter a sound, until at lastthe pangs of hunger had proved too strong even for its fright. 

They readily recognized the amiable Diana, but they could not allure theshivering, whining animal from her retreat without a good deal ofcoaxing. Ardan talked to her in his most honeyed and seductive accents, while trying to pull her out by the neck. 

"Come out to your friends, charming Diana, " he went on, "come out, mybeauty, destined for a lofty niche in the temple of canine glory! Comeout, worthy scion of a race deemed worthy by the Egyptians to be acompanion of the great god, Anubis, by the Christians, to be a friend ofthe good Saint Roch! Come out and partake of a glory before which thestars of Montargis and of St. Bernard shall henceforward pale theirineffectual fire! Come out, my lady, and let me think o'er the countlessmultiplication of thy species, so that, while sailing through theinterplanetary spaces, we may indulge in endless flights of fancy onthe number and variety of thy descendants who will ere long render theSelenitic atmosphere vocal with canine ululation!"

[Illustration: MORE HUNGRY THAN EITHER. ]

Diana, whether flattered or not, allowed herself to be dragged out, still uttering short, plaintive whines. A hasty examination satisfyingher friends that she was more frightened than hurt and more hungry thaneither, they continued their search for her companion. 

"Satellite! Satellite! Step this way, sir!" cried Ardan. But noSatellite appeared and, what was worse, not the slightest sound indicatedhis presence. At last he was discovered on a ledge in the upper portionof the Projectile, whither he had been shot by the terrible concussion. Less fortunate than his female companion, the poor fellow had received afrightful shock and his life was evidently in great danger. 

"The acclimatization project looks shaky!" cried Ardan, handing theanimal very carefully and tenderly to the others. Poor Satellite's headhad been crushed against the roof, but, though recovery seemed hopeless, they laid the body on a soft cushion, and soon had the satisfaction ofhearing it give vent to a slight sigh. 

"Good!" said Ardan, "while there's life there's hope. You must not dieyet, old boy. We shall nurse you. We know our duty and shall not shirkthe responsibility. I should rather lose the right arm off my body thanbe the cause of your death, poor Satellite! Try a little water?"

The suffering creature swallowed the cool draught with evident avidity, then sunk into a deep slumber. 

The friends, sitting around and having nothing more to do, looked out ofthe window and began once more to watch the Earth and the Moon withgreat attention. The glittering crescent of the Earth was evidentlynarrower than it had been the preceding evening, but its volume wasstill enormous when compared to the Lunar crescent, which was nowrapidly assuming the proportions of a perfect circle. 

"By Jove, " suddenly exclaimed Ardan, "why didn't we start at the momentof Full Earth?--that is when our globe and the Sun were in opposition?"

"Why _should_ we!" growled M'Nicholl. 

"Because in that case we should be now looking at the great continentsand the great seas in a new light--the former glittering under the solarrays, the latter darker and somewhat shaded, as we see them on certainmaps. How I should like to get a glimpse at those poles of the Earth, onwhich the eye of man has never yet lighted!"

"True, " replied Barbican, "but if the Earth had been Full, the Moonwould have been New, that is to say, invisible to us on account of solarirradiation. Of the two it is much preferable to be able to keep thepoint of arrival in view rather than the point of departure. "

"You're right, Barbican, " observed the Captain; "besides, once we're inthe Moon, the long Lunar night will give us plenty of time to gaze ourfull at yonder great celestial body, our former home, and stillswarming with our fellow beings. "

"Our fellow beings no longer, dear boy!" cried Ardan. "We inhabit a newworld peopled by ourselves alone, the Projectile! Ardan is Barbican'sfellow being, and Barbican M'Nicholl's. Beyond us, outside us, humanityends, and we are now the only inhabitants of this microcosm, and so weshall continue till the moment when we become Selenites pure andsimple. "

"Which shall be in about eighty-eight hours from now, " replied theCaptain. 

"Which is as much as to say--?" asked Ardan. 

"That it is half past eight, " replied M'Nicholl. 

"My regular hour for breakfast, " exclaimed Ardan, "and I don't see theshadow of a reason for changing it now. "

The proposition was most acceptable, especially to the Captain, whofrequently boasted that, whether on land or water, on mountain summitsor in the depths of mines, he had never missed a meal in all his life. In escaping from the Earth, our travellers felt that they had by nomeans escaped from the laws of humanity, and their stomachs now calledon them lustily to fill the aching void. Ardan, as a Frenchman, claimedthe post of chief cook, an important office, but his companions yieldedit with alacrity. The gas furnished the requisite heat, and theprovision chest supplied the materials for their first repast. Theycommenced with three plates of excellent soup, extracted from _Liebig's_precious tablets, prepared from the best beef that ever roamed over thePampas. 

To this succeeded several tenderloin beefsteaks, which, though reducedto a small bulk by the hydraulic engines of the _American DessicatingCompany_, were pronounced to be fully as tender, juicy and savory as ifthey had just left the gridiron of a London Club House. Ardan even sworethat they were "bleeding, " and the others were too busy to contradicthim. 

Preserved vegetables of various kinds, "fresher than nature, " accordingto Ardan, gave an agreeable variety to the entertainment, and these werefollowed by several cups of magnificent tea, unanimously allowed to bethe best they had ever tasted. It was an odoriferous young hysongathered that very year, and presented to the Emperor of Russia by thefamous rebel chief Yakub Kushbegi, and of which Alexander had expressedhimself as very happy in being able to send a few boxes to his friend, the distinguished President of the Baltimore Gun Club. To crown themeal, Ardan unearthed an exquisite bottle of _Chambertin_, and, inglasses sparkling with the richest juice of the _Cote d'or, _ thetravellers drank to the speedy union of the Earth and her satellite. 

And, as if his work among the generous vineyards of Burgundy had notbeen enough to show his interest in the matter, even the Sun wished tojoin the party. Precisely at this moment, the Projectile beginning toleave the conical shadow cast by the Earth, the rays of the gloriousKing of Day struck its lower surface, not obliquely, butperpendicularly, on account of the slight obliquity of the Moon's orbitwith that of the Earth. 

[Illustration: TO THE UNION OF THE EARTH AND HER SATELLITE. ]

"The Sun, " cried Ardan. 

"Of course, " said Barbican, looking at his watch, "he's exactly up totime. "

"How is it that we see him only through the bottom light of ourProjectile?" asked Ardan. 

"A moment's reflection must tell you, " replied Barbican, "that when westarted last night, the Sun was almost directly below us; therefore, aswe continue to move in a straight line, he must still be in our rear. "

"That's clear enough, " said the Captain, "but another consideration, I'mfree to say, rather perplexes me. Since our Earth lies between us andthe Sun, why don't we see the sunlight forming a great ring around theglobe, in other words, instead of the full Sun that we plainly see therebelow, why do we not witness an annular eclipse?"

"Your cool, clear head has not yet quite recovered from the shock, mydear Captain;" replied Barbican, with a smile. "For two reasons we can'tsee the ring eclipse: on account of the angle the Moon's orbit makeswith the Earth, the three bodies are not at present in a direct line;we, therefore, see the Sun a little to the west of the earth; secondly, even if they were exactly in a straight line, we should still be farfrom the point whence an annular eclipse would be visible. "

"That's true, " said Ardan; "the cone of the Earth's shadow must extendfar beyond the Moon. "

"Nearly four times as far, " said Barbican; "still, as the Moon's orbitand the Earth's do not lie in exactly the same plane, a Lunar eclipsecan occur only when the nodes coincide with the period of the Full Moon, which is generally twice, never more than three times in a year. If wehad started about four days before the occurrence of a Lunar eclipse, weshould travel all the time in the dark. This would have been obnoxiousfor many reasons. "

"One, for instance?"

"An evident one is that, though at the present moment we are movingthrough a vacuum, our Projectile, steeped in the solar rays, revels intheir light and heat. Hence great saving in gas, an important point inour household economy. "

In effect, the solar rays, tempered by no genial medium like ouratmosphere, soon began to glare and glow with such intensity, that theProjectile under their influence, felt like suddenly passing from winterto summer. Between the Moon overhead and the Sun beneath it was actuallyinundated with fiery rays. 

"One feels good here, " cried the Captain, rubbing his hands. 

"A little too good, " cried Ardan. "It's already like a hot-house. With alittle garden clay, I could raise you a splendid crop of peas intwenty-four hours. I hope in heaven the walls of our Projectile won'tmelt like wax!"

"Don't be alarmed, dear friend, " observed Barbican, quietly. "TheProjectile has seen the worst as far as heat is concerned; when tearingthrough the atmosphere, she endured a temperature with which what she isliable to at present stands no comparison. In fact, I should not beastonished if, in the eyes of our friends at Stony Hill, it hadresembled for a moment or two a red-hot meteor. "

"Poor Marston must have looked on us as roasted alive!" observed Ardan. 

"What could have saved us I'm sure I can't tell, " replied Barbican. "Imust acknowledge that against such a danger, I had made no provisionwhatever. "

"I knew all about it, " said the Captain, "and on the strength of it, Ihad laid my fifth wager. "

"Probably, " laughed Ardan, "there was not time enough to get grilled in:I have heard of men who dipped their fingers into molten iron withimpunity. "

Whilst Ardan and the Captain were arguing the point, Barbican beganbusying himself in making everything as comfortable as if, instead of afour days' journey, one of four years was contemplated. The reader, nodoubt, remembers that the floor of the Projectile contained about 50square feet; that the chamber was nine feet high; that space waseconomized as much as possible, nothing but the most absolutenecessities being admitted, of which each was kept strictly in its ownplace; therefore, the travellers had room enough to move around in witha certain liberty. The thick glass window in the floor was quite assolid as any other part of it; but the Sun, streaming in from below, lit up the Projectile strangely, producing some very singular andstartling effects of light appearing to come in by the wrong way. 

The first thing now to be done was to see after the water cask and theprovision chest. They were not injured in the slightest respect, thanksto the means taken to counteract the shock. The provisions were in goodcondition, and abundant enough to supply the travellers for a wholeyear--Barbican having taken care to be on the safe side, in case theProjectile might land in a deserted region of the Moon. As for the waterand the other liquors, the travellers had enough only for two months. Relying on the latest observations of astronomers, they had convincedthemselves that the Moon's atmosphere, being heavy, dense and thick inthe deep valleys, springs and streams of water could hardly fail to showthemselves there. During the journey, therefore, and for the first yearof their installation on the Lunar continent, the daring travellerswould be pretty safe from all danger of hunger or thirst. 

The air supply proved also to be quite satisfactory. The _Reiset_ and_Regnault_ apparatus for producing oxygen contained a supply of chlorateof potash sufficient for two months. As the productive material had tobe maintained at a temperature of between 7 and 8 hundred degrees Fahr. , a steady consumption of gas was required; but here too the supply farexceeded the demand. The whole arrangement worked charmingly, requiringonly an odd glance now and then. The high temperature changing thechlorate into a chloride, the oxygen was disengaged gradually butabundantly, every eighteen pounds of chlorate of potash, furnishing theseven pounds of oxygen necessary for the daily consumption of theinmates of the Projectile. 

Still--as the reader need hardly be reminded--it was not sufficient torenew the exhausted oxygen; the complete purification of the airrequired the absorption of the carbonic acid, exhaled from the lungs. For nearly 12 hours the atmosphere had been gradually becoming more andmore charged with this deleterious gas, produced from the combustion ofthe blood by the inspired oxygen. The Captain soon saw this, by noticingwith what difficulty Diana was panting. She even appeared to besmothering, for the carbonic acid--as in the famous _Grotto del Cane_ onthe banks of Lake Agnano, near Naples--was collecting like water on thefloor of the Projectile, on account of its great specific gravity. Italready threatened the poor dog's life, though not yet endangering thatof her masters. The Captain, seeing this state of things, hastily laidon the floor one or two cups containing caustic potash and water, andstirred the mixture gently: this substance, having a powerful affinityfor carbonic acid, greedily absorbed it, and after a few moments the airwas completely purified. 

The others had begun by this time to check off the state of theinstruments. The thermometer and the barometer were all right, exceptone self-recorder of which the glass had got broken. An excellentaneroid barometer, taken safe and sound out of its wadded box, wascarefully hung on a hook in the wall. It marked not only the pressure ofthe air in the Projectile, but also the quantity of the watery vaporthat it contained. The needle, oscillating a little beyond thirty, pointed pretty steadily at "_Fair_. "

The mariner's compasses were also found to be quite free from injury. Itis, of course, hardly necessary to say that the needles pointed in noparticular direction, the magnetic pole of the Earth being unable atsuch a distance to exercise any appreciable influence on them. But whenbrought to the Moon, it was expected that these compasses, once moresubjected to the influence of the current, would attest certainphenomena. In any case, it would be interesting to verify if the Earthand her satellite were similarly affected by the magnetic forces. 

A hypsometer, or instrument for ascertaining the heights of the Lunarmountains by the barometric pressure under which water boils, a sextantto measure the altitude of the Sun, a theodolite for taking horizontalor vertical angles, telescopes, of indispensable necessity when thetravellers should approach the Moon, --all these instruments, carefullyexamined, were found to be still in perfect working order, notwithstanding the violence of the terrible shock at the start. 

As to the picks, spades, and other tools that had been carefullyselected by the Captain; also the bags of various kinds of grain andthe bundles of various kinds of shrubs, which Ardan expected totransplant to the Lunar plains--they were all still safe in their placesaround the upper corners of the Projectile. 

Some other articles were also up there which evidently possessed greatinterest for the Frenchman. What they were nobody else seemed to know, and he seemed to be in no hurry to tell. Every now and then, he wouldclimb up, by means of iron pins fixed in the wall, to inspect histreasures; whatever they were, he arranged them and rearranged them withevident pleasure, and as he rapidly passed a careful hand throughcertain mysterious boxes, he joyfully sang in the falsest possible offalse voices the lively piece from _Nicolo_:

 _Le temps est beau, la route est belle, La promenade est un plaisir_. 

 {The day is bright, our hearts are light. } {How sweet to rove through wood and dell. }

or the well known air in _Mignon_:

 _Legères hirondelles, Oiseaux bénis de Dieu, Ouvrez-ouvrez vos ailes, Envolez-vous! adieu!_

 {Farewell, happy Swallows, farewell!} {With summer for ever to dwell} {Ye leave our northern strand} {For the genial southern land} {Balmy with breezes bland. } {Return? Ah, who can tell?} {Farewell, happy Swallows, farewell!}

Barbican was much gratified to find that his rockets and other fireworkshad not received the least injury. He relied upon them for theperformance of a very important service as soon as the Projectile, having passed the point of neutral attraction between the Earth and theMoon, would begin to fall with accelerated velocity towards the Lunarsurface. This descent, though--thanks to the respective volumes of theattracting bodies--six times less rapid than it would have been on thesurface of the Earth, would still be violent enough to dash theProjectile into a thousand pieces. But Barbican confidently expected bymeans of his powerful rockets to offer very considerable obstruction tothe violence of this fall, if not to counteract its terrible effectsaltogether. 

The inspection having thus given general satisfaction, the travellersonce more set themselves to watching external space through the lightsin the sides and the floor of the Projectile. 

Everything still appeared to be in the same state as before. Nothing waschanged. The vast arch of the celestial dome glittered with stars, andconstellations blazed with a light clear and pure enough to throw anastronomer into an ecstasy of admiration. Below them shone the Sun, likethe mouth of a white-hot furnace, his dazzling disc defined sharply onthe pitch-black back-ground of the sky. Above them the Moon, reflectingback his rays from her glowing surface, appeared to stand motionless inthe midst of the starry host. 

A little to the east of the Sun, they could see a pretty large darkspot, like a hole in the sky, the broad silver fringe on one edge fadingoff into a faint glimmering mist on the other--it was the Earth. Hereand there in all directions, nebulous masses gleamed like large flakesof star dust, in which, from nadir to zenith, the eye could tracewithout a break that vast ring of impalpable star powder, the famous_Milky Way_, through the midst of which the beams of our glorious Sunstruggle with the dusky pallor of a star of only the fourth magnitude. 

Our observers were never weary of gazing on this magnificent and novelspectacle, of the grandeur of which, it is hardly necessary to say, nodescription can give an adequate idea. What profound reflections itsuggested to their understandings! What vivid emotions it enkindled intheir imaginations! Barbican, desirous of commenting the story of thejourney while still influenced by these inspiring impressions, notedcarefully hour by hour every fact that signalized the beginning of hisenterprise. He wrote out his notes very carefully and systematically, his round full hand, as business-like as ever, never betraying theslightest emotion. 

The Captain was quite as busy, but in a different way. Pulling out histablets, he reviewed his calculations regarding the motion ofprojectiles, their velocities, ranges and paths, their retardations andtheir accelerations, jotting down the figures with a rapidity wonderfulto behold. Ardan neither wrote nor calculated, but kept up an incessantfire of small talk, now with Barbican, who hardly ever answered him, now with M'Nicholl, who never heard him, occasionally with Diana, whonever understood him, but oftenest with himself, because, as he said, heliked not only to talk to a sensible man but also to hear what asensible man had to say. He never stood still for a moment, but kept"bobbing around" with the effervescent briskness of a bee, at one timeroosting at the top of the ladder, at another peering through the floorlight, now to the right, then to the left, always humming scraps fromthe _Opera Bouffe_, but never changing the air. In the small space whichwas then a whole world to the travellers, he represented to the life theanimation and loquacity of the French, and I need hardly say he playedhis part to perfection. 

The eventful day, or, to speak more correctly, the space of twelve hourswhich with us forms a day, ended for our travellers with an abundantsupper, exquisitely cooked. It was highly enjoyed. 

No incident had yet occurred of a nature calculated to shake theirconfidence. Apprehending none therefore, full of hope rather and alreadycertain of success, they were soon lost in a peaceful slumber, whilstthe Projectile, moving rapidly, though with a velocity uniformlyretarding, still cleaved its way through the pathless regions of theempyrean. 

CHAPTER IV. 

A CHAPTER FOR THE CORNELL GIRLS. 

No incident worth recording occurred during the night, if night indeedit could be called. In reality there was now no night or even day in theProjectile, or rather, strictly speaking, it was always _night_ on theupper end of the bullet, and always _day_ on the lower. Whenever, therefore, the words _night_ and _day_ occur in our story, the readerwill readily understand them as referring to those spaces of time thatare so called in our Earthly almanacs, and were so measured by thetravellers' chronometers. 

The repose of our friends must indeed have been undisturbed, if absolutefreedom from sound or jar of any kind could secure tranquillity. Inspite of its immense velocity, the Projectile still seemed to beperfectly motionless. Not the slightest sign of movement could bedetected. Change of locality, though ever so rapid, can never revealitself to our senses when it takes place in a vacuum, or when theenveloping atmosphere travels at the same rate as the moving body. Though we are incessantly whirled around the Sun at the rate of aboutseventy thousand miles an hour, which of us is conscious of theslightest motion? In such a case, as far as sensation is concerned, motion and repose are absolutely identical. Neither has any effect oneway or another on a material body. Is such a body in motion? It remainsin motion until some obstacle stops it. Is it at rest? It remains atrest until some superior force compels it to change its position. Thisindifference of bodies to motion or rest is what physicists call_inertia_. 

Barbican and his companions, therefore, shut up in the Projectile, couldreadily imagine themselves to be completely motionless. Had they beenoutside, the effect would have been precisely the same. No rush of air, no jarring sensation would betray the slightest movement. But for thesight of the Moon gradually growing larger above them, and of the Earthgradually growing smaller beneath them, they could safely swear thatthey were fast anchored in an ocean of deathlike immobility. 

Towards the morning of next day (December 3), they were awakened by ajoyful, but quite unexpected sound. 

"Cock-a-doodle! doo!" accompanied by a decided flapping of wings. 

The Frenchman, on his feet in one instant and on the top of the ladderin another, attempted to shut the lid of a half open box, speaking in anangry but suppressed voice:

"Stop this hullabaloo, won't you? Do you want me to fail in my greatcombination!"

"Hello?" cried Barbican and M'Nicholl, starting up and rubbing theireyes. 

"What noise was that?" asked Barbican. 

"Seems to me I heard the crowing of a cock, " observed the Captain. 

"I never thought your ears could be so easily deceived, Captain, " criedArdan, quickly, "Let us try it again, " and, flapping his ribs with hisarms, he gave vent to a crow so loud and natural that the lustiestchanticleer that ever saluted the orb of day might be proud of it. 

The Captain roared right out, and even Barbican snickered, but as theysaw that their companion evidently wanted to conceal something, theyimmediately assumed straight faces and pretended to think no more aboutthe matter. 

"Barbican, " said Ardan, coming down the ladder and evidently anxious tochange the conversation, "have you any idea of what I was thinking aboutall night?"

"Not the slightest. "

"I was thinking of the promptness of the reply you received last yearfrom the authorities of Cambridge University, when you asked them aboutthe feasibility of sending a bullet to the Moon. You know very well bythis time what a perfect ignoramus I am in Mathematics. I own I havebeen often puzzled when thinking on what grounds they could form such apositive opinion, in a case where I am certain that the calculation mustbe an exceedingly delicate matter. "

"The feasibility, you mean to say, " replied Barbican, "not exactly ofsending a bullet to the Moon, but of sending it to the neutral pointbetween the Earth and the Moon, which lies at about nine-tenths of thejourney, where the two attractions counteract each other. Because thatpoint once passed, the Projectile would reach the Moon's surface byvirtue of its own weight. "

"Well, reaching that neutral point be it;" replied Ardan, "but, oncemore, I should like to know how they have been able to come at thenecessary initial velocity of 12, 000 yards a second?"

"Nothing simpler, " answered Barbican. 

"Could you have done it yourself?" asked the Frenchman. 

"Without the slightest difficulty. The Captain and myself could havereadily solved the problem, only the reply from the University saved usthe trouble. "

"Well, Barbican, dear boy, " observed Ardan, "all I've got to say is, youmight chop the head off my body, beginning with my feet, before youcould make me go through such a calculation. "

"Simply because you don't understand Algebra, " replied Barbican, quietly. 

"Oh! that's all very well!" cried Ardan, with an ironical smile. "Yougreat _x+y_ men think you settle everything by uttering the word_Algebra_!"

"Ardan, " asked Barbican, "do you think people could beat iron without ahammer, or turn up furrows without a plough?"

"Hardly. "

"Well, Algebra is an instrument or utensil just as much as a hammer or aplough, and a very good instrument too if you know how to make use ofit. "

"You're in earnest?"

"Quite so. "

"And you can handle the instrument right before my eyes?"

"Certainly, if it interests you so much. "

"You can show me how they got at the initial velocity of ourProjectile?"

"With the greatest pleasure. By taking into proper consideration all theelements of the problem, viz. : (1) the distance between the centres ofthe Earth and the Moon, (2) the Earth's radius, (3) its volume, and (4)the Moon's volume, I can easily calculate what must be the initialvelocity, and that too by a very simple formula. "

"Let us have the formula. "

"In one moment; only I can't give you the curve really described by theProjectile as it moves between the Earth and the Moon; this is to beobtained by allowing for their combined movement around the Sun. I willconsider the Earth and the Sun to be motionless, that being sufficientfor our present purpose. "

"Why so?"

"Because to give you that exact curve would be to solve a point in the'Problem of the Three Bodies, ' which Integral Calculus has not yetreached. "

"What!" cried Ardan, in a mocking tone, "is there really anything thatMathematics can't do?"

"Yes, " said Barbican, "there is still a great deal that Mathematicscan't even attempt. "

"So far, so good;" resumed Ardan. "Now then what is this IntegralCalculus of yours?"

"It is a branch of Mathematics that has for its object the summation ofa certain infinite series of indefinitely small terms: but for thesolution of which, we must generally know the function of which a givenfunction is the differential coefficient. In other words, " continuedBarbican, "in it we return from the differential coefficient, to thefunction from which it was deduced. "

"Clear as mud!" cried Ardan, with a hearty laugh. 

"Now then, let me have a bit of paper and a pencil, " added Barbican, "and in half an hour you shall have your formula; meantime you caneasily find something interesting to do. "

In a few seconds Barbican was profoundly absorbed in his problem, whileM'Nicholl was watching out of the window, and Ardan was busily employedin preparing breakfast. 

The morning meal was not quite ready, when Barbican, raising his head, showed Ardan a page covered with algebraic signs at the end of whichstood the following formula:--

 1 2 2 r m' r r--- (v' - v ) = gr {--- - 1 + --- (----- - -----) } 2 x m d - x d - r

"Which means?" asked Ardan. 

"It means, " said the Captain, now taking part in the discussion, "thatthe half of _v_ prime squared minus _v_ squared equals _gr_ multipliedby _r_ over _x_ minus one plus _m_ prime over _m_ multiplied by _r_ over_d_ minus _x_ minus _r_ over _d_ minus _r_ ... That is--"

"That is, " interrupted Ardan, in a roar of laughter, "_x_ stradlegs on_y_, making for _z_ and jumping over _p_! Do _you_ mean to say youunderstand the terrible jargon, Captain?"

"Nothing is clearer, Ardan. "

"You too, Captain! Then of course I must give in gracefully, and declarethat the sun at noon-day is not more palpably evident than the sense ofBarbican's formula. "

"You asked for Algebra, you know, " observed Barbican. 

"Rock crystal is nothing to it!"

"The fact is, Barbican, " said the Captain, who had been looking over thepaper, "you have worked the thing out very well. You have the integralequation of the living forces, and I have no doubt it will give us theresult sought for. "

"Yes, but I should like to understand it, you know, " cried Ardan: "Iwould give ten years of the Captain's life to understand it!"

"Listen then, " said Barbican. "Half of _v_ prime squared less _v_squared, is the formula giving us the half variation of the livingforce. "

"Mac pretends he understands all that!"

"You need not be a _Solomon_ to do it, " said the Captain. "All thesesigns that you appear to consider so cabalistic form a language theclearest, the shortest, and the most logical, for all those who can readit. "

"You pretend, Captain, that, by means of these hieroglyphics, far moreincomprehensible than the sacred Ibis of the Egyptians, you candiscover the velocity at which the Projectile should start?"

"Most undoubtedly, " replied the Captain, "and, by the same formula I caneven tell you the rate of our velocity at any particular point of ourjourney. "

"You can?"

"I can. "

"Then you're just as deep a one as our President. "

"No, Ardan; not at all. The really difficult part of the questionBarbican has done. That is, to make out such an equation as takes intoaccount all the conditions of the problem. After that, it's a simpleaffair of Arithmetic, requiring only a knowledge of the four rules towork it out. "

"Very simple, " observed Ardan, who always got muddled at any kind of adifficult sum in addition. 

"Captain, " said Barbican, "_you_ could have found the formulas too, ifyou tried. "

"I don't know about that, " was the Captain's reply, "but I do know thatthis formula is wonderfully come at. "

"Now, Ardan, listen a moment, " said Barbican, "and you will see whatsense there is in all these letters. "

"I listen, " sighed Ardan with the resignation of a martyr. 

"_d_ is the distance from the centre of the Earth to the centre of theMoon, for it is from the centres that we must calculate theattractions. "

"That I comprehend. "

"_r_ is the radius of the Earth. "

"That I comprehend. "

"_m_ is the mass or volume of the Earth; _m_ prime that of the Moon. Wemust take the mass of the two attracting bodies into consideration, since attraction is in direct proportion to their masses. "

"That I comprehend. "

"_g_ is the gravity or the velocity acquired at the end of a second by abody falling towards the centre of the Earth. Clear?"

"That I comprehend. "

"Now I represent by _x_ the varying distance that separates theProjectile from the centre of the Earth, and by _v_ prime its velocityat that distance. "

"That I comprehend. "

"Finally, _v_ is its velocity when quitting our atmosphere. "

"Yes, " chimed in the Captain, "it is for this point, you see, that thevelocity had to be calculated, because we know already that the initialvelocity is exactly the three halves of the velocity when the Projectilequits the atmosphere. "

"That I don't comprehend, " cried the Frenchman, energetically. 

"It's simple enough, however, " said Barbican. 

"Not so simple as a simpleton, " replied the Frenchman. 

"The Captain merely means, " said Barbican, "that at the instant theProjectile quitted the terrestrial atmosphere it had already lost athird of its initial velocity. "

"So much as a third?"

"Yes, by friction against the atmospheric layers: the quicker itsmotion, the greater resistance it encountered. "

"That of course I admit, but your _v_ squared and your _v_ prime squaredrattle in my head like nails in a box!"

"The usual effect of Algebra on one who is a stranger to it; to finishyou, our next step is to express numerically the value of these severalsymbols. Now some of them are already known, and some are to becalculated. "

"Hand the latter over to me, " said the Captain. 

"First, " continued Barbican: "_r_, the Earth's radius is, in thelatitude of Florida, about 3, 921 miles. _d_, the distance from thecentre of the Earth to the centre of the Moon is 56 terrestrial radii, which the Captain calculates to be... ?"

"To be, " cried M'Nicholl working rapidly with his pencil, "219, 572miles, the moment the Moon is in her _perigee_, or nearest point to theEarth. "

"Very well, " continued Barbican. "Now _m_ prime over _m_, that is theratio of the Moon's mass to that of the Earth is about the 1/81. _g_gravity being at Florida about 32-1/4 feet, of course _g_ x _r_ mustbe--how much, Captain?"

"38, 465 miles, " replied M'Nicholl. 

"Now then?" asked Ardan. 

[Illustration: MY HEAD IS SPLITTING WITH IT. ]

"Now then, " replied Barbican, "the expression having numerical values, Iam trying to find _v_, that is to say, the initial velocity which theProjectile must possess in order to reach the point where the twoattractions neutralize each other. Here the velocity being null, _v_prime becomes zero, and _x_ the required distance of this neutral pointmust be represented by the nine-tenths of _d_, the distance between thetwo centres. "

"I have a vague kind of idea that it must be so, " said Ardan. 

"I shall, therefore, have the following result;" continued Barbican, figuring up; "_x_ being nine-tenths of _d_, and _v_ prime being zero, myformula becomes:--

 2 10 r 1 10 r rv = gr {1 - ----- - ---- (----- - -----) } d 81 d d - r "

The Captain read it off rapidly. 

"Right! that's correct!" he cried. 

"You think so?" asked Barbican. 

"As true as Euclid!" exclaimed M'Nicholl. 

"Wonderful fellows, " murmured the Frenchman, smiling with admiration. 

"You understand now, Ardan, don't you?" asked Barbican. 

"Don't I though?" exclaimed Ardan, "why my head is splitting with it!"

"Therefore, " continued Barbican, " 2 10 r 1 10 r r2v = 2gr {1 - ----- - ---- (----- - -----) } d 81 d d - r "

"And now, " exclaimed M'Nicholl, sharpening his pencil; "in order toobtain the velocity of the Projectile when leaving the atmosphere, wehave only to make a slight calculation. "

The Captain, who before clerking on a Mississippi steamboat had beenprofessor of Mathematics in an Indiana university, felt quite at home atthe work. He rained figures from his pencil with a velocity that wouldhave made Marston stare. Page after page was filled with hismultiplications and divisions, while Barbican looked quietly on, andArdan impatiently stroked his head and ears to keep down a risinghead-ache. 

"Well?" at last asked Barbican, seeing the Captain stop and throw asomewhat hasty glance over his work. 

"Well, " answered M'Nicholl slowly but confidently, "the calculation ismade, I think correctly; and _v_, that is, the velocity of theProjectile when quitting the atmosphere, sufficient to carry it to theneutral point, should be at least ... "

"How much?" asked Barbican, eagerly. 

"Should be at least 11, 972 yards the first second. "

"What!" cried Barbican, jumping off his seat. "How much did you say?"

"11, 972 yards the first second it quits the atmosphere. "

"Oh, malediction!" cried Barbican, with a gesture of terrible despair. 

"What's the matter?" asked Ardan, very much surprised. 

"Enough is the matter!" answered Barbican excitedly. "This velocityhaving been diminished by a third, our initial velocity should have beenat least ... "

"17, 958 yards the first second!" cried M'Nicholl, rapidly flourishinghis pencil. 

"But the Cambridge Observatory having declared that 12, 000 yards thefirst second were sufficient, our Projectile started with no greatervelocity!"

"Well?" asked M'Nicholl. 

"Well, such a velocity will never do!"

"How??" }"How!!" } cried the Captain and Ardan in one voice. 

"We can never reach the neutral point!"

"Thunder and lightning"

"Fire and Fury!"

"We can't get even halfway!"

"Heaven and Earth!"

"_Mille noms d'un boulet!_" cried Ardan, wildly gesticulating. 

"And we shall fall back to the Earth!"

"Oh!"

"Ah!"

They could say no more. This fearful revelation took them like a strokeof apoplexy. 

CHAPTER V. 

THE COLDS OF SPACE. 

How could they imagine that the Observatory men had committed such ablunder? Barbican would not believe it possible. He made the Captain goover his calculation again and again; but no flaw was to be found in it. He himself carefully examined it, figure after figure, but he could findnothing wrong. They both took up the formula and subjected it to thestrongest tests; but it was invulnerable. There was no denying the fact. The Cambridge professors had undoubtedly blundered in saying that aninitial velocity of 12, 000 yards a second would be enough to carry themto the neutral point. A velocity of nearly 18, 000 yards would be thevery lowest required for such a purpose. They had simply forgotten toallow a third for friction. 

The three friends kept profound silence for some time. Breakfast now wasthe last thing thought of. Barbican, with teeth grating, fingersclutching, and eye-brows closely contracting, gazed grimly through thewindow. The Captain, as a last resource, once more examined hiscalculations, earnestly hoping to find a figure wrong. Ardan couldneither sit, stand nor lie still for a second, though he tried allthree. His silence, of course, did not last long. 

"Ha! ha! ha!" he laughed bitterly. "Precious scientific men! Villainousold hombogues! The whole set not worth a straw! I hope to gracious, since we must fall, that we shall drop down plumb on CambridgeObservatory, and not leave a single one of the miserable old women, called professors, alive in the premises!"

A certain expression in Ardan's angry exclamation had struck the Captainlike a shot, and set his temples throbbing violently. 

"_Must_ fall!" he exclaimed, starting up suddenly. "Let us see aboutthat! It is now seven o'clock in the morning. We must have, therefore, been at least thirty-two hours on the road, and more than half of ourpassage is already made. If we are going to fall at all, we must befalling now! I'm certain we're not, but, Barbican, you have to find itout!"

Barbican caught the idea like lightning, and, seizing a compass, hebegan through the floor window to measure the visual angle of thedistant Earth. The apparent immobility of the Projectile allowed him todo this with great exactness. Then laying aside the instrument, andwiping off the thick drops of sweat that bedewed his forehead, he beganjotting down some figures on a piece of paper. The Captain looked onwith keen interest; he knew very well that Barbican was calculatingtheir distance from the Earth by the apparent measure of the terrestrialdiameter, and he eyed him anxiously. 

Pretty soon his friends saw a color stealing into Barbican's pale face, and a triumphant light glittering in his eye. 

"No, my brave boys!" he exclaimed at last throwing down his pencil, "we're not falling! Far from it, we are at present more than 150thousand miles from the Earth!"

"Hurrah!" }"Bravo!" } cried M'Nicholl and Ardan, in a breath. 

"We have passed the point where we should have stopped if we had had nomore initial velocity than the Cambridge men allowed us!"

"Hurrah! hurrah!"

"Bravo, Bravissimo!"

"And we're still going up!"

"Glory, glory, hallelujah!" sang M'Nicholl, in the highest excitement. 

"_Vive ce cher Barbican!_" cried Ardan, bursting into French as usualwhenever his feelings had the better of him. 

"Of course we're marching on!" continued M'Nicholl, "and I know thereason why, too. Those 400, 000 pounds of gun-cotton gave us greaterinitial velocity than we had expected!"

"You're right, Captain!" added Barbican; "besides, you must not forgetthat, by getting rid of the water, the Projectile was relieved ofconsiderable weight!"

"Correct again!" cried the Captain. "I had not thought of that!"

"Therefore, my brave boys, " continued Barbican, with some excitement;"away with melancholy! We're all right!"

"Yes; everything is lovely and the goose hangs high!" cried the Captain, who on grand occasions was not above a little slang. 

"Talking of goose reminds me of breakfast, " cried Ardan; "I assure you, my fright has not taken away my appetite!"

"Yes, " continued Barbican. "Captain, you're quite right. Our initialvelocity very fortunately was much greater than what our Cambridgefriends had calculated for us!"

"Hang our Cambridge friends and their calculations!" cried Ardan, withsome asperity; "as usual with your scientific men they've more brassthan brains! If we're not now bed-fellows with the oysters in the Gulfof Mexico, no thanks to our kind Cambridge friends. But talking ofoysters, let me remind you again that breakfast is ready. "

The meal was a most joyous one. They ate much, they talked more, butthey laughed most. The little incident of Algebra had certainly verymuch enlivened the situation. 

"Now, my boys, " Ardan went on, "all things thus turning out quitecomfortable, I would just ask you why we should not succeed? We arefairly started. No breakers ahead that I can see. No rock on our road. It is freer than the ships on the raging ocean, aye, freer than theballoons in the blustering air. But the ship arrives at her destination;the balloon, borne on the wings of the wind, rises to as high analtitude as can be endured; why then should not our Projectile reach theMoon?"

"It _will_ reach the Moon!" nodded Barbican. 

"We shall reach the Moon or know for what!" cried M'Nicholl, enthusiastically. 

"The great American nation must not be disappointed!" continued Ardan. "They are the only people on Earth capable of originating such anenterprise! They are the only people capable of producing a Barbican!"

"Hurrah!" cried M'Nicholl. 

"That point settled, " continued the Frenchman, "another question comesup to which I have not yet called your attention. When we get to theMoon, what shall we do there? How are we going to amuse ourselves? I'mafraid our life there will be awfully slow!"

His companions emphatically disclaimed the possibility of such a thing. 

"You may deny it, but I know better, and knowing better, I have laid inmy stores accordingly. You have but to choose. I possess a variedassortment. Chess, draughts, cards, dominoes--everything in fact, but abilliard table?"

"What!" exclaimed Barbican; "cumbered yourself with such gimcracks?"

"Such gimcracks are not only good to amuse ourselves with, but areeminently calculated also to win us the friendship of the Selenites. "

"Friend Michael, " said Barbican, "if the Moon is inhabited at all, herinhabitants must have appeared several thousand years before the adventof Man on our Earth, for there seems to be very little doubt that Lunais considerably older than Terra in her present state. Therefore, Selenites, if their brain is organized like our own, must have by thistime invented all that we are possessed of, and even much which we arestill to invent in the course of ages. The probability is that, insteadof their learning from us, we shall have much to learn from them. "

"What!" asked Ardan, "you think they have artists like Phidias, MichaelAngelo and Raphael?"

"Certainly. "

"And poets like Homer, Virgil, Dante, Shakspeare, Göthe and Hugo?"

"Not a doubt of it. "

"And philosophers like Plato, Aristotle, Descartes, Bacon, Kant?"

"Why not?"

"And scientists like Euclid, Archimedes, Copernicus, Newton, Pascal?"

"I should think so. "

"And famous actors, and singers, and composers, and--and photographers?"

"I could almost swear to it. "

"Then, dear boy, since they have gone ahead as far as we and evenfarther, why have not those great Selenites tried to start acommunication with the Earth? Why have they not fired a projectile fromthe regions lunar to the regions terrestrial?"

"Who says they have not done so?" asked Barbican, coolly. 

"Attempting such a communication, " observed the Captain, "wouldcertainly be much easier for them than for us, principally for tworeasons. First, attraction on the Moon's surface being six times lessthan on the Earth's, a projectile could be sent off more rapidly;second, because, as this projectile need be sent only 24 instead of 240thousand miles, they could do it with a quantity of powder ten timesless than what we should require for the same purpose. "

"Then I ask again, " said the Frenchman; "why haven't they made such anattempt?"

"And I reply again, " answered Barbican. "How do you know that they havenot made such an attempt?"

"Made it? When?"

"Thousands of years ago, before the invention of writing, before eventhe appearance of Man on the Earth. "

"But the bullet?" asked Ardan, triumphantly; "Where's the bullet?Produce the bullet!"

"Friend Michael, " answered Barbican, with a quiet smile, "you appear toforget that the 5/6 of the surface of our Earth is water. 5 to 1, therefore, that the bullet is more likely to be lying this moment at thebottom of the Atlantic or the Pacific than anywhere else on the surfaceof our globe. Besides, it may have sunk into some weak point of thesurface, at the early epoch when the crust of the Earth had not acquiredsufficient solidity. "

"Captain, " said Ardan, turning with a smile to M'Nicholl; "no use intrying to catch Barby; slippery as an eel, he has an answer foreverything. Still I have a theory on the subject myself, which I thinkit no harm to ventilate. It is this: The Selenites have never sent usany projectile at all, simply because they had no gunpowder: being olderand wiser than we, they were never such fools as to invent any. --But, what's that? Diana howling for her breakfast! Good! Like genuinescientific men, while squabbling over nonsense, we let the poor animalsdie of hunger. Excuse us, Diana; it is not the first time the littlesuffer from the senseless disputes of the great. "

So saying he laid before the animal a very toothsome pie, andcontemplated with evident pleasure her very successful efforts towardsits hasty and complete disappearance. 

"Looking at Diana, " he went on, "makes me almost wish we had made aNoah's Ark of our Projectile by introducing into it a pair of all thedomestic animals!"

"Not room enough, " observed Barbican. 

"No doubt, " remarked the Captain, "the ox, the cow, the horse, the goat, all the ruminating animals would be very useful in the Lunar continent. But we couldn't turn our Projectile into a stable, you know. "

"Still, we might have made room for a pair of poor little donkeys!"observed Ardan; "how I love the poor beasts. Fellow feeling, you willsay. No doubt, but there really is no animal I pity more. They are themost ill-treated brutes in all creation. They are not only banged duringlife; they are banged worse after death!"

"Hey! How do you make that out?" asked his companions, surprised. 

"Because we make their skins into drum heads!" replied Ardan, with anair, as if answering a conundrum. 

Barbican and M'Nicholl could hardly help laughing at the absurd reply oftheir lively companion, but their hilarity was soon stopped by theexpression his face assumed as he bent over Satellite's body, where itlay stretched on the sofa. 

"What's the matter now?" asked Barbican. 

"Satellite's attack is over, " replied Ardan. 

"Good!" said M'Nicholl, misunderstanding him. 

"Yes, I suppose it is good for the poor fellow, " observed Ardan, inmelancholy accents. "Life with one's skull broken is hardly an enviablepossession. Our grand acclimatization project is knocked sky high, inmore senses than one!"

There was no doubt of the poor dog's death. The expression of Ardan'scountenance, as he looked at his friends, was of a very rueful order. 

"Well, " said the practical Barbican, "there's no help for that now; thenext thing to be done is to get rid of the body. We can't keep it herewith us forty-eight hours longer. "

"Of course not, " replied the Captain, "nor need we; our lights, beingprovided with hinges, can be lifted back. What is to prevent us fromopening one of them, and flinging the body out through it!"

The President of the Gun Club reflected a few minutes; then he spoke:

"Yes, it can be done; but we must take the most careful precautions. "

"Why so?" asked Ardan. 

"For two simple reasons;" replied Barbican; "the first refers to the airenclosed in the Projectile, and of which we must be very careful to loseonly the least possible quantity. "

"But as we manufacture air ourselves!" objected Ardan. 

"We manufacture air only partly, friend Michael, " replied Barbican. "Wemanufacture only oxygen; we can't supply nitrogen--By the bye, Ardan, won't you watch the apparatus carefully every now and then to see thatthe oxygen is not generated too freely. Very serious consequences wouldattend an immoderate supply of oxygen--No, we can't manufacturenitrogen, which is so absolutely necessary for our air and which mightescape readily through the open windows. "

"What! the few seconds we should require for flinging out poorSatellite?"

"A very few seconds indeed they should be, " said Barbican, very gravely. 

"Your second reason?" asked Ardan. 

"The second reason is, that we must not allow the external cold, whichmust be exceedingly great, to penetrate into our Projectile and freezeus alive. "

"But the Sun, you know--"

"Yes, the Sun heats our Projectile, but it does not heat the vacuumthrough which we are now floating. Where there is no air there canneither be heat nor light; just as wherever the rays of the Sun do notarrive directly, it must be both cold and dark. The temperature aroundus, if there be anything that can be called temperature, is producedsolely by stellar radiation. I need not say how low that is in thescale, or that it would be the temperature to which our Earth shouldfall, if the Sun were suddenly extinguished. "

"Little fear of that for a few more million years, " said M'Nicholl. 

"Who can tell?" asked Ardan. "Besides, even admitting that the Sun willnot soon be extinguished, what is to prevent the Earth from shootingaway from him?"

"Let friend Michael speak, " said Barbican, with a smile, to the Captain;"we may learn something. "

"Certainly you may, " continued the Frenchman, "if you have room foranything new. Were we not struck by a comet's tail in 1861?"

"So it was said, anyhow, " observed the Captain. "I well remember whatnonsense there was in the papers about the 'phosphorescent auroralglare. '"

"Well, " continued the Frenchman, "suppose the comet of 1861 influencedthe Earth by an attraction superior to the Sun's. What would be theconsequence? Would not the Earth follow the attracting body, become itssatellite, and thus at last be dragged off to such a distance that theSun's rays could no longer excite heat on her surface?"

"Well, that might possibly occur, " said Barbican slowly, "but even thenI question if the consequences would be so terrible as you seem toapprehend. "

"Why not?"

"Because the cold and the heat might still manage to be nearly equalizedon our globe. It has been calculated that, had the Earth been carriedoff by the comet of '61, when arrived at her greatest distance, shewould have experienced a temperature hardly sixteen times greater thanthe heat we receive from the Moon, which, as everybody knows, producesno appreciable effect, even when concentrated to a focus by the mostpowerful lenses. "

"Well then, " exclaimed Ardan, "at such a temperature--"

"Wait a moment, " replied Barbican. "Have you never heard of theprinciple of compensation? Listen to another calculation. Had the Earthbeen dragged along with the comet, it has been calculated that at herperihelion, or nearest point to the Sun, she would have to endure a heat28, 000 times greater than our mean summer temperature. But this heat, fully capable of turning the rocks into glass and the oceans into vapor, before proceeding to such extremity, must have first formed a thickinterposing ring of clouds, and thus considerably modified the excessivetemperature. Therefore, between the extreme cold of the aphelion and theexcessive heat of the perihelion, by the great law of compensation, itis probable that the mean temperature would be tolerably endurable. "

"At how many degrees is the temperature of the interplanetary spaceestimated?" asked M'Nicholl. 

"Some time ago, " replied Barbican, "this temperature was considered tobe very low indeed--millions and millions of degrees below zero. ButFourrier of Auxerre, a distinguished member of the _Académie desSciences_, whose _Mémoires_ on the temperature of the Planetary spacesappeared about 1827, reduced these figures to considerably diminishedproportions. According to his careful estimation, the temperature ofspace is not much lower than 70 or 80 degrees Fahr. Below zero. "

"No more?" asked Ardan. 

"No more, " answered Barbican, "though I must acknowledge we have onlyhis word for it, as the _Mémoire_ in which he had recorded all theelements of that important determination, has been lost somewhere, andis no longer to be found. "

"I don't attach the slightest importance to his, or to any man's words, unless they are sustained by reliable evidence, " exclaimed M'Nicholl. "Besides, if I'm not very much mistaken, Pouillet--another countryman ofyours, Ardan, and an Academician as well as Fourrier--esteems thetemperature of interplanetary spaces to be at least 256° Fahr. Belowzero. This we can easily verify for ourselves this moment by actualexperiment. "

"Not just now exactly, " observed Barbican, "for the solar rays, striking our Projectile directly, would give us a very elevated insteadof a very low temperature. But once arrived at the Moon, during thosenights fifteen days long, which each of her faces experiencesalternately, we shall have plenty of time to make an experiment withevery condition in our favor. To be sure, our Satellite is at presentmoving in a vacuum. "

"A vacuum?" asked Ardan; "a perfect vacuum?"

"Well, a perfect vacuum as far as air is concerned. "

"But is the air replaced by nothing?"

"Oh yes, " replied Barbican. "By ether. "

"Ah, ether! and what, pray, is ether?"

"Ether, friend Michael, is an elastic gas consisting of imponderableatoms, which, as we are told by works on molecular physics, are, inproportion to their size, as far apart as the celestial bodies are fromeach other in space. This distance is less than the 1/3000000 x 1/1000', or the one trillionth of a foot. The vibrations of the molecules of thisether produce the sensations of light and heat, by making 430 trillionsof undulations per second, each undulation being hardly more than theone ten-millionth of an inch in width. "

"Trillions per second! ten-millionths of an inch in width!" cried Ardan. "These oscillations have been very neatly counted and ticketed, andchecked off! Ah, friend Barbican, " continued the Frenchman, shaking hishead, "these numbers are just tremendous guesses, frightening the earbut revealing nothing to the intelligence. "

"To get ideas, however, we must calculate--"

"No, no!" interrupted Ardan: "not calculate, but compare. A trilliontells you nothing--Comparison, everything. For instance, you say, thevolume of _Uranus_ is 76 times greater than the Earth's; _Saturn's_ 900times greater; _Jupiter's_ 1300 times greater; the Sun's 1300 thousandtimes greater--You may tell me all that till I'm tired hearing it, and Ishall still be almost as ignorant as ever. For my part I prefer to betold one of those simple comparisons that I find in the old almanacs:The Sun is a globe two feet in diameter; _Jupiter_, a good sized orange;_Saturn_, a smaller orange; _Neptune_, a plum; _Uranus_, a good sizedcherry; the Earth, a pea; _Venus_, also a pea but somewhat smaller;_Mars_, a large pin's head; _Mercury_, a mustard seed; _Juno_, _Ceres_, _Vesta_, _Pallas_, and the other asteroids so many grainsof sand. Be told something like that, and you have got at least the tailof an idea!"

This learned burst of Ardan's had the natural effect of making hishearers forget what they had been arguing about, and they thereforeproceeded at once to dispose of Satellite's body. It was a simple matterenough--no more than to fling it out of the Projectile into space, justas the sailors get rid of a dead body by throwing it into the sea. Onlyin this operation they had to act, as Barbican recommended, with theutmost care and dispatch, so as to lose as little as possible of theinternal air, which, by its great elasticity, would violently strive toescape. The bolts of the floor-light, which was more than a foot indiameter, were carefully unscrewed, while Ardan, a good deal affected, prepared to launch his dog's body into space. The glass, worked by apowerful lever which enabled it to overcome the pressure of the enclosedair, turned quickly on its hinges, and poor Satellite was dropped out. The whole operation was so well managed that very little air escaped, and ever afterwards Barbican employed the same means to rid theProjectile of all the litter and other useless matter by which it wasoccasionally encumbered. 

The evening of this third of December wore away without furtherincident. As soon as Barbican had announced that the Projectile wasstill winging its way, though with retarded velocity, towards the lunardisc, the travellers quietly retired to rest. 

[Illustration: POOR SATELLITE WAS DROPPED OUT. ]

CHAPTER VI. 

INSTRUCTIVE CONVERSATION. 

On the fourth of December, the Projectile chronometers marked fiveo'clock in the morning, just as the travellers woke up from a pleasantslumber. They had now been 54 hours on their journey. As to lapse of_time_, they had passed not much more than half of the number of hoursduring which their trip was to last; but, as to lapse of _space_, theyhad already accomplished very nearly the seven-tenths of their passage. This difference between time and distance was due to the regularretardation of their velocity. 

They looked at the earth through the floor-light, but it was little morethan visible--a black spot drowned in the solar rays. No longer any signof a crescent, no longer any sign of ashy light. Next day, towardsmidnight, the Earth was to be _new_, at the precise moment when the Moonwas to be _full_. Overhead, they could see the Queen of Night comingnearer and nearer to the line followed by the Projectile, and evidentlyapproaching the point where both should meet at the appointed moment. All around, the black vault of heaven was dotted with luminous pointswhich seemed to move somewhat, though, of course, in their extremedistance their relative size underwent no change. The Sun and the starslooked exactly as they had appeared when observed from the Earth. TheMoon indeed had become considerably enlarged in size, but thetravellers' telescopes were still too weak to enable them to make anyimportant observation regarding the nature of her surface, or that mightdetermine her topographical or geological features. 

Naturally, therefore, the time slipped away in endless conversation. TheMoon, of course, was the chief topic. Each one contributed his share ofpeculiar information, or peculiar ignorance, as the case might be. Barbican and M'Nicholl always treated the subject gravely, as becamelearned scientists, but Ardan preferred to look on things with the eyeof fancy. The Projectile, its situation, its direction, the incidentspossible to occur, the precautions necessary to take in order to breakthe fall on the Moon's surface--these and many other subjects furnishedendless food for constant debate and inexhaustible conjectures. 

For instance, at breakfast that morning, a question of Ardan's regardingthe Projectile drew from Barbican an answer curious enough to bereported. 

"Suppose, on the night that we were shot up from Stony Hill, " saidArdan, "suppose the Projectile had encountered some obstacle powerfulenough to stop it--what would be the consequence of the sudden halt?"

"But, " replied Barbican, "I don't understand what obstacle it could havemet powerful enough to stop it. "

"Suppose some obstacle, for the sake of argument, " said Ardan. 

"Suppose what can't be supposed, " replied the matter-of-fact Barbican, "what cannot possibly be supposed, unless indeed the original impulseproved too weak. In that case, the velocity would have decreased bydegrees, but the Projectile itself would not have suddenly stopped. "

"Suppose it had struck against some body in space. "

"What body, for instance?"

"Well, that enormous bolide which we met. "

"Oh!" hastily observed the Captain, "the Projectile would have beendashed into a thousand pieces and we along with it. "

"Better than that, " observed Barbican; "we should have been burnedalive. "

"Burned alive!" laughed Ardan. "What a pity we missed so interesting anexperiment! How I should have liked to find out how it felt!"

"You would not have much time to record your observations, friendMichael, I assure you, " observed Barbican. "The case is plain enough. Heat and motion are convertible terms. What do we mean by heating water?Simply giving increased, in fact, violent motion to its molecules. "

"Well!" exclaimed the Frenchman, "that's an ingenious theory any how!"

"Not only ingenious but correct, my dear friend, for it completelyexplains all the phenomena of caloric. Heat is nothing but molecularmovement, the violent oscillation of the particles of a body. When youapply the brakes to the train, the train stops. But what has become ofits motion? It turns into heat and makes the brakes hot. Why do peoplegrease the axles? To hinder them from getting too hot, which theyassuredly would become if friction was allowed to obstruct the motion. You understand, don't you?"

"Don't I though?" replied Ardan, apparently in earnest. "Let me show youhow thoroughly. When I have been running hard and long, I feel myselfperspiring like a bull and hot as a furnace. Why am I then forced tostop? Simply because my motion has been transformed into heat! Ofcourse, I understand all about it!"

Barbican smiled a moment at this comical illustration of his theory andthen went on:

"Accordingly, in case of a collision it would have been all overinstantly with our Projectile. You have seen what becomes of the bulletthat strikes the iron target. It is flattened out of all shape;sometimes it is even melted into a thin film. Its motion has been turnedinto heat. Therefore, I maintain that if our Projectile had struck thatbolide, its velocity, suddenly checked, would have given rise to a heatcapable of completely volatilizing it in less than a second. "

"Not a doubt of it!" said the Captain. "President, " he added after amoment, "haven't they calculated what would be the result, if the Earthwere suddenly brought to a stand-still in her journey, through herorbit?"

"It has been calculated, " answered Barbican, "that in such a case somuch heat would be developed as would instantly reduce her to vapor. "

"Hm!" exclaimed Ardan; "a remarkably simple way for putting an end tothe world!"

"And supposing the Earth to fall into the Sun?" asked the Captain. 

"Such a fall, " answered Barbican, "according to the calculations ofTyndall and Thomson, would develop an amount of heat equal to thatproduced by sixteen hundred globes of burning coal, each globe equal insize to the earth itself. Furthermore such a fall would supply the Sunwith at least as much heat as he expends in a hundred years!"

"A hundred years! Good! Nothing like accuracy!" cried Ardan. "Suchinfallible calculators as Messrs. Tyndall and Thomson I can easilyexcuse for any airs they may give themselves. They must be of an ordermuch higher than that of ordinary mortals like us!"

"I would not answer myself for the accuracy of such intricate problems, "quietly observed Barbican; "but there is no doubt whatever regarding onefact: motion suddenly interrupted always develops heat. And this hasgiven rise to another theory regarding the maintenance of the Sun'stemperature at a constant point. An incessant rain of bolides falling onhis surface compensates sufficiently for the heat that he iscontinually giving forth. It has been calculated--"

"Good Lord deliver us!" cried Ardan, putting his hands to his ears:"here comes Tyndall and Thomson again!"

--"It has been calculated, " continued Barbican, not heeding theinterruption, "that the shock of every bolide drawn to the Sun's surfaceby gravity, must produce there an amount of heat equal to that of thecombustion of four thousand blocks of coal, each the same size as thefalling bolide. "

"I'll wager another cent that our bold savants calculated the heat ofthe Sun himself, " cried Ardan, with an incredulous laugh. 

"That is precisely what they have done, " answered Barbican referring tohis memorandum book; "the heat emitted by the Sun, " he continued, "isexactly that which would be produced by the combustion of a layer ofcoal enveloping the Sun's surface, like an atmosphere, 17 miles inthickness. "

"Well done! and such heat would be capable of--?"

"Of melting in an hour a stratum of ice 2400 feet thick, or, accordingto another calculation, of raising a globe of ice-cold water, 3 timesthe size of our Earth, to the boiling point in an hour. "

"Why not calculate the exact fraction of a second it would take to cooka couple of eggs?" laughed Ardan. "I should as soon believe in onecalculation as in the other. --But--by the by--why does not such extremeheat cook us all up like so many beefsteaks?"

"For two very good and sufficient reasons, " answered Barbican. "In thefirst place, the terrestrial atmosphere absorbs the 4/10 of the solarheat. In the second, the quantity of solar heat intercepted by the Earthis only about the two billionth part of all that is radiated. "

"How fortunate to have such a handy thing as an atmosphere around us, "cried the Frenchman; "it not only enables us to breathe, but it actuallykeeps us from sizzling up like griskins. "

"Yes, " said the Captain, "but unfortunately we can't say so much for theMoon. "

"Oh pshaw!" cried Ardan, always full of confidence. "It's all rightthere too! The Moon is either inhabited or she is not. If she is, theinhabitants must breathe. If she is not, there must be oxygen enoughleft for we, us and co. , even if we should have to go after it to thebottom of the ravines, where, by its gravity, it must have accumulated!So much the better! we shall not have to climb those thunderingmountains!"

So saying, he jumped up and began to gaze with considerable interest onthe lunar disc, which just then was glittering with dazzling brightness. 

"By Jove!" he exclaimed at length; "it must be pretty hot up there!"

"I should think so, " observed the Captain; "especially when you rememberthat the day up there lasts 360 hours!"

"Yes, " observed Barbican, "but remember on the other hand that thenights are just as long, and, as the heat escapes by radiation, the meantemperature cannot be much greater than that of interplanetary space. "

"A high old place for living in!" cried Ardan. "No matter! I wish wewere there now! Wouldn't it be jolly, dear boys, to have old MotherEarth for our Moon, to see her always on our sky, never rising, neversetting, never undergoing any change except from New Earth to LastQuarter! Would not it be fun to trace the shape of our great Oceans andContinents, and to say: 'there is the Mediterranean! there is China!there is the gulf of Mexico! there is the white line of the RockyMountains where old Marston is watching for us with his big telescope!'Then we should see every line, and brightness, and shadow fade away bydegrees, as she came nearer and nearer to the Sun, until at last she satcompletely lost in his dazzling rays! But--by the way--Barbican, arethere any eclipses in the Moon?"

"O yes; solar eclipses" replied Barbican, "must always occur wheneverthe centres of the three heavenly bodies are in the same line, the Earthoccupying the middle place. However, such eclipses must always beannular, as the Earth, projected like a screen on the solar disc, allowsmore than half of the Sun to be still visible. "

"How is that?" asked M'Nicholl, "no total eclipses in the Moon? Surelythe cone of the Earth's shadow must extend far enough to envelop hersurface?"

"It does reach her, in one sense, " replied Barbican, "but it does not inanother. Remember the great refraction of the solar rays that must beproduced by the Earth's atmosphere. It is easy to show that thisrefraction prevents the Sun from ever being totally invisible. Seehere!" he continued, pulling out his tablets, "Let _a_ represent thehorizontal parallax, and _b_ the half of the Sun's apparent diameter--"

"Ouch!" cried the Frenchman, making a wry face, "here comes Mr. _x_square riding to the mischief on a pair of double zeros again! TalkEnglish, or Yankee, or Dutch, or Greek, and I'm your man! Even a littleArabic I can digest! But hang me, if I can endure your Algebra!"

"Well then, talking Yankee, " replied Barbican with a smile, "the meandistance of the Moon from the Earth being sixty terrestrial radii, thelength of the conic shadow, in consequence of atmospheric refraction, isreduced to less than forty-two radii. Consequently, at the moment of aneclipse, the Moon is far beyond the reach of the real shadow, so thatshe can see not only the border rays of the Sun, but even thoseproceeding from his very centre. "

"Oh then, " cried Ardan with a loud laugh, "we have an eclipse of the Sunat the moment when the Sun is quite visible! Isn't that very like abull, Mr. Philosopher Barbican?"

"Yet it is perfectly true notwithstanding, " answered Barbican. "At sucha moment the Sun is not eclipsed, because we can see him: and then againhe is eclipsed because we see him only by means of a few of his rays, and even these have lost nearly all their brightness in their passagethrough the terrestrial atmosphere!"

"Barbican is right, friend Michael, " observed the Captain slowly: "thesame phenomenon occurs on earth every morning at sunrise, whenrefraction shows us

 '_the Sun new ris'n Looking through the horizontal misty air, Shorn of his beams. _'"

"He must be right, " said Ardan, who, to do him justice, though quick atseeing a reason, was quicker to acknowledge its justice: "yes, he mustbe right, because I begin to understand at last very clearly what hereally meant. However, we can judge for ourselves when we getthere. --But, apropos of nothing, tell me, Barbican, what do you think ofthe Moon being an ancient comet, which had come so far within the sphereof the Earth's attraction as to be kept there and turned into asatellite?"

"Well, that _is_ an original idea!" said Barbican with a smile. 

"My ideas generally are of that category, " observed Ardan with anaffectation of dry pomposity. 

"Not this time, however, friend Michael, " observed M'Nicholl. 

"Oh! I'm a plagiarist, am I?" asked the Frenchman, pretending to beirritated. 

"Well, something very like it, " observed M'Nicholl quietly. "ApolloniusRhodius, as I read one evening in the Philadelphia Library, speaks ofthe Arcadians of Greece having a tradition that their ancestors were soancient that they inhabited the Earth long before the Moon had everbecome our satellite. They therefore called them [Greek: _Proselênoi_]or _Ante-lunarians_. Now starting with some such wild notion as this, certain scientists have looked on the Moon as an ancient comet broughtclose enough to the Earth to be retained in its orbit by terrestrialattraction. "

"Why may not there be something plausible in such a hypothesis?" askedArdan with some curiosity. 

"There is nothing whatever in it, " replied Barbican decidedly: "a simpleproof is the fact that the Moon does not retain the slightest trace ofthe vaporous envelope by which comets are always surrounded. "

"Lost her tail you mean, " said Ardan. "Pooh! Easy to account for that!It might have got cut off by coming too close to the Sun!"

"It might, friend Michael, but an amputation by such means is not verylikely. "

"No? Why not?"

"Because--because--By Jove, I can't say, because I don't know, " criedBarbican with a quiet smile on his countenance. 

"Oh what a lot of volumes, " cried Ardan, "could be made out of what wedon't know!"

"At present, for instance, " observed M'Nicholl, "I don't know whato'clock it is. "

"Three o'clock!" said Barbican, glancing at his chronometer. 

"No!" cried Ardan in surprise. "Bless us! How rapidly the time passeswhen we are engaged in scientific conversation! Ouf! I'm gettingdecidedly too learned! I feel as if I had swallowed a library!"

"I feel, " observed M'Nicholl, "as if I had been listening to a lectureon Astronomy in the _Star_ course. "

"Better stir around a little more, " said the Frenchman; "fatigue of bodyis the best antidote to such severe mental labor as ours. I'll run upthe ladder a bit. " So saying, he paid another visit to the upper portionof the Projectile and remained there awhile whistling _Malbrouk_, whilsthis companions amused themselves in looking through the floor window. 

Ardan was coming down the ladder, when his whistling was cut short by asudden exclamation of surprise. 

"What's the matter?" asked Barbican quickly, as he looked up and saw theFrenchman pointing to something outside the Projectile. 

Approaching the window, Barbican saw with much surprise a sort offlattened bag floating in space and only a few yards off. It seemedperfectly motionless, and, consequently, the travellers knew that itmust be animated by the same ascensional movement as themselves. 

"What on earth can such a consarn be, Barbican?" asked Ardan, who everynow and then liked to ventilate his stock of American slang. "Is it oneof those particles of meteoric matter you were speaking of just now, caught within the sphere of our Projectile's attraction and accompanyingus to the Moon?"

"What I am surprised at, " observed the Captain, "is that though thespecific gravity of that body is far inferior to that of our Projectile, it moves with exactly the same velocity. "

"Captain, " said Barbican, after a moment's reflection, "I know no morewhat that object is than you do, but I can understand very well why itkeeps abreast with the Projectile. "

"Very well then, why?"

"Because, my dear Captain, we are moving through a vacuum, and becauseall bodies fall or move--the same thing--with equal velocity through avacuum, no matter what may be their shape or their specific gravity. Itis the air alone that makes a difference of weight. Produce anartificial vacuum in a glass tube and you will see that all objectswhatever falling through, whether bits of feather or grains of shot, move with precisely the same rapidity. Up here, in space, like cause andlike effect. "

"Correct, " assented M'Nicholl. "Everything therefore that we shall throwout of the Projectile is bound to accompany us to the Moon. "

"Well, we _were_ smart!" cried Ardan suddenly. 

"How so, friend Michael?" asked Barbican. 

"Why not have packed the Projectile with ever so many useful objects, books, instruments, tools, et cetera, and fling them out into space oncewe were fairly started! They would have all followed us safely! Nothingwould have been lost! And--now I think on it--why not fling ourselvesout through the window? Shouldn't we be as safe out there as thatbolide? What fun it would be to feel ourselves sustained and upborne inthe ether, more highly favored even than the birds, who must keep onflapping their wings continually to prevent themselves from falling!"

"Very true, my dear boy, " observed Barbican; "but how could we breathe?"

"It's a fact, " exclaimed the Frenchman. "Hang the air for spoiling ourfun! So we must remain shut up in our Projectile?"

"Not a doubt of it!"

--"Oh Thunder!" roared Ardan, suddenly striking his forehead. 

"What ails you?" asked the Captain, somewhat surprised. 

"Now I know what that bolide of ours is! Why didn't we think of itbefore? It is no asteroid! It is no particle of meteoric matter! Nor isit a piece of a shattered planet!"

"What is it then?" asked both of his companions in one voice. 

[Illustration: SATELLITE'S BODY FLYING THROUGH SPACE. ]

"It is nothing more or less than the body of the dog that we threw outyesterday!"

So in fact it was. That shapeless, unrecognizable mass, melted, expunged, flat as a bladder under an unexhausted receiver, drained ofits air, was poor Satellite's body, flying like a rocket through space, and rising higher and higher in close company with the rapidly ascendingProjectile!

CHAPTER VII. 

A HIGH OLD TIME. 

A new phenomenon, therefore, strange but logical, startling butadmitting of easy explanation, was now presented to their view, affording a fresh subject for lively discussion. Not that they disputedmuch about it. They soon agreed on a principle from which they readilydeducted the following general law: _Every object thrown out of theProjectile should partake of the Projectile's motion: it shouldtherefore follow the same path, and never cease to move until theProjectile itself came to a stand-still. _

But, in sober truth, they were at anything but a loss of subjects ofwarm discussion. As the end of their journey began to approach, theirsenses became keener and their sensations vivider. Steeled againstsurprise, they looked for the unexpected, the strange, the startling;and the only thing at which they would have wondered would be to be fiveminutes without having something new to wonder at. Their excitedimaginations flew far ahead of the Projectile, whose velocity, by theway, began to be retarded very decidedly by this time, though, ofcourse, the travellers had as yet no means to become aware of it. TheMoon's size on the sky was meantime getting larger and larger; herapparent distance was growing shorter and shorter, until at last theycould almost imagine that by putting their hands out they could nearlytouch her. 

Next morning, December 5th, all were up and dressed at a very earlyhour. This was to be the last day of their journey, if all calculationswere correct. That very night, at 12 o'clock, within nineteen hours atfurthest, at the very moment of Full Moon, they were to reach herresplendent surface. At that hour was to be completed the mostextraordinary journey ever undertaken by man in ancient or modern times. Naturally enough, therefore, they found themselves unable to sleep afterfour o'clock in the morning; peering upwards through the windows nowvisibly glittering under the rays of the Moon, they spent some veryexciting hours in gazing at her slowly enlarging disc, and shouting ather with confident and joyful hurrahs. 

The majestic Queen of the Stars had now risen so high in the spangledheavens that she could hardly rise higher. In a few degrees more shewould reach the exact point of space where her junction with theProjectile was to be effected. According to his own observations, Barbican calculated that they should strike her in the northernhemisphere, where her plains, or _seas_ as they are called, are immense, and her mountains are comparatively rare. This, of course, would be somuch the more favorable, if, as was to be apprehended, the lunaratmosphere was confined exclusively to the low lands. 

"Besides, " as Ardan observed, "a plain is a more suitable landing placethan a mountain. A Selenite deposited on the top of Mount Everest oreven on Mont Blanc, could hardly be considered, in strict language, tohave arrived on Earth. "

"Not to talk, " added M'Nicholl, "of the comfort of the thing! When youland on a plain, there you are. When you land on a peak or on a steepmountain side, where are you? Tumbling over an embankment with the traingoing forty miles an hour, would be nothing to it. "

"Therefore, Captain Barbican, " cried the Frenchman, "as we should liketo appear before the Selenites in full skins, please land us in the snugthough unromantic North. We shall have time enough to break our necks inthe South. "

Barbican made no reply to his companions, because a new reflection hadbegun to trouble him, to talk about which would have done no good. Therewas certainly something wrong. The Projectile was evidently headingtowards the northern hemisphere of the Moon. What did this prove?Clearly, a deviation resulting from some cause. The bullet, lodged, aimed, and fired with the most careful mathematical precision, had beencalculated to reach the very centre of the Moon's disc. Clearly it wasnot going to the centre now. What could have produced the deviation?This Barbican could not tell; nor could he even determine its extent, having no points of sight by which to make his observations. For thepresent he tried to console himself with the hope that the deviation ofthe Projectile would be followed by no worse consequence than carryingthem towards the northern border of the Moon, where for several reasonsit would be comparatively easier to alight. Carefully avoiding, therefore, the use of any expression which might needlessly alarm hiscompanions, he continued to observe the Moon as carefully as he could, hoping every moment to find some grounds for believing that thedeviation from the centre was only a slight one. He almost shuddered atthe thought of what would be their situation, if the bullet, missing itsaim, should pass the Moon, and plunge into the interplanetary spacebeyond it. 

As he continued to gaze, the Moon, instead of presenting the usualflatness of her disc, began decidedly to show a surface somewhat convex. Had the Sun been shining on her obliquely, the shadows would havecertainly thrown the great mountains into strong relief. The eye couldthen bury itself deep in the yawning chasms of the craters, and easilyfollow the cracks, streaks, and ridges which stripe, flecker, and barthe immensity of her plains. But for the present all relief was lost inthe dazzling glare. The Captain could hardly distinguish even those darkspots that impart to the full Moon some resemblance to the human face. 

"Face!" cried Ardan: "well, a very fanciful eye may detect a face, though, for the sake of Apollo's beauteous sister, I regret to say, aterribly pockmarked one!"

The travellers, now evidently approaching the end of their journey, observed the rapidly increasing world above them with newer and greatercuriosity every moment. Their fancies enkindled at the sight of the newand strange scenes dimly presented to their view. In imagination theyclimbed to the summit of this lofty peak. They let themselves down tothe abyss of that yawning crater. Here they imagined they saw vast seashardly kept in their basins by a rarefied atmosphere; there they thoughtthey could trace mighty rivers bearing to vast oceans the tribute of thesnowy mountains. In the first promptings of their eager curiosity, theypeered greedily into her cavernous depths, and almost expected, amidstthe deathlike hush of inaudible nature, to surprise some sound from themystic orb floating up there in eternal silence through a boundlessocean of never ending vacuum. 

This last day of their journey left their memories stored with thrillingrecollections. They took careful note of the slightest details. As theyneared their destination, they felt themselves invaded by a vague, undefined restlessness. But this restlessness would have given way todecided uneasiness, if they had known at what a slow rate they weretravelling. They would have surely concluded that their present velocitywould never be able to take them as far as the neutral point, not totalk of passing it. The reason of such considerable retardation was, that by this time the Projectile had reached such a great distance fromthe Earth that it had hardly any weight. But even this weight, such asit was, was to be diminished still further, and finally, to vanishaltogether as soon as the bullet reached the neutral point, where thetwo attractions, terrestrial and lunar, should counteract each otherwith new and surprising effects. 

Notwithstanding the absorbing nature of his observations, Ardan neverforgot to prepare breakfast with his usual punctuality. It was eatenreadily and relished heartily. Nothing could be more exquisite than hiscalf's foot jelly liquefied and prepared by gas heat, except perhaps hismeat biscuits of preserved Texas beef and Southdown mutton. A bottle ofChâteau Yquem and another of Clos de Vougeot, both of superlativeexcellence in quality and flavor, crowned the repast. Their vicinity tothe Moon and their incessant glancing at her surface did not prevent thetravellers from touching each other's glasses merrily and often. Ardantook occasion to remark that the lunar vineyards--if any existed--mustbe magnificent, considering the intense solar heat they continuallyexperienced. Not that he counted on them too confidently, for he toldhis friends that to provide for the worst he had supplied himself with afew cases of the best vintages of Médoc and the Côte d'Or, of which thebottles, then under discussion, might be taken as very favorablespecimens. 

The Reiset and Regnault apparatus for purifying the air workedsplendidly, and maintained the atmosphere in a perfectly sanitarycondition. Not an atom of carbonic acid could resist the caustic potash;and as for the oxygen, according to M'Nicholl's expression, "it was Aprime number one!"

The small quantity of watery vapor enclosed in the Projectile did nomore harm than serving to temper the dryness of the air: many a splendid_salon_ in New York, London, or Paris, and many an auditorium, even oftheatre, opera house or Academy of Music, could be considered itsinferior in what concerned its hygienic condition. 

To keep it in perfect working order, the apparatus should be carefullyattended to. This, Ardan looked on as his own peculiar occupation. Hewas never tired regulating the tubes, trying the taps, and testing theheat of the gas by the pyrometer. So far everything had workedsatisfactorily, and the travellers, following the example of theirfriend Marston on a previous occasion, began to get so stout that theirown mothers would not know them in another month, should theirimprisonment last so long. Ardan said they all looked so sleek andthriving that he was reminded forcibly of a nice lot of pigs fatteningin a pen for a country fair. But how long was this good fortune oftheirs going to last?

Whenever they took their eyes off the Moon, they could not help noticingthat they were still attended outside by the spectre of Satellite'scorpse and by the other refuse of the Projectile. An occasionalmelancholy howl also attested Diana's recognition of her companion'sunhappy fate. The travellers saw with surprise that these waifs stillseemed perfectly motionless in space, and kept their respectivedistances apart as mathematically as if they had been fastened withnails to a stone wall. 

"I tell you what, dear boys;" observed Ardan, commenting on this curiousphenomenon; "if the concussion had been a little too violent for one ofus that night, his survivors would have been seriously embarrassed intrying to get rid of his remains. With no earth to cover him up, no seato plunge him into, his corpse would never disappear from view, butwould pursue us day and night, grim and ghastly like an avenging ghost!"

"Ugh!" said the Captain, shuddering at the idea. 

"But, by the bye, Barbican!" cried the Frenchman, dropping the subjectwith his usual abruptness; "you have forgotten something else! Whydidn't you bring a scaphander and an air pump? I could then venture outof the Projectile as readily and as safely as the diver leaves his boatand walks about on the bottom of the river! What fun to float in themidst of that mysterious ether! to steep myself, aye, actually to revelin the pure rays of the glorious sun! I should have ventured out on thevery point of the Projectile, and there I should have danced andpostured and kicked and bobbed and capered in a style that Taglioninever dreamed of!"

"Shouldn't I like to see you!" cried the Captain grimly, smiling at theidea. 

"You would not see him long!" observed Barbican quietly. "The airconfined in his body, freed from external pressure, would burst him likea shell, or like a balloon that suddenly rises to too great a height inthe air! A scaphander would have been a fatal gift. Don't regret itsabsence, friend Michael; never forget this axiom: _As long as we arefloating in empty space, the only spot where safety is possible isinside the Projectile!_"

The words "possible" and "impossible" always grated on Ardan's ears. Ifhe had been a lexicographer, he would have rigidly excluded them fromhis dictionary, both as meaningless and useless. He was preparing ananswer for Barbican, when he was cut out by a sudden observation fromM'Nicholl. 

"See here, friends!" cried the Captain; "this going to the Moon is allvery well, but how shall we get back?"

His listeners looked at each other with a surprised and perplexed air. The question, though a very natural one, now appeared to have presenteditself to their consideration absolutely for the first time. 

"What do you mean by such a question, Captain?" asked Barbican in agrave judicial tone. 

"Mac, my boy, " said Ardan seriously, "don't it strike you as a littleout of order to ask how you are to return when you have not got thereyet?"

"I don't ask the question with any idea of backing out, " observed theCaptain quietly; "as a matter of purely scientific inquiry, I repeat myquestion: how are we to return?"

"I don't know, " replied Barbican promptly. 

"For my part, " said Ardan; "if I had known how to get back, I shouldhave never come at all!"

"Well! of all the answers!" said the Captain, lifting his hands andshaking his head. 

"The best under the circumstances;" observed Barbican; "and I shallfurther observe that such a question as yours at present is both uselessand uncalled for. On some future occasion, when we shall consider itadvisable to return, the question will be in order, and we shall discussit with all the attention it deserves. Though the Columbiad is at StonyHill, the Projectile will still be in the Moon. "

"Much we shall gain by that! A bullet without a gun!"

"The gun we can make and the powder too!" replied Barbican confidently. "Metal and sulphur and charcoal and saltpetre are likely enough to bepresent in sufficient quantities beneath the Moon's surface. Besides, toreturn is a problem of comparatively easy solution: we should have toovercome the lunar attraction only--a slight matter--the rest of thebusiness would be readily done by gravity. "

"Enough said on the subject!" exclaimed Ardan curtly; "how to get backis indefinitely postponed! How to communicate with our friends on theEarth, is another matter, and, as it seems to me, an extremely easyone. "

"Let us hear the very easy means by which you propose to communicatewith our friends on Earth, " asked the Captain, with a sneer, for he wasby this time a little out of humor. 

"By means of bolides ejected from the lunar volcanoes, " replied theFrenchman without an instant's hesitation. 

"Well said, friend Ardan, " exclaimed Barbican. "I am quite disposed toacknowledge the feasibility of your plan. Laplace has calculated that aforce five times greater than that of an ordinary cannon would besufficient to send a bolide from the Moon to the Earth. Now there is nocannon that can vie in force with even the smallest volcano. "

"Hurrah!" cried Ardan, delighted at his success; "just imagine thepleasure of sending our letters postage free! But--oh! what a splendididea!--Dolts that we were for not thinking of it sooner!"

"Let us have the splendid idea!" cried the Captain, with some of his oldacrimony. 

"Why didn't we fasten a wire to the Projectile?" asked Ardan, triumphantly, "It would have enabled us to exchange telegrams with theEarth!"

"Ho! ho! ho!" roared the Captain, rapidly recovering his good humor;"decidedly the best joke of the season! Ha! ha! ha! Of course you havecalculated the weight of a wire 240 thousand miles long?"

"No matter about its weight!" cried the Frenchman impetuously; "weshould have laughed at its weight! We could have tripled the charge ofthe Columbiad; we could have quadrupled it!--aye, quintupled it, ifnecessary!" he added in tones evidently increasing in loudness andviolence. 

"Yes, friend Michael, " observed Barbican; "but there is a slight andunfortunately a fatal defect in your project. The Earth, by itsrotation, would have wrapped our wire around herself, like thread arounda spool, and dragged us back almost with the speed of lightning!"

"By the Nine gods of Porsena!" cried Ardan, "something is wrong with myhead to-day! My brain is out of joint, and I am making as nice a mess ofthings as my friend Marston was ever capable of! By the bye--talking ofMarston--if we never return to the Earth, what is to prevent him fromfollowing us to the Moon?"

"Nothing!" replied Barbican; "he is a faithful friend and a reliablecomrade. Besides, what is easier? Is not the Columbiad still at StonyHill? Cannot gun-cotton be readily manufactured on any occasion? Willnot the Moon again pass through the zenith of Florida? Eighteen yearsfrom now, will she not occupy exactly the same spot that she doesto-day?"

"Certainly!" cried Ardan, with increasing enthusiasm, "Marston willcome! and Elphinstone of the torpedo! and the gallant Bloomsbury, andBillsby the brave, and all our friends of the Baltimore Gun Club! And weshall receive them with all the honors! And then we shall establishprojectile trains between the Earth and the Moon! Hurrah for J. T. Marston!"

"Hurrah for Secretary Marston!" cried the Captain, with an enthusiasmalmost equal to Ardan's. 

"Hurrah for my dear friend Marston!" cried Barbican, hardly lessexcited than his comrades. 

Our old acquaintance, Marston, of course could not have heard the joyousacclamations that welcomed his name, but at that moment he certainlymust have felt his ears most unaccountably tingling. What was he doingat the time? He was rattling along the banks of the Kansas River, asfast as an express train could take him, on the road to Long's Peak, where, by means of the great Telescope, he expected to find some tracesof the Projectile that contained his friends. He never forgot them for amoment, but of course he little dreamed that his name at that very timewas exciting their vividest recollections and their warmest applause. 

In fact, their recollections were rather too vivid, and their applausedecidedly too warm. Was not the animation that prevailed among theguests of the Projectile of a very unusual character, and was it notbecoming more and more violent every moment? Could the wine have causedit? No; though not teetotallers, they never drank to excess. Could theMoon's proximity, shedding her subtle, mysterious influence over theirnervous systems, have stimulated them to a degree that was threateningto border on frenzy? Their faces were as red as if they were standingbefore a hot fire; their breathing was loud, and their lungs heaved likea smith's bellows; their eyes blazed like burning coals; their voicessounded as loud and harsh as that of a stump speaker trying to makehimself heard by an inattentive or hostile crowd; their words poppedfrom their lips like corks from Champagne bottles; their gesticulatingbecame wilder and in fact more alarming--considering the little roomleft in the Projectile for muscular displays of any kind. 

But the most extraordinary part of the whole phenomenon was that neitherof them, not even Barbican, had the slightest consciousness of anystrange or unusual ebullition of spirits either on his own part or onthat of the others. 

"See here, gentlemen!" said the Captain in a quick imperious manner--theroughness of his old life on the Mississippi would still break out--"Seehere, gentlemen! It seems I'm not to know if we are to return from theMoon. Well!--Pass that for the present! But there is one thing I _must_know!"

"Hear! hear the Captain!" cried Barbican, stamping with his foot, likean excited fencing master. "There is one thing he _must_ know!"

"I want to know what we're going to do when we get there!"

"He wants to know what we're going to do when we get there! A sensiblequestion! Answer it, Ardan!"

"Answer it yourself, Barbican! You know more about the Moon than I do!You know more about it than all the Nasmyths that ever lived!"

"I'm blessed if I know anything at all about it!" cried Barbican, with ajoyous laugh. "Ha, ha, ha! The first eastern shore Marylander or anyother simpleton you meet in Baltimore, knows as much about the Moon asI do! Why we're going there, I can't tell! What we're going to do whenwe get there, can't tell either! Ardan knows all about it! He can tell!He's taking us there!"

"Certainly I can tell! should I have offered to take you there without agood object in view?" cried Ardan, husky with continual roaring. "Answerme that!"

"No conundrums!" cried the Captain, in a voice sourer and rougher thanever; "tell us if you can in plain English, what the demon we have comehere for!"

"I'll tell you if I feel like it, " cried Ardan, folding his arms with anaspect of great dignity; "and I'll not tell you if I don't feel likeit!"

"What's that?" cried Barbican. "You'll not give us an answer when we askyou a reasonable question?"

"Never!" cried Ardan, with great determination. "I'll never answer aquestion reasonable or unreasonable, unless it is asked in a propermanner!"

"None of your French airs here!" exclaimed M'Nicholl, by this timealmost completely out of himself between anger and excitement. "I don'tknow where I am; I don't know where I'm going; I don't know why I'mgoing; _you_ know all about it, Ardan, or at least you think you do!Well then, give me a plain answer to a plain question, or by theThirty-eight States of our glorious Union, I shall know what for!"

"Listen, Ardan!" cried Barbican, grappling with the Frenchman, and withsome difficulty restraining him from flying at M'Nicholl's throat; "Youought to tell him! It is only your duty! One day you found us both inSt. Helena woods, where we had no more idea of going to the Moon than ofsailing to the South Pole! There you twisted us both around your finger, and induced us to follow you blindly on the most formidable journey everundertaken by man! And now you refuse to tell us what it was all for!"

"I don't refuse, dear old Barbican! To you, at least, I can't refuseanything!" cried Ardan, seizing his friend's hands and wringing themviolently. Then letting them go and suddenly starting back, "you wish toknow, " he continued in resounding tones, "why we have followed out thegrandest idea that ever set a human brain on fire! Why we haveundertaken a journey that for length, danger, and novelty, forfascinating, soul-stirring and delirious sensations, for all that canattract man's burning heart, and satisfy the intensest cravings of hisintellect, far surpasses the vividest realities of Dante's passionatedream! Well, I will tell you! It is to annex another World to the NewOne! It is to take possession of the Moon in the name of the UnitedStates of America! It is to add a thirty-ninth State to the gloriousUnion! It is to colonize the lunar regions, to cultivate them, to peoplethem, to transport to them some of our wonders of art, science, andindustry! It is to civilize the Selenites, unless they are morecivilized already than we are ourselves! It is to make them all goodRepublicans, if they are not so already!"

"Provided, of course, that there are Selenites in existence!" sneeredthe Captain, now sourer than ever, and in his unaccountable excitementdoubly irritating. 

"Who says there are no Selenites?" cried Ardan fiercely, with fistsclenched and brows contracted. 

"I do!" cried M'Nicholl stoutly; "I deny the existence of anything ofthe kind, and I denounce every one that maintains any such whim as avisionary, if not a fool!"

Ardan's reply to this taunt was a desperate facer, which, however, Barbican managed to stop while on its way towards the Captain's nose. M'Nicholl, seeing himself struck at, immediately assumed such a postureof defence as showed him to be no novice at the business. A battleseemed unavoidable; but even at this trying moment Barbican showedhimself equal to the emergency. 

"Stop, you crazy fellows! you ninnyhammers! you overgrown babies!" heexclaimed, seizing his companions by the collar, and violently swingingthem around with his vast strength until they stood back to back; "whatare you going to fight about? Suppose there are Lunarians in the Moon!Is that a reason why there should be Lunatics in the Projectile! But, Ardan, why do you insist on Lunarians? Are we so shiftless that we can'tdo without them when we get to the Moon?"

"I don't insist on them!" cried Ardan, who submitted to Barbican like achild. "Hang the Lunarians! Certainly, we can do without them! What do Icare for them? Down with them!"

"Yes, down with the Lunarians!" cried M'Nicholl as spitefully as if hehad even the slightest belief in their existence. 

"We shall take possession of the Moon ourselves!" cried Ardan. "Lunarians or no Lunarians!"

"We three shall constitute a Republic!" cried M'Nicholl. 

"I shall be the House!" cried Ardan. 

"And I the Senate!" answered the Captain. 

"And Barbican our first President!" shrieked the Frenchman. 

"Our first and last!" roared M'Nicholl. 

"No objections to a third term!" yelled Ardan. 

"He's welcome to any number of terms he pleases!" vociferated M'Nicholl. 

"Hurrah for President Barbican of the Lunatic--I mean of the LunarRepublic!" screamed Ardan. 

"Long may he wave, and may his shadow never grow less!" shouted CaptainM'Nicholl, his eyes almost out of their sockets. 

Then with voices reminding you of sand fiercely blown against the windowpanes, the _President_ and the _Senate_ chanted the immortal _YankeeDoodle_, whilst the _House_ delivered itself of the _Marseillaise_, in astyle which even the wildest Jacobins in Robespierre's day could hardlyhave surpassed. 

But long before either song was ended, all three broke out into adance, wild, insensate, furious, delirious, paroxysmatical. No Orphicfestivals on Mount Cithaeron ever raged more wildly. No Bacchic revelson Mount Parnassus were ever more corybantic. Diana, demented by themaddening example, joined in the orgie, howling and barking franticallyin her turn, and wildly jumping as high as the ceiling of theProjectile. Then came new accessions to the infernal din. Wings suddenlybegan to flutter, cocks to crow, hens to cluck; and five or sixchickens, managing to escape out of their coop, flew backwards andforwards blindly, with frightened screams, dashing against each otherand against the walls of the Projectile, and altogether getting up asdemoniacal a hullabaloo as could be made by ten thousand bats that yousuddenly disturbed in a cavern where they had slept through the winter. 

Then the three companions, no longer able to withstand the overpoweringinfluence of the mysterious force that mastered them, intoxicated, morethan drunk, burned by the air that scorched their organs of respiration, dropped at last, and lay flat, motionless, senseless as dabs of clay, onthe floor of the Projectile. 

[Illustration: A DEMONIACAL HULLABALOO. ]

CHAPTER VIII. 

THE NEUTRAL POINT. 

What had taken place? Whence proceeded this strange intoxication whoseconsequences might have proved so disastrous? A little forgetfulness onArdan's part had done the whole mischief, but fortunately M'Nicholl wasable to remedy it in time. 

After a regular fainting spell several minutes long, the Captain was thefirst man to return to consciousness and the full recovery of hisintellectual faculties. His first feelings were far from pleasant. Hisstomach gnawed him as if he had not eaten for a week, though he hadtaken breakfast only a few hours before; his eyes were dim, his brainthrobbing, and his limbs shaking. In short, he presented every symptomusually seen in a man dying of starvation. Picking himself up with muchcare and difficulty, he roared out to Ardan for something to eat. Seeingthat the Frenchman was unable or unwilling to respond, he concluded tohelp himself, by beginning first of all to prepare a little tea. To dothis, fire was necessary; so, to light his lamp, he struck a match. 

But what was his surprise at seeing the sulphur tip of the match blazingwith a light so bright and dazzling that his eyes could hardly bear it!Touching it to the gas burner, a stream of light flashed forth equal inits intensity to the flame of an electric lamp. Then he understood itall in an instant. The dazzling glare, his maddened brain, his gnawingstomach--all were now clear as the noon-day Sun. 

"The oxygen!" he cried, and, suddenly stooping down and examining thetap of the air apparatus, he saw that it had been only half turned off. Consequently the air was gradually getting more and more impregnatedwith this powerful gas, colorless, odorless, tasteless, infinitelyprecious, but, unless when strongly diluted with nitrogen, capable ofproducing fatal disorders in the human system. Ardan, startled byM'Nicholl's question about the means of returning from the Moon, hadturned the cock only half off. 

The Captain instantly stopped the escape of the oxygen, but not onemoment too soon. It had completely saturated the atmosphere. A fewminutes more and it would have killed the travellers, not like carbonicacid, by smothering them, but by burning them up, as a strong draughtburns up the coals in a stove. 

[Illustration: "THE OXYGEN!" HE CRIED. ]

It took nearly an hour for the air to become pure enough to allow thelungs their natural play. Slowly and by degrees, the travellersrecovered from their intoxication; they had actually to sleep off thefumes of the oxygen as a drunkard has to sleep off the effects of hisbrandy. When Ardan learned that he was responsible for the wholetrouble, do you think the information disconcerted him? Not a bit of it. On the contrary, he was rather proud of having done somethingstartling, to break the monotony of the journey; and to put a littlelife, as he said, into old Barbican and the grim Captain, so as to get alittle fun out of such grave philosophers. 

After laughing heartily at the comical figure cut by his two friendscapering like crazy students at the _Closerie des Lilas_, he went onmoralizing on the incident:

"For my part, I'm not a bit sorry for having partaken of this fuddlinggas. It gives me an idea, dear boys. Would it not be worth someenterprising fellow's while to establish a sanatorium provided withoxygen chambers, where people of a debilitated state of health couldenjoy a few hours of intensely active existence! There's money in it, asyou Americans say. Just suppose balls or parties given in halls wherethe air would be provided with an extra supply of this enrapturing gas!Or, theatres where the atmosphere would be maintained in a highlyoxygenated condition. What passion, what fire in the actors! Whatenthusiasm in the spectators! And, carrying the idea a little further, if, instead of an assembly or an audience, we should oxygenize towns, cities, a whole country--what activity would be infused into the wholepeople! What new life would electrify a stagnant community! Out of anold used-up nation we could perhaps make a bran-new one, and, for mypart, I know more than one state in old Europe where this oxygenexperiment might be attended with a decided advantage, or where, at allevents, it could do no harm!"

The Frenchman spoke so glibly and gesticulated so earnestly thatM'Nicholl once more gravely examined the stop-cock; but Barbican dampedhis enthusiasm by a single observation. 

"Friend Michael, " said he, "your new and interesting idea we shalldiscuss at a more favorable opportunity. At present we want to knowwhere all these cocks and hens have come from. "

"These cocks and hens?"

"Yes. "

Ardan threw a glance of comical bewilderment on half a dozen or so ofsplendid barn-yard fowls that were now beginning to recover from theeffects of the oxygen. For an instant he could not utter a word; then, shrugging his shoulders, he muttered in a low voice:

"Catastrophe prematurely exploded!"

"What are you going to do with these chickens?" persisted Barbican. 

"Acclimatize them in the Moon, by Jove! what else?" was the ready reply. 

"Why conceal them then?"

"A hoax, a poor hoax, dear President, which proves a miserable failure!I intended to let them loose on the Lunar Continent at the firstfavorable opportunity. I often had a good laugh to myself, thinking ofyour astonishment and the Captain's at seeing a lot of American poultryscratching for worms on a Lunar dunghill!"

"Ah! wag, jester, incorrigible _farceur_!" cried Barbican with a smile;"you want no nitrous oxide to put a bee in your bonnet! He is always asbad as you and I were for a short time, M'Nicholl, under the laughinggas! He's never had a sensible moment in his life!"

"I can't say the same of you, " replied Ardan; "you had at least onesensible moment in all your lives, and that was about an hour ago!"

Their incessant chattering did not prevent the friends from at oncerepairing the disorder of the interior of the Projectile. Cocks and henswere put back in their cages. But while doing so, the friends wereastonished to find that the birds, though good sized creatures, and nowpretty fat and plump, hardly felt heavier in their hands than if theyhad been so many sparrows. This drew their interested attention to a newphenomenon. 

From the moment they had left the Earth, their own weight, and that ofthe Projectile and the objects therein contained, had been undergoing aprogressive diminution. They might never be able to ascertain this factwith regard to the Projectile, but the moment was now rapidlyapproaching when the loss of weight would become perfectly sensible, both regarding themselves and the tools and instruments surroundingthem. Of course, it is quite clear, that this decrease could not beindicated by an ordinary scales, as the weight to balance the objectwould have lost precisely as much as the object itself. But a springbalance, for instance, in which the tension of the coil is independentof attraction, would have readily given the exact equivalent of theloss. 

Attraction or weight, according to Newton's well known law, acting indirect proportion to the mass of the attracting body and in inverseproportion to the square of the distance, this consequence clearlyfollows: Had the Earth been alone in space, or had the other heavenlybodies been suddenly annihilated, the further from the Earth theProjectile would be, the less weight it would have. However, it wouldnever _entirely_ lose its weight, as the terrestrial attraction wouldhave always made itself felt at no matter what distance. But as theEarth is not the only celestial body possessing attraction, it isevident that there may be a point in space where the respectiveattractions may be entirely annihilated by mutual counteraction. Of thisphenomenon the present instance was a case in point. In a short time, the Projectile and its contents would for a few moments be absolutelyand completely deprived of all weight whatsoever. 

The path described by the Projectile was evidently a line from the Earthto the Moon averaging somewhat less than 240, 000 miles in length. According as the distance between the Projectile and the Earth wasincreasing, the terrestrial attraction was diminishing in the ratio ofthe square of the distance, and the lunar attraction was augmenting inthe same proportion. 

As before observed, the point was not now far off where, the twoattractions counteracting each other, the bullet would actually weighnothing at all. If the masses of the Earth and the Moon had been equal, this should evidently be found half way between the two bodies. But bymaking allowance for the difference of the respective masses, it waseasy to calculate that this point would be situated at the 9/10 of thetotal distance, or, in round numbers, at something less than 216, 000miles from the Earth. 

At this point, a body that possessed no energy or principle of movementwithin itself, would remain forever, relatively motionless, suspendedlike Mahomet's coffin, being equally attracted by the two orbs andnothing impelling it in one direction rather than in the other. 

Now the Projectile at this moment was nearing this point; if it reachedit, what would be the consequence?

To this question three answers presented themselves, all possible underthe circumstances, but very different in their results. 

1. Suppose the Projectile to possess velocity enough to pass the neutralpoint. In such case, it would undoubtedly proceed onward to the Moon, being drawn thither by Lunar attraction. 

2. Suppose it lacked the requisite velocity for reaching the neutralpoint. In such a case it would just as certainly fall back to the Earth, in obedience to the law of Terrestrial attraction. 

3. Suppose it to be animated by just sufficient velocity to reach theneutral point, but not to pass it. In that case, the Projectile wouldremain forever in the same spot, perfectly motionless as far as regardsthe Earth and the Moon, though of course following them both in theirannual orbits round the Sun. 

Such was now the state of things, which Barbican tried to explain to hisfriends, who, it need hardly be said, listened to his remarks with themost intense interest. How were they to know, they asked him, theprecise instant at which the Projectile would reach the neutral point?That would be an easy matter, he assured them. It would be at the verymoment when both themselves and all the other objects contained in theProjectile would be completely free from every operation of the law ofgravity; in other words, when everything would cease to have weight. 

This gradual diminution of the action of gravity, the travellers hadbeen for some time noticing, but they had not yet witnessed its totalcessation. But that very morning, about an hour before noon, as theCaptain was making some little experiment in Chemistry, he happened byaccident to overturn a glass full of water. What was his surprise atseeing that neither the glass nor the water fell to the floor! Bothremained suspended in the air almost completely motionless. 

"The prettiest experiment I ever saw!" cried Ardan; "let us have more ofit!"

And seizing the bottles, the arms, and the other objects in theProjectile, he arranged them around each other in the air with someregard to symmetry and proportion. The different articles, keepingstrictly each in its own place, formed a very attractive group wonderfulto behold. Diana, placed in the apex of the pyramid, would remind you ofthose marvellous suspensions in the air performed by Houdin, Herman, anda few other first class wizards. Only being kept in her place withoutbeing hampered by invisible strings, the animal rather seemed to enjoythe exhibition, though in all probability she was hardly conscious ofany thing unusual in her appearance. 

Our travellers had been fully prepared for such a phenomenon, yet itstruck them with as much surprise as if they had never uttered ascientific reason to account for it. They saw that, no longer subject tothe ordinary laws of nature, they were now entering the realms of themarvellous. They felt that their bodies were absolutely without weight. Their arms, fully extended, no longer sought their sides. Their headsoscillated unsteadily on their shoulders. Their feet no longer rested onthe floor. In their efforts to hold themselves straight, they lookedlike drunken men trying to maintain the perpendicular. We have all readstories of some men deprived of the power of reflecting light and ofothers who could not cast a shadow. But here reality, no fantasticstory, showed you men who, through the counteraction of attractiveforces, could tell no difference between light substances and heavysubstances, and who absolutely had no weight whatever themselves!

"Let us take graceful attitudes!" cried Ardan, "and imagine we areplaying _tableaux_! Let us, for instance, form a grand historical groupof the three great goddesses of the nineteenth century. Barbican willrepresent Minerva or _Science_; the Captain, Bellona or _War_; while I, as Madre Natura, the newly born goddess of _Progress_, floatinggracefully over you both, extend my hands so, fondly patronizing theone, but grandly ordering off the other, to the regions of eternalnight! More on your toe, Captain! Your right foot a little higher! Lookat Barbican's admirable pose! Now then, prepare to receive orders for anew tableau! Form group _à la Jardin Mabille!_ Presto! Change!"

In an instant, our travellers, changing attitudes, formed the new groupwith tolerable success. Even Barbican, who had been to Paris in hisyouth, yielding for a moment to the humor of the thing, acted the _naifAnglais_ to the life. The Captain was frisky enough to remind you of amiddle-aged Frenchman from the provinces, on a hasty visit to thecapital for a few days' fun. Ardan was in raptures. 

"Oh! if Raphael could only see us!" he exclaimed in a kind of ecstasy. "He would paint such a picture as would throw all his other masterpiecesin the shade!"

"Knock spots out of the best of them by fifty per cent!" cried theCaptain, gesticulating well enough _à l'étudiant_, but rather mixing hismetaphors. 

[Illustration: A GROUP _A LA JARDIN MABILLE_. ]

"He should be pretty quick in getting through the job, " observedBarbican, the first as usual to recover tranquillity. "As soon as theProjectile will have passed the neutral point--in half an hour atlongest--lunar attraction will draw us to the Moon. "

"We shall have to crawl on the ceiling then like flies, " said Ardan. 

"Not at all, " said the Captain; "the Projectile, having its centre ofgravity very low, will turn upside down by degrees. "

"Upside down!" cried Ardan. "That will be a nice mess! everythinghiggledy-piggledy!"

"No danger, friend Michael, " said M'Nicholl; "there shall be no disorderwhatever; nothing will quit its place; the movement of the Projectilewill be effected by such slow degrees as to be imperceptible. "

"Yes, " added Barbican, "as soon as we shall have passed the neutralpoint, the base of the Projectile, its heaviest part, will swing aroundgradually until it faces the Moon. Before this phenomenon, however, cantake place, we must of course cross the line. "

"Cross the line!" cried the Frenchman; "then let us imitate the sailorswhen they do the same thing in the Atlantic Ocean! Splice the mainbrace!"

A slight effort carried him sailing over to the side of the Projectile. Opening a cupboard and taking out a bottle and a few glasses, he placedthem on a tray. Then setting the tray itself in the air as on a table infront of his companions, he filled the glasses, passed them around, and, in a lively speech interrupted with many a joyous hurrah, congratulatedhis companions on their glorious achievement in being the first thatever crossed the lunar line. 

This counteracting influence of the attractions lasted nearly an hour. By that time the travellers could keep themselves on the floor withoutmuch effort. Barbican also made his companions remark that the conicalpoint of the Projectile diverged a little from the direct line to theMoon, while by an inverse movement, as they could notice through thewindow of the floor, the base was gradually turning away from the Earth. The Lunar attraction was evidently getting the better of theTerrestrial. The fall towards the Moon, though still almost insensible, was certainly beginning. 

It could not be more than the eightieth part of an inch in the firstsecond. But by degrees, as the attractive force would increase, the fallwould be more decided, and the Projectile, overbalanced by its base, andpresenting its cone to the Earth, would descend with acceleratedvelocity to the Lunar surface. The object of their daring attempt wouldthen be successfully attained. No further obstacle, therefore, beinglikely to stand in the way of the complete success of the enterprise, the Captain and the Frenchman cordially shook hands with Barbican, allkept congratulating each other on their good fortune as long as thebottle lasted. 

They could not talk enough about the wonderful phenomenon latelywitnessed; the chief point, the neutralization of the law of gravity, particularly, supplied them with an inexhaustible subject. TheFrenchman, as usual, as enthusiastic in his fancy, as he was fanciful inhis enthusiasm, got off some characteristic remarks. 

"What a fine thing it would be, my boys, " he exclaimed, "if on Earth wecould be so fortunate as we have been here, and get rid of that weightthat keeps us down like lead, that rivets us to it like an adamantinechain! Then should we prisoners become free! Adieu forever to allweariness of arms or feet! At present, in order to fly over the surfaceof the Earth by the simple exertion of our muscles or even to sustainourselves in the air, we require a muscular force fifty times greaterthan we possess; but if attraction did not exist, the simplest act ofthe will, our slightest whim even, would be sufficient to transport usto whatever part of space we wished to visit. "

"Ardan, you had better invent something to kill attraction, " observedM'Nicholl drily; "you can do it if you try. Jackson and Morton havekilled pain by sulphuric ether. Suppose you try your hand onattraction!"

"It would be worth a trial!" cried Ardan, so full of his subject as notto notice the Captain's jeering tone; "attraction once destroyed, thereis an end forever to all loads, packs and burdens! How the poor omnibushorses would rejoice! Adieu forever to all cranes, derricks, capstans, jack-screws, and even hotel-elevators! We could dispense with allladders, door steps, and even stair-cases!"

"And with all houses too, " interrupted Barbican; "or, at least, we_should_ dispense with them because we could not have them. If there wasno weight, you could neither make a wall of bricks nor cover your housewith a roof. Even your hat would not stay on your head. The cars wouldnot stay on the railway nor the boats on the water. What do I say? Wecould not have any water. Even the Ocean would leave its bed and floataway into space. Nay, the atmosphere itself would leave us, beingdetained in its place by terrestrial attraction and by nothing else. "

"Too true, Mr. President, " replied Ardan after a pause. "It's a fact. Iacknowledge the corn, as Marston says. But how you positive fellows doknock holes into our pretty little creations of fancy!"

"Don't feel so bad about it, Ardan;" observed M'Nicholl; "though theremay be no orb from which gravity is excluded altogether, we shall soonland in one, where it is much less powerful than on the Earth. "

"You mean the Moon!"

"Yes, the Moon. Her mass being 1/89 of the Earth's, her attractive powershould be in the same proportion; that is, a boy 10 years old, whoseweight on Earth is about 90 lbs. , would weigh on the Moon only about 1pound, if nothing else were to be taken into consideration. But whenstanding on the surface of the Moon, he is relatively 4 times nearer tothe centre than when he is standing on the surface of the Earth. Hisweight, therefore, having to be increased by the square of the distance, must be sixteen times greater. Now 16 times 1/89 being less than 1/5, itis clear that my weight of 150 pounds will be cut down to nearly 30 assoon as we reach the Moon's surface. "

"And mine?" asked Ardan. 

"Yours will hardly reach 25 pounds, I should think, " was the reply. 

"Shall my muscular strength diminish in the same proportion?" was thenext question. 

"On the contrary, it will be relatively so much the more increased thatyou can take a stride 15 feet in width as easily as you can now take oneof ordinary length. "

"We shall be all Samsons, then, in the Moon!" cried Ardan. 

"Especially, " replied M'Nicholl, "if the stature of the Selenites is inproportion to the mass of their globe. "

"If so, what should be their height?"

"A tall man would hardly be twelve inches in his boots!"

"They must be veritable Lilliputians then!" cried Ardan; "and we are allto be Gullivers! The old myth of the Giants realized! Perhaps the Titansthat played such famous parts in the prehistoric period of our Earth, were adventurers like ourselves, casually arrived from some greatplanet!"

"Not from such planets as _Mercury_, _Venus_ or _Mars_ anyhow, friendMichael, " observed Barbican. "But the inhabitants of _Jupiter_, _Saturn_, _Uranus, _ or _Neptune_, if they bear the same proportion totheir planet that we do ours, must certainly be regular Brobdignagians. "

"Let us keep severely away from all planets of the latter class then, "said Ardan. "I never liked to play the part of Lilliputian myself. Buthow about the Sun, Barbican? I always had a hankering after the Sun!"

"The Sun's volume is about 1-1/3 million times greater than that of theEarth, but his density being only about 1/4, the attraction on hissurface is hardly 30 times greater than that of our globe. Still, everyproportion observed, the inhabitants of the Sun can't be much less than150 or 160 feet in height. "

"_Mille tonnerres!_" cried Ardan, "I should be there like Ulysses amongthe Cyclops! I'll tell you what it is, Barbican; if we ever decide ongoing to the Sun, we must provide ourselves before hand with a few ofyour Rodman's Columbiads to frighten off the Solarians!"

"Your Columbiads would not do great execution there, " observedM'Nicholl; "your bullet would be hardly out of the barrel when it woulddrop to the surface like a heavy stone pushed off the wall of a house. "

"Oh! I like that!" laughed the incredulous Ardan. 

"A little calculation, however, shows the Captain's remark to beperfectly just, " said Barbican. "Rodman's ordinary 15 inch Columbiadrequires a charge of 100 pounds of mammoth powder to throw a ball of500 pounds weight. What could such a charge do with a ball weighing 30times as much or 15, 000 pounds? Reflect on the enormous weighteverything must have on the surface of the Sun! Your hat, for instance, would weigh 20 or 30 pounds. Your cigar nearly a pound. In short, yourown weight on the Sun's surface would be so great, more than two tons, that if you ever fell you should never be able to pick yourself upagain!"

"Yes, " added the Captain, "and whenever you wanted to eat or drink youshould rig up a set of powerful machinery to hoist the eatables anddrinkables into your mouth. "

"Enough of the Sun to-day, boys!" cried Ardan, shrugging his shoulders;"I don't contemplate going there at present. Let us be satisfied withthe Moon! There, at least, we shall be of some account!"

CHAPTER IX. 

A LITTLE OFF THE TRACK. 

Barbican's mind was now completely at rest at least on one subject. Theoriginal force of the discharge had been great enough to send theProjectile beyond the neutral line. Therefore, there was no longer anydanger of its falling back to the Earth. Therefore, there was no longerany danger of its resting eternally motionless on the point of thecounteracting attractions. The next subject to engage his attention wasthe question: would the Projectile, under the influence of lunarattraction, succeed in reaching its destination?

The only way in which it _could_ succeed was by falling through a spaceof nearly 24, 000 miles and then striking the Moon's surface. A mostterrific fall! Even taking the lunar attraction to be only the one-sixthof the Earth's, such a fall was simply bewildering to think of. Thegreatest height to which a balloon ever ascended was seven miles(Glaisher, 1862). Imagine a fall from even that distance! Then imagine afall from a height of four thousand miles!

Yet it was for a fall of this appalling kind on the surface of the Moonthat the travellers had now to prepare themselves. Instead of avoidingit, however, they eagerly desired it and would be very muchdisappointed if they missed it. They had taken the best precautions theycould devise to guard against the terrific shock. These were mainly oftwo kinds: one was intended to counteract as much as possible thefearful results to be expected the instant the Projectile touched thelunar surface; the other, to retard the velocity of the fall itself, andthereby to render it less violent. 

The best arrangement of the first kind was certainly Barbican'swater-contrivance for counteracting the shock at starting, which hasbeen so fully described in our former volume. (See _Baltimore Gun Club_, page 353. ) But unfortunately it could be no longer employed. Even if thepartitions were in working order, the water--two thousand pounds inweight had been required--was no longer to be had. The little still leftin the tanks was of no account for such a purpose. Besides, they had nota single drop of the precious liquid to spare, for they were as yetanything but sanguine regarding the facility of finding water on theMoon's surface. 

Fortunately, however, as the gentle reader may remember, Barbican, besides using water to break the concussion, had provided the movabledisc with stout pillars containing a strong buffing apparatus, intendedto protect it from striking the bottom too violently after thedestruction of the different partitions. These buffers were still good, and, gravity being as yet almost imperceptible, to put them once more inorder and adjust them to the disc was not a difficult task. 

The travellers set to work at once and soon accomplished it. Thedifferent pieces were put together readily--a mere matter of bolts andscrews, with plenty of tools to manage them. In a short time therepaired disc rested on its steel buffers, like a table on its legs, orrather like a sofa seat on its springs. The new arrangement was attendedwith at least one disadvantage. The bottom light being covered up, aconvenient view of the Moon's surface could not be had as soon as theyshould begin to fall in a perpendicular descent. This, however, was onlya slight matter, as the side lights would permit the adventurers toenjoy quite as favorable a view of the vast regions of the Moon as isafforded to balloon travellers when looking down on the Earth over thesides of their car. 

The disc arrangement was completed in about an hour, but it was not tillpast twelve o'clock before things were restored to their usual order. Barbican then tried to make fresh observations regarding the inclinationof the Projectile; but to his very decided chagrin he found that it hadnot yet turned over sufficiently to commence the perpendicular fall: onthe contrary, it even seemed to be following a curve rather parallelwith that of the lunar disc. The Queen of the Stars now glittered with alight more dazzling than ever, whilst from an opposite part of the skythe glorious King of Day flooded her with his fires. 

The situation began to look a little serious. 

"Shall we ever get there!" asked the Captain. 

"Let us be prepared for getting there, any how, " was Barbican's dubiousreply. 

"You're a pretty pair of suspenders, " said Ardan cheerily (he meant ofcourse doubting hesitators, but his fluent command of English sometimesled him into such solecisms). "Certainly we shall get there--and perhapsa little sooner than will be good for us. "

This reply sharply recalled Barbican to the task he had undertaken, andhe now went to work seriously, trying to combine arrangements to breakthe fall. The reader may perhaps remember Ardan's reply to the Captainon the day of the famous meeting in Tampa. 

"Your fall would be violent enough, " the Captain had urged, "to splinteryou like glass into a thousand fragments. "

"And what shall prevent me, " had been Ardan's ready reply, "frombreaking my fall by means of counteracting rockets suitably disposed, and let off at the proper time?"

The practical utility of this idea had at once impressed Barbican. Itcould hardly be doubted that powerful rockets, fastened on the outsideto the bottom of the Projectile, could, when discharged, considerablyretard the velocity of the fall by their sturdy recoil. They could burnin a vacuum by means of oxygen furnished by themselves, as powder burnsin the chamber of a gun, or as the volcanoes of the Moon continue theiraction regardless of the absence of a lunar atmosphere. 

Barbican had therefore provided himself with rockets enclosed in strongsteel gun barrels, grooved on the outside so that they could be screwedinto corresponding holes already made with much care in the bottom ofthe Projectile. They were just long enough, when flush with the floorinside, to project outside by about six inches. They were twenty innumber, and formed two concentric circles around the dead light. Smallholes in the disc gave admission to the wires by which each of therockets was to be discharged externally by electricity. The whole effectwas therefore to be confined to the outside. The mixtures having beenalready carefully deposited in each barrel, nothing further need be donethan to take away the metallic plugs which had been screwed into thebottom of the Projectile, and replace them by the rockets, every one ofwhich was found to fit its grooved chamber with rigid exactness. 

This evidently should have been all done before the disc had beenfinally laid on its springs. But as this had to be lifted up again inorder to reach the bottom of the Projectile, more work was to be donethan was strictly necessary. Though the labor was not very hard, considering that gravity had as yet scarcely made itself felt, M'Nicholland Ardan were not sorry to have their little joke at Barbican'sexpense. The Frenchman began humming

 "_Aliquandoque bonus dormitat Homerus, _"

to a tune from _Orphée aux Enfers_, and the Captain said somethingabout the Philadelphia Highway Commissioners who pave a street one day, and tear it up the next to lay the gas pipes. But his friends' humor wasall lost on Barbican, who was so wrapped up in his work that he probablynever heard a word they said. 

Towards three o'clock every preparation was made, every possibleprecaution taken, and now our bold adventurers had nothing more to dothan watch and wait. 

The Projectile was certainly approaching the Moon. It had by this timeturned over considerably under the influence of attraction, but its ownoriginal motion still followed a decidedly oblique direction. Theconsequence of these two forces might possibly be a tangent, lineapproaching the edge of the Moon's disc. One thing was certain: theProjectile had not yet commenced to fall directly towards her surface;its base, in which its centre of gravity lay, was still turned awayconsiderably from the perpendicular. 

Barbican's countenance soon showed perplexity and even alarm. HisProjectile was proving intractable to the laws of gravitation. The_unknown_ was opening out dimly before him, the great boundless unknownof the starry plains. In his pride and confidence as a scientist, he hadflattered himself with having sounded the consequence of every possiblehypothesis regarding the Projectile's ultimate fate: the return to theEarth; the arrival at the Moon; and the motionless dead stop at theneutral point. But here, a new and incomprehensible fourth hypothesis, big with the terrors of the mystic infinite, rose up before hisdisturbed mind, like a grim and hollow ghost. After a few seconds, however, he looked at it straight in the face without wincing. Hiscompanions showed themselves just as firm. Whether it was science thatemboldened Barbican, his phlegmatic stoicism that propped up theCaptain, or his enthusiastic vivacity that cheered the irrepressibleArdan, I cannot exactly say. But certainly they were all soon talkingover the matter as calmly as you or I would discuss the advisability oftaking a sail on the lake some beautiful evening in July. 

Their first remarks were decidedly peculiar and quite characteristic. Other men would have asked themselves where the Projectile was takingthem to. Do you think such a question ever occurred to them? Not a bitof it. They simply began asking each other what could have been thecause of this new and strange state of things. 

"Off the track, it appears, " observed Ardan. "How's that?"

"My opinion is, " answered the Captain, "that the Projectile was notaimed true. Every possible precaution had been taken, I am well aware, but we all know that an inch, a line, even the tenth part of a hair'sbreadth wrong at the start would have sent us thousands of miles off ourcourse by this time. "

"What have you to say to that, Barbican?" asked Ardan. 

"I don't think there was any error at the start, " was the confidentreply; "not even so much as a line! We took too many tests proving theabsolute perpendicularity of the Columbiad, to entertain the slightestdoubt on that subject. Its direction towards the zenith beingincontestable, I don't see why we should not reach the Moon when shecomes to the zenith. "

"Perhaps we're behind time, " suggested Ardan. 

"What have you to say to that, Barbican?" asked the Captain. "You knowthe Cambridge men said the journey had to be done in 97 hours 13 minutesand 20 seconds. That's as much as to say that if we're not up to time weshall miss the Moon. "

"Correct, " said Barbican. "But we _can't_ be behind time. We started, you know, on December 1st, at 13 minutes and 20 seconds before 11o'clock, and we were to arrive four days later at midnight precisely. To-day is December 5th Gentlemen, please examine your watches. It is nowhalf past three in the afternoon. Eight hours and a half are sufficientto take us to our journey's end. Why should we not arrive there?"

"How about being ahead of time?" asked the Captain. 

"Just so!" said Ardan. "You know we have discovered the initial velocityto have been greater than was expected. "

"Not at all! not at all!" cried Barbican "A slight excess of velocitywould have done no harm whatever had the direction of the Projectilebeen perfectly true. No. There must have been a digression. We must havebeen switched off!"

"Switched off? By what?" asked both his listeners in one breath. 

"I can't tell, " said Barbican curtly. 

"Well!" said Ardan; "if Barbican can't tell, there is an end to allfurther talk on the subject. We're switched off--that's enough for me. What has done it? I don't care. Where are we going to? I don't care. What is the use of pestering our brains about it? We shall soon findout. We are floating around in space, and we shall end by hauling upsomewhere or other. "

But in this indifference Barbican was far from participating. Not thathe was not prepared to meet the future with a bold and manly heart. Itwas his inability to answer his own question that rendered him uneasy. What _had_ switched them off? He would have given worlds for an answer, but his brain sorely puzzled sought one in vain. 

In the mean time, the Projectile continued to turn its side rather thanits base towards the Moon; that is, to assume a lateral rather than adirect movement, and this movement was fully participated in by themultitude of the objects that had been thrown outside. Barbican couldeven convince himself by sighting several points on the lunar surface, by this time hardly more than fifteen or eighteen thousand milesdistant, that the velocity of the Projectile instead of accelerating wasbecoming more and more uniform. This was another proof that there wasno perpendicular fall. However, though the original impulsive force wasstill superior to the Moon's attraction, the travellers were evidentlyapproaching the lunar disc, and there was every reason to hope that theywould at last reach a point where, the lunar attraction at last havingthe best of it, a decided fall should be the result. 

The three friends, it need hardly be said, continued to make theirobservations with redoubled interest, if redoubled interest werepossible. But with all their care they could as yet determine nothingregarding the topographical details of our radiant satellite. Hersurface still reflected the solar rays too dazzlingly to show the reliefnecessary for satisfactory observation. 

Our travellers kept steadily on the watch looking out of the sidelights, till eight o'clock in the evening, by which time the Moon hadgrown so large in their eyes that she covered up fully half the sky. Atthis time the Projectile itself must have looked like a streak of light, reflecting, as it did, the Sun's brilliancy on the one side and theMoon's splendor on the other. 

Barbican now took a careful observation and calculated that they couldnot be much more than 2, 000 miles from the object of their journey. Thevelocity of the Projectile he calculated to be about 650 feet per secondor 450 miles an hour. They had therefore still plenty of time to reachthe Moon in about four hours. But though the bottom of the Projectilecontinued to turn towards the lunar surface in obedience to the law ofcentripetal force, the centrifugal force was still evidently strongenough to change the path which it followed into some kind of curve, theexact nature of which would be exceedingly difficult to calculate. 

The careful observations that Barbican continued to take did not howeverprevent him from endeavoring to solve his difficult problem. What _had_switched them off? The hours passed on, but brought no result. That theadventurers were approaching the Moon was evident, but it was just asevident that they should never reach her. The nearest point theProjectile could ever possibly attain would only be the result of twoopposite forces, the attractive and the repulsive, which, as was nowclear, influenced its motion. Therefore, to land in the Moon was anutter impossibility, and any such idea was to be given up at once andfor ever. 

"_Quand même_! What of it!" cried Ardan; after some moments' silence. "We're not to land in the Moon! Well! let us do the next bestthing--pass close enough to discover her secrets!"

But M'Nicholl could not accept the situation so coolly. On the contrary, he decidedly lost his temper, as is occasionally the case with evenphlegmatic men. He muttered an oath or two, but in a voice hardly loudenough to reach Barbican's ear. At last, impatient of further restraint, he burst out:

"Who the deuce cares for her secrets? To the hangman with her secrets!We started to land in the Moon! That's what's got to be done! That Iwant or nothing! Confound the darned thing, I say, whatever it was, whether on the Earth or off it, that shoved us off the track!"

"On the Earth or off it!" cried Barbican, striking his head suddenly;"now I see it! You're right, Captain! Confound the bolide that we metthe first night of our journey!"

"Hey?" cried Ardan. 

"What do you mean?" asked M'Nicholl. 

"I mean, " replied Barbican, with a voice now perfectly calm, and in atone of quiet conviction, "that our deviation is due altogether to thatwandering meteor. "

"Why, it did not even graze us!" cried Ardan. 

"No matter for that, " replied Barbican. "Its mass, compared to ours, wasenormous, and its attraction was undoubtedly sufficiently great toinfluence our deviation. "

"Hardly enough to be appreciable, " urged M'Nicholl. 

"Right again, Captain, " observed Barbican. "But just remember anobservation of your own made this very afternoon: an inch, a line, eventhe tenth part of a hair's breadth wrong at the beginning, in a journeyof 240 thousand miles, would be sufficient to make us miss the Moon!"

CHAPTER X. 

THE OBSERVERS OF THE MOON. 

Barbican's happy conjecture had probably hit the nail on the head. Thedivergency even of a second may amount to millions of miles if you onlyhave your lines long enough. The Projectile had certainly gone off itsdirect course; whatever the cause, the fact was undoubted. It was agreat pity. The daring attempt must end in a failure due altogether to afortuitous accident, against which no human foresight could havepossibly taken precaution. Unless in case of the occurrence of someother most improbable accident, reaching the Moon was evidently nowimpossible. To failure, therefore, our travellers had to make up theirminds. 

But was nothing to be gained by the trip? Though missing actual contactwith the Moon, might they not pass near enough to solve several problemsin physics and geology over which scientists had been for a long timepuzzling their brains in vain? Even this would be some compensation forall their trouble, courage, and intelligence. As to what was to be theirown fate, to what doom were themselves to be reserved--they neverappeared to think of such a thing. They knew very well that in the midstof those infinite solitudes they should soon find themselves withoutair. The slight supply that kept them from smothering could notpossibly last more than five or six days longer. Five or six days! Whatof that? _Quand même_! as Ardan often exclaimed. Five or six days werecenturies to our bold adventurers! At present every second was a year inevents, and infinitely too precious to be squandered away in merepreparations for possible contingencies. The Moon could never bereached, but was it not possible that her surface could be carefullyobserved? This they set themselves at once to find out. 

The distance now separating them from our Satellite they estimated atabout 400 miles. Therefore relatively to their power of discovering thedetails of her disc, they were still farther off from the Moon than someof our modern astronomers are to-day, when provided with their powerfultelescopes. 

We know, for example, that Lord Rosse's great telescope at Parsonstown, possessing a power of magnifying 6000 times, brings the Moon to within40 miles of us; not to speak of Barbican's great telescope on the summitof Long's Peak, by which the Moon, magnified 48, 000 times, was broughtwithin 5 miles of the Earth, where it therefore could reveal withsufficient distinctness every object above 40 feet in diameter. 

Therefore our adventurers, though at such a comparatively smalldistance, could not make out the topographical details of the Moon withany satisfaction by their unaided vision. The eye indeed could easilyenough catch the rugged outline of these vast depressions improperlycalled "Seas, " but it could do very little more. Its powers ofadjustability seemed to fail before the strange and bewildering scene. The prominence of the mountains vanished, not only through theforeshortening, but also in the dazzling radiation produced by thedirect reflection of the solar rays. After a short time therefore, completely foiled by the blinding glare, the eye turned itselfunwillingly away, as if from a furnace of molten silver. 

The spherical surface, however, had long since begun to reveal itsconvexity. The Moon was gradually assuming the appearance of a giganticegg with the smaller end turned towards the Earth. In the earlier daysof her formation, while still in a state of mobility, she had beenprobably a perfect sphere in shape, but, under the influence ofterrestrial gravity operating for uncounted ages, she was drawn at lastso much towards the centre of attraction as to resemble somewhat aprolate spheriod. By becoming a satellite, she had lost the nativeperfect regularity of her outline; her centre of gravity had shiftedfrom her real centre; and as a result of this arrangement, somescientists have drawn the conclusion that the Moon's air and water havebeen attracted to that portion of her surface which is always invisibleto the inhabitants of the Earth. 

The convexity of her outline, this bulging prominence of her surface, however, did not last long. The travellers were getting too near tonotice it. They were beginning to survey the Moon as balloonists surveythe Earth. The Projectile was now moving with great rapidity--withnothing like its initial velocity, but still eight or nine times fasterthan an express train. Its line of movement, however, being obliqueinstead of direct, was so deceptive as to induce Ardan to flatterhimself that they might still reach the lunar surface. He could neverpersuade himself to believe that they should get so near their aim andstill miss it. No; nothing might, could, would or should induce him tobelieve it, he repeated again and again. But Barbican's pitiless logicleft him no reply. 

"No, dear friend, no. We can reach the Moon only by a fall, and we don'tfall. Centripetal force keeps us at least for a while under the lunarinfluence, but centrifugal force drives us away irresistibly. "

These words were uttered in a tone that killed Ardan's last and fondesthope. 

 * * * * *

The portion of the Moon they were now approaching was her northernhemisphere, found usually in the lower part of lunar maps. The lens of atelescope, as is well known, gives only the inverted image of theobject; therefore, when an upright image is required, an additionalglass must be used. But as every additional glass is an additionalobstruction to the light, the object glass of a Lunar telescope isemployed without a corrector; light is thereby saved, and in viewing theMoon, as in viewing a map, it evidently makes very little differencewhether we see her inverted or not. Maps of the Moon therefore, beingdrawn from the image formed by the telescope, show the north in thelower part, and _vice versa_. Of this kind was the _MappaSelenographica_, by Beer and Maedler, so often previously alluded to andnow carefully consulted by Barbican. The northern hemisphere, towardswhich they were now rapidly approaching, presented a strong contrastwith the southern, by its vast plains and great depressions, checkeredhere and there by very remarkable isolated mountains. [A]

At midnight the Moon was full. This was the precise moment at which thetravellers would have landed had not that unlucky bolide drawn them offthe track. The Moon was therefore strictly up to time, arriving at theinstant rigidly determined by the Cambridge Observatory. She occupiedthe exact point, to a mathematical nicety, where our 28th parallelcrossed the perigee. An observer posted in the bottom of the Columbiadat Stony Hill, would have found himself at this moment precisely underthe Moon. The axis of the enormous gun, continued upwards vertically, would have struck the orb of night exactly in her centre. 

It is hardly necessary to tell our readers that, during this memorablenight of the 5th and 6th of December, the travellers had no desire toclose their eyes. Could they do so, even if they had desired? No! Alltheir faculties, thoughts, and desires, were concentrated in one singleword: "Look!" Representatives of the Earth, and of all humanity past andpresent, they felt that it was with their eyes that the race of mancontemplated the lunar regions and penetrated the secrets of oursatellite! A certain indescribable emotion therefore, combined with anundefined sense of responsibility, held possession of their hearts, asthey moved silently from window to window. 

Their observations, recorded by Barbican, were vigorously remade, revised, and re-determined, by the others. To make them, they hadtelescopes which they now began to employ with great advantage. Toregulate and investigate them, they had the best maps of the day. 

Whilst occupied in this silent work, they could not help throwing ashort retrospective glance on the former Observers of the Moon. 

The first of these was Galileo. His slight telescope magnified onlythirty times, still, in the spots flecking the lunar surface, like theeyes checkering a peacock's tail, he was the first to discover mountainsand even to measure their heights. These, considering the difficultiesunder which he labored, were wonderfully accurate, but unfortunately hemade no map embodying his observations. 

A few years afterwards, Hevel of Dantzic, (1611-1688) a Polishastronomer--more generally known as Hevelius, his works being allwritten in Latin--undertook to correct Galileo's measurements. But ashis method could be strictly accurate only twice a month--the periods ofthe first and second quadratures--his rectifications could be hardlycalled successful. 

Still it is to the labors of this eminent astronomer, carried onuninterruptedly for fifty years in his own observatory, that we owe thefirst map of the Moon. It was published in 1647 under the name of_Selenographia_. He represented the circular mountains by open spotssomewhat round in shape, and by shaded figures he indicated the vastplains, or, as he called them, the _seas_, that occupied so much of hersurface. These he designated by names taken from our Earth. His mapshows you a _Mount Sinai_ the midst of an _Arabia_, an _Ætna_ in thecentre of a _Sicily_, _Alps_, _Apennines_, _Carpathians_, a_Mediterranean_, a _Palus Mæolis_, a _Pontus Euxinus_, and a _CaspianSea_. But these names seem to have been given capriciously and atrandom, for they never recall any resemblance existing betweenthemselves and their namesakes on our globe. In the wide open spot, forinstance, connected on the south with vast continents and terminating ina point, it would be no easy matter to recognize the reversed image ofthe _Indian Peninsula_, the _Bay of Bengal_, and _Cochin China_. Naturally, therefore, these names were nearly all soon dropped; butanother system of nomenclature, proposed by an astronomer betteracquainted with the human heart, met with a success that has lasted tothe present day. 

This was Father Riccioli, a Jesuit, and (1598-1671) a contemporary ofHevelius. In his _Astronomia Reformata_, (1665), he published a roughand incorrect map of the Moon, compiled from observations made byGrimaldi of Ferrara; but in designating the mountains, he named themafter eminent astronomers, and this idea of his has been carefullycarried out by map makers of later times. 

A third map of the Moon was published at Rome in 1666 by DominicoCassini of Nice (1625-1712), the famous discoverer of Saturn'ssatellites. Though somewhat incorrect regarding measurements, it wassuperior to Riccioli's in execution, and for a long time it wasconsidered a standard work. Copies of this map are still to be found, but Cassini's original copper-plate, preserved for a long time at the_Imprimerie Royale_ in Paris, was at last sold to a brazier, by no lessa personage than the Director of the establishment himself, who, according to Arago, wanted to get rid of what he considered uselesslumber!

La Hire (1640-1718), professor of astronomy in the _Collège de France_, and an accomplished draughtsman, drew a map of the Moon which wasthirteen feet in diameter. This map could be seen long afterwards in thelibrary of St. Genevieve, Paris, but it was never engraved. 

About 1760, Mayer, a famous German astronomer and the director of theobservatory of Göttingen, began the publication of a magnificent map ofthe Moon, drawn after lunar measurements all rigorously verified byhimself. Unfortunately his death in 1762 interrupted a work which wouldhave surpassed in accuracy every previous effort of the kind. 

Next appears Schroeter of Erfurt (1745-1816), a fine observer (he firstdiscovered the Lunar _Rills_), but a poor draughtsman: his maps aretherefore of little value. Lohrman of Dresden published in 1838 anexcellent map of the Moon, 15 inches in diameter, accompanied bydescriptive text and several charts of particular portions on a largerscale. 

But this and all other maps were thrown completely into the shade byBeer and Maedler's famous _Mappa Selenographica_, so often alluded to inthe course of this work. This map, projected orthographically--that is, one in which all the rays proceeding from the surface to the eye aresupposed to be parallel to each other--gives a reproduction of the lunardisc exactly as it appears. The representation of the mountains andplains is therefore correct only in the central portion; elsewhere, north, south, east, or west, the features, being foreshortened, arecrowded together, and cannot be compared in measurement with those inthe centre. It is more than three feet square; for convenient referenceit is divided into four parts, each having a very full index; in short, this map is in all respects a master piece of lunar cartography. [B]

After Beer and Maedler, we should allude to Julius Schmitt's (of Athens)excellent selenographic reliefs: to Doctor Draper's, and to FatherSecchi's successful application of photography to lunar representation;to De La Rue's (of London) magnificent stereographs of the Moon, to behad at every optician's; to the clear and correct map prepared byLecouturier and Chapuis in 1860; to the many beautiful pictures of theMoon in various phases of illumination obtained by the Messrs. Bond ofHarvard University; to Rutherford's (of New York) unparalleled lunarphotographs; and finally to Nasmyth and Carpenter's wonderful work onthe Moon, illustrated by photographs of her surface in detail, preparedfrom models at which they had been laboring for more than a quarter ofthe century. 

Of all these maps, pictures, and projections, Barbican had providedhimself with only two--Beer and Maedler's in German, and Lecouturier andChapuis' in French. These he considered quite sufficient for allpurposes, and certainly they considerably simplified his labors as anobserver. 

His best optical instruments were several excellent marine telescopes, manufactured especially under his direction. Magnifying the object ahundred times, on the surface of the Earth they would have brought theMoon to within a distance of somewhat less than 2400 miles. But at thepoint to which our travellers had arrived towards three o'clock in themorning, and which could hardly be more than 12 or 1300 miles from theMoon, these telescopes, ranging through a medium disturbed by noatmosphere, easily brought the lunar surface to within less than 13miles' distance from the eyes of our adventurers. 

Therefore they should now see objects in the Moon as clearly as peoplecan see the opposite bank of a river that is about 12 miles wide. 

[Footnote A: In our Map of the Moon, prepared expressly for this work, we have so far improved on Beer and Maedler as to give her surface as itappears to the naked eye: that is, the north is in the north; only wemust always remember that the west is and must be on the _right hand_. ]

[Footnote B: In our Map the _Mappa Selenographica_ is copied as closelyand as fully as is necessary for understanding the details of the story. For further information the reader is referred to Nasmyth's latemagnificent work: the MOON. ]

CHAPTER XI. 

FACT AND FANCY. 

"Have you ever seen the Moon?" said a teacher ironically one day inclass to one of his pupils. 

"No, sir;" was the pert reply; "but I think I can safely say I've heardit spoken about. "

Though saying what he considered a smart thing, the pupil was probablyperfectly right. Like the immense majority of his fellow beings, he hadlooked at the Moon, heard her talked of, written poetry about her, but, in the strict sense of the term, he had probably never seen her--thatis--scanned her, examined her, surveyed her, inspected her, reconnoitredher--even with an opera glass! Not one in a thousand, not one in tenthousand, has ever examined even the map of our only Satellite. To guardour beloved and intelligent reader against this reproach, we haveprepared an excellent reduction of Beer and Maedler's _Mappa_, on which, for the better understanding of what is to follow, we hope he willoccasionally cast a gracious eye. 

When you look at any map of the Moon, you are struck first of all withone peculiarity. Contrary to the arrangement prevailing in Mars and onour Earth, the continents occupy principally the southern hemisphere ofthe lunar orb. Then these continents are far from presenting such sharpand regular outlines as distinguish the Indian Peninsula, Africa, andSouth America. On the contrary, their coasts, angular, jagged, anddeeply indented, abound in bays and peninsulas. They remind you of thecoast of Norway, or of the islands in the Sound, where the land seems tobe cut up into endless divisions. If navigation ever existed on theMoon's surface, it must have been of a singularly difficult anddangerous nature, and we can scarcely say which of the two should bemore pitied--the sailors who had to steer through these dangerous andcomplicated passes, or the map-makers who had to designate them on theircharts. 

You will also remark that the southern pole of the Moon is much more_continental_ than the northern. Around the latter, there exists only aslight fringe of lands separated from the other continents by vast"seas. " This word "seas"--a term employed by the first lunar mapconstructors--is still retained to designate those vast depressions onthe Moon's surface, once perhaps covered with water, though they are nowonly enormous plains. In the south, the continents cover nearly thewhole hemisphere. It is therefore possible that the Selenites haveplanted their flag on at least one of their poles, whereas the Parrysand Franklins of England, the Kanes and the Wilkeses of America, theDumont d'Urvilles and the Lamberts of France, have so far met withobstacles completely insurmountable, while in search of those unknownpoints of our terrestrial globe. 

The islands--the next feature on the Moon's surface--are exceedinglynumerous. Generally oblong or circular in shape and almost as regular inoutline as if drawn with a compass, they form vast archipelagoes likethe famous group lying between Greece and Asia Minor, which mythologyhas made the scene of her earliest and most charming legends. As we gazeat them, the names of Naxos, Tenedos, Milo, and Carpathos rise up beforeour mind's eye, and we begin looking around for the Trojan fleet andJason's Argo. This, at least, was Ardan's idea, and at first his eyeswould see nothing on the map but a Grecian archipelago. But hiscompanions, sound practical men, and therefore totally devoid ofsentiment, were reminded by these rugged coasts of the beetling cliffsof New Brunswick and Nova Scotia; so that, where the Frenchman saw thetracks of ancient heroes, the Americans saw only commodious shippingpoints and favorable sites for trading posts--all, of course, in thepurest interest of lunar commerce and industry. 

To end our hasty sketch of the continental portion of the Moon, we mustsay a few words regarding her orthography or mountain systems. With afair telescope you can distinguish very readily her mountain chains, herisolated mountains, her circuses or ring formations, and her rills, cracks and radiating streaks. The character of the whole lunar relief iscomprised in these divisions. It is a surface prodigiously reticulated, upheaved and depressed, apparently without the slightest order orsystem. It is a vast Switzerland, an enormous Norway, where everythingis the result of direct plutonic action. This surface, so rugged, craggyand wrinkled, seems to be the result of successive contractions of thecrust, at an early period of the planet's existence. The examination ofthe lunar disc is therefore highly favorable for the study of the greatgeological phenomena of our own globe. As certain astronomers haveremarked, the Moon's surface, though older than the Earth's, hasremained younger. That is, it has undergone less change. No water hasbroken through its rugged elevations, filled up its scowling cavities, and by incessant action tended continuously to the production of ageneral level. No atmosphere, by its disintegrating, decomposinginfluence has softened off the rugged features of the plutonicmountains. Volcanic action alone, unaffected by either aqueous oratmospheric forces, can here be seen in all its glory. In other wordsthe Moon looks now as our Earth did endless ages ago, when "she was voidand empty and when darkness sat upon the face of the deep;" eons of agesago, long before the tides of the ocean and the winds of the atmospherehad begun to strew her rough surface with sand and clay, rock and coal, forest and meadow, gradually preparing it, according to the laws of ourbeneficent Creator, to be at last the pleasant though the temporaryabode of Man!

Having wandered over vast continents, your eye is attracted by the"seas" of dimensions still vaster. Not only their shape, situation, andlook, remind us of our own oceans, but, again like them, they occupythe greater part of the Moon's surface. The "seas, " or, more correctly, plains, excited our travellers' curiosity to a very high degree, andthey set themselves at once to examine their nature. 

The astronomer who first gave names to those "seas" in all probabilitywas a Frenchman. Hevelius, however, respected them, even Riccioli didnot disturb them, and so they have come down to us. Ardan laughedheartily at the fancies which they called up, and said the whole thingreminded him of one of those "maps of matrimony" that he had once seenor read of in the works of Scudéry or Cyrano de Bergerac. 

"However, " he added, "I must say that this map has much more reality init than could be found in the sentimental maps of the 17th century. Infact, I have no difficulty whatever in calling it the _Map of Life!_very neatly divided into two parts, the east and the west, the masculineand the feminine. The women on the right, and the men on the left!"

At such observations, Ardan's companions only shrugged their shoulders. A map of the Moon in their eyes was a map of the Moon, no more, no less;their romantic friend might view it as he pleased. Nevertheless, theirromantic friend was not altogether wrong. Judge a little for yourselves. 

What is the first "sea" you find in the hemisphere on the left? The_Mare Imbrium_ or the Rainy Sea, a fit emblem of our human life, beatenby many a pitiless storm. In a corresponding part of the southernhemisphere you see _Mare Nubium_, the Cloudy Sea, in which our poorhuman reason so often gets befogged. Close to this lies _Mare Humorum_, the Sea of Humors, where we sail about, the sport of each fitful breeze, "everything by starts and nothing long. " Around all, embracing all, lies_Oceanus Procellarum_, the Ocean of Tempests, where, engaged in onecontinuous struggle with the gusty whirlwinds, excited by our ownpassions or those of others, so few of us escape shipwreck. And, whendisgusted by the difficulties of life, its deceptions, its treacheriesand all the other miseries "that flesh is heir to, " where do we toooften fly to avoid them? To the _Sinus Iridium_ or the _Sinus Roris_, that is Rainbow Gulf and Dewy Gulf whose glittering lights, alas! giveforth no real illumination to guide our stumbling feet, whose sun-tippedpinnacles have less substance than a dream, whose enchanting waters allevaporate before we can lift a cup-full to our parched lips! Showers, storms, fogs, rainbows--is not the whole mortal life of man comprised inthese four words?

Now turn to the hemisphere on the right, the women's side, and you alsodiscover "seas, " more numerous indeed, but of smaller dimensions andwith gentler names, as more befitting the feminine temperament. Firstcomes _Mare Serenitatis_, the Sea of Serenity, so expressive of thecalm, tranquil soul of an innocent maiden. Near it is _Lacus Somniorum_, the Lake of Dreams, in which she loves to gaze at her gilded and rosyfuture. In the southern division is seen _Mare Nectaris_, the Sea ofNectar, over whose soft heaving billows she is gently wafted by Love'scaressing winds, "Youth on the prow and Pleasure at the helm. " Not faroff is _Mare Fecunditatis_, the Sea of Fertility, in which she becomesthe happy mother of rejoicing children. A little north is _MareCrisium_, the Sea of Crises where her life and happiness are sometimesexposed to sudden, and unexpected dangers which fortunately, however, seldom end fatally. Far to the left, near the men's side, is _MareVaporum_, the Sea of Vapors, into which, though it is rather small, andfull of sunken rocks, she sometimes allows herself to wander, moody, andpouting, and not exactly knowing where she wants to go or what she wantsto do. Between the two last expands the great _Mare Tranquillitatis_, the Sea of Tranquillity, into whose quiet depths are at last absorbedall her simulated passions, all her futile aspirations, all herunglutted desires, and whose unruffled waters are gliding on forever innoiseless current towards _Lacus Mortis_, the Lake of Death, whose mistyshores

 "In ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods are girt. "

So at least Ardan mused as he stooped over Beer and Maedler's map. Didnot these strange successive names somewhat justify his flights offancy? Surely they had a wonderful variety of meaning. Was it byaccident or by forethought deep that the two hemispheres of the Moon hadbeen thus so strangely divided, yet, as man to woman, though dividedstill united, and thus forming even in the cold regions of space aperfect image of our terrestrial existence? Who can say that ourromantic French friend was altogether wrong in thus explaining theastute fancies of the old astronomers?

His companions, however, it need hardly be said, never saw the "seas" inthat light. They looked on them not with sentimental but withgeographical eyes. They studied this new world and tried to get it byheart, working at it like a school boy at his lessons. They began bymeasuring its angles and diameters. 

To their practical, common sense vision _Mare Nubium_, the Cloudy Sea, was an immense depression of the surface, sprinkled here and there witha few circular mountains. Covering a great portion of that part of thesouthern hemisphere which lies east of the centre, it occupied a spaceof about 270 thousand square miles, its central point lying in 15° southlatitude and 20° east longitude. Northeast from this lay _OceanusProcellarum_, the Ocean of Tempests, the most extensive of all theplains on the lunar disc, embracing a surface of about half a million ofsquare miles, its centre being in 10° north and 45° east. From its bosomthose wonderful mountains _Kepler_ and _Aristarchus_ lifted their vastramparts glittering with innumerable streaks radiating in alldirections. 

To the north, in the direction of _Mare Frigoris_, extends _MareImbrium_, the Sea of Rains, its central point in 35° north and 20°east. It is somewhat circular in shape, and it covers a space of about300 thousand square miles. South of _Oceanus Procellarum_ and separatedfrom _Mare Nubium_ by a goodly number of ring mountains, lies the littlebasin of _Mare Humorum_, the Sea of Humors, containing only about 66thousand square miles, its central point having a latitude of 25° southand a longitude of 40° east. 

On the shores of these great seas three "Gulfs" are easily found: _SinusAestuum_, the Gulf of the Tides, northeast of the centre; _SinusIridium_, the Gulf of the Rainbows, northeast of the _Mare Imbrium_; and_Sinus Roris_, the Dewy Gulf, a little further northeast. All seem to besmall plains enclosed between chains of lofty mountains. 

The western hemisphere, dedicated to the ladies, according to Ardan, andtherefore naturally more capricious, was remarkable for "seas" ofsmaller dimensions, but much more numerous. These were principally:_Mare Serenitatis_, the Sea of Serenity, 25° north and 20° west, comprising a surface of about 130 thousand square miles; _Mare Crisium_, the Sea of Crises, a round, well defined, dark depression towards thenorthwestern edge, 17° north 55° west, embracing a surface of 60thousand square miles, a regular Caspian Sea in fact, only that theplateau in which it lies buried is surrounded by a girdle of much highermountains. Then towards the equator, with a latitude of 5° north and alongitude of 25° west, appears _Mare Tranquillitatis_, the Sea ofTranquillity, occupying about 180 thousand square miles. Thiscommunicates on the south with _Mare Nectaris_, the Sea of Nectar, embracing an extent of about 42 thousand square miles, with a meanlatitude of 15° south and a longitude of 35° west. Southwest from _MareTranquillitatis_, lies _Mare Fecunditatis_, the Sea of Fertility, thegreatest in this hemisphere, as it occupies an extent of more than 300thousand square miles, its latitude being 3° south and its longitude 50°west. For away to the north, on the borders of the _Mare Frigoris_, orIcy Sea, is seen the small _Mare Humboldtianum_, or Humboldt Sea, with asurface of about 10 thousand square miles. Corresponding to this in thesouthern hemisphere lies the _Mare Australe_, or South Sea, whosesurface, as it extends along the western rim, is rather difficult tocalculate. Finally, right in the centre of the lunar disc, where theequator intersects the first meridian, can be seen _Sinus Medii_, theCentral Gulf, the common property therefore of all the hemispheres, thenorthern and southern, as well as of the eastern and western. 

Into these great divisions the surface of our satellite resolved itselfbefore the eyes of Barbican and M'Nicholl. Adding up the variousmeasurements, they found that the surface of her visible hemisphere wasabout 7-1/2 millions of square miles, of which about the two thirdscomprised the volcanoes, the mountain chains, the rings, the islands--inshort, the land portion of the lunar surface; the other third comprisedthe "seas, " the "lakes, " the "marshes, " the "bays" or "gulfs, " and theother divisions usually assigned to water. 

To all this deeply interesting information, though the fruit ofobservation the closest, aided and confirmed by calculation theprofoundest, Ardan listened with the utmost indifference. In fact, evenhis French politeness could not suppress two or three decided yawns, which of course the mathematicians were too absorbed to notice. 

In their enthusiasm they tried to make him understand that though theMoon is 13-1/2 times smaller than our Earth, she can show more than 50thousand craters, which astronomers have already counted and designatedby specific names. 

"To conclude this portion of our investigation therefore, " criedBarbican, clearing his throat, and occupying Aldan's right ear, --"theMoon's surface is a honey combed, perforated, punctured--"

"A fistulous, a rugose, salebrous, --" cut in the Captain, close on theleft. 

--"And highly cribriform superficies--" cried Barbican. 

--"A sieve, a riddle, a colander--" shouted the Captain. 

--"A skimming dish, a buckwheat cake, a lump of green cheese--" went onBarbican--. 

--In fact, there is no knowing how far they would have proceeded withtheir designations, comparisons, and scientific expressions, had notArdan, driven to extremities by Barbican's last profanity, suddenlyjumped up, broken away from his companions, and clapped a forcibleextinguisher on their eloquence by putting his hands on their lips andkeeping them there awhile. Then striking a grand attitude, he lookedtowards the Moon and burst out in accents of thrilling indignation:

"Pardon, O beautiful Diana of the Ephesians! Pardon, O Phoebe, thoupearl-faced goddess of night beloved of Greece! O Isis, thou sympatheticqueen of Nile-washed cities! O Astarte, thou favorite deity of theSyrian hills! O Artemis, thou symbolical daughter of Jupiter and Latona, that is of light and darkness! O brilliant sister of the radiant Apollo!enshrined in the enchanting strains of Virgil and Homer, which I onlyhalf learned at college, and therefore unfortunately forget just now!Otherwise what pleasure I should have had in hurling them at the headsof Barbican, M'Nicholl, and every other barbarous iconoclast of thenineteenth century!--"

Here he stopped short, for two reasons: first he was out of breath;secondly, he saw that the irrepressible scientists had been too busymaking observations of their own to hear a single word of what he haduttered, and were probably totally unconscious that he had spoken atall. In a few seconds his breath came back in full blast, but the ideaof talking when only deaf men were listening was so disconcerting as toleave him actually unable to get off another syllable. 

CHAPTER XII. 

A BIRD'S EYE VIEW OF THE LUNAR MOUNTAINS. 

I am rather inclined to believe myself that not one word of Ardan'srhapsody had been ever heard by Barbican or M'Nicholl. Long before hehad spoken his last words, they had once more become mute as statues, and now were both eagerly watching, pencil in hand, spyglass to eye, thenorthern lunar hemisphere towards which they were rapidly but indirectlyapproaching. They had fully made up their minds by this time that theywere leaving far behind them the central point which they would haveprobably reached half an hour ago if they had not been shunted off theircourse by that inopportune bolide. 

About half past twelve o'clock, Barbican broke the dead silence bysaying that after a careful calculation they were now only about 875miles from the Moon's surface, a distance two hundred miles less inlength than the lunar radius, and which was still to be diminished asthey advanced further north. They were at that moment ten degrees northof the equator, almost directly over the ridge lying between the _MareSerenitatis_ and the _Mare Tranquillitatis_. From this latitude all theway up to the north pole the travellers enjoyed a most satisfactory viewof the Moon in all directions and under the most favorable conditions. By means of their spyglasses, magnifying a hundred times, they cut downthis distance of 875 miles to about 9. The great telescope of the RockyMountains, by its enormous magnifying power of 48, 000, brought the Moon, it is true, within a distance of 5 miles, or nearly twice as near; butthis advantage of nearness was considerably more than counterbalanced bya want of clearness, resulting from the haziness and refractiveness ofthe terrestrial atmosphere, not to mention those fatal defects in thereflector that the art of man has not yet succeeded in remedying. Accordingly, our travellers, armed with excellent telescopes--of justpower enough to be no injury to clearness, --and posted on unequalledvantage ground, began already to distinguish certain details that hadprobably never been noticed before by terrestrial observers. Even Ardan, by this time quite recovered from his fit of sentiment and probablyinfected a little by the scientific enthusiasm of his companions, beganto observe and note and observe and note, alternately, with all the_sangfroid_ of a veteran astronomer. 

"Friends, " said Barbican, again interrupting a silence that had lastedperhaps ten minutes, "whither we are going I can't say; if we shall everrevisit the Earth, I can't tell. Still, it is our duty so to act in allrespects as if these labors of ours were one day to be of service to ourfellow-creatures. Let us keep our souls free from every distraction. Weare now astronomers. We see now what no mortal eye has ever gazed onbefore. This Projectile is simply a work room of the great CambridgeObservatory lifted into space. Let us take observations!"

With these words, he set to work with a renewed ardor, in which hiscompanions fully participated. The consequence was that they soon hadseveral of the outline maps covered with the best sketches they couldmake of the Moon's various aspects thus presented under such favorablecircumstances. They could now remark not only that they were passing thetenth degree of north latitude, but that the Projectile followed almostdirectly the twentieth degree of east longitude. 

"One thing always puzzled me when examining maps of the Moon, " observedArdan, "and I can't say that I see it yet as clearly as if I had thoughtover the matter. It is this. I could understand, when looking through alens at an object, why we get only its reversed image--a simple law ofoptics explains _that_. Therefore, in a map of the Moon, as the bottommeans the north and the top the south, why does not the right mean thewest and the left the east? I suppose I could have made this out by alittle thought, but thinking, that is reflection, not being my forte, itis the last thing I ever care to do. Barbican, throw me a word or two onthe subject. "

"I can see what troubles you, " answered Barbican, "but I can also seethat one moment's reflection would have put an end to your perplexity. On ordinary maps of the Earth's surface when the north is the top, theright hand must be the east, the left hand the west, and so on. That issimply because we look _down_ from _above_. And such a map seen througha lens will appear reversed in all respects. But in looking at the Moon, that is _up_ from _down_, we change our position so far that our righthand points west and our left east. Consequently, in our reversed map, though the north becomes south, the right remains east, and--"

"Enough said! I see it at a glance! Thank you, Barbican. Why did notthey make you a professor of astronomy? Your hint will save me a worldof trouble. "[C]

Aided by the _Mappa Selenographica_, the travellers could easilyrecognize the different portions of the Moon over which they were nowmoving. An occasional glance at our reduction of this map, given as afrontispiece, will enable the gentle reader to follow the travellers onthe line in which they moved and to understand the remarks andobservations in which they occasionally indulged. 

"Where are we now?" asked Ardan. 

"Over the northern shores of the _Mare Nubium_, " replied Barbican. "Butwe are still too far off to see with any certainty what they are like. What is the _Mare_ itself? A sea, according to the early astronomers? aplain of solid sand, according to later authority? or an immense forest, according to De la Rue of London, so far the Moon's most successfulphotographer? This gentleman's authority, Ardan, would have given youdecided support in your famous dispute with the Captain at the meetingnear Tampa, for he says very decidedly that the Moon has an atmosphere, very low to be sure but very dense. This, however, we must find out forourselves; and in the meantime let us affirm nothing until we have goodgrounds for positive assertion. "

_Mare Nubium_, though not very clearly outlined on the maps, is easilyrecognized by lying directly east of the regions about the centre. Itwould appear as if this vast plain were sprinkled with immense lavablocks shot forth from the great volcanoes on the right, _Ptolemaeus_, _Alphonse_, _Alpetragius_ and _Arzachel_. But the Projectile advanced sorapidly that these mountains soon disappeared, and the travellers werenot long before they could distinguish the great peaks that closed the"Sea" on its northern boundary. Here a radiating mountain showed asummit so dazzling with the reflection of the solar rays that Ardancould not help crying out:

"It looks like one of the carbon points of an electric light projectedon a screen! What do you call it, Barbican?"

"_Copernicus_, " replied the President. "Let us examine old_Copernicus_!"

This grand crater is deservedly considered one of the greatest of thelunar wonders. It lifts its giant ramparts to upwards of 12, 000 feetabove the level of the lunar surface. Being quite visible from the Earthand well situated for observation, it is a favorite object forastronomical study; this is particularly the case during the phaseexisting between Last Quarter and the New Moon, when its vast shadows, projected boldly from the east towards the west, allow its prodigiousdimensions to be measured. 

After _Tycho_, which is situated in the southern hemisphere, _Copernicus_ forms the most important radiating mountain in the lunardisc. It looms up, single and isolated, like a gigantic light-house, onthe peninsula separating _Mare Nubium_ from _Oceanus Procellarum_ on oneside and from _Mare Imbrium_ on the other; thus illuminating with itssplendid radiation three "Seas" at a time. The wonderful complexity ofits bright streaks diverging on all sides from its centre presented ascene alike splendid and unique. These streaks, the travellers thought, could be traced further north than in any other direction: they fanciedthey could detect them even in the _Mare Imbrium_, but this of coursemight be owing to the point from which they made their observations. Atone o'clock in the morning, the Projectile, flying through space, wasexactly over this magnificent mountain. 

In spite of the brilliant sunlight that was blazing around them, thetravellers could easily recognize the peculiar features of _Copernicus_. It belongs to those ring mountains of the first class called Circuses. Like _Kepler_ and _Aristarchus_, who rule over _Oceanus Procellarum_, _Copernicus_, when viewed through our telescopes, sometimes glistens sobrightly through the ashy light of the Moon that it has been frequentlytaken for a volcano in full activity. Whatever it may have been once, however, it is certainly nothing more now than, like all the othermountains on the visible side of the Moon, an extinct volcano, only witha crater of such exceeding grandeur and sublimity as to throw utterlyinto the shade everything like it on our Earth. The crater of Etna is atmost little more than a mile across. The crater of _Copernicus_ has adiameter of at least 50 miles. Within it, the travellers could easilydiscover by their glasses an immense number of terraced ridges, probablylandslips, alternating with stratifications resulting from successiveeruptions. Here and there, but particularly in the southern side, theycaught glimpses of shadows of such intense blackness, projected acrossthe plateau and lying there like pitch spots, that they could not tellthem from yawning chasms of incalculable depth. Outside the crater theshadows were almost as deep, whilst on the plains all around, particularly in the west, so many small craters could be detected thatthe eye in vain attempted to count them. 

"Many circular mountains of this kind, " observed Barbican, "can be seenon the lunar surface, but _Copernicus_, though not one of the greatest, is one of the most remarkable on account of those diverging streaks ofbright light that you see radiating from its summit. By lookingsteadily into its crater, you can see more cones than mortal eye everlit on before. They are so numerous as to render the interior plateauquite rugged, and were formerly so many openings giving vent to fire andvolcanic matter. A curious and very common arrangement of this internalplateau of lunar craters is its lying at a lower level than the externalplains, quite the contrary to a terrestrial crater, which generally hasits bottom much higher than the level of the surrounding country. Itfollows therefore that the deep lying curve of the bottom of these ringmountains would give a sphere with a diameter somewhat smaller than theMoon's. "

"What can be the cause of this peculiarity?" asked M'Nicholl. 

"I can't tell;" answered Barbican, "but, as a conjecture, I should saythat it is probably to the comparatively smaller area of the Moon andthe more violent character of her volcanic action that the extremelyrugged character of her surface is mainly due. "

"Why, it's the _Campi Phlegraei_ or the Fire Fields of Naples overagain!" cried Ardan suddenly. "There's _Monte Barbaro_, there's the_Solfatara_, there is the crater of _Astroni_, and there is the _MonteNuovo_, as plain as the hand on my body!"

"The great resemblance between the region you speak of and the generalsurface of the Moon has been often remarked;" observed Barbican, "butit is even still more striking in the neighborhood of _Theophilus_ onthe borders of _Mare Nectaris_. "

"That's _Mare Nectaris_, the gray spot over there on the southwest, isn't it?" asked M'Nicholl; "is there any likelihood of our getting abetter view of it?"

"Not the slightest, " answered Barbican, "unless we go round the Moon andreturn this way, like a satellite describing its orbit. "

By this time they had arrived at a point vertical to the mountaincentre. _Copernicus's_ vast ramparts formed a perfect circle or rather apair of concentric circles. All around the mountain extended a darkgrayish plain of savage aspect, on which the peak shadows projectedthemselves in sharp relief. In the gloomy bottom of the crater, whosedimensions are vast enough to swallow Mont Blanc body and bones, couldbe distinguished a magnificent group of cones, at least half a mile inheight and glittering like piles of crystal. Towards the north severalbreaches could be seen in the ramparts, due probably to a caving in ofimmense masses accumulated on the summit of the precipitous walls. 

As already observed, the surrounding plains were dotted with numberlesscraters mostly of small dimensions, except _Gay Lussac_ on the north, whose crater was about 12 miles in diameter. Towards the southwest andthe immediate east, the plain appeared to be very flat, no protuberance, no prominence of any kind lifting itself above the general dead level. Towards the north, on the contrary, as far as where the peninsulajutted on _Oceanus Procellarum_, the plain looked like a sea of lavawildly lashed for a while by a furious hurricane and then, when itswaves and breakers and driving ridges were at their wildest, suddenlyfrozen into solidity. Over this rugged, rumpled, wrinkled surface and inall directions, ran the wonderful streaks whose radiating point appearedto be the summit of _Copernicus_. Many of them appeared to be ten mileswide and hundreds of miles in length. 

The travellers disputed for some time on the origin of these strangeradii, but could hardly be said to have arrived at any conclusion moresatisfactory than that already reached by some terrestrial observers. 

To M'Nicholl's question:

"Why can't these streaks be simply prolonged mountain crests reflectingthe sun's rays more vividly by their superior altitude and comparativesmoothness?"

Barbican readily replied:

"These streaks _can't_ be mountain crests, because, if they were, undercertain conditions of solar illumination they should project_shadows_--a thing which they have never been known to do under anycircumstances whatever. In fact, it is only during the period of thefull Moon that these streaks are seen at all; as soon as the sun's raysbecome oblique, they disappear altogether--a proof that their appearanceis due altogether to peculiar advantages in their surface for thereflection of light. "

"Dear boys, will you allow me to give my little guess on the subject?"asked Ardan. 

His companions were profuse in expressing their desire to hear it. 

"Well then, " he resumed, "seeing that these bright streaks invariablystart from a certain point to radiate in all directions, why not supposethem to be streams of lava issuing from the crater and flowing down themountain side until they cooled?"

"Such a supposition or something like it has been put forth byHerschel, " replied Barbican; "but your own sense will convince you thatit is quite untenable when you consider that lava, however hot andliquid it may be at the commencement of its journey, cannot flow on forhundreds of miles, up hills, across ravines, and over plains, all thetime in streams of almost exactly equal width. "

"That theory of yours holds no more water than mine, Ardan, " observedM'Nicholl. 

"Correct, Captain, " replied the Frenchman; "Barbican has a trick ofknocking the bottom out of every weaker vessel. But let us hear what hehas to say on the subject himself. What is your theory. Barbican?"

"My theory, " said Barbican, "is pretty much the same as that latelypresented by an English astronomer, Nasmyth, who has devoted much studyand reflection to lunar matters. Of course, I only formulate my theory, I don't affirm it. These streaks are cracks, made in the Moon's surfaceby cooling or by shrinkage, through which volcanic matter has beenforced up by internal pressure. The sinking ice of a frozen lake, whenmeeting with some sharp pointed rock, cracks in a radiating manner:every one of its fissures then admits the water, which immediatelyspreads laterally over the ice pretty much as the lava spreads itselfover the lunar surface. This theory accounts for the radiating nature ofthe streaks, their great and nearly equal thickness, their immenselength, their inability to cast a shadow, and their invisibility at anytime except at or near the Full Moon. Still it is nothing but a theory, and I don't deny that serious objections may be brought against it. "

"Do you know, dear boys, " cried Ardan, led off as usual by the slightestfancy, "do you know what I am thinking of when I look down on the greatrugged plains spread out beneath us?"

"I can't say, I'm sure, " replied Barbican, somewhat piqued at the littleattention he had secured for his theory. 

"Well, what are you thinking of?" asked M'Nicholl. 

"Spillikins!" answered Ardan triumphantly. 

"Spillikins?" cried his companions, somewhat surprised. 

"Yes, Spillikins! These rocks, these blocks, these peaks, these streaks, these cones, these cracks, these ramparts, these escarpments, --what arethey but a set of spillikins, though I acknowledge on a grand scale? Iwish I had a little hook to pull them one by one!"

[Illustration: AN IMMENSE BATTLEFIELD. ]

"Oh, do be serious, Ardan!" cried Barbican, a little impatiently. 

"Certainly, " replied Ardan. "Let us be serious, Captain, sinceseriousness best befits the subject in hand. What do you think ofanother comparison? Does not this plain look like an immense battlefield piled with the bleaching bones of myriads who had slaughtered eachother to a man at the bidding of some mighty Caesar? What do you thinkof that lofty comparison, hey?"

"It is quite on a par with the other, " muttered Barbican. 

"He's hard to please, Captain, " continued Ardan, "but let us try himagain! Does not this plain look like--?"

"My worthy friend, " interrupted Barbican, quietly, but in a tone todiscourage further discussion, "what you think the plain _looks like_ isof very slight import, as long as you know no more than a child what itreally _is_!"

"Bravo, Barbican! well put!" cried the irrepressible Frenchman. "Shall Iever realize the absurdity of my entering into an argument with ascientist!"

But this time the Projectile, though advancing northward with a prettyuniform velocity, had neither gained nor lost in its nearness to thelunar disc. Each moment altering the character of the fleeting landscapebeneath them, the travellers, as may well be imagined, never thought oftaking an instant's repose. At about half past one, looking to theirright on the west, they saw the summits of another mountain; Barbican, consulting his map, recognized _Eratosthenes_. 

This was a ring mountain, about 33 miles in diameter, having, like_Copernicus_, a crater of immense profundity containing central cones. Whilst they were directing their glasses towards its gloomy depths, Barbican mentioned to his friends Kepler's strange idea regarding theformation of these ring mountains. "They must have been constructed, " hesaid, "by mortal hands. "

"With what object?" asked the Captain. 

"A very natural one, " answered Barbican. "The Selenites must haveundertaken the immense labor of digging these enormous pits at places ofrefuge in which they could protect themselves against the fierce solarrays that beat against them for 15 days in succession!"

"Not a bad idea, that of the Selenites!" exclaimed Ardan. 

"An absurd idea!" cried M'Nicholl. "But probably Kepler never knew thereal dimensions of these craters. Barbican knows the trouble and timerequired to dig a well in Stony Hill only nine hundred feet deep. To digout a single lunar crater would take hundreds and hundreds of years, andeven then they should be giants who would attempt it!"

"Why so?" asked Ardan. "In the Moon, where gravity is six times lessthan on the Earth, the labor of the Selenites can't be compared withthat of men like us. "

"But suppose a Selenite to be six times smaller than a man like us!"urged M'Nicholl. 

"And suppose a Selenite never had an existence at all!" interposedBarbican with his usual success in putting an end to the argument. "Butnever mind the Selenites now. Observe _Eratosthenes_ as long as you havethe opportunity. "

"Which will not be very long, " said M'Nicholl. "He is already sinkingout of view too far to the right to be carefully observed. "

"What are those peaks beyond him?" asked Ardan. 

"The _Apennines_, " answered Barbican; "and those on the left are the_Carpathians_. "

"I have seen very few mountain chains or ranges in the Moon, " remarkedArdan, after some minutes' observation. 

"Mountains chains are not numerous in the Moon, " replied Barbican, "andin that respect her oreographic system presents a decided contrast withthat of the Earth. With us the ranges are many, the craters few; in theMoon the ranges are few and the craters innumerable. "

Barbican might have spoken of another curious feature regarding themountain ranges: namely, that they are chiefly confined to the northernhemisphere, where the craters are fewest and the "seas" the mostextensive. 

For the benefit of those interested, and to be done at once with thispart of the subject, we give in the following little table a list of thechief lunar mountain chains, with their latitude, and respectiveheights in English feet. 

 _Name. _ _Degrees of Latitude. _ _Height. _

 { _Altai Mountains_ 17° to 28 13, 000ft. Southern { _Cordilleras_ 10 to 20 12, 000Hemisphere. { _Pyrenees_ 8 to 18 12, 000 { _Riphean_ 5 to 10 2, 600

 { _Haemus_ 10 to 20 6, 300 { _Carpathian_ 15 to 19 6, 000 { _Apennines_ 14 to 27 18, 000Northern { _Taurus_ 25 to 34 8, 500Hemisphere. { _Hercynian_ 17 to 29 3, 400 { _Caucasus_ 33 to 40 17, 000 { _Alps_ 42 to 30 10, 000

Of these different chains, the most important is that of the_Apennines_, about 450 miles long, a length, however, far inferior tothat of many of the great mountain ranges of our globe. They skirt thewestern shores of the _Mare Imbrium_, over which they rise in immensecliffs, 18 or 20 thousand feet in height, steep as a wall and castingover the plain intensely black shadows at least 90 miles long. Of Mt. _Huyghens_, the highest in the group, the travellers were just barelyable to distinguish the sharp angular summit in the far west. To theeast, however, the _Carpathians_, extending from the 18th to 30thdegrees of east longitude, lay directly under their eyes and could beexamined in all the peculiarities of their distribution. 

Barbican proposed a hypothesis regarding the formation of thosemountains, which his companions thought at least as good as any other. Looking carefully over the _Carpathians_ and catching occasionalglimpses of semi-circular formations and half domes, he concluded thatthe chain must have formerly been a succession of vast craters. Then hadcome some mighty internal discharge, or rather the subsidence to which_Mare Imbrium_ is due, for it immediately broke off or swallowed up onehalf of those mountains, leaving the other half steep as a wall on oneside and sloping gently on the other to the level of the surroundingplains. The _Carpathians_ were therefore pretty nearly in the samecondition as the crater mountains _Ptolemy_, _Alpetragius_ and_Arzachel_ would find themselves in, if some terrible cataclysm, bytearing away their eastern ramparts, had turned them into a chain ofmountains whose towering cliffs would nod threateningly over the westernshores of _Mare Nubium_. The mean height of the _Carpathians_ is about6, 000 feet, the altitude of certain points in the Pyrenees such as the_Port of Pineda_, or _Roland's Breach_, in the shadow of _Mont Perdu_. The northern slopes of the _Carpathians_ sink rapidly towards the shoresof the vast _Mare Imbrium_. 

Towards two o'clock in the morning, Barbican calculated the Projectileto be on the 20th northern parallel, and therefore almost immediatelyover the little ring mountain called _Pytheas_, about 4600 feet inheight. The distance of the travellers from the Moon at this pointcould not be more than about 750 miles, reduced to about 7 by means oftheir excellent telescopes. 

_Mare Imbrium_, the Sea of Rains here revealed itself in all itsvastness to the eyes of the travellers, though it must be acknowledgedthat the immense depression so called, did not afford them a very clearidea regarding its exact boundaries. Right ahead of them rose _Lambert_about a mile in height; and further on, more to the left, in thedirection of _Oceanus Procellarum_, _Euler_ revealed itself by itsglittering radiations. This mountain, of about the same height as_Lambert_, had been the object of very interesting calculations on thepart of Schroeter of Erfurt. This keen observer, desirous of inquiringinto the probable origin of the lunar mountains, had proposed to himselfthe following question: Does the volume of the crater appear to be equalto that of the surrounding ramparts? His calculations showing him thatthis was generally the case, he naturally concluded that these rampartsmust therefore have been the product of a single eruption, forsuccessive eruptions of volcanic matter would have disturbed thiscorrelation. _Euler_ alone, he found, to be an exception to this generallaw, as the volume of its crater appeared to be twice as great as thatof the mass surrounding it. It must therefore have been formed byseveral eruptions in succession, but in that case what had become of theejected matter?

Theories of this nature and all manner of scientific questions were, ofcourse, perfectly permissible to terrestrial astronomers laboring underthe disadvantage of imperfect instruments. But Barbican could not thinkof wasting his time in any speculation of the kind, and now, seeing thathis Projectile perceptibly approached the lunar disc, though hedespaired of ever reaching it, he was more sanguine than ever of beingsoon able to discover positively and unquestionably some of the secretsof its formation. 

[Footnote C: We must again remind our readers that, in our map, thoughevery thing is set down as it appears to the eye not as it is reversedby the telescope, still, for the reason made so clear by Barbican, theright hand side must be the west and the left the east. ]

CHAPTER XIII. 

LUNAR LANDSCAPES

At half past two in the morning of December 6th, the travellers crossedthe 30th northern parallel, at a distance from the lunar surface of 625miles, reduced to about 6 by their spy-glasses. Barbican could not yetsee the least probability of their landing at any point of the disc. Thevelocity of the Projectile was decidedly slow, but for that reasonextremely puzzling. Barbican could not account for it. At such aproximity to the Moon, the velocity, one would think, should be verygreat indeed to be able to counteract the lunar attraction. Why did itnot fall? Barbican could not tell; his companions were equally in thedark. Ardan said he gave it up. Besides they had no time to spend ininvestigating it. The lunar panorama was unrolling all its splendorsbeneath them, and they could not bear to lose one of its slightestdetails. 

The lunar disc being brought within a distance of about six miles by thespy-glasses, it is a fair question to ask, what _could_ an aeronaut atsuch an elevation from our Earth discover on its surface? At presentthat question can hardly be answered, the most remarkable balloonascensions never having passed an altitude of five miles undercircumstances favorable for observers. Here, however, is an account, carefully transcribed from notes taken on the spot, of what Barbican andhis companions _did_ see from their peculiar post of observation. 

Varieties of color, in the first place, appeared here and there upon thedisc. Selenographers are not quite agreed as to the nature of thesecolors. Not that such colors are without variety or too faint to beeasily distinguished. Schmidt of Athens even says that if our oceans onearth were all evaporated, an observer in the Moon would hardly find theseas and continents of our globe even so well outlined as those of theMoon are to the eye of a terrestrial observer. According to him, theshade of color distinguishing those vast plains known as "seas" is adark gray dashed with green and brown, --a color presented also by a fewof the great craters. 

This opinion of Schmidt's, shared by Beer and Maedler, Barbican'sobservations now convinced him to be far better founded than that ofcertain astronomers who admit of no color at all being visible on theMoon's surface but gray. In certain spots the greenish tint was quitedecided, particularly in _Mare Serenitatis_ and _Mare Humorum, _ the verylocalities where Schmidt had most noticed it. Barbican also remarkedthat several large craters, of the class that had no interior cones, reflected a kind of bluish tinge, somewhat like that given forth by afreshly polished steel plate. These tints, he now saw enough to convincehim, proceeded really from the lunar surface, and were not due, ascertain astronomers asserted, either to the imperfections of thespy-glasses, or to the interference of the terrestrial atmosphere. Hissingular opportunity for correct observation allowed him to entertain nodoubt whatever on the subject. Hampered by no atmosphere, he was freefrom all liability to optical illusion. Satisfied therefore as to thereality of these tints, he considered such knowledge a positive gain toscience. But that greenish tint--to what was it due? To a dense tropicalvegetation maintained by a low atmosphere, a mile or so in thickness?Possibly. But this was another question that could not be answered atpresent. 

Further on he could detect here and there traces of a decidedly ruddytint. Such a shade he knew had been already detected in the _PalusSomnii_, near _Mare Crisium_, and in the circular area of _Lichtenberg_, near the _Hercynian Mountains_, on the eastern edge of the Moon. To whatcause was this tint to be attributed? To the actual color of the surfaceitself? Or to that of the lava covering it here and there? Or to thecolor resulting from the mixture of other colors seen at a distance toogreat to allow of their being distinguished separately? Impossible totell. 

Barbican and his companions succeeded no better at a new problem thatsoon engaged their undivided attention. It deserves some detail. 

Having passed _Lambert_, being just over _Timocharis_, all wereattentively gazing at the magnificent crater of _Archimedes_ with adiameter of 52 miles across and ramparts more than 5000 feet in height, when Ardan startled his companions by suddenly exclaiming:

"Hello! Cultivated fields as I am a living man!"

"What do you mean by your cultivated fields?" asked M'Nicholl sourly, wiping his glasses and shrugging his shoulders. 

"Certainly cultivated fields!" replied Ardan. "Don't you see thefurrows? They're certainly plain enough. They are white too fromglistening in the sun, but they are quite different from the radiatingstreaks of _Copernicus_. Why, their sides are perfectly parallel!"

"Where are those furrows?" asked M'Nicholl, putting his glasses to hiseye and adjusting the focus. 

"You can see them in all directions, " answered Ardan; "but two areparticularly visible: one running north from _Archimedes_, the othersouth towards the _Apennines_. "

M'Nicholl's face, as he gazed, gradually assumed a grin which soondeveloped into a snicker, if not a positive laugh, as he observed toArdan:

"Your Selenites must be Brobdignagians, their oxen Leviathans, and theirploughs bigger than Marston's famous cannon, if these are furrows!"

"How's that, Barbican?" asked Ardan doubtfully, but unwilling to submitto M'Nicholl. 

"They're not furrows, dear friend, " said Barbican, "and can't be, either, simply on account of their immense size. They are what theGerman astronomers called _Rillen_; the French, _rainures_, and theEnglish, _grooves_, _canals_, _clefts_, _cracks_, _chasms_, or_fissures_. "

"You have a good stock of names for them anyhow, " observed Ardan, "ifthat does any good. "

"The number of names given them, " answered Barbican, "shows how littleis really known about them. They have been observed in all the levelportion of the Moon's surface. Small as they appear to us, a littlecalculation must convince you that they are in some places hundreds ofmiles in length, a mile in width and probably in many points severalmiles in depth. Their width and depth, however, vary, though theirsides, so far as observed, are always rigorously parallel. Let us take agood look at them. "

Putting the glass to his eye, Barbican examined the clefts for some timewith close attention. He saw that their banks were sharp edged andextremely steep. In many places they were of such geometrical regularitythat he readily excused Gruithuysen's idea of deeming them to begigantic earthworks thrown up by the Selenite engineers. Some of themwere as straight as if laid out with a line, others were curved a littlehere and there, though still maintaining the strict parallelism of theirsides. These crossed each other; those entered craters and came out atthe other side. Here, they furrowed annular plateaus, such as_Posidonius_ or _Petavius_. There, they wrinkled whole seas, forinstance, _Mare Serenitatis_. 

These curious peculiarities of the lunar surface had interested theastronomic mind to a very high degree at their first discovery, and haveproved to be very perplexing problems ever since. The first observers donot seem to have noticed them. Neither Hevelius, nor Cassini, nor LaHire, nor Herschel, makes a single remark regarding their nature. 

It was Schroeter, in 1789, who called the attention of scientists tothem for the first time. He had only 11 to show, but Lohrmann soonrecorded 75 more. Pastorff, Gruithuysen, and particularly Beer andMaedler were still more successful, but Julius Schmidt, the famousastronomer of Athens, has raised their number up to 425, and has evenpublished their names in a catalogue. But counting them is one thing, determining their nature is another. They are not fortifications, certainly: and cannot be ancient beds of dried up rivers, for two verygood and sufficient reasons: first, water, even under the most favorablecircumstances on the Moon's surface, could have never ploughed up suchvast channels; secondly, these chasms often traverse lofty cratersthrough and through, like an immense railroad cutting. 

At these details, Ardan's imagination became unusually excited and ofcourse it was not without some result. It even happened that he hit onan idea that had already suggested itself to Schmidt of Athens. 

"Why not consider them, " he asked, "to be the simple phenomena ofvegetation?"

"What do you mean?" asked Barbican. 

"Rows of sugar cane?" suggested M'Nicholl with a snicker. 

"Not exactly, my worthy Captain, " answered Ardan quietly, "though youwere perhaps nearer to the mark than you expected. I don't mean exactlyrows of sugar cane, but I do mean vast avenues of trees--poplars, forinstance--planted regularly on each side of a great high road. "

"Still harping on vegetation!" said the Captain. "Ardan, what a splendidhistorian was spoiled in you! The less you know about your facts, thereadier you are to account for them. "

"_Ma foi_, " said Ardan simply, "I do only what the greatest of yourscientific men do--that is, guess. There is this difference howeverbetween us--I call my guesses, guesses, mere conjecture;--they dignifytheirs as profound theories or as astounding discoveries!"

"Often the case, friend Ardan, too often the case, " said Barbican. 

"In the question under consideration, however, " continued the Frenchman, "my conjecture has this advantage over some others: it explains whythese rills appear and seem to disappear at regular intervals. "

"Let us hear the explanation, " said the Captain. 

"They become invisible when the trees lose their leaves, and theyreappear when they resume them. "

"His explanation is not without ingenuity, " observed Barbican toM'Nicholl, "but, my dear friend, " turning to Ardan, "it is hardlyadmissible. "

"Probably not, " said Ardan, "but why not?"

"Because as the Sun is nearly always vertical to the lunar equator, theMoon can have no change of seasons worth mentioning; therefore hervegetation can present none of the phenomena that you speak of. "

This was perfectly true. The slight obliquity of the Moon's axis, only1-1/2°, keeps the Sun in the same altitude the whole year around. In theequatorial regions he is always vertical, and in the polar he is neverhigher than the horizon. Therefore, there can be no change of seasons;according to the latitude, it is a perpetual winter, spring, summer, orautumn the whole year round. This state of things is almost preciselysimilar to that which prevails in Jupiter, who also stands nearlyupright in his orbit, the inclination of his axis being only about 3°. 

But how to account for the _grooves_? A very hard nut to crack. Theymust certainly be a later formation than the craters and the rings, forthey are often found breaking right through the circular ramparts. Probably the latest of all lunar features, the results of the lastgeological epochs, they are due altogether to expansion or shrinkageacting on a large scale and brought about by the great forces of nature, operating after a manner altogether unknown on our earth. Such at leastwas Barbican's idea. 

"My friends, " he quietly observed, "without meaning to put forward anypretentious claims to originality, but by simply turning to account someadvantages that have never before befallen contemplative mortal eye, whynot construct a little hypothesis of our own regarding the nature ofthese grooves and the causes that gave them birth? Look at that greatchasm just below us, somewhat to the right. It is at least fifty orsixty miles long and runs along the base of the _Apennines_ in a linealmost perfectly straight. Does not its parallelism with the mountainchain suggest a causative relation? See that other mighty _rill_, atleast a hundred and fifty miles long, starting directly north of it andpursuing so true a course that it cleaves _Archimedes_ almost cleanlyinto two. The nearer it lies to the mountain, as you perceive, thegreater its width; as it recedes in either direction it grows narrower. Does not everything point out to one great cause of their origin? Theyare simple crevasses, like those so often noticed on Alpine glaciers, only that these tremendous cracks in the surface are produced by theshrinkage of the crust consequent on cooling. Can we point out someanalogies to this on the Earth? Certainly. The defile of the Jordan, terminating in the awful depression of the Dead Sea, no doubt occurs toyou on the moment. But the _Yosemite Valley_, as I saw it ten years ago, is an apter comparison. There I stood on the brink of a tremendous chasmwith perpendicular walls, a mile in width, a mile in depth and eightmiles in length. Judge if I was astounded! But how should we feel it, when travelling on the lunar surface, we should suddenly find ourselveson the brink of a yawning chasm two miles wide, fifty miles long, and sofathomless in sheer vertical depth as to leave its black profunditiesabsolutely invisible in spite of the dazzling sunlight!"

"I feel my flesh already crawling even in the anticipation!" criedArdan. 

"I shan't regret it much if we never get to the Moon, " growledM'Nicholl; "I never hankered after it anyhow!"

By this time the Projectile had reached the fortieth degree of lunarlatitude, and could hardly be further than five hundred miles from thesurface, a distance reduced to about 5 miles by the travellers' glasses. Away to their left appeared _Helicon_, a ring mountain about 1600 feethigh; and still further to the left the eye could catch a glimpse of thecliffs enclosing a semi-elliptical portion of _Mare Imbrium_, called the_Sinus Iridium_, or Bay of the Rainbows. 

In order to allow astronomers to make complete observations on the lunarsurface, the terrestrial atmosphere should possess a transparencyseventy times greater than its present power of transmission. But in thevoid through which the Projectile was now floating, no fluid whateverinterposed between the eye of the observer and the object observed. Besides, the travellers now found themselves at a distance that hadnever before been reached by the most powerful telescopes, includingeven Lord Rosse's and the great instrument on the Rocky Mountains. Barbican was therefore in a condition singularly favorable to resolvethe great question concerning the Moon's inhabitableness. Nevertheless, the solution still escaped him. He could discover nothing around him buta dreary waste of immense plains, and towards the north, beneath him, bare mountains of the aridest character. 

Not the slightest vestige of man's work could be detected over the vastexpanse. Not the slightest sign of a ruin spoke of his ever having beenthere. Nothing betrayed the slightest trace of the development of animallife, even in an inferior degree. No movement. Not the least glimpse ofvegetation. Of the three great kingdoms that hold dominion on thesurface of the globe, the mineral, the vegetable and the animal, onealone was represented on the lunar sphere: the mineral, the wholemineral, and nothing but the mineral. 

"Why!" exclaimed Ardan, with a disconcerted look, after a long andsearching examination, "I can't find anybody. Everything is asmotionless as a street in Pompeii at 4 o'clock in the morning!"

[Illustration: THE SOLUTION STILL ESCAPED HIM. ]

"Good comparison, friend Ardan;" observed M'Nicholl. "Lava, slag, volcanic eminences, vitreous matter glistening like ice, piles ofscoria, pitch black shadows, dazzling streaks, like rivers of lightbreaking over jagged rocks--these are now beneath my eye--these alone Ican detect--not a man--not an animal--not a tree. The great AmericanDesert is a land of milk and honey in comparison with the joyless orbover which we are now moving. However, even yet we can predicatenothing positive. The atmosphere may have taken refuge in the depths ofthe chasms, in the interior of the craters, or even on the opposite sideof the Moon, for all we know!"

"Still we must remember, " observed Barbican, "that even the sharpest eyecannot detect a man at a distance greater than four miles and a-half, and our glasses have not yet brought us nearer than five. "

"Which means to say, " observed Ardan, "that though we can't see theSelenites, they can see our Projectile!"

But matters had not improved much when, towards four o'clock in themorning, the travellers found themselves on the 50th parallel, and at adistance of only about 375 miles from the lunar surface. Still no traceof the least movement, or even of the lowest form of life. 

"What peaked mountain is that which we have just passed on our right?"asked Ardan. "It is quite remarkable, standing as it does in almostsolitary grandeur in the barren plain. "

"That is _Pico_, " answered Barbican. "It is at least 8000 feet high andis well known to terrestrial astronomers as well by its peculiar shadowas on account of its comparative isolation. See the collection ofperfectly formed little craters nestling around its base. "

"Barbican, " asked M'Nicholl suddenly, "what peak is that which liesalmost directly south of _Pico_? I see it plainly, but I can't find iton my map. "

"I have remarked that pyramidal peak myself, " replied Barbican; "but Ican assure you that so far it has received no name as yet, although itis likely enough to have been distinguished by the terrestrialastronomers. It can't be less than 4000 feet in height. "

"I propose we called it _Barbican_!" cried Ardan enthusiastically. 

"Agreed!" answered M'Nicholl, "unless we can find a higher one. "

"We must be before-hand with Schmidt of Athens!" exclaimed Ardan. "Hewill leave nothing unnamed that his telescope can catch a glimpse of. "

"Passed unanimously!" cried M'Nicholl. 

"And officially recorded!" added the Frenchman, making the proper entryon his map. 

"_Salve, Mt. Barbican!_" then cried both gentlemen, rising and takingoff their hats respectfully to the distant peak. 

"Look to the west!" interrupted Barbican, watching, as usual, while hiscompanions were talking, and probably perfectly unconscious of what theywere saying; "directly to the west! Now tell me what you see!"

"I see a vast valley!" answered M'Nicholl. 

"Straight as an arrow!" added Ardan. 

"Running through lofty mountains!" cried M'Nicholl. 

"Cut through with a pair of saws and scooped out with a chisel!" criedArdan. 

"See the shadows of those peaks!" cried M'Nicholl catching fire at thesight. "Black, long, and sharp as if cast by cathedral spires!"

"Oh! ye crags and peaks!" burst forth Ardan; "how I should like to catcheven a faint echo of the chorus you could chant, if a wild storm roaredover your beetling summits! The pine forests of Norwegian mountainshowling in midwinter would not be an accordeon in comparison!"

"Wonderful instance of subsidence on a grand scale!" exclaimed theCaptain, hastily relapsing into science. 

"Not at all!" cried the Frenchman, still true to his colors; "nosubsidence there! A comet simply came too close and left its mark as itflew past. "

"Fanciful exclamations, dear friends, " observed Barbican; "but I'm notsurprised at your excitement. Yonder is the famous _Valley of the Alps_, a standing enigma to all selenographers. How it could have been formed, no one can tell. Even wilder guesses than yours, Ardan, have beenhazarded on the subject. All we can state positively at presentregarding this wonderful formation, is what I have just recorded in mynote-book: the _Valley of the Alps_ is about 5 mile wide and 70 or 80long: it is remarkably flat and free from _debris_, though the mountainson each side rise like walls to the height of at least 10, 000feet. --Over the whole surface of our Earth I know of no naturalphenomenon that can be at all compared with it. "

"Another wonder almost in front of us!" cried Ardan. "I see a vast lakeblack as pitch and round as a crater; it is surrounded by such loftymountains that their shadows reach clear across, rendering the interiorquite invisible!"

"That's _Plato_;" said M'Nicholl; "I know it well; it's the darkest spoton the Moon: many a night I gazed at it from my little observatory inBroad Street, Philadelphia. "

"Right, Captain, " said Barbican; "the crater _Plato_, is, indeed, generally considered the blackest spot on the Moon, but I am inclined toconsider the spots _Grimaldi_ and _Riccioli_ on the extreme eastern edgeto be somewhat darker. If you take my glass, Ardan, which is of somewhatgreater power than yours, you will distinctly see the bottom of thecrater. The reflective power of its plateau probably proceeds from theexceedingly great number of small craters that you can detect there. "

"I think I see something like them now, " said Ardan. "But I am sorry theProjectile's course will not give us a vertical view. "

"Can't be helped!" said Barbican; "we must go where it takes us. The daymay come when man can steer the projectile or the balloon in which he isshut up, in any way he pleases, but that day has not come yet!"

Towards five in the morning, the northern limit of _Mare Imbrium_ wasfinally passed, and _Mare Frigoris_ spread its frost-colored plainsfar to the right and left. On the east the travellers could easily seethe ring-mountain _Condamine_, about 4000 feet high, while a littleahead on the right they could plainly distinguish _Fontenelle_ with analtitude nearly twice as great. _Mare Frigoris_ was soon passed, and thewhole lunar surface beneath the travellers, as far as they could see inall directions, now bristled with mountains, crags, and peaks. Indeed, at the 70th parallel the "Seas" or plains seem to have come to an end. The spy-glasses now brought the surface to within about three miles, adistance less than that between the hotel at Chamouni and the summit ofMont Blanc. To the left, they had no difficulty in distinguishing theramparts of _Philolaus_, about 12, 000 feet high, but though the craterhad a diameter of nearly thirty miles, the black shadows prevented theslightest sign of its interior from being seen. The Sun was now sinkingvery low, and the illuminated surface of the Moon was reduced to anarrow rim. 

By this time, too, the bird's eye view to which the observations had sofar principally confined, decidedly altered its character. They couldnow look back at the lunar mountains that they had been just sailingover--a view somewhat like that enjoyed by a tourist standing on thesummit of Mt. St. Gothard as he sees the sun setting behind the peaks ofthe Bernese Oberland. The lunar landscapes however, though seen underthese new and ever varying conditions, "hardly gained much by thechange, " according to Ardan's expression. On the contrary, they looked, if possible, more dreary and inhospitable than before. 

The Moon having no atmosphere, the benefit of this gaseous envelope insoftening off and nicely shading the approaches of light and darkness, heat and cold, is never felt on her surface. There, no twilight eversoftly ushers in the brilliant sun, or sweetly heralds the near approachof night's dark shadow. Night follows day, and day night, with thestartling suddenness of a match struck or a lamp extinguished in acavern. Nor can it present any gradual transition from either extreme oftemperature. Hot jumps to cold, and cold jumps to hot. A moment after aglacial midnight, it is a roasting noon. Without an instant's warningthe temperature falls from 212° Fahrenheit to the icy winter ofinterstellar space. The surface is all dazzling glare, or pitchy gloom. Wherever the direct rays of the sun do not fall, darkness reignssupreme. What we call diffused light on Earth, the grateful result ofrefraction, the luminous matter held in suspension by the air, themother of our dawns and our dusks, of our blushing mornings and our dewyeyes, of our shades, our penumbras, our tints and all the other magicaleffects of _chiaro-oscuro_--this diffused light has absolutely noexistence on the surface of the Moon. Nothing is there to break theinexorable contrast between intense white and intense black. At mid-day, let a Selenite shade his eyes and look at the sky: it will appear to himas black as pitch, while the stars still sparkle before him as vividlyas they do to us on the coldest and darkest night in winter. 

From this you can judge of the impression made on our travellers bythose strange lunar landscapes. Even their decided novelty and verystrange character produced any thing but a pleasing effect on the organsof sight. With all their enthusiasm, the travellers felt their eyes "getout of gear, " as Ardan said, like those of a man blind from his birthand suddenly restored to sight. They could not adjust them so as to beable to realize the different plains of vision. All things seemed in aheap. Foreground and background were indistinguishably commingled. Nopainter could ever transfer a lunar landscape to his canvas. 

"Landscape, " Ardan said; "what do you mean by a landscape? Can you calla bottle of ink intensely black, spilled over a sheet of paper intenselywhite, a landscape?"

At the eightieth degree, when the Projectile was hardly 100 milesdistant from the Moon, the aspect of things underwent no improvement. Onthe contrary, the nearer the travellers approached the lunar surface, the drearier, the more inhospitable, and the more _unearthly_, everything seem to look. Still when five o'clock in the morning broughtour travellers to within 50 miles of _Mount Gioja_--which theirspy-glasses rendered as visible as if it was only about half a mile off, Ardan could not control himself. 

"Why, we're there" he exclaimed; "we can touch her with our hands! Openthe windows and let me out! Don't mind letting me go by myself. It isnot very inviting quarters I admit. But as we are come to the jumpingoff place, I want to see the whole thing through. Open the lower windowand let me out. I can take care of myself!"

"That's what's more than any other man can do, " said M'Nicholl drily, "who wants to take a jump of 50 miles!"

"Better not try it, friend Ardan, " said Barbican grimly: "think ofSatellite! The Moon is no more attainable by your body than by ourProjectile. You are far more comfortable in here than when floatingabout in empty space like a bolide. "

Ardan, unwilling to quarrel with his companions, appeared to give in;but he secretly consoled himself by a hope which he had beenentertaining for some time, and which now looked like assuming theappearance of a certainty. The Projectile had been lately approachingthe Moon's surface so rapidly that it at last seemed actually impossiblenot to finally touch it somewhere in the neighborhood of the north pole, whose dazzling ridges now presented themselves in sharp and strongrelief against the black sky. Therefore he kept silent, but quietlybided his time. 

The Projectile moved on, evidently getting nearer and nearer to thelunar surface. The Moon now appeared to the travellers as she does to ustowards the beginning of her Second Quarter, that is as a brightcrescent instead of a hemisphere. On one side, glaring dazzling light;on the other, cavernous pitchy darkness. The line separating both wasbroken into a thousand bits of protuberances and concavities, dented, notched, and jagged. 

At six o'clock the travellers found themselves exactly over the northpole. They were quietly gazing at the rapidly shifting features of thewondrous view unrolling itself beneath them, and were silently wonderingwhat was to come next, when, suddenly, the Projectile passed thedividing line. The Sun and Moon instantly vanished from view. The nextmoment, without the slightest warning the travellers found themselvesplunged in an ocean of the most appalling darkness!

CHAPTER XIV. 

A NIGHT OF FIFTEEN DAYS. 

The Projectile being not quite 30 miles from the Moon's north pole whenthe startling phenomenon, recorded in our last chapter, took place, afew seconds were quite sufficient to launch it at once from thebrightest day into the unknown realms of night. The transition was soabrupt, so unexpected, without the slightest shading off, from dazzlingeffulgence to Cimmerian gloom, that the Moon seemed to have beensuddenly extinguished like a lamp when the gas is turned off. 

"Where's the Moon?" cried Ardan in amazement. 

"It appears as if she had been wiped out of creation!" cried M'Nicholl. 

Barbican said nothing, but observed carefully. Not a particle, however, could he see of the disc that had glittered so resplendently before hiseyes a few moments ago. Not a shadow, not a gleam, not the slightestvestige could he trace of its existence. The darkness being profound, the dazzling splendor of the stars only gave a deeper blackness to thepitchy sky. No wonder. The travellers found themselves now in a nightthat had plenty of time not only to become black itself, but to steepeverything connected with it in palpable blackness. This was the night354-1/4 hours long, during which the invisible face of the Moon isturned away from the Sun. In this black darkness the Projectile nowfully participated. Having plunged into the Moon's shadow, it was aseffectually cut off from the action of the solar rays as was every pointon the invisible lunar surface itself. 

The travellers being no longer able to see each other, it was proposedto light the gas, though such an unexpected demand on a commodity atonce so scarce and so valuable was certainly disquieting. The gas, itwill be remembered, had been intended for heating alone, notillumination, of which both Sun and Moon had promised a never endingsupply. But here both Sun and Moon, in a single instant vanished frombefore their eyes and left them in Stygian darkness. 

"It's all the Sun's fault!" cried Ardan, angrily trying to throw theblame on something, and, like every angry man in such circumstances, bound to be rather nonsensical. 

"Put the saddle on the right horse, Ardan, " said M'Nichollpatronizingly, always delighted at an opportunity of counting a pointoff the Frenchman. "You mean it's all the Moon's fault, don't you, insetting herself like a screen between us and the Sun?"

"No, I don't!" cried Ardan, not at all soothed by his friend'spatronizing tone, and sticking like a man to his first assertion rightor wrong. "I know what I say! It will be all the Sun's fault if we useup our gas!"

"Nonsense!" said M'Nicholl. "It's the Moon, who by her interposition hascut off the Sun's light. "

"The Sun had no business to allow it to be cut off, " said Ardan, stillangry and therefore decidedly loose in his assertions. 

Before M'Nicholl could reply, Barbican interposed, and his even voicewas soon heard pouring balm on the troubled waters. 

"Dear friends, " he observed, "a little reflection on either side wouldconvince you that our present situation is neither the Moon's fault northe Sun's fault. If anything is to be blamed for it, it is ourProjectile which, instead of rigidly following its allotted course, hasawkwardly contrived to deviate from it. However, strict justice mustacquit even the Projectile. It only obeyed a great law of nature inshifting its course as soon as it came within the sphere of thatinopportune bolide's influence. "

"All right!" said Ardan, as usual in the best of humor after Barbicanhad laid down the law. "I have no doubt it is exactly as you say; and, now that all is settled, suppose we take breakfast. After such a hardnight spent in work, a little refreshment would not be out of place!"

Such a proposition being too reasonable even for M'Nicholl to oppose, Ardan turned on the gas, and had everything ready for the meal in a fewminutes. But, this time, breakfast was consumed in absolute silence. Notoasts were offered, no hurrahs were uttered. A painful uneasiness hadseized the hearts of the daring travellers. The darkness into whichthey were so suddenly plunged, told decidedly on their spirits. Theyfelt almost as if they had been suddenly deprived of their sight. Thatthick, dismal savage blackness, which Victor Hugo's pen is so fond ofoccasionally revelling in, surrounded them on all sides and crushed themlike an iron shroud. 

It was felt worse than ever when, breakfast being over, Ardan carefullyturned off the gas, and everything within the Projectile was as dark aswithout. However, though they could not see each other's faces, theycould hear each other's voices, and therefore they soon began to talk. The most natural subject of conversation was this terrible night 354hours long, which the laws of nature have imposed on the Lunarinhabitants. Barbican undertook to give his friends some explanationregarding the cause of the startling phenomenon, and the consequencesresulting from it. 

"Yes, startling is the word for it, " observed Barbican, replying to aremark of Ardan's; "and still more so when we reflect that not only areboth lunar hemispheres deprived, by turns, of sun light for nearly 15days, but that also the particular hemisphere over which we are at thismoment floating is all that long night completely deprived ofearth-light. In other words, it is only one side of the Moon's disc thatever receives any light from the Earth. From nearly every portion of oneside of the Moon, the Earth is always as completely absent as the Sun isfrom us at midnight. Suppose an analogous case existed on the Earth;suppose, for instance, that neither in Europe, Asia or North Americawas the Moon ever visible--that, in fact, it was to be seen only at ourantipodes. With what astonishment should we contemplate her for thefirst time on our arrival in Australia or New Zealand!"

"Every man of us would pack off to Australia to see her!" cried Ardan. 

"Yes, " said M'Nicholl sententiously; "for a visit to the South Sea aTurk would willingly forego Mecca; and a Bostonian would prefer Sidneyeven to Paris. "

"Well, " resumed Barbican, "this interesting marvel is reserved for theSelenite that inhabits the side of the Moon which is always turned awayfrom our globe. "

"And which, " added the Captain, "we should have had the unspeakablesatisfaction of contemplating if we had only arrived at the period whenthe Sun and the Earth are not at the same side of the Moon--that is, 15days sooner or later than now. "

"For my part, however, " continued Barbican, not heeding theseinterruptions, "I must confess that, notwithstanding the magnificentsplendor of the spectacle when viewed for the first time by the Selenitewho inhabits the dark side of the Moon, I should prefer to be a residenton the illuminated side. The former, when his long, blazing, roasting, dazzling day is over, has a night 354 hours long, whose darkness, likethat, just now surrounding us, is ever unrelieved save by the coldcheerless rays of the stars. But the latter has hardly seen his fierysun sinking on one horizon when he beholds rising on the opposite one anorb, milder, paler, and colder indeed than the Sun, but fully as largeas thirteen of our full Moons, and therefore shedding thirteen times asmuch light. This would be our Earth. It would pass through all itsphases too, exactly like our Satellite. The Selenites would have theirNew Earth, Full Earth, and Last Quarter. At midnight, grandlyilluminated, it would shine with the greatest glory. But that is almostas much as can be said for it. Its futile heat would but poorlycompensate for its superior radiance. All the calorie accumulated in thelunar soil during the 354 hours day would have by this time radiatedcompletely into space. An intensity of cold would prevail, in comparisonto which a Greenland winter is tropical. The temperature of interstellarspace, 250° below zero, would be reached. Our Selenite, heartily tiredof the cold pale Earth, would gladly see her sink towards the horizon, waning as she sank, till at last she appeared no more than half full. Then suddenly a faint rim of the solar orb reveals itself on the edge ofthe opposite sky. Slowly, more than 14 times more slowly than with us, does the Sun lift himself above the lunar horizon. In half an hour, onlyhalf his disc is revealed, but that is more than enough to flood thelunar landscape with a dazzling intensity of light, of which we have nocounterpart on Earth. No atmosphere refracts it, no hazy screen softensit, no enveloping vapor absorbs it, no obstructing medium colors it. Itbreaks on the eye, harsh, white, dazzling, blinding, like the electriclight seen a few yards off. As the hours wear away, the more blastingbecomes the glare; and the higher he rises in the black sky, but slowly, slowly. It takes him seven of our days to reach the meridian. By thattime the heat has increased from an arctic temperature to double theboiling water point, from 250° below zero to 500° above it, or the pointat which tin melts. Subjected to these extremes, the glassy rocks crack, shiver and crumble away; enormous land slides occur; peaks topple over;and tons of debris, crashing down the mountains, are swallowed upforever in the yawing chasms of the bottomless craters. "

"Bravo!" cried Ardan, clapping his hands softly: "our President issublime! He reminds me of the overture of _Guillaume Tell_!"

"Souvenir de Marston!" growled M'Nicholl. 

"These phenomena, " continued Barbican, heedless of interruption and hisvoice betraying a slight glow of excitement, "these phenomena going onwithout interruption from month to month, from year to year, from age toage, from _eon_ to _eon_, have finally convinced me that--what?" heasked his hearers, interrupting himself suddenly. 

--"That the existence at the present time--" answered M'Nicholl. 

--"Of either animal or vegetable life--" interrupted Ardan. 

--"In the Moon is hardly possible!" cried both in one voice. 

"Besides?" asked Barbican: "even if there _is_ any life--?"

--"That to live on the dark side would be much more inconvenient than onthe light side!" cried M'Nicholl promptly. 

--"That there is no choice between them!" cried Ardan just as ready. "For my part, I should think a residence on Mt. Erebus or in GrinnellLand a terrestrial paradise in comparison to either. The _Earth shine_might illuminate the light side of the Moon a little during the longnight, but for any practical advantage towards heat or life, it would beperfectly useless!"

"But there is another serious difference between the two sides, " saidBarbican, "in addition to those enumerated. The dark side is actuallymore troubled with excessive variations of temperature than the lightone. "

"That assertion of our worthy President, " interrupted Ardan, "with allpossible respect for his superior knowledge, I am disposed to question. "

"It's as clear as day!" said Barbican. 

"As clear as mud, you mean, Mr. President;" interrupted Ardan, "thetemperature of the light side is excited by two objects at the sametime, the Earth and the Sun, whereas--"

--"I beg your pardon, Ardan--" said Barbican. 

--"Granted, dear boy--granted with the utmost pleasure!" interrupted theFrenchman. 

"I shall probably have to direct my observations altogether to you, Captain, " continued Barbican; "friend Michael interrupts me so oftenthat I'm afraid he can hardly understand my remarks. "

"I always admired your candor, Barbican, " said Ardan; "it's a noblequality, a grand quality!"

"Don't mention it, " replied Barbican, turning towards M'Nicholl, stillin the dark, and addressing him exclusively; "You see, my dear Captain, the period at which the Moon's invisible side receives at once its lightand heat is exactly the period of her _conjunction_, that is to say, when she is lying between the Earth and the Sun. In comparison thereforewith the place which she had occupied at her _opposition_, or when hervisible side was fully illuminated, she is nearer to the Sun by doubleher distance from the Earth, or nearly 480 thousand miles. Therefore, mydear Captain, you can see how when the invisible side of the Moon isturned towards the Sun, she is nearly half a million of miles nearer tohim than she had been before. Therefore, her heat should be so much thegreater. "

"I see it at a glance, " said the Captain. 

"Whereas--" continued Barbican. 

"One moment!" cried Ardan. 

"Another interruption!" exclaimed Barbican; "What is the meaning of it, Sir?"

"I ask my honorable friend the privilege of the floor for one moment, "cried Ardan. 

"What for?"

"To continue the explanation. "

"Why so?"

"To show that I can understand as well as interrupt!"

"You have the floor!" exclaimed Barbican, in a voice no longer showingany traces of ill humor. 

"I expected no less from the honorable gentleman's well known courtesy, "replied Ardan. Then changing his manner and imitating to the lifeBarbican's voice, articulation, and gestures, he continued: "Whereas, you see, my dear Captain, the period at which the Moon's visible sidereceives at once its light and heat, is exactly the period of her_opposition_, that is to say, when she is lying on one side of the Earthand the Sun at the other. In comparison therefore with the point whichshe had occupied in _conjunction_, or when her invisible side was fullyilluminated, she is farther from the Sun by double her distance from theEarth, or nearly 480, 000 miles. Therefore, my dear Captain, you canreadily see how when the Moon's invisible side is turned _from_ the Sun, she is nearly half a million miles further from him than she had beenbefore. Therefore her heat should be so much the less. "

"Well done, friend Ardan!" cried Barbican, clapping his hands withpleasure. "Yes, Captain, he understood it as well as either of us thewhole time. Intelligence, not indifference, caused him to interrupt. Wonderful fellow!"

"That's the kind of a man I am!" replied Ardan, not without some degreeof complacency. Then he added simply: "Barbican, my friend, if Iunderstand your explanations so readily, attribute it all to theirastonishing lucidity. If I have any faculity, it is that of being ableto scent common sense at the first glimmer. Your sentences are sosteeped in it that I catch their full meaning long before you endthem--hence my apparent inattention. But we're not yet done with thevisible face of the Moon: it seems to me you have not yet enumerated allthe advantages in which it surpasses the other side. "

"Another of these advantages, " continued Barbican, "is that it is fromthe visible side alone that eclipses of the Sun can be seen. This isself-evident, the interposition of the Earth being possible only betweenthis visible face and the Sun. Furthermore, such eclipses of the Sunwould be of a far more imposing character than anything of the kind tobe witnessed from our Earth. This is chiefly for two reasons: first, when we, terrestrians, see the Sun eclipsed, we notice that, the discsof the two orbs being of about the same apparent size, one cannot hidethe other except for a short time; second, as the two bodies are movingin opposite directions, the total duration of the eclipse, even underthe most favorable circumstances, can't last longer than 7 minutes. Whereas to a Selenite who sees the Earth eclipse the Sun, not only doesthe Earth's disc appear four times larger than the Sun's, but also, ashis day is 14 times longer than ours, the two heavenly bodies mustremain several hours in contact. Besides, notwithstanding the apparentsuperiority of the Earth's disc, the refracting power of the atmospherewill never allow the Sun to be eclipsed altogether. Even when completelyscreened by the Earth, he would form a beautiful circle around her ofyellow, red, and crimson light, in which she would appear to float likea vast sphere of jet in a glowing sea of gold, rubies, sparklingcarbuncles and garnets. "

"It seems to me, " said M'Nicholl, "that, taking everything intoconsideration, the invisible side has been rather shabbily treated. "

"I know I should not stay there very long, " said Ardan; "the desire ofseeing such a splendid sight as that eclipse would be enough to bring meto the visible side as soon as possible. "

"Yes, I have no doubt of that, friend Michael, " pursued Barbican; "butto see the eclipse it would not be necessary to quit the dark hemispherealtogether. You are, of course, aware that in consequence of herlibrations, or noddings, or wobblings, the Moon presents to the eyes ofthe Earth a little more than the exact half of her disc. She has twomotions, one on her path around the Earth, and the other a shiftingaround on her own axis by which she endeavors to keep the same sidealways turned towards our sphere. This she cannot always do, as whileone motion, the latter, is strictly uniform, the other being eccentric, sometimes accelerating her and sometimes retarding, she has not time toshift herself around completely and with perfect correspondence ofmovement. At her perigee, for instance, she moves forward quicker thanshe can shift, so that we detect a portion of her western border beforeshe has time to conceal it. Similarly, at her apogee, when her rate ofmotion is comparatively slow, she shifts a little too quickly for hervelocity, and therefore cannot help revealing a certain portion of hereastern border. She shows altogether about 8 degrees of the dark side, about 4 at the east and 4 at the west, so that, out of her 360 degrees, about 188, in other words, a little more than 57 per cent. , about 4/7 ofthe entire surface, becomes visible to human eyes. Consequently aSelenite could catch an occasional glimpse of our Earth, withoutaltogether quitting the dark side. "

"No matter for that!" cried Ardan; "if we ever become Selenites we mustinhabit the visible side. My weak point is light, and that I must havewhen it can be got. "

"Unless, as perhaps in this case, you might be paying too dear for it, "observed M'Nicholl. "How would you like to pay for your light by theloss of the atmosphere, which, according to some philosophers, is piledaway on the dark side?"

"Ah! In that case I should consider a little before committing myself, "replied Ardan, "I should like to hear your opinion regarding such anotion, Barbican. Hey! Do your hear? Have astronomers any valid reasonsfor supposing the atmosphere to have fled to the dark side of the Moon?"

"Defer that question till some other time, Ardan, " whispered M'Nicholl;"Barbican is just now thinking out something that interests him far moredeeply than any empty speculation of astronomers. If you are near thewindow, look out through it towards the Moon. Can you see anything?"

"I can feel the window with my hand; but for all I can see, I might aswell be over head and ears in a hogshead of ink. "

The two friends kept up a desultory conversation, but Barbican did nothear them. One fact, in particular, troubled him, and he sought in vainto account for it. Having come so near the Moon--about 30 miles--why hadnot the Projectile gone all the way? Had its velocity been very great, the tendency to fall could certainly be counteracted. But the velocitybeing undeniably very moderate, how explain such a decided resistance toLunar attraction? Had the Projectile come within the sphere of somestrange unknown influence? Did the neighborhood of some mysterious bodyretain it firmly imbedded in ether? That it would never reach the Moon, was now beyond all doubt; but where was it going? Nearer to her orfurther off? Or was it rushing resistlessly into infinity on the wingsof that pitchy night? Who could tell, know, calculate--who could evenguess, amid the horror of this gloomy blackness? Questions, like these, left Barbican no rest; in vain he tried to grapple with them; he feltlike a child before them, baffled and almost despairing. 

In fact, what could be more tantalizing? Just outside their windows, only a few leagues off, perhaps only a few miles, lay the radiant planetof the night, but in every respect as far off from the eyes of himselfand his companions as if she was hiding at the other side of Jupiter!And to their ears she was no nearer. Earthquakes of the old Titanic typemight at that very moment be upheaving her surface with resistlessforce, crashing mountain against mountain as fiercely as wave meets wavearound the storm-lashed cliffs of Cape Horn. But not the faintest faroff murmur even of such a mighty tumult could break the dead broodingsilence that surrounded the travellers. Nay, the Moon, realizing theweird fancy of the Arabian poet, who calls her a "giant stiffening intogranite, but struggling madly against his doom, " might shriek, in aspasm of agony, loudly enough to be heard in Sirius. But our travellerscould not hear it. Their ears no sound could now reach. They could nomore detect the rending of a continent than the falling of a feather. Air, the propagator and transmitter of sound, was absent from hersurface. Her cries, her struggles, her groans, were all smotheredbeneath the impenetrable tomb of eternal silence!

These were some of the fanciful ideas by which Ardan tried to amuse hiscompanions in the present unsatisfactory state of affairs. His efforts, however well meant, were not successful. M'Nicholl's growls were moresavage than usual, and even Barbican's patience was decidedly givingway. The loss of the other face they could have easily borne--with mostof its details they had been already familiar. But, no, it must be thedark face that now escaped their observation! The very one that fornumberless reasons they were actually dying to see! They looked out ofthe windows once more at the black Moon beneath them. 

There it lay below them, a round black spot, hiding the sweet faces ofthe stars, but otherwise no more distinguishable by the travellers thanif they were lying in the depths of the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky. Andjust think. Only fifteen days before, that dark face had been splendidlyilluminated by the solar beams, every crater lustrous, every peaksparkling, every streak glistening under the vertical ray. In fifteendays later, a day light the most brilliant would have replaced amidnight the most Cimmerian. But in fifteen days later, where would theProjectile be? In what direction would it have been drawn by the forcesinnumerable of attractions incalculable? To such a question as this, even Ardan would reply only by an ominous shake of the head. 

We know already that our travellers, as well as astronomers generally, judging from that portion of the dark side occasionally revealed by theMoon's librations, were _pretty certain_ that there is no greatdifference between her two sides, as far as regards their physicalconstitutions. This portion, about the seventh part, shows plains andmountains, circles and craters, all of precisely the same nature asthose already laid down on the chart. Judging therefore from analogy, the other three-sevenths are, in all probability a world in everyrespect exactly like the visible face--that is, arid, desert, dead. Butour travellers also knew that _pretty certain_ is far from _quitecertain_, and that arguing merely from analogy may enable you to give agood guess, but can never lead you to an undoubted conclusion. What ifthe atmosphere had really withdrawn to this dark face? And if air, whynot water? Would not this be enough to infuse life into the wholecontinent? Why should not vegetation flourish on its plains, fish in itsseas, animals in its forests, and man in every one of its zones thatwere capable of sustaining life? To these interesting questions, what asatisfaction it would be to be able to answer positively one way oranother! For thousands of difficult problems a mere glimpse at thishemisphere would be enough to furnish a satisfactory reply. How gloriousit would be to contemplate a realm on which the eye of man has never yetrested!

Great, therefore, as you may readily conceive, was the depression of ourtravellers' spirits, as they pursued their way, enveloped in a veil ofdarkness the most profound. Still even then Ardan, as usual, formedsomewhat of an exception. Finding it impossible to see a particle of theLunar surface, he gave it up for good, and tried to console himself bygazing at the stars, which now fairly blazed in the spangled heavens. And certainly never before had astronomer enjoyed an opportunity forgazing at the heavenly bodies under such peculiar advantages. How Frayeof Paris, Chacornac of Lyons, and Father Secchi of Rome would haveenvied him!

For, candidly and truly speaking, never before had mortal eye revelledon such a scene of starry splendor. The black sky sparkled with lustrousfires, like the ceiling of a vast hall of ebony encrusted with flashingdiamonds. Ardan's eye could take in the whole extent in an easy sweepfrom the _Southern Cross_ to the _Little Bear_, thus embracing withinone glance not only the two polar stars of the present day, but also_Campus_ and _Vega_, which, by reason of the _precession of theEquinoxes_, are to be our polar stars 12, 000 years hence. Hisimagination, as if intoxicated, reeled wildly through these sublimeinfinitudes and got lost in them. He forgot all about himself and allabout his companions. He forgot even the strangeness of the fate thathad sent them wandering through these forbidden regions, like abewildered comet that had lost its way. With what a soft sweet lightevery star glowed! No matter what its magnitude, the stream that flowedfrom it looked calm and holy. No twinkling, no scintillation, nonictitation, disturbed their pure and lambent gleam. No atmosphere hereinterposed its layers of humidity or of unequal density to interrupt thestately majesty of their effulgence. The longer he gazed upon them, themore absorbing became their attraction. He felt that they were greatkindly eyes looking down even yet with benevolence and protection onhimself and his companions now driving wildly through space, and lostin the pathless depths of the black ocean of infinity!

He soon became aware that his friends, following his example, hadinterested themselves in gazing at the stars, and were now just asabsorbed as himself in the contemplation of the transcendent spectacle. For a long time all three continued to feast their eyes on all theglories of the starry firmament; but, strange to say, the part thatseemed to possess the strangest and weirdest fascination for theirwandering glances was the spot where the vast disc of the Moon showedlike an enormous round hole, black and soundless, and apparently deepenough to permit a glance into the darkest mysteries of the infinite. 

A disagreeable sensation, however, against which they had been for sometime struggling, at last put an end to their contemplations, andcompelled them to think of themselves. This was nothing less than apretty sharp cold, at first somewhat endurable, but which soon coveredthe inside surface of the window panes with a thick coating of ice. Thefact was that, the Sun's direct rays having no longer an opportunity ofwarming up the Projectile, the latter began to lose rapidly by radiationwhatever heat it had stored away within its walls. The consequence was avery decided falling of the thermometer, and so thick a condensation ofthe internal moisture on the window glasses as to soon render allexternal observations extremely difficult, if not actually impossible. 

The Captain, as the oldest man in the party, claimed the privilege ofsaying he could stand it no longer. Striking a light, he consulted thethermometer and cried out:

"Seventeen degrees below zero, centigrade! that is certainly low enoughto make an old fellow like me feel rather chilly!"

"Just one degree and a half above zero, Fahrenheit!" observed Barbican;"I really had no idea that it was so cold. "

His teeth actually chattered so much that he could hardly articulate;still he, as well as the others, disliked to entrench on their shortsupply of gas. 

"One feature of our journey that I particularly admire, " said Ardan, trying to laugh with freezing lips, "is that we can't complain ofmonotony. At one time we are frying with the heat and blinded with thelight, like Indians caught on a burning prairie; at another, we arefreezing in the pitchy darkness of a hyperborean winter, like Sir JohnFranklin's merry men in the Bay of Boothia. _Madame La Nature_, youdon't forget your devotees; on the contrary, you overwhelm us with yourattentions!"

"Our external temperature may be reckoned at how much?" asked theCaptain, making a desperate effort to keep up the conversation. 

"The temperature outside our Projectile must be precisely the same asthat of interstellar space in general, " answered Barbican. 

"Is not this precisely the moment then, " interposed Ardan, quickly, "for making an experiment which we could never have made as long as wewere in the sunshine?"

"That's so!" exclaimed Barbican; "now or never! I'm glad you thought ofit, Ardan. We are just now in the position to find out the temperatureof space by actual experiment, and so see whose calculations are right, Fourier's or Pouillet's. "

"Let's see, " asked Ardan, "who was Fourier, and who was Pouillet?"

"Baron Fourier, of the French Academy, wrote a famous treatise on_Heat_, which I remember reading twenty years ago in Penington's bookstore, " promptly responded the Captain; "Pouillet was an eminentprofessor of Physics at the Sorbonne, where he died, last year, Ithink. "

"Thank you, Captain, " said Ardan; "the cold does not injure your memory, though it is decidedly on the advance. See how thick the ice is alreadyon the window panes! Let it only keep on and we shall soon have ourbreaths falling around us in flakes of snow. "

"Let us prepare a thermometer, " said Barbican, who had already sethimself to work in a business-like manner. 

A thermometer of the usual kind, as may be readily supposed, would be ofno use whatever in the experiment that was now about to be made. In anordinary thermometer Mercury freezes hard when exposed to a temperatureof 40° below zero. But Barbican had provided himself with a _Minimum_, _self-recording_ thermometer, of a peculiar nature, invented byWolferdin, a friend of Arago's, which could correctly registerexceedingly low degrees of temperature. Before beginning the experiment, this instrument was tested by comparison with one of the usual kind, andthen Barbican hesitated a few moments regarding the best means ofemploying it. 

"How shall we start this experiment?" asked the Captain. 

"Nothing simpler, " answered Ardan, always ready to reply; "you just openyour windows, and fling out your thermometer. It follows yourProjectile, as a calf follows her mother. In a quarter of an hour youput out your hand--"

"Put out your hand!" interrupted Barbican. 

"Put out your hand--" continued Ardan, quietly. 

"You do nothing of the kind, " again interrupted Barbican; "that is, unless you prefer, instead of a hand, to pull back a frozen stump, shapeless, colorless and lifeless!"

"I prefer a hand, " said Ardan, surprised and interested. 

"Yes, " continued Barbican, "the instant your hand left the Projectile, it would experience the same terrible sensations as is produced bycauterizing it with an iron bar white hot. For heat, whether rushingrapidly out of our bodies or rapidly entering them, is identically thesame force and does the same amount of damage. Besides I am by no meanscertain that we are still followed by the objects that we flung out ofthe Projectile. "

"Why not?" asked M'Nicholl; "we saw them all outside not long ago. "

"But we can't see them outside now, " answered Barbican; "that may beaccounted for, I know, by the darkness, but it may be also by the factof their not being there at all. In a case like this, we can't rely onuncertainties. Therefore, to make sure of not losing our thermometer, weshall fasten it with a string and easily pull it in whenever we like. "

This advice being adopted, the window was opened quickly, and theinstrument was thrown out at once by M'Nicholl, who held it fastened bya short stout cord so that it could be pulled in immediately. The windowhad hardly been open for longer than a second, yet that second had beenenough to admit a terrible icy chill into the interior of theProjectile. 

"Ten thousand ice-bergs!" cried Ardan, shivering all over; "it's coldenough to freeze a white bear!"

Barbican waited quietly for half an hour; that time he considered quitelong enough to enable the instrument to acquire the temperature of theinterstellar space. Then he gave the signal, and it was instantly pulledin. 

It took him a few moments to calculate the quantity of mercury that hadescaped into the little diaphragm attached to the lower part of theinstrument; then he said:

"A hundred and forty degrees, centigrade, below zero!"

[Illustration: IT'S COLD ENOUGH TO FREEZE A WHITE BEAR. ]

"Two hundred and twenty degrees, Fahrenheit, below zero!" criedM'Nicholl; "no wonder that we should feel a little chilly!"

"Pouillet is right, then, " said Barbican, "and Fourier wrong. "

"Another victory for Sorbonne over the Academy!" cried Ardan. "_Vive laSorbonne!_ Not that I'm a bit proud of finding myself in the midst of atemperature so very _distingué_--though it is more than three timescolder than Hayes ever felt it at Humboldt Glacier or Nevenoff atYakoutsk. If Madame the Moon becomes as cold as this every time that hersurface is withdrawn from the sunlight for fourteen days, I don't think, boys, that her hospitality is much to hanker after!"

CHAPTER XV. 

GLIMPSES AT THE INVISIBLE. 

In spite of the dreadful condition in which the three friends now foundthemselves, and the still more dreadful future that awaited them, itmust be acknowledged that Ardan bravely kept up his spirits. And hiscompanions were just as cheerful. Their philosophy was quite simple andperfectly intelligible. What they could bear, they bore withoutmurmuring. When it became unbearable, they only complained, ifcomplaining would do any good. Imprisoned in an iron shroud, flyingthrough profound darkness into the infinite abysses of space, nearly aquarter million of miles distant from all human aid, freezing with theicy cold, their little stock not only of gas but of _air_ rapidlyrunning lower and lower, a near future of the most impenetrableobscurity looming up before them, they never once thought of wastingtime in asking such useless questions as where they were going, or whatfate was about to befall them. Knowing that no good could possiblyresult from inaction or despair, they carefully kept their wits aboutthem, making their experiments and recording their observations ascalmly and as deliberately as if they were working at home in the quietretirement of their own cabinets. 

Any other course of action, however, would have been perfectly absurdon their part, and this no one knew better than themselves. Even ifdesirous to act otherwise, what could they have done? As powerless overthe Projectile as a baby over a locomotive, they could neither clapbrakes to its movement nor switch off its direction. A sailor can turnhis ship's head at pleasure; an aeronaut has little trouble, by means ofhis ballast and his throttle-valve, in giving a vertical movement to hisballoon. But nothing of this kind could our travellers attempt. No helm, or ballast, or throttle-valve could avail them now. Nothing in the worldcould be done to prevent things from following their own course to thebitter end. 

If these three men would permit themselves to hazard an expression atall on the subject, which they didn't, each could have done it by hisown favorite motto, so admirably expressive of his individual nature. "_Donnez tête baissée!_" (Go it baldheaded!) showed Ardan'suncalculating impetuosity and his Celtic blood. "_Fata quocunquevocant!_" (To its logical consequence!) revealed Barbican'simperturbable stoicism, culture hardening rather than loosening theoriginal British phlegm. Whilst M'Nicholl's "Screw down the valve andlet her rip!" betrayed at once his unconquerable Yankee coolness and hisold experiences as a Western steamboat captain. 

Where were they now, at eight o'clock in the morning of the day calledin America the sixth of December? Near the Moon, very certainly; nearenough, in fact, for them to perceive easily in the dark the great roundscreen which she formed between themselves and the Projectile on oneside, and the Earth, Sun, and stars on the other. But as to the exactdistance at which she lay from them--they had no possible means ofcalculating it. The Projectile, impelled and maintained by forcesinexplicable and even incomprehensible, had come within less than thirtymiles from the Moon's north pole. But during those two hours ofimmersion in the dark shadow, had this distance been increased ordiminished? There was evidently no stand-point whereby to estimateeither the Projectile's direction or its velocity. Perhaps, movingrapidly away from the Moon, it would be soon out of her shadowaltogether. Perhaps, on the contrary, gradually approaching her surface, it might come into contact at any moment with some sharp invisible peakof the Lunar mountains--a catastrophe sure to put a sudden end to thetrip, and the travellers too. 

An excited discussion on this subject soon sprang up, in which allnaturally took part. Ardan's imagination as usual getting the better ofhis reason, he maintained very warmly that the Projectile, caught andretained by the Moon's attraction, could not help falling on hersurface, just as an aerolite cannot help falling on our Earth. 

"Softly, dear boy, softly, " replied Barbican; "aerolites _can_ helpfalling on the Earth, and the proof is, that few of them _do_ fall--mostof them don't. Therefore, even granting that we had already assumed thenature of an aerolite, it does not necessarily follow that we shouldfall on the Moon. "

"But, " objected Ardan, "if we approach only near enough, I don't see howwe can help--"

"You don't see, it may be, " said Barbican, "but you can see, if you onlyreflect a moment. Have you not often seen the November meteors, forinstance, streaking the skies, thousands at a time?"

"Yes; on several occasions I was so fortunate. "

"Well, did you ever see any of them strike the Earth's surface?" askedBarbican. 

"I can't say I ever did, " was the candid reply, "but--"

"Well, these shooting stars, " continued Barbican, "or rather thesewandering particles of matter, shine only from being inflamed by thefriction of the atmosphere. Therefore they can never be at a greaterdistance from the Earth than 30 or 40 miles at furthest, and yet theyseldom fall on it. So with our Projectile. It may go very close to theMoon without falling into it. "

"But our roving Projectile must pull up somewhere in the long run, "replied Ardan, "and I should like to know where that somewhere can be, if not in the Moon. "

"Softly again, dear boy, " said Barbican; "how do you know that ourProjectile must pull up somewhere?"

"It's self-evident, " replied Ardan; "it can't keep moving for ever. "

"Whether it can or it can't depends altogether on which one of twomathematical curves it has followed in describing its course. Accordingto the velocity with which it was endowed at a certain moment, it mustfollow either the one or the other; but this velocity I do not considermyself just now able to calculate. "

"Exactly so, " chimed in M'Nicholl; "it must describe and keep ondescribing either a parabola or a hyperbola. "

"Precisely, " said Barbican; "at a certain velocity it would take aparabolic curve; with a velocity considerably greater it should describea hyperbolic curve. "

"I always did like nice corpulent words, " said Ardan, trying to laugh;"bloated and unwieldy, they express in a neat handy way exactly what youmean. Of course, I know all about the high--high--those high curves, andthose low curves. No matter. Explain them to me all the same. Considerme most deplorably ignorant on the nature of these curves. "

"Well, " said the Captain, a little bumptiously, "a parabola is a curveof the second order, formed by the intersection of a cone by a planeparallel to one of its sides. "

"You don't say so!" cried Ardan, with mouth agape. "Do tell!"

"It is pretty nearly the path taken by a shell shot from a mortar. "

"Well now!" observed Ardan, apparently much surprised; "who'd havethought it? Now for the high--high--bully old curve!"

"The hyperbola, " continued the Captain, not minding Ardan's antics, "thehyperbola is a curve of the second order, formed from the intersectionof a cone by a plane parallel to its axis, or rather parallel to its two_generatrices_, constituting two separate branches, extendingindefinitely in both directions. "

"Oh, what an accomplished scientist I'm going to turn out, if only leftlong enough at your feet, illustrious _maestro_!" cried Ardan, witheffusion. "Only figure it to yourselves, boys; before the Captain'slucid explanations, I fully expected to hear something about the highcurves and the low curves in the back of an Ancient Thomas! Oh, Michael, Michael, why didn't you know the Captain earlier?"

But the Captain was now too deeply interested in a hot discussion withBarbican to notice that the Frenchman was only funning him. Which of thetwo curves had been the one most probably taken by the Projectile?Barbican maintained it was the parabolic; M'Nicholl insisted that it wasthe hyperbolic. Their tempers were not improved by the severe cold, andboth became rather excited in the dispute. They drew so many lines onthe table, and crossed them so often with others, that nothing was leftat last but a great blot. They covered bits of paper with _x_'s and_y_'s, which they read out like so many classic passages, shouting them, declaiming them, drawing attention to the strong points by gesticulationso forcible and voice so loud that neither of the disputants could heara word that the other said. Possibly the very great difference intemperature between the external air in contact with their skin and theblood coursing through their veins, had given rise to magnetic currentsas potential in their effects as a superabundant supply of oxygen. Atall events, the language they soon began to employ in the enforcement oftheir arguments fairly made the Frenchman's hair stand on end. 

"You probably forget the important difference between a _directrix_ andan _axis_, " hotly observed Barbican. 

"I know what an _abscissa_ is, any how!" cried the Captain. "Can you sayas much?"

"Did you ever understand what is meant by a _double ordinate_?" askedBarbican, trying to keep cool. 

"More than you ever did about a _transverse_ and a _conjugate!_" repliedthe Captain, with much asperity. 

"Any one not convinced at a glance that this _eccentricity_ is equal to_unity_, must be blind as a bat!" exclaimed Barbican, fast losing hisordinary urbanity. 

"_Less_ than _unity_, you mean! If you want spectacles, here are mine!"shouted the Captain, angrily tearing them off and offering them to hisadversary. 

"Dear boys!" interposed Ardan--

--"The _eccentricity_ is _equal_ to _unity_!" cried Barbican. 

--"The _eccentricity_ is _less_ than _unity_!" screamed M'Nicholl. 

"Talking of eccentricity--" put in Ardan. 

--"Therefore it's a _parabola_, and must be!" cried Barbican, triumphantly. 

--"Therefore it's _hyperbola_ and nothing shorter!" was the Captain'squite as confident reply. 

"For gracious sake!--" resumed Ardan. 

"Then produce your _asymptote_!" exclaimed Barbican, with an angrysneer. 

"Let us see the _symmetrical point_!" roared the Captain, quitesavagely. 

"Dear boys! old fellows!--" cried Ardan, as loud as his lungs would lethim. 

"It's useless to argue with a Mississippi steamboat Captain, " ejaculatedBarbican; "he never gives in till he blows up!"

"Never try to convince a Yankee schoolmaster, " replied M'Nicholl; "hehas one book by heart and don't believe in any other!"

"Here, friend Michael, get me a cord, won't you? It's the only way toconvince him!" cried Barbican, hastily turning to the Frenchman. 

"Hand me over that ruler, Ardan!" yelled the Captain. "The heavy one!It's the only way now left to bring him to reason!"

"Look here, Barbican and M'Nicholl!" cried Ardan, at last making himselfheard, and keeping a tight hold both on the cord and the ruler. "Thisthing has gone far enough! Come. Stop your talk, and answer me a fewquestions. What do you want of this cord, Barbican?"

"To describe a parabolic curve!"

"And what are you going to do with the ruler, M'Nicholl!"

"To help draw a true hyperbola!"

"Promise me, Barbican, that you're not going to lasso the Captain!"

"Lasso the Captain! Ha! ha! ha!"

"You promise, M'Nicholl, that you're not going to brain the President!"

"I brain the President! Ho! ho! ho!"

"I want merely to convince him that it is a parabola!"

"I only want to make it clear as day that it is hyperbola!"

"Does it make any real difference whether it is one or the other?"yelled Ardan. 

"The greatest possible difference--in the Eye of Science. "

"A radical and incontrovertible difference--in the Eye of Science!"

"Oh! Hang the Eye of Science--will either curve take us to the Moon?"

"No!"

"Will either take us back to the Earth?"

"No!"

"Will either take us anywhere that you know of?"

"No!"

"Why not?"

"Because they are both _open_ curves, and therefore can never end!"

"Is it of the slightest possible importance which of the two curvescontrols the Projectile?"

"Not the slightest--except in the Eye of Science!"

"Then let the Eye of Science and her parabolas and hyperbolas, andconjugates, and asymptotes, and the rest of the confounded nonsensicalfarrago, all go to pot! What's the use of bothering your heads aboutthem here! Have you not enough to trouble you otherwise? A nice pair ofscientists you are? 'Stanislow' scientists, probably. Do _real_scientists lose their tempers for a trifle? Am I ever to see my ideal ofa true scientific man in the flesh? Barbican came very near realizing myidea perfectly; but I see that Science just has as little effect asCulture in driving the Old Adam out of us! The idea of the onlysimpleton in the lot having to lecture the others on propriety ofdeportment! I thought they were going to tear each other's eyes out! Ha!Ha! Ha! It's _impayable_! Give me that cord, Michael! Hand me the heavyruler, Ardan! It's the only way to bring him to reason! Ho! Ho! Ho! It'stoo good! I shall never get over it!" and he laughed till his sidesached and his cheeks streamed. 

His laughter was so contagious, and his merriment so genuine, that therewas really no resisting it, and the next few minutes witnessed nothingbut laughing, and handshaking and rib-punching in the Projectile--thoughHeaven knows there was very little for the poor fellows to be merryabout. As they could neither reach the Moon nor return to the Earth, what _was_ to befall them? The immediate outlook was the very reverse ofexhilarating. If they did not die of hunger, if they did not die ofthirst, the reason would simply be that, in a few days, as soon as theirgas was exhausted, they would die for want of air, unless indeed the icycold had killed them beforehand!

By this time, in fact, the temperature had become so exceedingly coldthat a further encroachment on their little stock of gas could be putoff no longer. The light, of course, they could manage to do without;but a little heat was absolutely necessary to prevent them from freezingto death. Fortunately, however, the caloric developed by the Reiset andRegnault process for purifying the air, raised the internal temperatureof the Projectile a little, so that, with an expenditure of gas muchless than they had expected, our travellers were able to maintain it ata degree capable of sustaining human life. 

By this time, also, all observations through the windows had becomeexceedingly difficult. The internal moisture condensed so thick andcongealed so hard on the glass that nothing short of continued frictioncould keep up its transparency. But this friction, however laboriousthey might regard it at other times, they thought very little of justnow, when observation had become far more interesting and important thanever. 

If the Moon had any atmosphere, our travellers were near enough now tostrike any meteor that might be rushing through it. If the Projectileitself were floating in it, as was possible, would not such a goodconductor of sound convey to their ears the reflexion of some lunarecho, the roar of some storm raging among the mountains, the rattling ofsome plunging avalanche, or the detonations of some eructating volcano?And suppose some lunar Etna or Vesuvius was flashing out its fires, wasit not even possible that their eye could catch a glimpse of the luridgleam? One or two facts of this kind, well attested, would singularlyelucidate the vexatious question of a lunar atmosphere, which is stillso far from being decided. Full of such thoughts and intenselyinterested in them, Barbican, M'Nicholl and Ardan, patient asastronomers at a transit of Venus, watched steadily at their windows, and allowed nothing worth noticing to escape their searching gaze. 

Ardan's patience first gave out. He showed it by an observation naturalenough, for that matter, to a mind unaccustomed to long stretches ofcareful thought:

"This darkness is absolutely killing! If we ever take this trip again, it must be about the time of the New Moon!"

"There I agree with you, Ardan, " observed the Captain. "That would bejust the time to start. The Moon herself, I grant, would be lost in thesolar rays and therefore invisible all the time of our trip, but incompensation, we should have the Full Earth in full view. Besides--andthis is your chief point, no doubt, Ardan--if we should happen to bedrawn round the Moon, just as we are at the present moment, we shouldenjoy the inestimable advantage of beholding her invisible sidemagnificently illuminated!"

"My idea exactly, Captain, " said Ardan. "What is your opinion on thispoint, Barbican?"

"My opinion is as follows:" answered Barbican, gravely. "If we everrepeat this journey, we shall start precisely at the same time and underprecisely the same circumstances. You forget that our only object is toreach the Moon. Now suppose we had really landed there, as we expectedto do yesterday, would it not have been much more agreeable to beholdthe lunar continents enjoying the full light of day than to find themplunged in the dismal obscurity of night? Would not our firstinstallation of discovery have been under circumstances decidedlyextremely favorable? Your silence shows that you agree with me. As tothe invisible side, once landed, we should have the power to visit itwhen we pleased, and therefore we could always choose whatever timewould best suit our purpose. Therefore, if we wanted to land in theMoon, the period of the Full Moon was the best period to select. Theperiod was well chosen, the time was well calculated, the force was wellapplied, the Projectile was well aimed, but missing our way spoiledeverything. "

"That's sound logic, no doubt, " said Ardan; "still I can't help thinkingthat all for want of a little light we are losing, probably forever, asplendid opportunity of seeing the Moon's invisible side. How about theother planets, Barbican? Do you think that their inhabitants are asignorant regarding their satellites as we are regarding ours?"

"On that subject, " observed M'Nicholl, "I could venture an answermyself, though, of course, without pretending to speak dogmatically onany such open question. The satellites of the other planets, by theircomparative proximity, must be much easier to study than our Moon. TheSaturnians, the Uranians, the Jovians, cannot have had very seriousdifficulty in effecting some communication with their satellites. Jupiter's four moons, for instance, though on an average actually 2-1/2times farther from their planet's centre than the Moon is from us, arecomparatively four times nearer to him on account of his radius beingeleven times greater than the Earth's. With Saturn's eight moons, thecase is almost precisely similar. Their average distance is nearly threetimes greater than that of our Moon; but as Saturn's diameter is about 9times greater than the Earth's, his bodyguards are really between 3 and4 times nearer to their principal than ours is to us. As to Uranus, hisfirst satellite, _Ariel_, half as far from him as our Moon is from theEarth, is comparatively, though not actually, eight times nearer. "

"Therefore, " said Barbican, now taking up the subject, "an experimentanalogous to ours, starting from either of these three planets, wouldhave encountered fewer difficulties. But the whole question resolvesitself into this. _If_ the Jovians and the rest have been able to quittheir planets, they have probably succeeded in discovering the invisiblesides of their satellites. But if they have _not_ been able to do so, why, they're not a bit wiser than ourselves--But what's the matter withthe Projectile? It's certainly shifting!"

Shifting it certainly was. While the path it described as it swungblindly through the darkness, could not be laid down by any chart forwant of a starting point, Barbican and his companions soon became awareof a decided modification of its relative position with regard to theMoon's surface. Instead of its side, as heretofore, it now presented itsbase to the Moon's disc, and its axis had become rigidly vertical to thelunar horizon. Of this new feature in their journey, Barbican hadassured himself by the most undoubted proof towards four o'clock in themorning. What was the cause? Gravity, of course. The heavier portion ofthe Projectile gravitated towards the Moon's centre exactly as if theywere falling towards her surface. 

But _were_ they falling? Were they at last, contrary to allexpectations, about to reach the goal that they had been so ardentlywishing for? No! A sight-point, just discovered by M'Nicholl, very soonconvinced Barbican that the Projectile was as far as ever fromapproaching the Moon, but was moving around it in a curve pretty nearconcentric. 

M'Nicholl's discovery, a luminous gleam flickering on the distant vergeof the black disc, at once engrossed the complete attention of ourtravellers and set them to divining its course. It could not possibly beconfounded with a star. Its glare was reddish, like that of a distantfurnace on a dark night; it kept steadily increasing in size andbrightness, thus showing beyond a doubt how the Projectile wasmoving--in the direction of the luminous point, and _not_ verticallyfalling towards the Moon's surface. 

"It's a volcano!" cried the Captain, in great excitement; "a volcano infull blast! An outlet of the Moon's internal fires! Therefore she can'tbe a burnt out cinder!"

"It certainly looks like a volcano, " replied Barbican, carefullyinvestigating this new and puzzling phenomenon with his night-glass. "Ifit is not one, in fact, what can it be?"

"To maintain combustion, " commenced Ardan syllogistically andsententiously, "air is necessary. An undoubted case of combustion liesbefore us. Therefore, this part of the Moon _must_ have an atmosphere!"

"Perhaps so, " observed Barbican, "but not necessarily so. The volcano, by decomposing certain substances, gunpowder for instance, may be ableto furnish its own oxygen, and thus explode in a vacuum. That blaze, infact, seems to me to possess the intensity and the blinding glare ofobjects burning in pure oxygen. Let us therefore be not over hasty injumping at the conclusion of the existence of a lunar atmosphere. "

This fire mountain was situated, according to the most plausibleconjecture, somewhere in the neighborhood of the 45th degree, southlatitude, of the Moon's invisible side. For a little while thetravellers indulged the fond hope that they were directly approachingit, but, to their great disappointment, the path described by theProjectile lay in a different direction. Its nature therefore they hadno opportunity of ascertaining. It began to disappear behind the darkhorizon within less than half an hour after the time that M'Nicholl hadsignalled it. Still, the fact of the uncontested existence of such aphenomenon was a grand one, and of considerable importance inselenographic investigations. It proved that heat had not altogetherdisappeared from the lunar world; and the existence of heat oncesettled, who can say positively that the vegetable kingdom and even theanimal kingdom have not likewise resisted so far every influence tendingto destroy them? If terrestrial astronomers could only be convinced, byundoubted evidence, of the existence of this active volcano on theMoon's surface, they would certainly admit of very considerablemodifications in the present doubts regarding her inhabitability. 

Thoughts of this kind continued to occupy the minds of our travellerseven for some time after the little spark of light had been extinguishedin the black gloom. But they said very little; even Ardan was silent, and continued to look out of the window. Barbican surrendered himself upto a reverie regarding the mysterious destinies of the lunar world. Wasits present condition a foreshadowing of what our Earth is to become?M'Nicholl, too, was lost in speculation. Was the Moon older or youngerthan the Earth in the order of Creation? Had she ever been a beautifulworld of life, and color, and magnificent variety? If so, had herinhabitants--

Great Mercy, what a cry from Ardan! It sounded human, so seldom do wehear a shriek so expressive at once of surprise and horror and eventerror! It brought back his startled companions to their senses in asecond. Nor did they ask him for the cause of his alarm. It was only tooclear. Right in their very path, a blazing ball of fire had suddenlyrisen up before their eyes, the pitchy darkness all round it renderingits glare still more blinding. Its phosphoric coruscation filled theProjectile with white streams of lurid light, tinging the contents witha pallor indescribably ghastly. The travellers' faces in particular, gleamed with that peculiar livid and cadaverous tinge, blue and yellow, which magicians so readily produce by burning table salt in alcohol. 

"_Sacré!_" cried Ardan who always spoke his own language when muchexcited. "What a pair of beauties you are! Say, Barbican! Whatthundering thing is coming at us now?"

"Another bolide, " answered Barbican, his eye as calm as ever, though afaint tremor was quite perceptible in his voice. 

"A bolide? Burning _in vacuo_? You are joking!"

"I was never more in earnest, " was the President's quiet reply, as helooked through his closed fingers. 

He knew exactly what he was saying. The dazzling glitter did not deceive_him_. Such a meteor seen from the Earth could not appear much brighterthan the Full Moon, but here in the midst of the black ether andunsoftened by the veil of the atmosphere, it was absolutely blinding. These wandering bodies carry in themselves the principle of theirincandescence. Oxygen is by no means necessary for their combustion. Some of them indeed often take fire as they rush through the layers ofour atmosphere, and generally burn out before they strike the Earth. Butothers, on the contrary, and the greater number too, follow a trackthrough space far more distant from the Earth than the fifty milessupposed to limit our atmosphere. In October, 1844, one of these meteorshad appeared in the sky at an altitude calculated to be at least 320miles; and in August, 1841, another had vanished when it had reached theheight of 450 miles. A few even of those seen from the Earth must havebeen several miles in diameter. The velocity with which some of themhave been calculated to move, from east to west, in a direction contraryto that of the Earth, is astounding enough to exceed belief--about fiftymiles in a second. Our Earth does not move quite 20 miles in a second, though it goes a thousand times quicker than the fastest locomotive. 

[Illustration: THEY COULD UTTER NO WORD. ]

Barbican calculated like lightning that the present object of theiralarm was only about 250 miles distant from them, and could not beless than a mile and a quarter in diameter. It was coming on at the rateof more than a mile a second or about 75 miles a minute. It lay right inthe path of the Projectile, and in a very few seconds indeed a terriblecollision was inevitable. The enormous rate at which it grew in size, showed the terrible velocity at which it was approaching. 

You can hardly imagine the situation of our poor travellers at the sightof this frightful apparition. I shall certainly not attempt to describeit. In spite of their singular courage, wonderful coolness, extraordinary fortitude, they were now breathless, motionless, almosthelpless; their muscles were tightened to their utmost tension; theireyes stared out of their sockets; their faces were petrified withhorror. No wonder. Their Projectile, whose course they were powerless aschildren to guide, was making straight for this fiery mass, whose glarein a few seconds had become more blinding than the open vent of areverberating furnace. Their own Projectile was carrying them headlonginto a bottomless abyss of fire!

Still, even in this moment of horror, their presence of mind, or atleast their consciousness, never abandoned them. Barbican had graspedeach of his friends by the hand, and all three tried as well as theycould to watch through half-closed eyelids the white-hot asteroid'srapid approach. They could utter no word, they could breathe no prayer. They gave themselves up for lost--in the agony of terror that partiallyinterrupted the ordinary functions of their brains, this was absolutelyall they could do! Hardly three minutes had elapsed since Ardan hadcaught the first glimpse of it--three ages of agony! Now it was on them!In a second--in less than a second, the terrible fireball had burst likea shell! Thousands of glittering fragments were flying around them inall directions--but with no more noise than is made by so many lightflakes of thistle-down floating about some warm afternoon in summer. Theblinding, blasting steely white glare of the explosion almost bereft thetravellers of the use of their eyesight forever, but no more reportreached their ears than if it had taken place at the bottom of the Gulfof Mexico. In an atmosphere like ours, such a crash would have burst theear-membranes of ten thousand elephants!

In the middle of the commotion another loud cry was suddenly heard. Itwas the Captain who called this time. His companions rushed to hiswindow and all looked out together in the same direction. 

What a sight met their eyes! What pen can describe it? What pencil canreproduce the magnificence of its coloring? It was a Vesuvius at hisbest and wildest, at the moment just after the old cone has fallen in. Millions of luminous fragments streaked the sky with their blazingfires. All sizes and shapes of light, all colors and shades of colors, were inextricably mingled together. Irradiations in gold, scintillationsin crimson, splendors in emerald, lucidities in ultramarine--a dazzlinggirandola of every tint and of every hue. Of the enormous fireball, aninstant ago such an object of dread, nothing now remained but theseglittering pieces, shooting about in all directions, each one anasteroid in its turn. Some flew out straight and gleaming like a steelsword; others rushed here and there irregularly like chips struck off ared-hot rock; and others left long trails of glittering cosmical dustbehind them like the nebulous tail of Donati's comet. 

These incandescent blocks crossed each other, struck each other, crushedeach other into still smaller fragments, one of which, grazing theProjectile, jarred it so violently that the very window at which thetravellers were standing, was cracked by the shock. Our friends felt, infact, as if they were the objective point at which endless volleys ofblazing shells were aimed, any of them powerful enough, if it only hitthem fair, to make as short work of the Projectile as you could of anegg-shell. They had many hairbreadth escapes, but fortunately thecracking of the glass proved to be the only serious damage of which theycould complain. 

This extraordinary illumination lasted altogether only a few seconds;every one of its details was of a most singular and exciting nature--butone of its greatest wonders was yet to come. The ether, saturated withluminous matter, developed an intensity of blazing brightness unequalledby the lime light, the magnesium light, the electric light, or any otherdazzling source of illumination with which we are acquainted on earth. It flashed out of these asteroids in all directions, and downwards, ofcourse, as well as elsewhere. At one particular instant, it was so veryvivid that Ardan, who happened to be looking downwards, cried out, as ifin transport:

"Oh!! The Moon! Visible at last!"

And the three companions, thrilling with indescribable emotion, shot ahasty glance through the openings of the coruscating field beneath them. Did they really catch a glimpse of the mysterious invisible disc thatthe eye of man had never before lit upon? For a second or so they gazedwith enraptured fascination at all they could see. What did they see, what could they see at a distance so uncertain that Barbican has neverbeen able even to guess at it? Not much. Ardan was reminded of the nighthe had stood on the battlements of Dover Castle, a few years before, when the fitful flashes of a thunder storm gave him occasional and veryuncertain glimpses of the French coast at the opposite side of thestrait. Misty strips long and narrow, extending over one portion of thedisc--probably cloud-scuds sustained by a highly rarefiedatmosphere--permitted only a very dreamy idea of lofty mountainsstretching beneath them in shapeless proportions, of smaller reliefs, circuses, yawning craters, and the other capricious, sponge-likeformations so common on the visible side. Elsewhere the watchers becameaware for an instant of immense spaces, certainly not arid plains, butseas, real oceans, vast and calm, reflecting from their placid depthsthe dazzling fireworks of the weird and wildly flashing meteors. Farther on, but very darkly as if behind a screen, shadowy continentsrevealed themselves, their surfaces flecked with black cloudy masses, probably great forests, with here and there a--

Nothing more! In less than a second the illumination had come to an end, involving everything in the Moon's direction once more in pitchydarkness. 

But had the impression made on the travellers' eyes been a mere visionor the result of a reality? an optical delusion or the shadow of a solidfact? Could an observation so rapid, so fleeting, so superficial, bereally regarded as a genuine scientific affirmation? Could such a feebleglimmer of the invisible disc justify them in pronouncing a decidedopinion on the inhabitability of the Moon? To such questions as these, rising spontaneously and simultaneously in the minds of our travellers, they could not reply at the moment; they could not reply to them longafterwards; even to this day they can give them no satisfactory answer. All they could do at the moment, they did. To every sight and sound theykept their eyes and ears open, and, by observing the most perfectsilence, they sought to render their impressions too vivid to admit ofdeception. 

There was now, however, nothing to be heard, and very little more to beseen. The few coruscations that flashed over the sky, gradually becamefewer and dimmer; the asteroids sought paths further and further apart, and finally disappeared altogether. The ether resumed its originalblackness. The stars, eclipsed for a moment, blazed out again on thefirmament, and the invisible disc, that had flashed into view for aninstant, once more relapsed forever into the impenetrable depths ofnight. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

THE SOUTHERN HEMISPHERE. 

Exceedingly narrow and exceedingly fortunate had been the escape of theProjectile. And from a danger too the most unlikely and the mostunexpected. Who would have ever dreamed of even the possibility of suchan encounter? And was all danger over? The sight of one of these erraticbolides certainly justified the gravest apprehensions of our travellersregarding the existence of others. Worse than the sunken reefs of theSouthern Seas or the snags of the Mississippi, how could the Projectilebe expected to avoid them? Drifting along blindly through the boundlessethereal ocean, _her_ inmates, even if they saw the danger, were totallypowerless to turn her aside. Like a ship without a rudder, like arunaway horse, like a collapsed balloon, like an iceberg in an Atlanticstorm, like a boat in the Niagara rapids, she moved on sullenly, recklessly, mechanically, mayhap into the very jaws of the mostfrightful danger, the bright intelligences within no more able to modifyher motions even by a finger's breadth than they were able to affectMercury's movements around the Sun. 

But did our friends complain of the new perils now looming up beforethem? They never thought of such a thing. On the contrary, they onlyconsidered themselves (after the lapse of a few minutes to calm theirnerves) extremely lucky in having witnessed this fresh glory ofexuberant nature, this transcendent display of fireworks which not onlycast into absolute insignificance anything of the kind they had everseen on Earth, but had actually enabled them by its dazzlingillumination to gaze for a second or two at the Moon's mysteriousinvisible disc. This glorious momentary glance, worth a whole lifetimeof ordinary existence, had revealed to mortal ken her continents, heroceans, her forests. But did it also convince them of the existence ofan atmosphere on her surface whose vivifying molecules would render_life_ possible? This question they had again to leave unanswered--itwill hardly ever be answered in a way quite satisfactory to humancuriosity. Still, infinite was their satisfaction at having hovered evenfor an instant on the very verge of such a great problem's solution. 

It was now half-past three in the afternoon. The Projectile stillpursued its curving but otherwise unknown path over the Moon's invisibleface. Had this path been disturbed by that dangerous meteor? There wasevery reason to fear so--though, disturbance or no disturbance, thecurve it described should still be one strictly in accordance with thelaws of Mechanical Philosophy. Whether it was a parabola or a hyperbola, however, or whether it was disturbed or not, made very little differenceas, in any case, the Projectile was bound to quit pretty soon the coneof the shadow, at a point directly opposite to where it had entered it. This cone could not possibly be of very great extent, considering thevery slight ratio borne by the Moon's diameter when compared with theSun's. Still, to all appearances, the Projectile seemed to be quite asdeeply immersed in the shadow as ever, and there was apparently not theslightest sign of such a state of things coming soon to an end. At whatrate was the Projectile now moving? Hard to say, but certainly notslowly, certainly rapidly enough to be out of the shadow by this time, if describing a curve rigidly parabolic. Was the curve therefore _not_parabolic? Another puzzling problem and sadly bewildering to poorBarbican, who had now almost lost his reason by attempting to clear upquestions that were proving altogether too profound for his overworkedbrains. 

Not that he ever thought of taking rest. Not that his companions thoughtof taking rest. Far from it. With senses as high-strung as ever, theystill watched carefully for every new fact, every unexpected incidentthat might throw some light on the sidereal investigations. Even theirdinner, or what was called so, consisted of only a few bits of bread andmeat, distributed by Ardan at five o'clock, and swallowed mechanically. They did not even turn on the gas full head to see what they wereeating; each man stood solidly at his window, the glass of which theyhad enough to do in keeping free from the rapidly condensing moisture. 

At about half-past five, however, M'Nicholl, who had been gazing forsome time with his telescope in a particular direction, called theattention of his companions to some bright specks of light barelydiscernible in that part of the horizon towards which the Projectile wasevidently moving. His words were hardly uttered when his companionsannounced the same discovery. They could soon all see the glitteringspecks not only becoming more and more numerous, but also graduallyassuming the shape of an extremely slender, but extremely brilliantcrescent. Rapidly more brilliant and more decided in shape the profilegradually grew, till it soon resembled the first faint sketch of the NewMoon that we catch of evenings in the western sky, or rather the firstglimpse we get of her limb as it slowly moves out of eclipse. But it wasinconceivably brighter than either, and was furthermore strangelyrelieved by the pitchy blackness both of sky and Moon. In fact, it soonbecame so brilliant as to dispel in a moment all doubt as to itsparticular nature. No meteor could present such a perfect shape; novolcano, such dazzling splendor. 

"The Sun!" cried Barbican. 

"The Sun?" asked M'Nicholl and Ardan in some astonishment. 

"Yes, dear friends; it is the Sun himself that you now see; thesesummits that you behold him gilding are the mountains that lie on theMoon's southern rim. We are rapidly nearing her south pole. "

"After doubling her north pole!" cried Ardan; "why, we must becircumnavigating her!"

"Exactly; sailing all around her. "

"Hurrah! Then we're all right at last! There's nothing more to fear fromyour hyperbolas or parabolas or any other of your open curves!"

"Nothing more, certainly, from an open curve, but every thing from aclosed one. "

"A closed curve! What is it called? And what is the trouble?"

"An eclipse it is called; and the trouble is that, instead of flying offinto the boundless regions of space, our Projectile will probablydescribe an elliptical orbit around the Moon--"

--"What!" cried M'Nicholl, in amazement, "and be her satellite forever!"

"All right and proper, " said Ardan; "why shouldn't she have one of herown?"

"Only, my dear friend, " said Barbican to Ardan, "this change of curveinvolves no change in the doom of the Projectile. We are as infalliblylost by an ellipse as by a parabola. "

"Well, there was one thing I never could reconcile myself to in thewhole arrangement, " replied Ardan cheerfully; "and that was destructionby an open curve. Safe from that, I could say, 'Fate, do your worst!'Besides, I don't believe in the infallibility of your ellipsic. It mayprove just as unreliable as the hyperbola. And it is no harm to hopethat it may!"

From present appearances there was very little to justify Ardan's hope. Barbican's theory of the elliptic orbit was unfortunately too wellgrounded to allow a single reasonable doubt to be expressed regardingthe Projectile's fate. It was to gravitate for ever around the Moon--asub-satellite. It was a new born individual in the astral universe, amicrocosm, a little world in itself, containing, however, only threeinhabitants and even these destined to perish pretty soon for want ofair. Our travellers, therefore, had no particular reason for rejoicingover the new destiny reserved for the Projectile in obedience to theinexorable laws of the centripetal and centrifugal forces. They weresoon, it is true, to have the opportunity of beholding once more theilluminated face of the Moon. They might even live long enough to catcha last glimpse of the distant Earth bathed in the glory of the solarrays. They might even have strength enough left to be able to chant onesolemn final eternal adieu to their dear old Mother World, upon whosefeatures their mortal eyes should never again rest in love and longing!Then, what was their Projectile to become? An inert, lifeless, extinctmass, not a particle better than the most defunct asteroid that wandersblindly through the fields of ether. A gloomy fate to look forward to. Yet, instead of grieving over the inevitable, our bold travellersactually felt thrilled with delight at the prospect of even a momentarydeliverance from those gloomy depths of darkness and of once morefinding themselves, even if only for a few hours, in the cheerfulprecincts illuminated by the genial light of the blessed Sun!

The ring of light, in the meantime, becoming brighter and brighter, Barbican was not long in discovering and pointing out to his companionsthe different mountains that lay around the Moon's south pole. 

"There is _Leibnitz_ on your right, " said he, "and on your left you caneasily see the peaks of _Doerfel_. Belonging rather to the Moon's darkside than to her Earth side, they are visible to terrestrial astronomersonly when she is in her highest northern latitudes. Those faint peaksbeyond them that you can catch with such difficulty must be those of_Newton_ and _Curtius_. "

"How in the world can you tell?" asked Ardan. 

"They are the highest mountains in the circumpolar regions, " repliedBarbican. "They have been measured with the greatest care; _Newton_ is23, 000 feet high. "

"More or less!" laughed Ardan. "What Delphic oracle says so?"

"Dear friend, " replied Barbican quietly, "the visible mountains of theMoon have been measured so carefully and so accurately that I shouldhardly hesitate in affirming their altitude to be as well known as thatof Mont Blanc, or, at least, as those of the chief peaks in theHimalayahs or the Rocky Mountain Range. "

"I should like to know how people set about it, " observed Ardanincredulously. 

"There are several well known methods of approaching this problem, "replied Barbican; "and as these methods, though founded on differentprinciples, bring us constantly to the same result, we may prettysafely conclude that our calculations are right. We have no time, justnow to draw diagrams, but, if I express myself clearly, you will nodoubt easily catch the general principle. "

"Go ahead!" answered Ardan. "Anything but Algebra. "

"We want no Algebra now, " said Barbican, "It can't enable us to findprinciples, though it certainly enables us to apply them. Well. The Sunat a certain altitude shines on one side of a mountain and flings ashadow on the other. The length of this shadow is easily found by meansof a telescope, whose object glass is provided with a micrometer. Thisconsists simply of two parallel spider threads, one of which isstationary and the other movable. The Moon's real diameter being knownand occupying a certain space on the object glass, the exact spaceoccupied by the shadow can be easily ascertained by means of the movablethread. This space, compared with the Moon's space, will give us thelength of the shadow. Now, as under the same circumstances a certainheight can cast only a certain shadow, of course a knowledge of the onemust give you that of the other, and _vice versa_. This method, statedroughly, was that followed by Galileo, and, in our own day, by Beer andMaedler, with extraordinary success. "

"I certainly see some sense in this method, " said Ardan, "if they tookextraordinary pains to observe correctly. The least carelessness wouldset them wrong, not only by feet but by miles. We have time enough, however, to listen to another method before we get into the full blazeof the glorious old Sol. "

"The other method, " interrupted M'Nicholl laying down his telescope torest his eyes, and now joining in the conversation to give himselfsomething to do, "is called that of the _tangent rays_. A solar ray, barely passing the edge of the Moon's surface, is caught on the peak ofa mountain the rest of which lies in shadow. The distance between thisstarry peak and the line separating the light from the darkness, wemeasure carefully by means of our telescope. Then--"

"I see it at a glance!" interrupted Ardan with lighting eye; "the ray, being a tangent, of course makes right angles with the radius, which isknown: consequently we have two sides and one angle--quite enough tofind the other parts of the triangle. Very ingenious--but now, that Ithink of it--is not this method absolutely impracticable for everymountain except those in the immediate neighborhood of the light andshadow line?"

"That's a defect easily remedied by patience, " explained Barbican--theCaptain, who did not like being interrupted, having withdrawn to histelescope--"As this line is continually changing, in course of time allthe mountains must come near it. A third method--to measure the mountainprofile directly by means of the micrometer--is evidently applicableonly to altitudes lying exactly on the lunar rim. "

"That is clear enough, " said Ardan, "and another point is also veryclear. In Full Moon no measurement is possible. When no shadows aremade, none can be measured. Measurements, right or wrong, are possibleonly when the solar rays strike the Moon's surface obliquely with regardto the observer. Am I right, Signor Barbicani, maestro illustrissimo?"

"Perfectly right, " replied Barbican. "You are an apt pupil. "

"Say that again, " said Ardan. "I want Mac to hear it. "

Barbican humored him by repeating the observation, but M'Nicholl wouldonly notice it by a grunt of doubtful meaning. 

"Was Galileo tolerably successful in his calculations?" asked Ardan, resuming the conversation. 

Before answering this question, Barbican unrolled the map of the Moon, which a faint light like that of day-break now enabled him to examine. He then went on: "Galileo was wonderfully successful--considering thatthe telescope which he employed was a poor instrument of his ownconstruction, magnifying only thirty times. He gave the lunar mountainsa height of about 26, 000 feet--an altitude cut down by Hevelius, butalmost doubled by Riccioli. Herschel was the first to come pretty closeto the truth, but Beer and Maedler, whose _Mappa Selenographica_ nowlies before us, have left really nothing more to be done for lunarastronomy--except, of course, to pay a personal visit to theMoon--which we have tried to do, but I fear with a very poor prospect ofsuccess. "

"Cheer up! cheer up!" cried Ardan. "It's not all over yet by long odds. Who can say what is still in store for us? Another bolide may shunt usoff our ellipse and even send us to the Moon's surface. "

Then seeing Barbican shake his head ominously and his countenance becomemore and more depressed, this true friend tried to brighten him up a bitby feigning to take deep interest in a subject that to him wasabsolutely the driest in the world. 

"Meer and Baedler--I mean Beer and Maedler, " he went on, "must havemeasured at least forty or fifty mountains to their satisfaction. "

"Forty or fifty!" exclaimed Barbican. "They measured no fewer than athousand and ninety-five lunar mountains and crater summits with aperfect success. Six of these reach an altitude of upwards of 18, 000feet, and twenty-two are more than 15, 000 feet high. "

"Which is the highest in the lot?" asked Ardan, keenly relishingBarbican's earnestness. 

"_Doerfel_ in the southern hemisphere, the peak of which I have justpointed out, is the highest of the lunar mountains so far measured, "replied Barbican. "It is nearly 25, 000 feet high. "

"Indeed! Five thousand feet lower than Mount Everest--still for a lunarmountain, it is quite a respectable altitude. "

"Respectable! Why it's an enormous altitude, my dear friend, if youcompare it with the Moon's diameter. The Earth's diameter being morethan 3-1/2 times greater than the Moon's, if the Earth's mountains borethe same ratio to those of the Moon, Everest should be more than sixteenmiles high, whereas it is not quite six. "

"How do the general heights of the Himalayahs compare with those of thehighest lunar mountains?" asked Ardan, wondering what would be his nextquestion. 

"Fifteen peaks in the eastern or higher division of the Himalayahs, arehigher than the loftiest lunar peaks, " replied Barbican. "Even in thewestern, or lower section of the Himalayahs, some of the peaks exceed_Doerfel_. "

"Which are the chief lunar mountains that exceed Mont Blanc inaltitude?" asked Ardan, bravely suppressing a yawn. 

"The following dozen, ranged, if my memory does not fail me, in theexact order of their respective heights;" replied Barbican, neverwearied in answering such questions: "_Newton_, _Curtius_, _Casatus_, _Rheita_, _Short_, _Huyghens_, _Biancanus_, _Tycho_, _Kircher_, _Clavius_, _Endymion_, and _Catharina_. "

"Now those not quite up to Mont Blanc?" asked Ardan, hardly knowing whatto say. 

"Here they are, about half a dozen of them: _Moretus_, _Theophilus_, _Harpalus_, _Eratosthenes_, _Werner_, and _Piccolomini_, " answeredBarbican as ready as a schoolboy reciting his lesson, and pointing themout on the map as quickly as a compositor distributing his type. 

"The next in rank?" asked Ardan, astounded at his friend's wonderfulmemory. 

"The next in rank, " replied Barbican promptly, "are those about the sizeof the Matterhorn, that is to say about 2-3/4 miles in height. They are_Macrobius_, _Delambre_, and _Conon_. Come, " he added, seeing Ardanhesitating and at a loss what other question to ask, "don't you want toknow what lunar mountains are about the same height as the Peak ofTeneriffe? or as Ætna? or as Mount Washington? You need not be afraid ofpuzzling me. I studied up the subject thoroughly, and therefore know allabout it. "

"Oh! I could listen to you with delight all day long!" cried Ardan, enthusiastically, though with some embarrassment, for he felt a twingeof conscience in acting so falsely towards his beloved friend. "The factis, " he went on, "such a rational conversation as the present, on suchan absorbing subject, with such a perfect master--"

"The Sun!" cried M'Nicholl starting up and cheering. "He's cleared thedisc completely, and he's now himself again! Long life to him! Hurrah!"

"Hurrah!" cried the others quite as enthusiastically (Ardan did not seema bit desirous to finish his sentence). 

They tossed their maps aside and hastened to the window. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

TYCHO. 

It was now exactly six o'clock in the evening. The Sun, completely clearof all contact with the lunar disc, steeped the whole Projectile in hisgolden rays. The travellers, vertically over the Moon's south pole, were, as Barbican soon ascertained, about 30 miles distant from it, theexact distance they had been from the north pole--a proof that theelliptic curve still maintained itself with mathematical rigor. 

For some time, the travellers' whole attention was concentrated on theglorious Sun. His light was inexpressibly cheering; and his heat, soonpenetrating the walls of the Projectile, infused a new and sweet lifeinto their chilled and exhausted frames. The ice rapidly disappeared, and the windows soon resumed their former perfect transparency. 

"Oh! how good the pleasant sunlight is!" cried the Captain, sinking on aseat in a quiet ecstasy of enjoyment. "How I pity Ardan's poor friendsthe Selenites during that night so long and so icy! How impatient theymust be to see the Sun back again!"

"Yes, " said Ardan, also sitting down the better to bask in the vivifyingrays, "his light no doubt brings them to life and keeps them alive. Without light or heat during all that dreary winter, they must freezestiff like the frogs or become torpid like the bears. I can't imaginehow they could get through it otherwise. "

"I'm glad _we're_ through it anyhow, " observed M'Nicholl. "I may at onceacknowledge that I felt perfectly miserable as long as it lasted. I cannow easily understand how the combined cold and darkness killed DoctorKane's Esquimaux dogs. It was near killing me. I was so miserable thatat last I could neither talk myself nor bear to hear others talk. "

"My own case exactly, " said Barbican--"that is, " he added hastily, correcting himself, "I tried to talk because I found Ardan sointerested, but in spite of all we said, and saw, and had to think of, Byron's terrible dream would continually rise up before me:

 "The bright Sun was extinguished, and the Stars Wandered all darkling in the eternal space, Rayless and pathless, and the icy Earth Swung blind and blackening in the Moonless air. Morn came and went, and came and brought no day! And men forgot their passions in the dread Of this their desolation, and all hearts Were chilled into a selfish prayer for _light_!"

As he pronounced these words in accents at once monotonous andmelancholy, Ardan, fully appreciative, quietly gesticulated in perfectcadence with the rhythm. Then the three men remained completely silentfor several minutes. Buried in recollection, or lost in thought, ormagnetized by the bright Sun, they seemed to be half asleep whilesteeping their limbs in his vitalizing beams. 

Barbican was the first to dissolve the reverie by jumping up. His sharpeye had noticed that the base of the Projectile, instead of keepingrigidly perpendicular to the lunar surface, turned away a little, so asto render the elliptical orbit somewhat elongated. This he made hiscompanions immediately observe, and also called their attention to thefact that from this point they could easily have seen the Earth had itbeen Full, but that now, drowned in the Sun's beams, it was quiteinvisible. A more attractive spectacle, however, soon engaged theirundivided attention--that of the Moon's southern regions, now broughtwithin about the third of a mile by their telescopes. Immediatelyresuming their posts by the windows, they carefully noted every featurepresented by the fantastic panorama that stretched itself out in endlesslengths beneath their wondering eyes. 

[Illustration: THEY SEEMED HALF ASLEEP. ]

Mount _Leibnitz_ and Mount _Doerfel_ form two separate groups developedin the regions of the extreme south. The first extends westwardly fromthe pole to the 84th parallel; the second, on the southeastern border, starting from the pole, reaches the neighborhood of the 65th. In theentangled valleys of their clustered peaks, appeared the dazzling sheetsof white, noted by Father Secchi, but their peculiar nature Barbicancould now examine with a greater prospect of certainty than theillustrious Roman astronomer had ever enjoyed. 

"They're beds of snow, " he said at last in a decided tone. 

"Snow!" exclaimed M'Nicholl. 

"Yes, snow, or rather glaciers heavily coated with glittering ice. Seehow vividly they reflect the Sun's rays. Consolidated beds of lava couldnever shine with such dazzling uniformity. Therefore there must be bothwater and air on the Moon's surface. Not much--perhaps very little ifyou insist on it--but the fact that there is some can now no longer bequestioned. "

This assertion of Barbican's, made so positively by a man who neverdecided unless when thoroughly convinced, was a great triumph for Ardan, who, as the gracious reader doubtless remembers, had had a famousdispute with M'Nicholl on that very subject at Tampa. [D] His eyesbrightened and a smile of pleasure played around his lips, but, with agreat effort at self-restraint, he kept perfectly silent and would notpermit himself even to look in the direction of the Captain. As forM'Nicholl, he was apparently too much absorbed in _Doerfel_ and_Leibnitz_ to mind anything else. 

These mountains rose from plains of moderate extent, bounded by anindefinite succession of walled hollows and ring ramparts. They are theonly chains met in this region of ridge-brimmed craters and circles;distinguished by no particular feature, they project a few pointed peakshere and there, some of which exceed four miles and a half in height. This altitude, however, foreshortened as it was by the vertical positionof the Projectile, could not be noticed just then, even if correctobservation had been permitted by the dazzling surface. 

Once more again before the travellers' eyes the Moon's disc revealeditself in all the old familiar features so characteristic of lunarlandscapes--no blending of tones, no softening of colors, no graduationof shadows, every line glaring in white or black by reason of the totalabsence of refracted light. And yet the wonderfully peculiar characterof this desolate world imparted to it a weird attraction as strangelyfascinating as ever. 

Over this chaotic region the travellers were now sweeping, as if borneon the wings of a storm; the peaks defiled beneath them; the yawningchasms revealed their ruin-strewn floors; the fissured cracks untwistedthemselves; the ramparts showed all their sides; the mysterious holespresented their impenetrable depths; the clustered mountain summits andrings rapidly decomposed themselves: but in a moment again all hadbecome more inextricably entangled than ever. Everything appeared to bethe finished handiwork of volcanic agency, in the utmost purity andhighest perfection. None of the mollifying effects of air or water couldhere be noticed. No smooth-capped mountains, no gently winding riverchannels, no vast prairie-lands of deposited sediment, no traces ofvegetation, no signs of agriculture, no vestiges of a great city. Nothing but vast beds of glistering lava, now rough like immense pilesof scoriae and clinker, now smooth like crystal mirrors, and reflectingthe Sun's rays with the same intolerable glare. Not the faintest speckof life. A world absolutely and completely dead, fixed, still, motionless--save when a gigantic land-slide, breaking off the verticalwall of a crater, plunged down into the soundless depths, with all thefury too of a crashing avalanche, with all the speed of a Niagara, but, in the total absence of atmosphere, noiseless as a feather, as a snowflake, as a grain of impalpable dust. 

Careful observations, taken by Barbican and repeated by his companions, soon satisfied them that the ridgy outline of the mountains on theMoon's border, though perhaps due to different forces from those actingin the centre, still presented a character generally uniform. The samebulwark-surrounded hollows, the same abrupt projections of surface. Yeta different arrangement, as Barbican pointed out to his companions, might be naturally expected. In the central portion of the disc, theMoon's crust, before solidification, must have been subjected to twoattractions--that of the Moon herself and that of the Earth--acting, however, in contrary directions and therefore, in a certain sense, serving to neutralize each other. Towards the border of her disc, on thecontrary, the terrestrial attraction, having acted in a directionperpendicular to that of the lunar, should have exerted greater power, and therefore given a different shape to the general contour. But noremarkable difference had so far been perceived by terrestrialobservers; and none could now be detected by our travellers. Thereforethe Moon must have found in herself alone the principle of her shape andof her superficial development--that is, she owed nothing to externalinfluences. "Arago was perfectly right, therefore, " concluded Barbican, "in the remarkable opinion to which he gave expression thirty years ago:

'No external action whatever has contributed to the formation of theMoon's diversified surface. '"

"But don't you think, Barbican, " asked the Captain, "that every force, internal or external, that might modify the Moon's shape, has ceasedlong ago?"

"I am rather inclined to that opinion, " said Barbican; "it is not, however, a new one. Descartes maintained that as the Earth is an extinctSun, so is the Moon an extinct Earth. My own opinion at present is thatthe Moon is now the image of death, but I can't say if she has ever beenthe abode of life. "

"The abode of life!" cried Ardan, who had great repugnance in acceptingthe idea that the Moon was no better than a heap of cinders and ashes;"why, look there! If those are not as neat a set of the ruins of anabandoned city as ever I saw, I should like to know what they are!"

[Illustration: ONCE MORE THE PIPES OF AN AQUEDUCT. ]

He pointed to some very remarkable rocky formations in theneighborhood of _Short_, a ring mountain rising to an altitudeconsiderably higher than that of Mont Blanc. Even Barbican and M'Nichollcould detect some regularity and semblance of order in the arrangementof these rocks, but this, of course, they looked on as a mere freak ofnature, like the Lurlei Rock, the Giant's Causeway, or the Old Man ofthe Franconia Mountains. Ardan, however, would not accept such an easymode of getting rid of a difficulty. 

"See the ruins on that bluff, " he exclaimed; "those steep sides musthave been washed by a great river in the prehistoric times. That was thefortress. Farther down lay the city. There are the dismantled ramparts;why, there's the very coping of a portico still intact! Don't you seethree broken pillars lying beside their pedestals? There! a little tothe left of those arches that evidently once bore the pipes of anaqueduct! You don't see them? Well, look a little to the right, andthere is something that you can see! As I'm a living man I have nodifficulty in discerning the gigantic butments of a great bridge thatformerly spanned that immense river!"

Did he really see all this? To this day he affirms stoutly that he did, and even greater wonders besides. His companions, however, withoutdenying that he had good grounds for his assertion on this subject orquestioning the general accuracy of his observations, content themselveswith saying that the reason why they had failed to discover thewonderful city, was that Ardan's telescope was of a strange andpeculiar construction. Being somewhat short-sighted, he had had itmanufactured expressly for his own use, but it was of such singularpower that his companions could not use it without hurting their eyes. 

But, whether the ruins were real or not, the moments were evidently tooprecious to be lost in idle discussion. The great city of the Selenitessoon disappeared on the remote horizon, and, what was of far greaterimportance, the distance of the Projectile from the Moon's disc began toincrease so sensibly that the smaller details of the surface were soonlost in a confused mass, and it was only the lofty heights, the widecraters, the great ring mountains, and the vast plains that stillcontinued to give sharp, distinctive outlines. 

A little to their left, the travellers could now plainly distinguish oneof the most remarkable of the Moon's craters, _Newton_, so well known toall lunar astronomers. Its ramparts, forming a perfect circle, rise tosuch a height, at least 22, 000 feet, as to seem insurmountable. 

"You can, no doubt, notice for yourselves, " said Barbican, "that theexternal height of this mountain is far from being equal to the depth ofits crater. The enormous pit, in fact, seems to be a soundless sea ofpitchy black, the bottom of which the Sun's rays have never reached. There, as Humboldt says, reigns eternal darkness, so absolute thatEarth-shine or even Sunlight is never able to dispel it. Had Michael'sfriends the old mythologists ever known anything about it, they woulddoubtless have made it the entrance to the infernal regions. On thewhole surface of our Earth, there is no mountain even remotelyresembling it. It is a perfect type of the lunar crater. Like most ofthem, it shows that the peculiar formation of the Moon's surface is due, first, to the cooling of the lunar crust; secondly, to the cracking frominternal pressure; and, thirdly, to the violent volcanic action inconsequence. This must have been of a far fiercer nature than it hasever been with us. The matter was ejected to a vast height till greatmountains were formed; and still the action went on, until at last thefloor of the crater sank to a depth far lower than the level of theexternal plain. "

"You may be right, " said Ardan by way of reply; "as for me, I'm lookingout for another city. But I'm sorry to say that our Projectile isincreasing its distance so fast that, even if one lay at my feet at thismoment, I doubt very much if I could see it a bit better than either youor the Captain. "

_Newton_ was soon passed, and the Projectile followed a course that tookit directly over the ring mountain _Moretus_. A little to the west thetravellers could easily distinguish the summits of _Blancanus_, 7, 000feet high, and, towards seven o'clock in the evening, they wereapproaching the neighborhood of _Clavius_. 

This walled-plain, one of the most remarkable on the Moon, lies 55° S. By 15° E. Its height is estimated at 16, 000 feet, but it is consideredto be about a hundred and fifty miles in diameter. Of this vast crater, the travellers now at a distance of 250 miles, reduced to 2-1/2 by theirtelescopes, had a magnificent bird's-eye view. 

"Our terrestrial volcanoes, " said Barbican, "as you can now readilyjudge for yourselves, are no more than molehills when compared withthose of the Moon. Measure the old craters formed by the early eruptionsof Vesuvius and Ætna, and you will find them little more than threemiles in diameter. The crater of Cantal in central France is only aboutsix miles in width; the famous valley in Ceylon, called the _Crater_, though not at all due to volcanic action, is 44 miles across and isconsidered to be the greatest in the world. But even this is very littlein comparison to the diameter of _Clavius_ lying beneath us at thepresent moment. "

"How much is its diameter?" asked the Captain. 

"At least one hundred and forty-two miles, " replied Barbican; "it isprobably the greatest in the Moon, but many others measure more than ahundred miles across. "

"Dear boys, " said Ardan, half to himself, half to the others, "onlyimagine the delicious state of things on the surface of the gentle Moonwhen these craters, brimming over with hissing lava, were vomitingforth, all at the same time, showers of melted stones, clouds ofblinding smoke, and sheets of blasting flame! What an intenselyoverpowering spectacle was here presented once, but now, how are themighty fallen! Our Moon, as at present beheld, seems to be nothing morethan the skinny spectre left after a brilliant display of fireworks, when the spluttering crackers, the glittering wheels, the hissingserpents, the revolving suns, and the dazzling stars, are all 'playedout', and nothing remains to tell of the gorgeous spectacle but a fewblackened sticks and half a dozen half burned bits of pasteboard. Ishould like to hear one of you trying to explain the cause, the reason, the principle, the philosophy of such tremendous cataclysms!"

Barbican's only reply was a series of nods, for in truth he had notheard a single word of Ardan's philosophic explosion. His ears were withhis eyes, and these were obstinately bent on the gigantic ramparts of_Clavius_, formed of concentric mountain ridges, which were actuallyleagues in depth. On the floor of the vast cavity, could be seenhundreds of smaller craters, mottling it like a skimming dish, andpierced here and there by sharp peaks, one of which could hardly be lessthan 15, 000 feet high. 

All around, the plain was desolate in the extreme. You could notconceive how anything could be barrener than these serrated outlines, orgloomier than these shattered mountains--until you looked at the plainthat encircled them. Ardan hardly exaggerated when he called it thescene of a battle fought thousands of years ago but still white with thehideous bones of overthrown peaks, slaughtered mountains and mutilatedprecipices!

 "Hills amid the air encountered hills, Hurled to and fro in jaculation dire, "

murmured M'Nicholl, who could quote you Milton quite as readily as theBible. 

"This must have been the spot, " muttered Barbican to himself, "where thebrittle shell of the cooling sphere, being thicker than usual, offeredgreater resistance to an eruption of the red-hot nucleus. Hence thesepiled up buttresses, and these orderless heaps of consolidated lava andejected scoriæ. "

The Projectile advanced, but the scene of desolation seemed to remainunchanged. Craters, ring mountains, pitted plateaus dotted withshapeless wrecks, succeeded each other without interruption. For levelplain, for dark "sea, " for smooth plateau, the eye here sought in vain. It was a Swiss Greenland, an Icelandic Norway, a Sahara of shatteredcrust studded with countless hills of glassy lava. 

At last, in the very centre of this blistered region, right too at itsvery culmination, the travellers came on the brightest and mostremarkable mountain of the Moon. In the dazzling _Tycho_ they found itan easy matter to recognize the famous lunar point, which the world willfor ever designate by the name of the distinguished astronomer ofDenmark. 

This brilliant luminosity of the southern hemisphere, no one that evergazes at the Full Moon in a cloudless sky, can help noticing. Ardan, whohad always particularly admired it, now hailed it as an old friend, andalmost exhausted breath, imagination and vocabulary in the epithets withwhich he greeted this cynosure of the lunar mountains. 

"Hail!" he cried, "thou blazing focus of glittering streaks, thoucoruscating nucleus of irradiation, thou starting point of raysdivergent, thou egress of meteoric flashes! Hub of the silver wheel thatever rolls in silent majesty over the starry plains of Night! Paragon ofjewels enchased in a carcanet of dazzling brilliants! Eye of theuniverse, beaming with heavenly resplendescence!

"Who shall say what thou art? Diana's nimbus? The golden clasp of herfloating robes? The blazing head of the great bolt that rivets the lunarhemispheres in union inseverable? Or cans't thou have been some errantbolide, which missing its way, butted blindly against the lunar face, and there stuck fast, like a Minie ball mashed against a cast-irontarget? Alas! nobody knows. Not even Barbican is able to penetrate thymystery. But one thing _I_ know. Thy dazzling glare so sore my eyes hathmade that longer on thy light to gaze I do not dare. Captain, have youany smoked glass?"

In spite of this anti-climax, Ardan's companions could hardly considerhis utterings either as ridiculous or over enthusiastic. They couldeasily excuse his excitement on the subject. And so could we, if we onlyremember that _Tycho_, though nearly a quarter of a million milesdistant, is such a luminous point on the lunar disc, that almost anymoonlit night it can be easily perceived by the unaided terrestrial eye. What then must have been its splendor in the eyes of our travellerswhose telescopes brought it actually four thousand times nearer! Nowonder that with smoked glasses, they endeavored to soften off itseffulgent glare! Then in hushed silence, or at most uttering atintervals a few interjections expressive of their intense admiration, they remained for some time completely engrossed in the overwhelmingspectacle. For the time being, every sentiment, impression, thought, feeling on their part, was concentrated in the eye, just as at othertimes under violent excitement every throb of our life is concentratedin the heart. 

_Tycho_ belongs to the system of lunar craters that is called_radiating_, like _Aristarchus_ or _Copernicus_, which had been alreadyseen and highly admired by our travellers at their first approach to theMoon. But it is decidedly the most remarkable and conspicuous of themall. It occupies the great focus of disruption, whence it sends outgreat streaks thousands of miles in length; and it gives the mostunmistakable evidence of the terribly eruptive nature of those forcesthat once shattered the Moon's solidified shell in this portion of thelunar surface. 

Situated in the southern latitude of 43° by an eastern longitude of 12°, _Tycho's_ crater, somewhat elliptical in shape, is 54 miles in diameterand upwards of 16, 000 feet in depth. Its lofty ramparts are buttressedby other mountains, Mont Blancs in size, all grouped around it, and allstreaked with the great divergent fissures that radiate from it as acentre. 

Of what this incomparable mountain really is, with all these lines ofprojections converging towards it and with all these prominent pointsof relief protruding within its crater, photography has, so far, beenable to give us only a very unsatisfactory idea. The reason too is verysimple: it is only at Full Moon that _Tycho_ reveals himself in all hissplendor. The shadows therefore vanishing, the perspectiveforeshortenings disappear and the views become little better than a deadblank. This is the more to be regretted as this wonderful region is wellworthy of being represented with the greatest possible photographicaccuracy. It is a vast agglomeration of holes, craters, ring formations, a complicated intersection of crests--in short, a distracting volcanicnetwork flung over the blistered soil. The ebullitions of the centraleruption still evidently preserve their original form. As they firstappeared, so they lie. Crystallizing as they cooled, they havestereotyped in imperishable characters the aspect formerly presented bythe whole Moon's surface under the influences of recent plutonicupheaval. 

Our travellers were far more fortunate than the photographers. Thedistance separating them from the peaks of _Tycho's_ concentric terraceswas not so considerable as to conceal the principal details from a verysatisfactory view. They could easily distinguish the annular ramparts ofthe external circumvallation, the mountains buttressing the giganticwalls internally as well as externally, the vast esplanades descendingirregularly and abruptly to the sunken plains all around. They couldeven detect a difference of a few hundred feet in altitude in favor ofthe western or right hand side over the eastern. They could also seethat these dividing ridges were actually inaccessible and completelyunsurmountable, at least by ordinary terrestrian efforts. No system ofcastrametation ever devised by Polybius or Vauban could bear theslightest comparison with such vast fortifications, A city built on thefloor of the circular cavity could be no more reached by the outsideLunarians than if it had been built in the planet Mars. 

This idea set Ardan off again. "Yes, " said he, "such a city would be atonce completely inaccessible, and still not inconveniently situated in aplateau full of aspects decidedly picturesque. Even in the depths ofthis immense crater, Nature, as you can see, has left no flat and emptyvoid. You can easily trace its special oreography, its various mountainsystems which turn it into a regular world on a small scale. Notice itscones, its central hills, its valleys, its substructures already cut anddry and therefore quietly prepared to receive the masterpieces ofSelenite architecture. Down there to the left is a lovely spot for aSaint Peter's; to the right, a magnificent site for a Forum; here aLouvre could be built capable of entrancing Michael Angelo himself;there a citadel could be raised to which even Gibraltar would be amolehill! In the middle rises a sharp peak which can hardly be less thana mile in height--a grand pedestal for the statue of some SeleniteVincent de Paul or George Washington. And around them all is a mightymountain-ring at least 3 miles high, but which, to an eye looking fromthe centre of our vast city, could not appear to be more than five orsix hundred feet. Enormous circus, where mighty Rome herself in herpalmiest days, though increased tenfold, would have no reason tocomplain for want of room!"

He stopped for a few seconds, perhaps to take breath, and then resumed:

"Oh what an abode of serene happiness could be constructed within thisshadow-fringed ring of the mighty mountains! O blessed refuge, unassailable by aught of human ills! What a calm unruffled life could beenjoyed within thy hallowed precincts, even by those cynics, thosehaters of humanity, those disgusted reconstructors of society, thosemisanthropes and misogynists old and young, who are continually writingwhining verses in odd corners of the newspapers!"

"Right at last, Ardan, my boy!" cried M'Nicholl, quietly rubbing theglass of his spectacles; "I should like to see the whole lot of themcarted in there without a moment's delay!"

"It couldn't hold the half of them!" observed Barbican drily. 

[Footnote D: BALTIMORE GUN CLUB, pp. 295 _et seq. _]

CHAPTER XVIII. 

PUZZLING QUESTIONS. 

It was not until the Projectile had passed a little beyond _Tycho's_immense concavity that Barbican and his friends had a good opportunityfor observing the brilliant streaks sent so wonderfully flying in alldirections from this celebrated mountain as a common centre. Theyexamined them for some time with the closest attention. 

What could be the nature of this radiating aureola? By what geologicalphenomena could this blazing coma have been possibly produced? Suchquestions were the most natural things in the world for Barbican and hiscompanions to propound to themselves, as indeed they have been to everyastronomer from the beginning of time, and probably will be to the end. 

What _did_ they see? What you can see, what anybody can see on a clearnight when the Moon is full--only our friends had all the advantages ofa closer view. From _Tycho_, as a focus, radiated in all directions, asfrom the head of a peeled orange, more than a hundred luminous streaksor channels, edges raised, middle depressed--or perhaps _vice versa_, owing to an optical illusion--some at least twelve miles wide, somefully thirty. In certain directions they ran for a distance of at leastsix hundred miles, and seemed--especially towards the west, northwest, and north--to cover half the southern hemisphere. One of these flashesextended as far as _Neander_ on the 40th meridian; another, curvingaround so as to furrow the _Mare Nectaris_, came to an end on the chainof the _Pyrenees_, after a course of perhaps a little more than sevenhundred miles. On the east, some of them barred with luminous networkthe _Mare Nubium_ and even the _Mare Humorum_. 

The most puzzling feature of these glittering streaks was that they rantheir course directly onward, apparently neither obstructed by valley, crater, or mountain ridge however high. They all started, as saidbefore, from one common focus, _Tycho's_ crater. From this theycertainly all seemed to emanate. Could they be rivers of lava oncevomited from that centre by resistless volcanic agency and afterwardscrystallized into glassy rock? This idea of Herschel's, Barbican had nohesitation in qualifying as exceedingly absurd. Rivers running inperfectly straight lines, across plains, and _up_ as well as _down_mountains!

"Other astronomers, " he continued, "have looked on these streaks as apeculiar kind of _moraines_, that is, long lines of erratic blocksbelched forth with mighty power at the period of _Tycho's_ ownupheaval. "

"How do you like that theory, Barbican, " asked the Captain. 

"It's not a particle better than Herschel's, " was the reply; "novolcanic action could project rocks to a distance of six or sevenhundred miles, not to talk of laying them down so regularly that wecan't detect a break in them. "

"Happy thought!" cried Ardan suddenly; "it seems to me that I can tellthe cause of these radiating streaks!"

"Let us hear it, " said Barbican. 

"Certainly, " was Ardan's reply; "these streaks are all only the parts ofwhat we call a 'star, ' as made by a stone striking ice; or by a ball, apane of glass. "

"Not bad, " smiled Barbican approvingly; "only where is the hand thatflung the stone or threw the ball?"

"The hand is hardly necessary, " replied Ardan, by no means disconcerted;"but as for the ball, what do you say to a comet?"

Here M'Nicholl laughed so loud that Ardan was seriously irritated. However, before he could say anything cutting enough to make the Captainmind his manners, Barbican had quickly resumed:

"Dear friend, let the comets alone, I beg of you; the old astronomersfled to them on all occasions and made them explain every difficulty--"

--"The comets were all used up long ago--" interrupted M'Nicholl. 

--"Yes, " went on Barbican, as serenely as a judge, "comets, they said, had fallen on the surface in meteoric showers and crushed in the cratercavities; comets had dried up the water; comets had whisked off theatmosphere; comets had done everything. All pure assumption! In yourcase, however, friend Michael, no comet whatever is necessary. The shockthat gave rise to your great 'star' may have come from the interiorrather than the exterior. A violent contraction of the lunar crust inthe process of cooling may have given birth to your gigantic 'star'formation. "

"I accept the amendment, " said Ardan, now in the best of humor andlooking triumphantly at M'Nicholl. 

"An English scientist, " continued Barbican, "Nasmyth by name, isdecidedly of your opinion, especially ever since a little experiment ofhis own has confirmed him in it. He filled a glass globe with water, hermetically sealed it, and then plunged it into a hot bath. Theenclosed water, expanding at a greater rate than the glass, burst thelatter, but, in doing so, it made a vast number of cracks all divergingin every direction from the focus of disruption. Something like this heconceives to have taken place around _Tycho_. As the crust cooled, itcracked. The lava from the interior, oozing out, spread itself on bothsides of the cracks. This certainly explains pretty satisfactorily whythose flat glistening streaks are of much greater width than thefissures through which the lava had at first made its way to thesurface. "

"Well done for an Englishman!" cried Ardan in great spirits. 

"He's no Englishman, " said M'Nicholl, glad to have an opportunity ofcoming off with some credit. "He is the famous Scotch engineer whoinvented the steam hammer, the steam ram, and discovered the 'willowleaves' in the Sun's disc. "

"Better and better, " said Ardan--"but, powers of Vulcan! What makes itso hot? I'm actually roasting!"

This observation was hardly necessary to make his companions consciousthat by this time they felt extremely uncomfortable. The heat had becomequite oppressive. Between the natural caloric of the Sun and thereflected caloric of the Moon, the Projectile was fast turning into aregular bake oven. This transition from intense cold to intense heat wasalready about quite as much as they could bear. 

"What shall we do, Barbican?" asked Ardan, seeing that for some time noone else appeared inclined to say a word. 

"Nothing, at least yet awhile, friend Ardan, " replied Barbican, "I havebeen watching the thermometer carefully for the last few minutes, and, though we are at present at 38° centigrade, or 100° Fahrenheit, I havenoticed that the mercury is slowly falling. You can also easily remarkfor yourself that the floor of the Projectile is turning away more andmore from the lunar surface. From this I conclude quite confidently, andI see that the Captain agrees with me, that all danger of death fromintense heat, though decidedly alarming ten minutes ago, is over for thepresent and, for some time at least, it may be dismissed from furtherconsideration. "

"I'm not very sorry for it, " said Ardan cheerfully; "neither to bebaked like a pie in an oven nor roasted like a fat goose before a fireis the kind of death I should like to die of. "

"Yet from such a death you would suffer no more than your friends theSelenites are exposed to every day of their lives, " said the Captain, evidently determined on getting up an argument. 

"I understand the full bearing of your allusion, my dear Captain, "replied Ardan quickly, but not at all in a tone showing that he wasdisposed to second M'Nicholl's expectations. 

He was, in fact, fast losing all his old habits of positivism. Latterlyhe had seen much, but he had reflected more. The deeper he hadreflected, the more inclined he had become to accept the conclusion thatthe less he knew. Hence he had decided that if M'Nicholl wanted anargument it should not be with him. All speculative disputes he shouldhenceforth avoid; he would listen with pleasure to all that could beurged on each side; he might even skirmish a little here and there asthe spirit moved him; but a regular pitched battle on a subject purelyspeculative he was fully determined never again to enter into. 

"Yes, dear Captain, " he continued, "that pointed arrow of yours has byno means missed its mark, but I can't deny that my faith is beginning tobe what you call a little 'shaky' in the existence of my friends theSelenites. However, I should like to have your square opinion on thematter. Barbican's also. We have witnessed many strange lunar phenomenalately, closer and clearer than mortal eye ever rested on them before. Has what we have seen confirmed any theory of yours or confounded anyhypothesis? Have you seen enough to induce you to adopt decidedconclusions? I will put the question formally. Do you, or do you not, think that the Moon resembles the Earth in being the abode of animalsand intelligent beings? Come, answer, _messieurs_. Yes, or no?"

"I think we can answer your question categorically, " replied Barbican, "if you modify its form a little. "

"Put the question any way you please, " said Ardan; "only you answer it!I'm not particular about the form. "

"Good, " said Barbican; "the question, being a double one, demands adouble answer. First: _Is the Moon inhabitable?_ Second: _Has the Moonever been inhabited?_"

"That's the way to go about it, " said the Captain. "Now then, Ardan, what do _you_ say to the first question? Yes, or no?"

"I really can't say anything, " replied Ardan. "In the presence of suchdistinguished scientists, I'm only a listener, a 'mere looker on inVienna' as the Divine Williams has it. However, for the sake ofargument, suppose I reply in the affirmative, and say that _the Moon isinhabitable_. "

"If you do, I shall most unhesitatingly contradict you, " said Barbican, feeling just then in splendid humor for carrying on an argument, not, ofcourse, for the sake of contradicting or conquering or crushing orshowing off or for any other vulgar weakness of lower minds, but for thenoble and indeed the only motive that should impel a philosopher--thatof _enlightening_ and _convincing_, "In taking the negative side, however, or saying that the Moon is not inhabitable, I shall not besatisfied with merely negative arguments. Many words, however, are notrequired. Look at her present condition: her atmosphere dwindled away tothe lowest ebb; her 'seas' dried up or very nearly so; her watersreduced to next to nothing; her vegetation, if existing at all, existingonly on the scantiest scale; her transitions from intense heat tointense cold, as we ourselves can testify, sudden in the extreme; hernights and her days each nearly 360 hours long. With all this positivelyagainst her and nothing at all that we know of positively for her, Ihave very little hesitation in saying that the Moon appears to me to beabsolutely uninhabitable. She seems to me not only unpropitious to thedevelopment of the animal kingdom but actually incapable of sustaininglife at all--that is, in the sense that we usually attach to such aterm. "

"That saving clause is well introduced, friend Barbican, " saidM'Nicholl, who, seeing no chance of demolishing Ardan, had not yet madeup his mind as to having another little bout with the President. "Forsurely you would not venture to assert that the Moon is uninhabitable bya race of beings having an organization different from ours?"

"That question too, Captain, " replied Barbican, "though a much moredifficult one, I shall try to answer. First, however, let us see, Captain, if we agree on some fundamental points. How do we detect theexistence of life? Is it not by _movement_? Is not _motion_ its result, no matter what may be its organization?"

"Well, " said the Captain in a drawling way, "I guess we may grant that. "

"Then, dear friends, " resumed Barbican, "I must remind you that, thoughwe have had the privilege of observing the lunar continents at adistance of not more than one-third of a mile, we have never yet caughtsight of the first thing moving on her surface. The presence ofhumanity, even of the lowest type, would have revealed itself in someform or other, by boundaries, by buildings, even by ruins. Now what_have_ we seen? Everywhere and always, the geological works of _nature_;nowhere and never, the orderly labors of _man_. Therefore, if anyrepresentatives of animal life exist in the Moon, they must have takenrefuge in those bottomless abysses where our eyes were unable to trackthem. And even this I can't admit. They could not always remain in thesecavities. If there is any atmosphere at all in the Moon, it must befound in her immense low-lying plains. Over those plains her inhabitantsmust have often passed, and on those plains they must in some way orother have left some mark, some trace, some vestige of their existence, were it even only a road. But you both know well that nowhere are anysuch traces visible: therefore, they don't exist; therefore, no lunarinhabitants exist--except, of course, such a race of beings, if we canimagine any such, as could exist without revealing their existence by_movement_. "

"That is to say, " broke in Ardan, to give what he conceived a sharperpoint to Barbican's cogent arguments, "such a race of beings as couldexist without existing!"

"Precisely, " said Barbican: "Life without movement, and no life at all, are equivalent expressions. "

"Captain, " said Ardan, with all the gravity he could assume, "have youanything more to say before the Moderator of our little Debating Societygives his opinion on the arguments regarding the question before thehouse?"

"No more at present, " said the Captain, biding his time. 

"Then, " resumed Ardan, rising with much dignity, "the Committee on LunarExplorations, appointed by the Honorable Baltimore Gun Club, solemnlyassembled in the Projectile belonging to the aforesaid learned andrespectable Society, having carefully weighed all the arguments advancedon each side of the question, and having also carefully considered allthe new facts bearing on the case that have lately come under thepersonal notice of said Committee, unanimously decides negatively on thequestion now before the chair for investigation--namely, 'Is the Mooninhabitable?' Barbican, as chairman of the Committee, I empower you toduly record our solemn decision--_No, the Moon is not inhabitable_. "

Barbican, opening his note-book, made the proper entry among the minutesof the meeting of December 6th. 

"Now then, gentlemen, " continued Ardan, "if you are ready for the secondquestion, the necessary complement of the first, we may as well approachit at once. I propound it for discussion in the following form: _Has theMoon ever been inhabited?_ Captain, the Committee would be delighted tohear your remarks on the subject. "

"Gentlemen, " began the Captain in reply, "I had formed my opinionregarding the ancient inhabitability of our Satellite long before I everdreamed of testing my theory by anything like our present journey. Iwill now add that all our observations, so far made, have only served toconfirm me in my opinion. I now venture to assert, not only with everykind of probability in my favor but also on what I consider mostexcellent arguments, that the Moon was once inhabited by a race ofbeings possessing an organization similar to our own, that she onceproduced animals anatomically resembling our terrestrial animals, andthat all these living organizations, human and animal, have had theirday, that that day vanished ages and ages ago, and that, consequently, _Life_, extinguished forever, can never again reveal its existence thereunder any form. "

"Is the Chair, " asked Ardan, "to infer from the honorable gentleman'sobservations that he considers the Moon to be a world much older thanthe Earth?"

"Not exactly that, " replied the Captain without hesitation; "I rathermean to say that the Moon is a world that grew old more rapidly than theEarth; that it came to maturity earlier; that it ripened quicker, andwas stricken with old age sooner. Owing to the difference of the volumesof the two worlds, the organizing forces of matter must have beencomparatively much more violent in the interior of the Moon than in theinterior of the Earth. The present condition of its surface, as we seeit lying there beneath us at this moment, places this assertion beyondall possibility of doubt. Wrinkled, pitted, knotted, furrowed, scarred, nothing that we can show on Earth resembles it. Moon and Earth werecalled into existence by the Creator probably at the same period oftime. In the first stages of their existence, they do not seem to havebeen anything better than masses of gas. Acted upon by various forcesand various influences, all of course directed by an omnipotentintelligence, these gases by degrees became liquid, and the liquids grewcondensed into solids until solidity could retain its shape. But the twoheavenly bodies, though starting at the same time, developed at a verydifferent ratio. Most undoubtedly, our globe was still gaseous or atmost only liquid, at the period when the Moon, already hardened bycooling, began to become inhabitable. "

"_Most undoubtedly_ is good!" observed Ardan admiringly. 

"At this period, " continued the learned Captain, "an atmospheresurrounded her. The waters, shut in by this gaseous envelope, could nolonger evaporate. Under the combined influences of air, water, light, and solar heat as well as internal heat, vegetation began to overspreadthe continents by this time ready to receive it, and most undoubtedly--Imean--a--incontestably--it was at this epoch that _life_ manifesteditself on the lunar surface. I say _incontestably_ advisedly, for Naturenever exhausts herself in producing useless things, and therefore aworld, so wonderfully inhabitable, _must_ of necessity have hadinhabitants. "

"I like _of necessity_ too, " said Ardan, who could never keep still; "Ialways did, when I felt my arguments to be what you call a littleshaky. "

"But, my dear Captain, " here observed Barbican, "have you taken intoconsideration some of the peculiarities of our Satellite which aredecidedly opposed to the development of vegetable and animal existence?Those nights and days, for instance, 354 hours long?"

"I have considered them all, " answered the brave Captain. "Days andnights of such an enormous length would at the present time, I grant, give rise to variations in temperature altogether intolerable to anyordinary organization. But things were quite different in the eraalluded to. At that time, the atmosphere enveloped the Moon in a gaseousmantle, and the vapors took the shape of clouds. By the screen thusformed by the hand of nature, the heat of the solar rays was temperedand the nocturnal radiation retarded. Light too, as well as heat, couldbe modified, tempered, and _genialized_ if I may use the expression, bythe air. This produced a healthy counterpoise of forces, which, now thatthe atmosphere has completely disappeared, of course exists no longer. Besides--friend Ardan, you will excuse me for telling you something new, something that will surprise you--"

--"Surprise me, my dear boy, fire away surprising me!" cried Ardan. "Ilike dearly to be surprised. All I regret is that you scientists havesurprised me so much already that I shall never have a good, hearty, genuine surprise again!"

--"I am most firmly convinced, " continued the Captain, hardly waitingfor Ardan to finish, "that, at the period of the Moon's occupancy byliving creatures, her days and nights were by no means 354 hours long. "

"Well! if anything could surprise me, " said Ardan quickly, "such anassertion as that most certainly would. On what does the honorablegentleman base his _most firm conviction_?"

"We know, " replied the Captain, "that the reason of the Moon's presentlong day and night is the exact equality of the periods of her rotationon her axis and of her revolution around the Earth. When she has turnedonce around the Earth, she has turned once around herself. Consequently, her back is turned to the Sun during one-half of the month; and her faceduring the other half. Now, I don't believe that this state of thingsexisted at the period referred to. "

"The gentleman does not believe!" exclaimed Ardan. "The Chair must beexcused for reminding the honorable gentleman that it can not accept hisincredulity as a sound and valid argument. These two movements havecertainly equal periods now; why not always?"

"For the simple reason that this equality of periods is due altogetherto the influence of terrestrial attraction, " replied the ready Captain. "This attraction at present, I grant, is so great that it actuallydisables the Moon from revolving on herself; consequently she mustalways keep the same face turned towards the Earth. But who can assertthat this attraction was powerful enough to exert the same influence atthe epoch when the Earth herself was only a fluid substance? In fact, who can even assert that the Moon has always been the Earth'ssatellite?"

"Ah, who indeed?" exclaimed Ardan. "And who can assert that the Moon didnot exist long before the Earth was called into being at all? In fact, who can assert that the Earth itself is not a great piece broken off theMoon? Nothing like asking absurd questions! I've often found thempassing for the best kind of arguments!"

"Friend Ardan, " interposed Barbican, who noticed that the Captain was alittle too disconcerted to give a ready reply; "Friend Ardan, I must sayyou are not quite wrong in showing how certain methods of reasoning, legitimate enough in themselves, may be easily abused by being carriedtoo far. I think, however, that the Captain might maintain his positionwithout having recourse to speculations altogether too gigantic forordinary intellect. By simply admitting the insufficiency of theprimordeal attraction to preserve a perfect balance between themovements of the lunar rotation and revolution, we can easily see howthe nights and days could once succeed each other on the Moon exactly asthey do at present on the Earth. "

"Nothing can be clearer!" resumed the brave Captain, once more rushingto the charge. "Besides, even without this alternation of days andnights, life on the lunar surface was quite possible. "

"Of course it was possible, " said Ardan; "everything is possible exceptwhat contradicts itself. It is possible too that every possibility is afact; therefore, it _is_ a fact. However, " he added, not wishing topress the Captain's weak points too closely, "let all these logicalniceties pass for the present. Now that you have established theexistence of your humanity in the Moon, the Chair would respectfully askhow it has all so completely disappeared?"

"It disappeared completely thousands, perhaps millions, of years ago, "replied the unabashed Captain. "It perished from the physicalimpossibility of living any longer in a world where the atmosphere hadbecome by degrees too rare to be able to perform its functions as thegreat resuscitating medium of dependent existences. What took place onthe Moon is only what is to take place some day or other on the Earth, when it is sufficiently cooled off. "

"Cooled off?"

"Yes, " replied the Captain as confidently and with as little hesitationas if he was explaining some of the details of his great machine-shop inPhiladelphia; "You see, according as the internal fire near the surfacewas extinguished or was withdrawn towards the centre, the lunar shellnaturally cooled off. The logical consequences, of course, thengradually took place: extinction of organized beings; and thenextinction of vegetation. The atmosphere, in the meantime, becamethinner and thinner--partly drawn off with the water evaporated by theterrestrial attraction, and partly sinking with the solid water into thecrust-cracks caused by cooling. With the disappearance of air capable ofrespiration, and of water capable of motion, the Moon, of course, becameuninhabitable. From that day it became the abode of death, as completelyas it is at the present moment. "

"That is the fate in store for our Earth?"

"In all probability. "

"And when is it to befall us?"

"Just as soon as the crust becomes cold enough to be uninhabitable. "

"Perhaps your philosophership has taken the trouble to calculate howmany years it will take our unfortunate _Terra Mater_ to cool off?"

"Well; I have. "

"And you can rely on your figures?"

"Implicitly. "

"Why not tell it at once then to a fellow that's dying of impatience toknow all about it? Captain, the Chair considers you one of the mosttantalizing creatures in existence!"

"If you only listen, you will hear, " replied M'Nicholl quietly. "Bycareful observations, extended through a series of many years, men havebeen able to discover the average loss of temperature endured by theEarth in a century. Taking this as the ground work of theircalculations, they have ascertained that our Earth shall become anuninhabitable planet in about--"

"Don't cut her life too short! Be merciful!" cried Ardan in a pleadingtone half in earnest. "Come, a good long day, your Honor! A good longday!"

"The planet that we call the Earth, " continued the Captain, as grave asa judge, "will become uninhabitable to human beings, after a lapse of400 thousand years from the present time. "

"Hurrah!" cried Ardan, much relieved. "_Vive la Science!_ Henceforward, what miscreant will persist in saying that the Savants are good fornothing? Proudly pointing to this calculation, can't they exclaim to alldefamers: 'Silence, croakers! Our services are invaluable! Haven't weinsured the Earth for 400 thousand years?' Again I say _vive laScience!_"

"Ardan, " began the Captain with some asperity, "the foundations onwhich Science has raised--"

"I'm half converted already, " interrupted Ardan in a cheery tone; "I doreally believe that Science is not altogether unmitigated homebogue!_Vive_--"

--"But what has all this to do with the question under discussion?"interrupted Barbican, desirous to keep his friends from losing theirtempers in idle disputation. 

"True!" said Ardan. "The Chair, thankful for being called to order, would respectfully remind the house that the question before it is: _Hasthe Moon been inhabited?_ Affirmative has been heard. Negative is calledon to reply. Mr. Barbican has the _parole_. "

But Mr. Barbican was unwilling just then to enter too deeply into suchan exceedingly difficult subject. "The probabilities, " he contentedhimself with saying, "would appear to be in favor of the Captain'sspeculations. But we must never forget that they _are_speculations--nothing more. Not the slightest evidence has yet beenproduced that the Moon is anything else than 'a dead and useless wasteof extinct volcanoes. ' No signs of cities, no signs of buildings, noteven of ruins, none of anything that could be reasonably ascribed to thelabors of intelligent creatures. No sign of change of any kind has beenestablished. As for the agreement between the Moon's rotation and herrevolution, which compels her to keep the same face constantly turnedtowards the Earth, we don't know that it has not existed from thebeginning. As for what is called the effect of volcanic agency upon hersurface, we don't know that her peculiar blistered appearance may nothave been brought about altogether by the bubbling and spitting thatblisters molten iron when cooling and contracting. Some close observershave even ventured to account for her craters by saying they were due topelting showers of meteoric rain. Then again as to her atmosphere--whyshould she have lost her atmosphere? Why should it sink into craters?Atmosphere is gas, great in volume, small in matter; where would therebe room for it? Solidified by the intense cold? Possibly in the nighttime. But would not the heat of the long day be great enough to thaw itback again? The same trouble attends the alleged disappearance of thewater. Swallowed up in the cavernous cracks, it is said. But why arethere cracks? Cooling is not always attended by cracking. Water coolswithout cracking; cannon balls cool without cracking. Too much stresshas been laid on the great difference between the _nucleus_ and the_crust_: it is really impossible to say where one ends and the otherbegins. In fact, no theory explains satisfactorily anything regardingthe present state of the Moon's surface. In fact, from the day thatGalileo compared her clustering craters to 'eyes on a peacock's tail' tothe present time, we must acknowledge that we know nothing more than wecan actually see, not one particle more of the Moon's history than ourtelescopes reveal to our corporal eyes!"

"In the lucid opinion of the honorable and learned gentleman who spokelast, " said Ardan, "the Chair is compelled to concur. Therefore, as tothe second question before the house for deliberation, _Has the Moonbeen ever inhabited?_ the Chair gets out of its difficulty, as a Scotchjury does when it has not evidence enough either way, by returning asolemn verdict of _Not Proven!_"

"And with this conclusion, " said Barbican, hastily rising, "of a subjecton which, to tell the truth, we are unable as yet to throw any lightworth speaking of, let us be satisfied for the present. Another questionof greater moment to us just now is: where are we? It seems to me thatwe are increasing our distance from the Moon very decidedly and veryrapidly. "

It was easy to see that he was quite right in this observation. TheProjectile, still following a northerly course and therefore approachingthe lunar equator, was certainly getting farther and farther from theMoon. Even at 30° S. , only ten degrees farther north than the latitudeof _Tycho_, the travellers had considerable difficulty, comparatively, in observing the details of _Pitatus_, a walled mountain on the southshores of the _Mare Nubium_. In the "sea" itself, over which they nowfloated, they could see very little, but far to the left, on the 20thparallel, they could discern the vast crater of _Bullialdus_, 9, 000feet deep. On the right, they had just caught a glimpse of _Purbach_, adepressed valley almost square in shape with a round crater in thecentre, when Ardan suddenly cried out:

"A Railroad!"

And, sure enough, right under them, a little northeast of _Purbach_, thetravellers easily distinguished a long line straight and black, reallynot unlike a railroad cutting through a low hilly country. 

This, Barbican explained, was of course no railway, but a steep cliff, at least 1, 000 feet high, casting a very deep shadow, and probably theresult of the caving in of the surface on the eastern edge. 

Then they saw the immense crater of _Arzachel_ and in its midst a conemountain shining with dazzling splendor. A little north of this, theycould detect the outlines of another crater, _Alphonse_, at least 70miles in diameter. Close to it they could easily distinguish the immensecrater or, as some observers call it, Ramparted Plain, _Ptolemy_, sowell known to lunar astronomers, occupying, as it does, such a favorableposition near the centre of the Moon, and having a diameter fully, inone direction at least, 120 miles long. 

The travellers were now in about the same latitude as that at which theyhad at first approached the Moon, and it was here that they began mostunquestionably to leave her. They looked and looked, readjusting theirglasses, but the details were becoming more and more difficult to catch. The reliefs grew more and more blurred and the outlines dimmer anddimmer. Even the great mountain profiles began to fade away, thedazzling colors to grow duller, the jet black shadows greyer, and thegeneral effect mistier. 

At last, the distance had become so great that, of this lunar world sowonderful, so fantastic, so weird, so mysterious, our travellers bydegrees lost even the consciousness, and their sensations, lately sovivid, grew fainter and fainter, until finally they resembled those of aman who is suddenly awakened from a peculiarly strange and impressivedream. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

IN EVERY FIGHT, THE IMPOSSIBLE WINS. 

No matter what we have been accustomed to, it is sad to bid it farewellforever. The glimpse of the Moon's wondrous world imparted to Barbicanand his companions had been, like that of the Promised Land to Moses onMount Pisgah, only a distant and a dark one, yet it was withinexpressibly mournful eyes that, silent and thoughtful, they nowwatched her fading away slowly from their view, the convictionimpressing itself deeper and deeper in their souls that, slight as theiracquaintance had been, it was never to be renewed again. All doubt onthe subject was removed by the position gradually, but decidedly, assumed by the Projectile. Its base was turning away slowly and steadilyfrom the Moon, and pointing surely and unmistakably towards the Earth. 

Barbican had been long carefully noticing this modification, but withoutbeing able to explain it. That the Projectile should withdraw a longdistance from the Moon and still be her satellite, he could understand;but, being her satellite, why not present towards her its heaviestsegment, as the Moon does towards the Earth? That was the point which hecould not readily clear up. 

By carefully noting its path, he thought he could see that theProjectile, though now decidedly leaving the Moon, still followed acurve exactly analogous to that by which it had approached her. It musttherefore be describing a very elongated ellipse, which might possiblyextend even to the neutral point where the lunar and terrestrialattractions were mutually overcome. 

With this surmise of Barbican's, his companions appeared rather disposedto agree, though, of course, it gave rise to new questions. 

"Suppose we reach this dead point, " asked Ardan; "what then is to becomeof us?"

"Can't tell!" was Barbican's unsatisfactory reply. 

"But you can form a few hypotheses?"

"Yes, two!"

"Let us have them. "

"The velocity will be either sufficient to carry us past the dead point, or it will not: sufficient, we shall keep on, just as we are now, gravitating forever around the Moon--"

--"Hypothesis number two will have at least one point in its favor, "interrupted as usual the incorrigible Ardan; "it can't be worse thanhypothesis number one!"

--"Insufficient, " continued Barbican, laying down the law, "we shallrest forever motionless on the dead point of the mutually neutralizingattractions. "

"A pleasant prospect!" observed Ardan: "from the worst possible to nobetter! Isn't it, Barbican?"

"Nothing to say, " was Barbican's only reply. 

"Have you nothing to say either, Captain?" asked Ardan, beginning to bea little vexed at the apparent apathy of his companions. 

"Nothing whatever, " replied M'Nicholl, giving point to his words by adespairing shake of his head. 

"You don't mean surely that we're going to sit here, like bumps on alog, doing nothing until it will be too late to attempt anything?"

"Nothing whatever can be done, " said Barbican gloomily. "It is vain tostruggle against the impossible. "

"Impossible! Where did you get that word? I thought the Americanschoolboys had cut it out of their dictionaries!"

"That must have been since my time, " said Barbican smiling grimly. 

"It still sticks in a few old copies anyhow, " drawled M'Nicholl drily, as he carefully wiped his glasses. 

"Well! it has no business _here_!" said Ardan. "What! A pair of liveYankees and a Frenchman, of the nineteenth century too, recoil before anold fashioned word that hardly scared our grandfathers!"

"What can we do?"

"Correct the movement that's now running away with us!"

"Correct it?"

"Certainly, correct it! or modify it! or clap brakes on it! or takesome advantage of it that will be in our favor! What matters the exactterm so you comprehend me?"

"Easy talking!"

"As easy doing!"

"Doing what? Doing how?"

"The what, and the how, is your business, not mine! What kind of anartillery man is he who can't master his bullets? The gunner who cannotcommand his own gun should be rammed into it head foremost himself andblown from its mouth! A nice pair of savants _you_ are! There you sit ashelpless as a couple of babies, after having inveigled me--"

"Inveigled!!" cried Barbican and M'Nicholl starting to their feet in aninstant; "WHAT!!!"

"Come, come!" went on Ardan, not giving his indignant friends time toutter a syllable; "I don't want any recrimination! I'm not the one tocomplain! I'll even let up a little if you consider the expression toostrong! I'll even withdraw it altogether, and assert that the tripdelights me! that the Projectile is a thing after my own heart! that Iwas never in better spirits than at the present moment! I don'tcomplain, I only appeal to your own good sense, and call upon you withall my voice to do everything possible, so that we may go _somewhere_, since it appears we can't get to the Moon!"

"But that's exactly what we want to do ourselves, friend Ardan, " saidBarbican, endeavoring to give an example of calmness to the impatientM'Nicholl; "the only trouble is that we have not the means to do it. "

"Can't we modify the Projectile's movement?"

"No. "

"Nor diminish its velocity?"

"No. "

"Not even by lightening it, as a heavily laden ship is lightened, bythrowing cargo overboard?"

"What can we throw overboard? We have no ballast like balloon-men. "

"I should like to know, " interrupted M'Nicholl, "what would be the goodof throwing anything at all overboard. Any one with a particle of commonsense in his head, can see that the lightened Projectile should onlymove the quicker!"

"Slower, you mean, " said Ardan. 

"Quicker, I mean, " replied the Captain. 

"Neither quicker nor slower, dear friends, " interposed Barbican, desirous to stop a quarrel; "we are floating, you know, in an absolutevoid, where specific gravity never counts. "

"Well then, my friends, " said Ardan in a resigned tone that he evidentlyendeavored to render calm, "since the worst is come to the worst, thereis but one thing left for us to do!"

"What's that?" said the Captain, getting ready to combat some new pieceof nonsense. 

"To take our breakfast!" said the Frenchman curtly. 

It was a resource he had often fallen back on in difficultconjunctures. Nor did it fail him now. 

Though it was not a project that claimed to affect either the velocityor the direction of the Projectile, still, as it was eminentlypracticable and not only unattended by no inconvenience on the one handbut evidently fraught with many advantages on the other, it met withdecided and instantaneous success. It was rather an early hour forbreakfast, two o'clock in the morning, yet the meal was keenly relished. Ardan served it up in charming style and crowned the dessert with a fewbottles of a wine especially selected for the occasion from his ownprivate stock. It was a _Tokay Imperial_ of 1863, the genuine _Essenz_, from Prince Esterhazy's own wine cellar, and the best brain stimulantand brain clearer in the world, as every connoisseur knows. 

It was near four o'clock in the morning when our travellers, now wellfortified physically and morally, once more resumed their observationswith renewed courage and determination, and with a system of recordingreally perfect in its arrangements. 

Around the Projectile, they could still see floating most of the objectsthat had been dropped out of the window. This convinced them that, during their revolution around the Moon, they had not passed through anyatmosphere; had anything of the kind been encountered, it would haverevealed its presence by its retarding effect on the different objectsthat now followed close in the wake of the Projectile. One or two thatwere missing had been probably struck and carried off by a fragment ofthe exploded bolide. 

Of the Earth nothing as yet could be seen. She was only one day Old, having been New the previous evening, and two days were still to elapsebefore her crescent would be sufficiently cleared of the solar rays tobe capable of performing her ordinary duty of serving as a time-piecefor the Selenites. For, as the reflecting reader need hardly bereminded, since she rotates with perfect regularity on her axis, she canmake such rotations visible to the Selenites by bringing some particularpoint on her surface once every twenty-four hours directly over the samelunar meridian. 

Towards the Moon, the view though far less distinct, was still almost asdazzling as ever. The radiant Queen of Night still glittered in all hersplendor in the midst of the starry host, whose pure white light seemedto borrow only additional purity and silvery whiteness from the gorgeouscontrast. On her disc, the "seas" were already beginning to assume theashy tint so well known to us on Earth, but the rest of her surfacesparkled with all its former radiation, _Tycho_ glowing like a sun inthe midst of the general resplendescence. 

Barbican attempted in vain to obtain even a tolerable approximation ofthe velocity at which the Projectile was now moving. He had to contenthimself with the knowledge that it was diminishing at a uniform rate--ofwhich indeed a little reflection on a well known law of Dynamics readilyconvinced him. He had not much difficulty even in explaining the matterto his friends. 

"Once admitting, " said he, "the Projectile to describe an orbit roundthe Moon, that orbit must of necessity be an ellipse. Every moving bodycirculating regularly around another, describes an ellipse. Science hasproved this incontestably. The satellites describe ellipses around theplanets, the planets around the Sun, the Sun himself describes anellipse around the unknown star that serves as a pivot for our wholesolar system. How can our Baltimore Gun Club Projectile then escape theuniversal law?

"Now what is the consequence of this law? If the orbit were a _circle_, the satellite would always preserve the same distance from its primary, and its velocity should therefore be constant. But the orbit being an_ellipse_, and the attracting body always occupying one of the foci, thesatellite must evidently lie nearer to this focus in one part of itsorbit than in another. The Earth when nearest to the Sun, is in her_perihelion_; when most distant, in her _aphelion_. The Moon, withregard to the Earth, is similarly in her _perigee_, and her _apogee_. Analogous expressions denoting the relations of the Projectile towardsthe Moon, would be _periselene_ and _aposelene_. At its _aposelene_ theProjectile's velocity would have reached its minimum; atthe _periselene_, its maximum. As it is to the former point that we arenow moving, clearly the velocity must keep on diminishing until thatpoint is reached. Then, _if it does not die out altogether_, it mustspring up again, and even accelerate as it reapproaches the Moon. Nowthe great trouble is this: If the _Aposelenetic_ point should coincidewith the point of lunar attraction, our velocity must certainly become_nil_, and the Projectile must remain relatively motionless forever!"

"What do you mean by 'relatively motionless'?" asked M'Nicholl, who wascarefully studying the situation. 

"I mean, of course, not absolutely motionless, " answered Barbican;"absolute immobility is, as you are well aware, altogether impossible, but motionless with regard to the Earth and the--"

"By Mahomet's jackass!" interrupted Ardan hastily, "I must say we're aprecious set of _imbéciles_!"

"I don't deny it, dear friend, " said Barbican quietly, notwithstandingthe unceremonious interruption; "but why do you say so just now?"

"Because though we are possessed of the power of retarding the velocitythat takes us from the Moon, we have never thought of employing it!"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you forget the rockets?"

"It's a fact!" cried M'Nicholl. "How have we forgotten them?"

"I'm sure I can't tell, " answered Barbican, "unless, perhaps, because wehad too many other things to think about. Your thought, my dear friend, is a most happy one, and, of course, we shall utilize it. "

"When? How soon?"

"At the first favorable opportunity, not sooner. For you can see foryourselves, dear friends, " he went on explaining, "that with the presentobliquity of the Projectile with regard to the lunar disc, a dischargeof our rockets would be more likely to send us away from the Moon thantowards her. Of course, you are both still desirous of reaching theMoon?"

"Most emphatically so!"

"Then by reserving our rockets for the last chance, we may possibly getthere after all. In consequence of some force, to me utterlyinexplicable, the Projectile still seems disposed to turn its basetowards the Earth. In fact, it is likely enough that at the neutralpoint its cone will point vertically to the Moon. That being the momentwhen its velocity will most probably be _nil_, it will also be themoment for us to discharge our rockets, and the possibility is that wemay force a direct fall on the lunar disc. "

"Good!" cried Ardan, clapping hands. 

"Why didn't we execute this grand manoeuvre the first time we reachedthe neutral point?" asked M'Nicholl a little crustily. 

"It would be useless, " answered Barbican; "the Projectile's velocity atthat time, as you no doubt remember, not only did not need rockets, butwas actually too great to be affected by them. "

"True!" chimed in Ardan; "a wind of four miles an hour is very littleuse to a steamer going ten. "

"That assertion, " cried M'Nicholl, "I am rather dis--"

--"Dear friends, " interposed Barbican, his pale face beaming and hisclear voice ringing with the new excitement; "let us just now waste notime in mere words. We have one more chance, perhaps a great one. Let usnot throw it away! We have been on the brink of despair--"

--"Beyond it!" cried Ardan. 

--"But I now begin to see a possibility, nay, a very decidedprobability, of our being able to attain the great end at last!"

"Bravo!" cried Ardan. 

"Hurrah!" cried M'Nicholl. 

"Yes! my brave boys!" cried Barbican as enthusiastically as hiscompanions; "all's not over yet by a long shot!"

What had brought about this great revulsion in the spirits of our boldadventurers? The breakfast? Prince Esterhazy's Tokay? The latter, mostprobably. What had become of the resolutions they had discussed so ablyand passed so decidedly a few hours before? _Was the Moon inhabited? No!Was the Moon habitable? No!_ Yet in the face of all this--or rather ascoolly as if such subjects had never been alluded to--here were thereckless scientists actually thinking of nothing but how to work heavenand earth in order to get there!

One question more remained to be answered before they played their lasttrump, namely: "At what precise moment would the Projectile reach theneutral point?"

To this Barbican had very little trouble in finding an answer. The timespent in proceeding from the south pole to the dead point beingevidently equal to the time previously spent in proceeding from the deadpoint to the north pole--to ascertain the former, he had only tocalculate the latter. This was easily done. To refer to his notes, tocheck off the different rates of velocity at which they had readied thedifferent parallels, and to turn these rates into time, required only avery few minutes careful calculation. The Projectile then was to reachthe point of neutral attraction at one o'clock in the morning ofDecember 8th. At the present time, it was five o'clock in the morning ofthe 7th; therefore, if nothing unforeseen should occur in the meantime, their great and final effort was to be made about twenty hours later. 

The rockets, so often alluded to as an idea of Ardan's and already fullydescribed, had been originally provided to break the violence of theProjectile's fall on the lunar surface; but now the dauntless travellerswere about to employ them for a purpose precisely the reverse. In anycase, having been put in proper order for immediate use, nothing morenow remained to be done till the moment should come for firing them off. 

"Now then, friends, " said M'Nicholl, rubbing his eyes but hardly able tokeep them open, "I'm not over fond of talking, but this time I think Imay offer a slight proposition. "

"We shall be most happy to entertain it, my dear Captain, " saidBarbican. 

[Illustration: ARDAN GAZED ON THE PAIR. ]

"I propose we lie down and take a good nap. "

"Good gracious!" protested Ardan; "What next?"

"We have not had a blessed wink for forty hours, " continued the Captain;"a little sleep would recuperate us wonderfully. "

"No sleep now!" exclaimed Ardan. 

"Every man to his taste!" said M'Nicholl; "mine at present is certainlyto turn in!" and suiting the action to the word, he coiled himself onthe sofa, and in a few minutes his deep regular breathing showed hisslumber to be as tranquil as an infant's. 

Barbican looked at him in a kindly way, but only for a very short time;his eyes grew so filmy that he could not keep them open any longer. "TheCaptain, " he said, "may not be without his little faults, but for goodpractical sense he is worth a ship-load like you and me, Ardan. By Jove, I'm going to imitate him, and, friend Michael, you might do worse!"

In a short time he was as unconscious as the Captain. 

Ardan gazed on the pair for a few minutes, and then began to feel quitelonely. Even his animals were fast asleep. He tried to look out, butobserving without having anybody to listen to your observations, is dullwork. He looked again at the sleeping pair, and then he gave in. 

"It can't be denied, " he muttered, slowly nodding his head, "that evenyour practical men sometimes stumble on a good idea. "

Then curling up his long legs, and folding his arms under his head, hisrestless brain was soon forming fantastic shapes for itself in themysterious land of dreams. 

But his slumbers were too much disturbed to last long. After an uneasy, restless, unrefreshing attempt at repose, he sat up at about half-pastseven o'clock, and began stretching himself, when he found hiscompanions already awake and discussing the situation in whispers. 

The Projectile, they were remarking, was still pursuing its way from theMoon, and turning its conical point more and more in her direction. Thislatter phenomenon, though as puzzling as ever, Barbican regarded withdecided pleasure: the more directly the conical summit pointed to theMoon at the exact moment, the more directly towards her surface wouldthe rockets communicate their reactionary motion. 

Nearly seventeen hours, however, were still to elapse before thatmoment, that all important moment, would arrive. 

The time began to drag. The excitement produced by the Moon's vicinityhad died out. Our travellers, though as daring and as confident as ever, could not help feeling a certain sinking of heart at the approach of themoment for deciding either alternative of their doom in thisworld--their fall to the Moon, or their eternal imprisonment in achangeless orbit. Barbican and M'Nicholl tried to kill time by revisingtheir calculations and putting their notes in order; Ardan, byfeverishly walking back and forth from window to window, and stoppingfor a second or two to throw a nervous glance at the cold, silent andimpassive Moon. 

Now and then reminiscences of our lower world would flit across theirbrains. Visions of the famous Gun Club rose up before them the oftenest, with their dear friend Marston always the central figure. What was hisbustling, honest, good-natured, impetuous heart at now? Most probably hewas standing bravely at his post on the Rocky Mountains, his eye gluedto the great Telescope, his whole soul peering through its tube. Had heseen the Projectile before it vanished behind the Moon's north pole?Could he have caught a glimpse of it at its reappearance? If so, couldhe have concluded it to be the satellite of a satellite! Could Belfasthave announced to the world such a startling piece of intelligence? Wasthat all the Earth was ever to know of their great enterprise? What werethe speculations of the Scientific World upon the subject? etc. , etc. 

In listless questions and desultory conversation of this kind the dayslowly wore away, without the occurrence of any incident whatever torelieve its weary monotony. Midnight arrived, December the seventh wasdead. As Ardan said: "_Le Sept Decembre est mort; vive le Huit!_" In onehour more, the neutral point would be reached. At what velocity was theProjectile now moving? Barbican could not exactly tell, but he feltquite certain that no serious error had slipped into his calculations. At one o'clock that night, _nil_ the velocity was to be, and _nil_ itwould be!

Another phenomenon, in any case, was to mark the arrival of the exactmoment. At the dead point, the two attractions, terrestrial and lunar, would again exactly counterbalance each other. For a few seconds, objects would no longer possess the slightest weight. This curiouscircumstance, which had so much surprised and amused the travellers atits first occurrence, was now to appear again as soon as the conditionsshould become identical. During these few seconds then would come themoment for striking the decisive blow. 

They could soon notice the gradual approach of this important instant. Objects began to weigh sensibly lighter. The conical point of theProjectile had become almost directly under the centre of the lunarsurface. This gladdened the hearts of the bold adventurers. The recoilof the rockets losing none of its power by oblique action, the chancespronounced decidedly in their favor. Now, only supposing theProjectile's velocity to be absolutely annihilated at the dead point, the slightest force directing it towards the Moon would be _certain_ tocause it finally to fall on her surface. 

Supposing!--but supposing the contrary!

--Even these brave adventurers had not the courage to suppose thecontrary!

"Five minutes to one o'clock, " said M'Nicholl, his eyes never quittinghis watch. 

"Ready?" asked Barbican of Ardan. 

"Ay, ay, sir!" was Ardan's reply, as he made sure that the electricapparatus to discharge the rockets was in perfect working order. 

"Wait till I give the word, " said Barbican, pulling out his chronometer. 

The moment was now evidently close at hand. The objects lying around hadno weight. The travellers felt their bodies to be as buoyant as ahydrogen balloon. Barbican let go his chronometer, but it kept its placeas firmly in empty space before his eyes as if it had been nailed to thewall!

"One o'clock!" cried Barbican in a solemn tone. 

Ardan instantly touched the discharging key of the little electricbattery. A dull, dead, distant report was immediately heard, communicated probably by the vibration of the Projectile to the internalair. But Ardan saw through the window a long thin flash, which vanishedin a second. At the same moment, the three friends becameinstantaneously conscious of a slight shock experienced by theProjectile. 

They looked at each other, speechless, breathless, for about as long asit would take you to count five: the silence so intense that they couldeasily hear the pulsation of their hearts. Ardan was the first to breakit. 

"Are we falling or are we not?" he asked in a loud whisper. 

"We're not!" answered M'Nicholl, also hardly speaking above his breath. "The base of the Projectile is still turned away as far as ever from theMoon!"

Barbican, who had been looking out of the window, now turned hastilytowards his companions. His face frightened them. He was deadly pale;his eyes stared, and his lips were painfully contracted. 

"We _are_ falling!" he shrieked huskily. 

"Towards the Moon?" exclaimed his companions. 

"No!" was the terrible reply. "Towards the Earth!"

"_Sacré!_" cried Ardan, as usually letting off his excitement in French. 

"Fire and fury!" cried M'Nicholl, completely startled out of hishabitual _sang froid_. 

"Thunder and lightning!" swore the usually serene Barbican, nowcompletely stunned by the blow. "I had never expected this!"

Ardan was the first to recover from the deadening shock: his levity cameto his relief. 

"First impressions are always right, " he muttered philosophically. "Themoment I set eyes on the confounded thing, it reminded me of theBastille; it is now proving its likeness to a worse place: easy enoughto get into, but no redemption out of it!"

There was no longer any doubt possible on the subject. The terrible fallhad begun. The Projectile had retained velocity enough not only to carryit beyond the dead point, but it was even able to completely overcomethe feeble resistance offered by the rockets. It was all clear now. Thesame velocity that had carried the Projectile beyond the neutral pointon its way to the Moon, was still swaying it on its return to the Earth. A well known law of motion required that, in the path which it was nowabout to describe, _it should repass, on its return through all thepoints through which it had already passed during its departure_. 

No wonder that our friends were struck almost senseless when the fearfulfall they were now about to encounter, flashed upon them in all itshorror. They were to fall a clear distance of nearly 200 thousand miles!To lighten or counteract such a descent, the most powerful springs, checks, rockets, screens, deadeners, even if the whole Earth wereengaged in their construction--would produce no more effect than so manyspiderwebs. According to a simple law in Ballistics, _the Projectile wasto strike the Earth with a velocity equal to that by which it had beenanimated when issuing from the mouth of the Columbiad_--a velocity of atleast seven miles a second!

To have even a faint idea of this enormous velocity, let us make alittle comparison. A body falling from the summit of a steeple a hundredand fifty feet high, dashes against the pavement with a velocity offifty five miles an hour. Falling from the summit of St. Peter's, itstrikes the earth at the rate of 300 miles an hour, or five timesquicker than the rapidest express train. Falling from the neutralpoint, the Projectile should strike the Earth with a velocity of morethan 25, 000 miles an hour!

"We are lost!" said M'Nicholl gloomily, his philosophy yielding todespair. 

"One consolation, boys!" cried Ardan, genial to the last. "We shall dietogether!"

"If we die, " said Barbican calmly, but with a kind of suppressedenthusiasm, "it will be only to remove to a more extended sphere of ourinvestigations. In the other world, we can pursue our inquiries underfar more favorable auspices. There the wonders of our great Creator, clothed in brighter light, shall be brought within a shorter range. Weshall require no machine, nor projectile, nor material contrivance ofany kind to be enabled to contemplate them in all their grandeur and toappreciate them fully and intelligently. Our souls, enlightened by theemanations of the Eternal Wisdom, shall revel forever in the blessedrays of Eternal Knowledge!"

"A grand view to take of it, dear friend Barbican;" replied Ardan, "anda consoling one too. The privilege of roaming at will through God'sgreat universe should make ample amends for missing the Moon!"

M'Nicholl fixed his eyes on Barbican admiringly, feebly muttering withhardly moving lips:

"Grit to the marrow! Grit to the marrow!"

Barbican, head bowed in reverence, arms folded across his breast, meeklyand uncomplainingly uttered with sublime resignation:

"Thy will be done!"

"Amen!" answered his companions, in a loud and fervent whisper. 

 * * * * *

They were soon falling through the boundless regions of space withinconceivable rapidity!

CHAPTER XX. 

OFF THE PACIFIC COAST. 

"Well, Lieutenant, how goes the sounding?"

"Pretty lively, Captain; we're nearly through;" replied the Lieutenant. "But it's a tremendous depth so near land. We can't be more than 250miles from the California coast. "

"The depression certainly is far deeper than I had expected, " observedCaptain Bloomsbury. "We have probably lit on a submarine valleychannelled out by the Japanese Current. "

"The Japanese Current, Captain?"

"Certainly; that branch of it which breaks on the western shores ofNorth America and then flows southeast towards the Isthmus of Panama. "

"That may account for it, Captain, " replied young Brownson; "at least, Ihope it does, for then we may expect the valley to get shallower as weleave the land. So far, there's no sign of a Telegraphic Plateau in thisquarter of the globe. "

"Probably not, Brownson. How is the line now?"

"We have paid out 3500 fathoms already, Captain, but, judging from therate the reel goes at, we are still some distance from bottom. "

As he spoke, he pointed to a tall derrick temporarily rigged up at thestern of the vessel for the purpose of working the sounding apparatus, and surrounded by a group of busy men. Through a block pulley stronglylashed to the derrick, a stout cord of the best Italian hemp, wound offa large reel placed amidships, was now running rapidly and with a slightwhirring noise. 

"I hope it's not the 'cup-lead' you are using, Brownson?" said theCaptain, after a few minutes observation. 

"Oh no, Captain, certainly not, " replied the Lieutenant. "It's onlyBrooke's apparatus that is of any use in such depths. "

"Clever fellow that Brooke, " observed the Captain; "served with himunder Maury. His detachment of the weight is really the starting pointfor every new improvement in sounding gear. The English, the French, andeven our own, are nothing but modifications of that fundamentalprinciple. Exceedingly clever fellow!"

"Bottom!" sang out one of the men standing near the derrick and watchingthe operations. 

The Captain and the Lieutenant immediately advanced to question him. 

"What's the depth, Coleman?" asked the Lieutenant. 

"21, 762 feet, " was the prompt reply, which Brownson immediatelyinscribed in his note-book, handing a duplicate to the Captain. 

"All right, Lieutenant, " observed the Captain, after a moment'sinspection of the figures. "While I enter it in the log, you haul theline aboard. To do so, I need hardly remind you, is a task involvingcare and patience. In spite of all our gallant little donkey engine cando, it's a six hours job at least. Meanwhile, the Chief Engineer hadbetter give orders for firing up, so that we may be ready to start assoon as you're through. It's now close on to four bells, and with yourpermission I shall turn in. Let me be called at three. Good night!"

"Goodnight, Captain!" replied Brownson, who spent the next two hourspacing backward and forward on the quarter deck, watching the hauling inof the sounding line, and occasionally casting a glance towards allquarters of the sky. 

It was a glorious night. The innumerable stars glittered with thebrilliancy of the purest gems. The ship, hove to in order to take thesoundings, swung gently on the faintly heaving ocean breast. You feltyou were in a tropical clime, for, though no breath fanned your cheek, your senses easily detected the delicious odor of a distant garden ofsweet roses. The sea sparkled with phosphorescence. Not a sound washeard except the panting of the hard-worked little donkey-engine and thewhirr of the line as it came up taut and dripping from the ocean depths. The lamp, hanging from the mast, threw a bright glare on deck, presenting the strongest contrast with the black shadows, firm andmotionless as marble. The 11th day of December was now near its lasthour. 

The steamer was the _Susquehanna_, a screw, of the United States Navy, 4, 000 in tonnage, and carrying 20 guns. She had been detached to takesoundings between the Pacific coast and the Sandwich Islands, theinitiatory movement towards laying down an Ocean Cable, which the_Pacific Cable Company_ contemplated finally extending to China. She layjust now a few hundred miles directly south of San Diego, an old Spanishtown in southwestern California, and the point which is expected to bethe terminus of the great _Texas and Pacific Railroad_. 

The Captain, John Bloomsbury by name, but better known as 'High-LowJack' from his great love of that game--the only one he was ever knownto play--was a near relation of our old friend Colonel Bloomsbury of theBaltimore Gun Club. Of a good Kentucky family, and educated atAnnapolis, he had passed his meridian without ever being heard of, whensuddenly the news that he had run the gauntlet in a little gunboat pastthe terrible batteries of Island Number Ten, amidst a perfect storm ofshell, grape and canister discharged at less than a hundred yardsdistance, burst on the American nation on the sixth of April, 1862, andinscribed his name at once in deep characters on the list of the giantsof the Great War. But war had never been his vocation. With the returnof peace, he had sought and obtained employment on the Western CoastSurvey, where every thing he did he looked on as a labor of love. TheSounding Expedition he had particularly coveted, and, once entered uponit, he discharged his duties with characteristic energy. 

He could not have had more favorable weather than the present for asuccessful performance of the nice and delicate investigations ofsounding. His vessel had even been fortunate enough to have lainaltogether out of the track of the terrible wind storm already alludedto, which, starting from somewhere southwest of the Sierra Madre, hadswept away every vestige of mist from the summits of the Rocky Mountainsand, by revealing the Moon in all her splendor, had enabled Belfast tosend the famous despatch announcing that he had seen the Projectile. Every feature of the expedition was, in fact, advancing so favorablythat the Captain expected to be able, in a month or two, to submit tothe _P. C. Company_ a most satisfactory report of his labors. 

Cyrus W. Field, the life and soul of the whole enterprise, flushed withhonors still in full bloom (the Atlantic Telegraph Cable having beenjust laid), could congratulate himself with good reason on having founda treasure in the Captain. High-Low Jack was the congenial spirit bywhose active and intelligent aid he promised himself the pleasure ofseeing before long the whole Pacific Ocean covered with a vastreticulation of electric cables. The practical part, therefore, being insuch safe hands, Mr. Field could remain with a quiet conscience inWashington, New York or London, seeing after the financial part of thegrand undertaking, worthy of the Nineteenth Century, worthy of the GreatRepublic, and eminently worthy of the illustrious CYRUS W. Himself!

As already mentioned, the _Susquehanna_ lay a few hundred miles southof San Diego, or, to be more accurate, in 27° 7' North Latitude and 118°37' West Longitude (Greenwich). 

It was now a little past midnight. The Moon, in her last quarter, wasjust beginning to peep over the eastern horizon. Lieutenant Brownson, leaving the quarter deck, had gone to the forecastle, where he found acrowd of officers talking together earnestly and directing their glassestowards her disc. Even here, out on the ocean, the Queen of the night, was as great an object of attraction as on the North American Continentgenerally, where, that very night and that very hour, at least 40million pairs of eyes were anxiously gazing at her. Apparently forgetfulthat even the very best of their glasses could no more see theProjectile than angulate Sirius, the officers held them fast to theireyes for five minutes at a time, and then took them away only to talkwith remarkable fluency on what they had not discovered. 

"Any sign of them yet, gentlemen?" asked Brownson gaily as he joined thegroup. "It's now pretty near time for them to put in an appearance. They're gone ten days I should think. "

"They're there, Lieutenant! not a doubt of it!" cried a young midshipman, fresh from Annapolis, and of course "throughly posted" in the latestrevelations of Astronomy. "I feel as certain of their being there as Iam of our being here on the forecastle of the _Susquehanna_!"

"I must agree with you of course, Mr. Midshipman, " replied Brownsonwith a slight smile; "I have no grounds whatever for contradicting you. "

"Neither have I, " observed another officer, the surgeon of the vessel. "The Projectile was to have reached the Moon when at her full, which wasat midnight on the 5th. To-day was the 11th. This gives them six days ofclear light--time enough in all conscience not only to land safely butto install themselves quite comfortably in their new home. In fact, Isee them there already--"

"In my mind's eye, Horatio!" laughed one of the group. "Though the Docwears glasses, he can see more than any ten men on board. "

--"Already"--pursued the Doctor, heedless of the interruption. "_Scene_, a stony valley near a Selenite stream; the Projectile on the right, halfburied in volcanic _scoriae_, but apparently not much the worse for thewear; ring mountains, craters, sharp peaks, etc. All around; old MACdiscovered taking observations with his levelling staff; BARBICANperched on the summit of a sharp pointed rock, writing up his note-book;ARDAN, eye-glass on nose, hat under arm, legs apart, puffing at his_Imperador_, like a--"

[Illustration: MAC DISCOVERED TAKING OBSERVATIONS. ]

--"A locomotive!" interrupted the young Midshipman, his excitableimagination so far getting the better of him as to make him forget hismanners. He had just finished Locke's famous MOON HOAX, and his brainwas still full of its pictures. "In the background, " he went on, "can beseen thousands of _Vespertiliones-Homines_ or _Man-Bats_, in all thevarious attitudes of curiosity, alarm, or consternation; some of thempeeping around the rocks, some fluttering from peak to peak, allgibbering a language more or less resembling the notes of birds. _Enter_LUNATICO, King of the Selenites--"

"Excuse us, Mr. Midshipman, " interrupted Brownson with an easy smile, "Locke's authority may have great weight among the young Middies atAnnapolis, but it does not rank very high at present in the estimationof practical scientists. " This rebuff administered to the conceitedlittle Midshipman, a rebuff which the Doctor particularly relished, Brownson continued: "Gentlemen, we certainly know nothing whateverregarding our friends' fate; guessing gives no information. How we everare to hear from the Moon until we are connected with it by a lunarcable, I can't even imagine. The probability is that we shall never--"

"Excuse me, Lieutenant, " interrupted the unrebuffed little Midshipman;"Can't Barbican write?"

A shout of derisive comments greeted this question. 

"Certainly he can write, and send his letter by the Pony Express!" criedone. 

"A Postal Card would be cheaper!" cried another. 

"The _New York Herald_ will send a reporter after it!" was theexclamation of a third. 

"Keep cool, just keep cool, gentlemen, " persisted the little Midshipman, not in the least abashed by the uproarious hilarity excited by hisremarks. "I asked if Barbican couldn't write. In that question I seenothing whatever to laugh at. Can't a man write without being obliged tosend his letters?"

"This is all nonsense, " said the Doctor. "What's the use of a manwriting to you if he can't send you what he writes?"

"What's the use of his sending it to you if he can have it read withoutthat trouble?" answered the little Midshipman in a confident tone. "Isthere not a telescope at Long's Peak? Doesn't it bring the Moon within afew miles of the Rocky Mountains, and enable us to see on her surface, objects as small as nine feet in diameter? Well! What's to preventBarbican and his friends from constructing a gigantic alphabet? If theywrite words of even a few hundred yards and sentences a mile or twolong, what is to prevent us from reading them? Catch the idea now, eh?"

They did catch the idea, and heartily applauded the little Middy for hissmartness. Even the Doctor saw a certain kind of merit in it, andBrownson acknowledged it to be quite feasible. In fact, expanding on it, the Lieutenant assured his hearers that, by means of large parabolicreflectors, luminous groups of rays could be dispatched from the Earth, of sufficient brightness to establish direct communication even withVenus or Mars, where these rays would be quite as visible as the planetNeptune is from the Earth. He even added that those brilliant points oflight, which have been quite frequently observed in Mars and Venus, areperhaps signals made to the Earth by the inhabitants of these planets. He concluded, however, by observing that, though we might by these meanssucceed in obtaining news from the Moon, we could not possibly send anyintelligence back in return, unless indeed the Selenites had at theirdisposal optical instruments at least as good as ours. 

All agreed that this was very true, and, as is generally the case whenone keeps all the talk to himself, the conversation now assumed soserious a turn that for some time it was hardly worth recording. 

At last the Chief Engineer, excited by some remark that had been made, observed with much earnestness:

"You may say what you please, gentlemen, but I would willingly give mylast dollar to know what has become of those brave men! Have they doneanything? Have they seen anything? I hope they have. But I should dearlylike to know. Ever so little success would warrant a repetition of thegreat experiment. The Columbiad is still to the good in Florida, as itwill be for many a long day. There are millions of men to day as curiousas I am upon the subject. Therefore it will be only a question of merepowder and bullets if a cargo of visitors is not sent to the Moon everytime she passes our zenith. 

"Marston would be one of the first of them, " observed Brownson, lightinghis cigar. 

"Oh, he would have plenty of company!" cried the Midshipman. "I shouldbe delighted to go if he'd only take me. "

"No doubt you would, Mr. Midshipman, " said Brownson, "the wise men, youknow, are not all dead yet. "

"Nor the fools either, Lieutenant, " growled old Frisby, the fourthofficer, getting tired of the conversation. 

"There is no question at all about it, " observed another; "every time aProjectile started, it would take off as many as it could carry. "

"I wish it would only start often enough to improve the breed!" growledold Frisby. 

"I have no doubt whatever, " added the Chief Engineer, "that the thingwould get so fashionable at last that half the inhabitants of the Earthwould take a trip to the Moon. "

"I should limit that privilege strictly to some of our friends inWashington, " said old Frisby, whose temper had been soured probably by aneglect to recognize his long services; "and most of them I should byall means insist on sending to the Moon. Every month I would ram a wholeraft of them into the Columbiad, with a charge under them strong enoughto blow them all to the--But--Hey!--what in creation's that?"

[Illustration: FOR A SECOND ONLY DID THEY CATCH ITS FLASH. ]

Whilst the officer was speaking, his companions had suddenly caught asound in the air which reminded them immediately of the whistling screamof a Lancaster shell. At first they thought the steam was escapingsomewhere, but, looking upwards, they saw that the strange noiseproceeded from a ball of dazzling brightness, directly over their heads, and evidently falling towards them with tremendous velocity. Toofrightened to say a word, they could only see that in its light thewhole ship blazed like fireworks, and the whole sea glittered like asilver lake. Quicker than tongue can utter, or mind can conceive, itflashed before their eyes for a second, an enormous bolide set on fireby friction with the atmosphere, and gleaming in its white heat like astream of molten iron gushing straight from the furnace. For a secondonly did they catch its flash before their eyes; then striking thebowsprit of the vessel, which it shivered into a thousand pieces, itvanished in the sea in an instant with a hiss, a scream, and a roar, allequally indescribable. For some time the utmost confusion reigned ondeck. With eyes too dazzled to see, ears still ringing with thefrightful combination of unearthly sounds, faces splashed with floods ofsea water, and noses stifled with clouds of scalding steam, the crew ofthe _Susquehanna_ could hardly realize that their marvellous escape by afew feet from instant and certain destruction was an accomplished fact, not a frightful dream. They were still engaged in trying to open theireyes and to get the hot water out of their ears, when they suddenlyheard the trumpet voice of Captain Bloomsbury crying, as he stood halfdressed on the head of the cabin stairs:

"What's up, gentlemen? In heaven's name, what's up?"

The little Midshipman had been knocked flat by the concussion andstunned by the uproar. But before any body else could reply, his voicewas heard, clear and sharp, piercing the din like an arrow:

"It's THEY, Captain! Didn't I tell you so?"

CHAPTER XXI. 

NEWS FOR MARSTON!

In a few minutes, consciousness had restored order on board the_Susquehanna_, but the excitement was as great as ever. They had escapedby a hairsbreadth the terrible fate of being both burned and drownedwithout a moment's warning, without a single soul being left alive totell the fatal tale; but on this neither officer nor man appeared tobestow the slightest thought. They were wholly engrossed with theterrible catastrophe that had befallen the famous adventurers. What wasthe loss of the _Susquehanna_ and all it contained, in comparison to theloss experienced by the world at large in the terrible tragic_dénouement_ just witnessed? The worst had now come to the worst. Atlast the long agony was over forever. Those three gallant men, who hadnot only conceived but had actually executed the grandest and mostdaring enterprise of ancient or modern times, had paid by the mostfearful of deaths, for their sublime devotion to science and theirunselfish desire to extend the bounds of human knowledge! Before such areflection as this, all other considerations were at once reduced toproportions of the most absolute insignificance. 

But was the death of the adventurers so very certain after all? Hope ishard to kill. Consciousness had brought reflection, reflection doubt, and doubt had resuscitated hope. 

"It's they!" had exclaimed the little Midshipman, and the cry hadthrilled every heart on board as with an electric shock. Everybody hadinstantly understood it. Everybody had felt it to be true. Nothing couldbe more certain than that the meteor which had just flashed before theireyes was the famous projectile of the Baltimore Gun Club. Nothing couldbe truer than that it contained the three world renowned men and that itnow lay in the black depths of the Pacific Ocean. 

But here opinions began to diverge. Some courageous breasts soon refusedto accept the prevalent idea. 

"They're killed by the shock!" cried the crowd. 

"Killed?" exclaimed the hopeful ones; "Not a bit of it! The water hereis deep enough to break a fall twice as great. "

"They're smothered for want of air!" exclaimed the crowd. 

"Their stock may not be run out yet!" was the ready reply. "Their airapparatus is still on hand. "

"They're burned to a cinder!" shrieked the crowd. 

"They had not time to be burned!" answered the Band of Hope. "TheProjectile did not get hot till it reached the atmosphere, through whichit tore in a few seconds. "

"If they're neither burned nor smothered nor killed by the shock, they're sure to be drowned!" persisted the crowd, with redoubledlamentations. 

"Fish 'em up first!" cried the Hopeful Band. "Come! Let's lose no time!Let's fish 'em up at once!"

The cries of Hope prevailed. The unanimous opinion of a council of theofficers hastily summoned together by the Captain was to go to work andfish up the Projectile with the least possible delay. But was such anoperation possible? asked a doubter. Yes! was the overwhelming reply;difficult, no doubt, but still quite possible. Certainly, however, suchan attempt was not immediately possible as the _Susquehanna_ had nomachinery strong enough or suitable enough for a piece of work involvingsuch a nicety of detailed operations, not to speak of its exceedingdifficulty. The next unanimous decision, therefore, was to start thevessel at once for the nearest port, whence they could instantlytelegraph the Projectile's arrival to the Baltimore Gun Club. 

But what _was_ the nearest port? A serious question, to answer which ina satisfactory manner the Captain had to carefully examine his sailingcharts. The neighboring shores of the California Peninsula, low andsandy, were absolutely destitute of good harbors. San Diego, about aday's sail directly north, possessed an excellent harbor, but, not yethaving telegraphic communication with the rest of the Union, it was ofcourse not to be thought of. San Pedro Bay was too open to be approachedin winter. The Santa Barbara Channel was liable to the same objection, not to mention the trouble often caused by kelp and wintry fogs. The bayof San Luis Obispo was still worse in every respect; having no islandsto act as a breakwater, landing there in winter was often impossible. The harbor of the picturesque old town of Monterey was safe enough, butsome uncertainty regarding sure telegraphic communications with SanFrancisco, decided the council not to venture it. Half Moon Bay, alittle to the north, would be just as risky, and in moments like thepresent when every minute was worth a day, no risk involving theslightest loss of time could be ventured. 

Evidently, therefore, the most advisable plan was to sail directly forthe bay of San Francisco, the Golden Gate, the finest harbor on thePacific Coast and one of the safest in the world. Here telegraphiccommunication with all parts of the Union was assured beyond a doubt. San Francisco, about 750 miles distant, the _Susquehanna_ could probablymake in three days; with a little increased pressure, possibly in twodays and a-half. The sooner then she started, the better. 

The fires were soon in full blast. The vessel could get under weigh atonce. In fact, nothing delayed immediate departure but the considerationthat two miles of sounding line were still to be hauled up from theocean depths. Rut the Captain, after a moment's thought, unwilling thatany more time should be lost, determined to cut it. Then marking itsposition by fastening its end to a buoy, he could haul it up at hisleisure on his return. 

"Besides, " said he, "the buoy will show us the precise spot where theProjectile fell. "

"As for that, Captain, " observed Brownson, "the exact spot has beencarefully recorded already: 27° 7' north latitude by 41° 37' westlongitude, reckoning from the meridian of Washington. "

"All right, Lieutenant, " said the Captain curtly. "Cut the line!"

A large cone-shaped metal buoy, strengthened still further by a coupleof stout spars to which it was securely lashed, was soon rigged up ondeck, whence, being hoisted overboard, the whole apparatus was carefullylowered to the surface of the sea. By means of a ring in the small endof the buoy, the latter was then solidly attached to the part of thesounding line that still remained in the water, and all possibleprecautions were taken to diminish the danger of friction, caused by thecontrary currents, tidal waves, and the ordinary heaving swells ofocean. 

It was now a little after three o'clock in the morning. The ChiefEngineer announced everything to be in perfect readiness for starting. The Captain gave the signal, directing the pilot to steer straight forSan Francisco, north-north by west. The waters under the stern began toboil and foam; the ship very soon felt and yielded to the power thatanimated her; and in a few minutes she was making at least twelve knotsan hour. Her sailing powers were somewhat higher than this, but it wasnecessary to be careful in the neighborhood of such a dangerous coast asthat of California. 

Seven hundred and fifty miles of smooth waters presented no verydifficult task to a fast traveller like the _Susquehanna_, yet it wasnot till two days and a-half afterwards that she sighted the GoldenGate. As usual, the coast was foggy; neither Point Lobos nor PointBoneta could be seen. But Captain Bloomsbury, well acquainted with everyportion of this coast, ran as close along the southern shore as hedared, the fog-gun at Point Boneta safely directing his course. Hereexpecting to be able to gain a few hours time by signalling to the outertelegraph station on Point Lobos, he had caused to be painted on a sailin large black letters: "THE MOONMEN ARE BACK!" but the officers inattendance, though their fog-horn could be easily heard--the distancenot being quite two miles--were unfortunately not able to see it. Perhaps they did see it, but feared a hoax. 

Giving the Fort Point a good wide berth, the _Susquehanna_ found the foggradually clearing away, and by half-past three the passengers, lookingunder it, enjoyed the glorious view of the Contra Costa mountains eastof San Francisco, which had obtained for this entrance the famous andwell deserved appellation of the Golden Gate. In another half hour, theyhad doubled Black Point, and were lying safely at anchor between theislands of Alcatraz and Yerba Buena. In less than five minutesafterwards the Captain was quickly lowered into his gig, and eight stoutpairs of arms were pulling him rapidly to shore. 

The usual crowd of idlers had collected that evening on the summit ofTelegraph Hill to enjoy the magnificent view, which for variety, extent, beauty and grandeur, is probably unsurpassed on earth. Of course, theinevitable reporter, hot after an item, was not absent. The_Susquehanna_ had hardly crossed the bar, when they caught sight of her. A government vessel entering the bay at full speed, is something to lookat even in San Francisco. Even during the war, it would be consideredrather unusual. But they soon remarked that her bowsprit was completelybroken off. _Very_ unusual. Something decidedly is the matter. See! Thevessel is hardly anchored when the Captain leaves her and makes forMegg's Wharf at North Point as hard as ever his men can pull! Something_must_ be the matter--and down the steep hill they all rush as fast asever their legs can carry them to the landing at Megg's Wharf. 

The Captain could hardly force his way through the dense throng, but hemade no attempt whatever to gratify their ill dissembled curiosity. 

"Carriage!" he cried, in a voice seldom heard outside the din of battle. 

In a moment seventeen able-bodied cabmen were trying to tear him limbfrom limb. 

"To the telegraph office! Like lightning!" were his stifled mutterings, as he struggled in the arms of the Irish giant who had at lastsucceeded in securing him. 

"To the telegraph office!" cried most of the crowd, running after himlike fox hounds, but the more knowing ones immediately began questioningthe boatmen in the Captain's gig. These honest fellows, nothing loth totell all that they knew and more that they invented, soon had thesatisfaction of finding themselves the centrepoint of a wonder strickenaudience, greedily swallowing up every item of the extraordinary newsand still hungrily gaping for more. 

By this time, however, an important dispatch was flying east, bearingfour different addresses: To the Secretary of the U. S. Navy, Washington;To Colonel Joseph Wilcox, Vice-President _pro tem. _, Baltimore Gun Club, Md; To J. T. Marston, Esq. Long's Peak, Grand County, Colorado; and ToProfessor Wenlock, Sub-Director of the Cambridge Observatory, Mass. 

This dispatch read as follows:

 "In latitude twenty-seven degrees seven minutes north and longitude forty-one degrees thirty-seven minutes west shortly after one o'clock on the morning of twelfth instant Columbiad Projectile fell in Pacific--send instructions--

 BLOOMSBURY, _Captain_, SUSQUEHANNA. "

In five minutes more all San Francisco had the news. An hour later, thenewspaper boys were shrieking it through the great cities of theStates. Before bed-time every man, woman, and child in the country hadheard it and gone into ecstasies over it. Owing to the difference inlongitude, the people of Europe could not hear it till after midnight. But next morning the astounding issue of the great American enterprisefell on them like a thunder clap. 

We must, of course, decline all attempts at describing the effects ofthis most unexpected intelligence on the world at large. 

The Secretary of the Navy immediately telegraphed directions to the_Susquehanna_ to keep a full head of steam up night and day so as to beready to give instant execution to orders received at any moment. 

The Observatory authorities at Cambridge held a special meeting thatvery evening, where, with all the serene calmness so characteristic oflearned societies, they discussed the scientific points of the questionin all its bearings. But, before committing themselves to any decidedopinion, they unanimously resolved to wait for the development offurther details. 

At the rooms of the Gun Club in Baltimore there was a terrible time. Thekind reader no doubt remembers the nature of the dispatch sent one daypreviously by Professor Belfast from the Long's Peak observatory, announcing that the Projectile had been seen but that it had become theMoon's satellite, destined to revolve around her forever and ever tilltime should be no more. The reader is also kindly aware by this timethat such dispatch was not supported by the slightest foundations infact. The learned Professor, in a moment of temporary cerebralexcitation, to which even the greatest scientist is just as liable asthe rest of us, had taken some little meteor or, still more probably, some little fly-speck in the telescope for the Projectile. The worst ofit was that he had not only boldly proclaimed his alleged discovery tothe world at large but he had even explained all about it with the wellknown easy pomposity that "Science" sometimes ventures to assume. Theconsequences of all this may be readily guessed. The Baltimore Gun Clubhad split up immediately into two violently opposed parties. Thosegentlemen who regularly conned the scientific magazines, took every wordof the learned Professor's dispatch for gospel--or rather for somethingof far higher value, and more strictly in accordance with the highlyadvanced scientific developments of the day. But the others, who neverread anything but the daily papers and who could not bear the idea oflosing Barbican, laughed the whole thing to scorn. Belfast, they said, had seen as much of the Projectile as he had of the "Open Polar Sea, "and the rest of the dispatch was mere twaddle, though asserted with allthe sternness of a religious dogma and enveloped in the usual scientificslang. 

The meeting held in the Club House, 24 Monument Square, Baltimore, onthe evening of the 13th, had been therefore disorderly in the highestdegree. Long before the appointed hour, the great hall was denselypacked and the greatest uproar prevailed. Vice-President Wilcox took thechair, and all was comparatively quiet until Colonel Bloomsbury, theHonorary Secretary in Marston's absence, commenced to read Belfast'sdispatch. Then the scene, according to the account given in the nextday's _Sun_, from whose columns we condense our report, actually"beggared description. " Roars, yells, cheers, counter-cheers, clappings, hissings, stampings, squallings, whistlings, barkings, mewings, cockcrowings, all of the most fearful and demoniacal character, turned theimmense hall into a regular pandemonium. In vain did President Wilcoxfire off his detonating bell, with a report on ordinary occasions asloud as the roar of a small piece of ordnance. In the dreadful noisethen prevailing it was no more heard than the fizz of a lucifer match. 

Some cries, however, made themselves occasionally heard in the pauses ofthe din. "Read! Read!" "Dry up!" "Sit down!" "Give him an egg!" "Fairplay!" "Hurrah for Barbican!" "Down with his enemies!" "Free Speech!""Belfast won't bite you!" "He'd like to bite Barbican, but his teetharen't sharp enough!" "Barbican's a martyr to science, let's hear hisfate!" "Martyr be hanged; the Old Man is to the good yet!" "Belfast isthe grandest name in Science!" "Groans for the grandest name!" (Awfulgroans. ) "Three cheers for Old Man Barbican!" (The exceptional strengthalone of the walls saved the building, from being blown out by anexplosion in which at least 5, 000 pairs of lungs participated. )

"Three cheers for M'Nicholl and the Frenchman!" This was followed byanother burst of cheering so hearty, vigorous and long continued thatthe scientific party, or _Belfasters_ as they were now called, seeingthat further prolongation of the meet was perfectly useless, moved toadjourn. It was carried unanimously. President Wilcox left the chair, the meeting broke up in the wildest disorder--the scientists rathercrest fallen, but the Barbican men quite jubilant for having been sosuccessful in preventing the reading of that detested dispatch. 

Little sleeping was done that night in Baltimore, and less business nextday. Even in the public schools so little work was done by the childrenthat S. T. Wallace, Esq. , President of the Education Board, advised ananticipation of the usual Christmas recess by a week. Every one talkedof the Projectile; nothing was heard at the corners but discussionsregarding its probable fate. All Baltimore was immediately rent into twoparties, the _Belfasters_ and the _Barbicanites_. The latter was themost enthusiastic and noisy, the former decidedly the most numerous andinfluential. 

Science, or rather pseudo-science, always exerts a mysterious attractionof an exceedingly powerful nature over the generality--that is, the moreignorant portion of the human race. Assert the most absurd nonsense, call it a scientific truth, and back it up with strange words which, like _potentiality_, etc. , sound as if they had a meaning but inreality have none, and nine out of every ten men who read your book willbelieve you. Acquire a remarkable name in one branch of human knowledge, and presto! you are infallible in all. Who can contradict you, if youonly wrap up your assertions in specious phrases that not one man in amillion attempts to ascertain the real meaning of? We like so much to besaved the trouble of thinking, that it is far easier and morecomfortable to be led than to contradict, to fall in quietly with thegreat flock of sheep that jump blindly after their leader than to remainapart, making one's self ridiculous by foolishly attempting to argue. Real argument, in fact, is very difficult, for several reasons: first, you must understand your subject _well_, which is hardly likely;secondly, your opponent must also understand it well, which is even lesslikely; thirdly, you must listen patiently to his arguments, which isstill less likely; and fourthly, he must listen to yours, the leastlikely of all. If a quack advertises a panacea for all human ills at adollar a bottle, a hundred will buy the bottle, for one that will tryhow many are killed by it. What would the investigator gain by chargingthe quack with murder? Nobody would believe him, because nobody wouldtake the trouble to follow his arguments. His adversary, first in thefield, had gained the popular ear, and remained the unassailable masterof the situation. Our love of "Science" rests upon our admiration ofintellect, only unfortunately the intellect is too often that of otherpeople, not our own. 

The very sound of Belfast's phrases, for instance, "satellite, " "lunarattraction, " "immutable path of its orbit, " etc, convinced the greaterpart of the "intelligent" community that he who used them so flippantlymust be an exceedingly great man. Therefore, he had completely provedhis case. Therefore, the great majority of the ladies and gentlemen thatregularly attend the scientific lectures of the Peabody Institute, pronounced Barbican's fate and that of his companions to be sealed. Nextmorning's newspapers contained lengthy obituary notices of the GreatBalloon-attics as the witty man of the _New York Herald_ phrased it, some of which might be considered quite complimentary. These, allindustriously copied into the evening papers, the people were carefullyreading over again, some with honest regret, some deriving a great morallesson from an attempt exceedingly reprehensible in every point of view, but most, we are sorry to acknowledge, with a feeling of ill concealedpleasure. Had not they always said how it was to end? Was there anythingmore absurd ever conceived? Scientific men too! Hang such science! Ifyou want a real scientific man, no wind bag, no sham, take Belfast! _He_knows what he's talking about! No taking _him_ in! Didn't he by means ofthe Monster Telescope, see the Projectile, as large as life, whirlinground and round the Moon? Anyway, what else could have happened? Wasn'tit what anybody's common sense expected? Don't you remember aconversation we had with you one day? etc. , etc. 

The _Barbicanites_ were very doleful, but they never though of givingin. They would die sooner. When pressed for a scientific reply to ascientific argument, they denied that there was any argument to replyto. What! Had not Belfast seen the Projectile? No! Was not the GreatTelescope then good for anything? Yes, but not for everything! Did notBelfast know his business? No! Did they mean to say that he had seennothing at all? Well, not exactly that, but those scientific gentlemencan seldom be trusted; in their rage for discovery, they make a mountainout of a molehill, or, what is worse, they start a theory and thendistort facts to support it. Answers of this kind either led directly toa fight, or the _Belfasters_ moved away thoroughly disgusted with theignorance of their opponents, who could not see a chain of reasoning asbright as the noonday sun. 

Things were in this feverish state on the evening of the 14th, when, allat once, Bloomsbury's dispatch arrived in Baltimore. I need not say thatit dropped like a spark in a keg of gun powder. The first question allasked was: Is it genuine or bogus? real or got up by the stockbrokers?But a few flashes backwards and forwards over the wires soon settledthat point. The stunning effects of the new blow were hardly over whenthe _Barbicanites_ began to perceive that the wonderful intelligence wasdecidedly in their favor. Was it not a distinct contradiction of thewhole story told by their opponents? If Barbican and his friends werelying at the bottom of the Pacific, they were certainly notcircumgyrating around the Moon. If it was the Projectile that had brokenoff the bowsprit of the _Susquehanna_, it could not certainly be theProjectile that Belfast had seen only the day previous doing the dutyof a satellite. Did not the truth of one incident render the other anabsolute impossibility? If Bloomsbury was right, was not Belfast an ass?Hurrah!

The new revelation did not improve poor Barbican's fate a bit--no matterfor that! Did not the _party_ gain by it? What would the _Belfasters_say now? Would not they hold down their heads in confusion and disgrace?

The _Belfasters_, with a versatility highly creditable to human nature, did nothing of the kind. Rapidly adopting the very line of tactics theyhad just been so severely censuring, they simply denied the whole thing. What! the truth of the Bloomsbury dispatch? Yes, every word of it! Hadnot Bloomsbury seen the Projectile? No! Were not his eyes good foranything? Yes, but not for everything! Did not the Captain know hisbusiness? No! Did they mean to say that the bowsprit of the_Susquehanna_ had not been broken off? Well, not exactly that, but thosenaval gentlemen are not always to be trusted; after a pleasant littlesupper, they often see the wrong light-house, or, what is worse, intheir desire to shield their negligence from censure, they dodge theblame by trying to show that the accident was unavoidable. The_Susquehanna's_ bowsprit had been snapped off, in all probability, bysome sudden squall, or, what was still more likely, some little aerolitehad struck it and frightened the crew into fits. When answers of thiskind did not lead to blows, the case was an exceptional one indeed. Thecontestants were so numerous and so excited that the police at lastbegan to think of letting them fight it out without any interference. Marshal O'Kane, though ably assisted by his 12 officers and 500patrolmen, had a terrible time of it. The most respectable men inBaltimore, with eyes blackened, noses bleeding, and collars torn, sawthe inside of a prison that night for the first time in all their lives. Men that even the Great War had left the warmest of friends, now abusedeach other like fishwomen. The prison could not hold the half of thosearrested. They were all, however, discharged next morning, for thesimple reason that the Mayor and the aldermen had been themselvesengaged in so many pugilistic combats during the night that they werealtogether disabled from attending to their magisterial duties next day. 

Our readers, however, may be quite assured that, even in the wildestwhirl of the tremendous excitement around them, all the members of theBaltimore Gun Club did not lose their heads. In spite of the determinedopposition of the _Belfasters_ who would not allow the Bloomsburydispatch to be read at the special meeting called that evening, a fewsucceeded in adjourning to a committee-room, where Joseph Wilcox, Esq. , presiding, our old friends Colonel Bloomsbury, Major Elphinstone, TomHunter, Billsby the brave, General Morgan, Chief Engineer John Murphy, and about as many more as were sufficient to form a quorum, declaredthemselves to be in regular session, and proceeded quietly to debate onthe nature of Captain Bloomsbury's dispatch. 

Was it of a nature to justify immediate action or not? Decidedunanimously in the affirmative. Why so? Because, whether actually trueor untrue, the incident it announced was not impossible. Had it indeedannounced the Projectile to have fallen in California or in SouthAmerica, there would have been good valid reasons to question itsaccuracy. But by taking into consideration the Moon's distance, and thetime elapsed between the moment of the start and that of the presumedfall (about 10 days), and also the Earth's revolution in the meantime, it was soon calculated that the point at which the Projectile shouldstrike our globe, if it struck it at all, would be somewhere about 27°north latitude, and 42° west longitude--the very identical spot given inthe Captain's dispatch! This certainly was a strong point in its favor, especially as there was positively nothing valid whatever to urgeagainst it. 

A decided resolution was therefore immediately taken. Everything thatman could do was to be done at once, in order to fish up their braveassociates from the depths of the Pacific. That very night, in fact, whilst the streets of Baltimore were still resounding with the yells ofcontending _Belfasters_ and _Barbicanites_, a committee of four, Morgan, Hunter, Murphy, and Elphinstone, were speeding over the Alleghanies in aspecial train, placed at their disposal by the _Baltimore and OhioRailroad Company_, and fast enough to land them in Chicago pretty earlyon the following evening. 

Here a fresh locomotive and a Pullman car taking charge of them, theywere whirled off to Omaha, reaching that busy locality at about suppertime on the evening of December 16th. The Pacific Train, as it wascalled though at that time running no further west than Julesburg, instead of waiting for the regular hour of starting, fired up that verynight, and was soon pulling the famous Baltimore Club men up the slopesof the Nebraska at the rate of forty miles an hour. They were awakenedbefore light next morning by the guard, who told them that Julesburg, which they were just entering, was the last point so far reached by therails. But their regret at this circumstance was most unexpectedly andjoyfully interrupted by finding their hands warmly clasped and theirnames cheerily cried out by their old and beloved friend, J. T. Marston, the illustrious Secretary of the Baltimore Gun Club. 

At the close of the first volume of our entertaining and veracioushistory, we left this most devoted friend and admirer of Barbicanestablished firmly at his post on the summit of Long's Peak, beside theGreat Telescope, watching the skies, night and day, for some traces ofhis departed friends. There, as the gracious Reader will also remember, he had come a little too late to catch that sight of the Projectilewhich Belfast had at first reported so confidently, but of which theProfessor by degrees had begun to entertain the most serious doubts. 

In these doubts, however, Marston, strange to say, would not permithimself for one moment to share. Belfast might shake his head as much ashe pleased; he, Marston, was no fickle reed to be shaken by every wind;he firmly believed the Projectile to be there before him, actually insight, if he could only see it. All the long night of the 13th, and evenfor several hours of the 14th, he never quitted the telescope for asingle instant. The midnight sky was in magnificent order; not a speckdimmed its azure of an intensely dark tint. The stars blazed out likefires; the Moon refused none of her secrets to the scientists who weregazing at her so intently that night from the platform on the summit ofLong's Peak. But no black spot crawling over her resplendent surfacerewarded their eager gaze. Marston indeed would occasionally utter ajoyful cry announcing some discovery, but in a moment after he wasconfessing with groans that it was all a false alarm. Towards morning, Belfast gave up in despair and went to take a sleep; but no sleep forMarston. Though he was now quite alone, the assistants having alsoretired, he kept on talking incessantly to himself, expressing the mostunbounded confidence in the safety of his friends, and the absolutecertainty of their return. It was not until some hours after the Sunhad risen and the Moon had disappeared behind the snowy peaks of thewest, that he at last withdrew his weary eye from the glass throughwhich every image formed by the great reflector was to be viewed. Thecountenance he turned on Belfast, who had now come back, was rueful inthe extreme. It was the image of grief and despair. 

"Did you see nothing whatever during the night, Professor?" he asked ofBelfast, though he knew very well the answer he was to get. 

"Nothing whatever. "

"But you saw them once, didn't you?"

"Them! Who?"

"Our friends. "

"Oh! the Projectile--well--I think I must have made some oversight. "

"Don't say that! Did not Mr. M'Connell see it also?"

"No. He only wrote out what I dictated. "

"Why, you must have seen it! I have seen it myself!"

"You shall never see it again! It's shot off into space. "

"You're as wrong now as you thought you were right yesterday. "

"I'm sorry to say I was wrong yesterday; but I have every reason tobelieve I'm right to-day. "

"We shall see! Wait till to-night!"

"To-night! Too late! As far as the Projectile is concerned, night is nowno better than day. "

The learned Professor was quite right, but in a way which he did notexactly expect. That very evening, after a weary day, apparently a monthlong, during which Marston sought in vain for a few hours' repose, justas all hands, well wrapped up in warm furs, were getting ready to assumetheir posts once more near the mouth of the gigantic Telescope, Mr. M'Connell hastily presented himself with a dispatch for Belfast. 

The Professor was listlessly breaking the envelope, when he uttered asharp cry of surprise. 

"Hey!" cried Marston quickly. "What's up now?"

"Oh!! The Pro--pro--projectile!!"

"What of it? What? Oh what?? Speak!!"

"IT'S BACK!!"

Marston uttered a wild yell of mingled horror, surprise, and joy, jumpeda little into the air, and then fell flat and motionless on theplatform. Had Belfast shot him with a ten pound weight, right betweenthe two eyes, he could not have knocked him flatter or stiffer. Havingneither slept all night, nor eaten all day, the poor fellow's system hadbecome so weak that such unexpected news was really more than he couldbear. Besides, as one of the Cambridge men of the party, a young medicalstudent, remarked: the thin, cold air of these high mountains wasextremely enervating. 

The astronomers, all exceedingly alarmed, did what they could to recovertheir friend from his fit, but it was nearly ten minutes before they hadthe satisfaction of seeing his limbs moving with a slight quiver andhis breast beginning to heave. At last the color came back to his faceand his eyes opened. He stared around for a few seconds at his friends, evidently unconscious, but his senses were not long in returning. 

"Say!" he uttered at last in a faint voice. 

"Well!" replied Belfast. 

"Where is that infernal Pro--pro--jectile?"

"In the Pacific Ocean. "

"What??"

He was on his feet in an instant. 

"Say that again!"

"In the Pacific Ocean. "

"Hurrah! All right! Old Barbican's not made into mincemeat yet! No, sirree! Let's start!"

"Where for?"

"San Francisco!"

"When?"

"This instant!"

"In the dark?"

"We shall soon have the light of the Moon! Curse her! it's the least shecan do after all the trouble she has given us!"

CHAPTER XXII. 

ON THE WINGS OF THE WIND. 

Leaving M'Connell and a few other Cambridge men to take charge of theGreat Telescope, Marston and Belfast in little more than an hour afterthe receipt of the exciting dispatch, were scudding down the slopes ofLong's Peak by the only possible route--the inclined railroad. Thismode of travelling, however, highly satisfactory as far as it went, ceased altogether at the mountain foot, at the point where the DaleRiver formed a junction with Cache la Poudre Creek. But Marston, havingalready mapped out the whole journey with some care and forethought, wasready for almost every emergency. Instinctively feeling that the firstact of the Baltimore Gun Club would be to send a Committee to SanFrancisco to investigate matters, he had determined to meet thisdeputation on the route, and his only trouble now was to determine atwhat point he would be most likely to catch them. His great start, heknew perfectly well, could not put him more than a day in advance ofthem: they having the advantage of a railroad nearly all the way, whilsthimself and Belfast could not help losing much time in strugglingthrough ravines, canyons, mountain precipices, and densely tangledforests, not to mention the possibility of a brush or two with prowlingIndians, before they could strike the line of the Pacific Railroad, along which he knew the Club men to be approaching. After a few hoursrest at La Porte, a little settlement lately started in the valley, early in the morning they took the stage that passed through from Denverto Cheyenne, a town at that time hardly a year old but alreadyflourishing, with a busy population of several thousand inhabitants. 

Losing not a moment at Cheyenne, where they arrived much sooner thanthey had anticipated, they took places in Wells, Fargo and Co. 's_Overland Stage Mail_ bound east, and were soon flying towards Julesburgat the rate of twelve miles an hour. Here Marston was anxious to meetthe Club men, as at this point the Pacific Railroad divided into twobranches--one bearing north, the other south of the Great Salt Lake--and he feared they might take the wrong one. 

But he arrived in Julesburg fully 10 hours before the Committee, so thathimself and Belfast had not only ample time to rest a little after theirrapid flight from Long's Peak, but also to make every possiblepreparation for the terrible journey of more than fifteen hundred milesthat still lay before them. 

This journey, undertaken at a most unseasonable period of the year, andover one of the most terrible deserts in the world, would require avolume for itself. Constantly presenting the sharpest points of contrastbetween the most savage features of wild barbaric nature on the onehand, and the most touching traits of the sweetest humanity on theother, the story of our Club men's adventures, if only well told, couldhardly fail to be highly interesting. But instead of a volume, we cangive it only a chapter, and that a short one. 

From Julesburg, the last station on the eastern end of the PacificRailroad, to Cisco, the last station on its western end, the distance isprobably about fifteen hundred miles, about as far as Constantinople isfrom London, or Moscow from Paris. This enormous stretch of country hadto be travelled all the way by, at the best, a six horse stage tearingalong night and day at a uniform rate, road or no road, of ten miles anhour. But this was the least of the trouble. Bands of hostile Indianswere a constant source of watchfulness and trouble, against which even amost liberal stock of rifles and revolvers were not always areassurance. Whirlwinds of dust often overwhelmed the travellers socompletely that they could hardly tell day from night, whilst blasts oficy chill, sweeping down from the snowy peaks of the Rocky Mountains, often made them imagine themselves in the midst of the horrors of anArctic winter. 

The predominant scenery gave no pleasure to the eye or exhilaration tothe mind. It was of the dreariest description. Days and days passed withhardly a house to be seen, or a tree or a blade of grass. I might evenadd, or a mountain or a river, for the one was too often a heap ofagglomerated sand and clay cut into unsightly chasms by the rain, andthe other generally degenerated into a mere stagnant swamp, itsshallowness and dryness increasing regularly with its length. The onlyhouses were log ranches, called Relays, hardly visible in their sandysurroundings, and separate from each other by a mean distance of tenmiles. The only trees were either stunted cedars, so far apart, as to beoften denominated Lone Trees; and, besides wormwood, the only plant wasthe sage plant, about two feet high, gray, dry, crisp, and emitting asharp pungent odor by no means pleasant. 

In fact, Barbican and his companions had seen nothing drearier orsavager in the dreariest and savagest of lunar landscapes than thescenes occasionally presented to Marston and his friends in theirheadlong journey on the track of the great Pacific Railroad. Here, bowlders, high, square, straight and plumb as an immense hotel, blockedup your way; there, lay an endless level, flat as the palm of your hand, over which your eye might roam in vain in search of something green likea meadow, yellow like a cornfield, or black like ploughed ground--a mereboundless waste of dirty white from the stunted wormwood, often renderedmisty with the clouds of smarting alkali dust. 

Occasionally, however, this savage scenery decidedly changed itscharacter. Now, a lovely glen would smile before our travellers, traversed by tinkling streams, waving with sweet grasses, dotted withlittle groves, alive with hares, antelopes, and even elks, butapparently never yet trodden by the foot of man. Now, our Club men feltlike travelling on clouds, as they careered along the great plateauwest of the Black Hills, fully 8, 000 feet above the level of the sea, though even there the grass was as green and fresh as if it grew in somesequestered valley of Pennsylvania. Again, "In this untravelled world whose margin fades For ever and for ever as they moved, "

they would find themselves in an immense, tawny, treeless plain, outlined by mountains so distant as to resemble fantastic cloud piles. Here for days they would have to skirt the coasts of a Lake, vast, unruffled, unrippled, apparently of metallic consistency, from whosesapphire depths rose pyramidal islands to a height of fully threethousand feet above the surface. 

In a few days all would change. No more sand wastes, salt water flats, or clouds of blinding alkali dust. The travellers' road, at the foot ofblack precipitous cliffs, would wind along the brink of a roaringtorrent, whose devious course would lead them into the heart of theSierras, where misty peaks solemnly sentinelled the nestling vales stillsmiling in genial summer verdure. Across these they were often whirledthrough immense forests of varied character, here dense enough toobscure the track, there swaying in the sweet sunlight and vocal withjoyous birds of bright and gorgeous plumage. Then tropical vegetationwould completely hide the trail, crystal lakes would obstruct it, cascades shooting down from perpendicular rocks would obliterate it, mountain passes barricaded by basaltic columns would render ituncertain, and on one occasion it was completely covered up by a fall ofsnow to a depth of more than twenty feet. 

But nothing could oppose serious delay to our travellers. Their mottowas ever "onward!" and what they lost in one hour by some mishap theyendeavored to recover on the next by redoubled speed. They felt thatthey would be no friends of Barbican's if they were discouraged byimpossibilities. Besides, what would have been real impossibilities atanother time, several concurrent circumstances now renderedcomparatively easy. 

The surveys, the gradings, the cuttings, and the other preliminarylabors in the great Pacific Railroad, gave them incalculable aid. Horses, help, carriages, provisions were always in abundance. Theirobject being well known, they had the best wishes of every hand on theroad. People remained up for them all hours of the night, no matter atwhat station they were expected. The warmest and most comfortable ofmeals were always ready for them, for which no charge would be taken onany account. In Utah, a deputation of Mormons galloped alongside themfor forty miles to help them over some points of the road that had beenoften found difficult. The season was the finest known for many years. In short, as an old Californian said as he saw them shooting over therickety bridge that crossed the Bear River at Corinne: "they hadeverything in their favor--_luck_ as well as _pluck_!"

The rate at which they performed this terrible ride across theContinent and the progress they made each day, some readers may considerworthy of a few more items for the sake of future reference. Discardingthe ordinary overland mail stage as altogether too slow for theirpurpose, they hired at Julesburg a strong, well built carriage, largeenough to hold them all comfortably; but this they had to replace twicebefore they came to their journey's end. Their team always consisted ofthe best six horses that could be found, and their driver was the famousHank Monk of California, who, happening to be in Julesburg about thattime, volunteered to see them safely landed in Cisco on the summit ofthe Sierra Nevada. They were enabled to change horses as near aspossible every hour, by telegraphing ahead in the morning, during theday, and often far into the hours of night. 

Starting from Julesburg early in the morning of the 17th, their firstresting place for a few hours at night was Granite Canyon, twenty mileswest of Cheyenne, and just at the foot of the pass over the Black Hills. On the 18th, night-fall found them entering St. Mary's, at the furtherend of the pass between Rattle Snake Hills and Elk Mountain. It wasafter 5 o'clock and already dark on the 19th, when the travellers, hurrying with all speed through the gloomy gorge of slate formationleading to the banks of the Green River, found the ford too deep to beventured before morning. The 20th was a clear cold day very favorablefor brisk locomotion, and the bright sun had not quite disappearedbehind the Wahsatch Mountains when the Club men, having crossed theBear River, began to leave the lofty plateau of the Rocky Mountains bythe great inclined plane marked by the lines of the Echo and the WeberRivers on their way to the valley of the Great American Desert. 

Quitting Castle Rock early on the morning of the 21st, they soon came insight of the Great Salt Lake, along the northern shores of which theysped all day, taking shelter after night-fall at Terrace, in a miserablelog cabin surrounded by piles of drifting sand. The 22d was a terribleday. The sand was blinding, the alkali dust choking, the ride for fiveor six hours was up considerable grade; still they had accomplishedtheir 150 miles before resting for the night at Elko, even at thisperiod a flourishing little village on the banks of the Humboldt. Afteranother smothering ride on the 23d, they rested, at Winnemucca, anotherflourishing village, situated at the precise point in the desert wherethe Little Humboldt joins Humboldt River, without, however, making thechannel fuller or wider. The 24th was decidedly the hardest day, theircourse lying through the worst part of the terrible Nevada desert. But aglimpse of the Sierras looming in the western horizon gave them courageand strength enough to reach Wadsworth, at their foot, a little beforemidnight. Our travellers had now but one day's journey more to makebefore reaching the railroad at Cisco, but, this being a very steepascent nearly all the way up, each mile cost almost twice as much timeand exertion. 

At last, late in the evening of Christmas Day, amidst the mostenthusiastic cheers of all the inhabitants of Cisco, who welcomed themwith a splendid pine brand procession, Marston and his friends, thoroughly used up, feet swelled, limbs bruised, bones aching, stomachsseasick, eyes bleared, ears ringing, and brains on fire for want ofrest, took their places in the State Car waiting for them, and startedwithout a moment's delay for Sacramento, about a hundred miles distant. How delicious was the change to our poor travellers! Washed, refreshed, and lying at full length on luxurious sofas, their sensations, as thelocomotive spun them down the ringing grooves of the steep Sierras, canbe more easily imagined than described. They were all fast asleep whenthe train entered Sacramento, but the Mayor and the other cityauthorities who had waited up to receive them, had them carriedcarefully, so as not to disturb their slumbers, on board the _YoSemite_, a fine steamer belonging to the California Navigation Company, which landed them safely at San Francisco about noon on the 26th, afteraccomplishing the extraordinary winter journey of 1500 miles over landin little more than nine days, only about 200 miles being done by steam. 

Half-past two P. M. Found our travellers bathed, dressed, shaved, dined, and ready to receive company in the grand parlor of the _OccidentalHotel_. Captain Bloomsbury was the first to call. 

Marston hobbled eagerly towards him and asked:

"What have you done towards fishing them up, Captain?"

"A good deal, Mr. Marston; indeed almost everything is ready. "

"Is that really the case, Captain?" asked all, very agreeably surprised. 

"Yes, gentlemen, I am most happy to state that I am quite in earnest. "

"Can we start to-morrow?" asked General Morgan. "We have not a moment tospare, you know. "

"We can start at noon to-morrow at latest, " replied the Captain, "if thefoundry men do a little extra work to-night. "

"We must start this very day, Captain Bloomsbury, " cried Marstonresolutely; "Barbican has been lying two weeks and thirteen hours in thedepths of the Pacific! If he is still alive, no thanks to Marston! Hemust by this time have given me up! The grappling irons must be got onboard at once, Captain, and let us start this evening!"

At half-past four that very evening, a shot from the Fort and a loweringof the Stars and Stripes from its flagstaff saluted the _Susquehanna_, as she steamed proudly out of the Golden Gate at the lively rate offifteen knots an hour. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE CLUB MEN GO A FISHING. 

Captain Bloomsbury was perfectly right when he said that almosteverything was ready for the commencement of the great work which theClub men had to accomplish. Considering how much was required, this wascertainly saying a great deal; but here also, as on many otheroccasions, fortune had singularly favored the Club men. 

San Francisco Bay, as everybody knows, though one of the finest andsafest harbors in the world, is not without some danger from hiddenrocks. One of these in particular, the Anita Rock as it was called, lying right in mid channel, had become so notorious for the wrecks ofwhich it was the cause, that, after much time spent in the considerationof the subject, the authorities had at last determined to blow it up. This undertaking having been very satisfactorily accomplished by meansof _dynamite_ or giant powder, another improvement in the harbor hadbeen also undertaken with great success. The wrecks of many vessels layscattered here and there pretty numerously, some, like that of the_Flying Dragon_, in spots so shallow that they could be easily seen atlow water, but others sunk at least twenty fathoms deep, like that ofthe _Caroline_, which had gone down in 1851, not far from Blossom Rock, with a treasure on board of 20, 000 ounces of gold. The attempt to clearaway these wrecks had also turned out very well; even sufficienttreasure had been recovered to repay all the expense, though thepreparations for the purpose by the contractors, M'Gowan and Co. Hadbeen made on the most extensive scale, and in accordance with the latestimprovements in the apparatus for submarine operations. 

Buoys, made of huge canvas sacks, coated with India rubber, and guardedby a net work of strong cordage, had been manufactured and provided bythe _New York Submarine Company_. These buoys, when inflated and workingin pairs, had a lifting capacity of 30 tons a pair. Reservoirs of air, provided with powerful compression pumps, always accompanied the buoys. To attach the latter, in a collapsed condition, with strong chains tothe sides of the vessels which were to be lifted, a diving apparatus wasnecessary. This also the _New York Company_ had provided, and it was soperfect in its way that, by means of peculiar appliances of easymanagement, the diver could walk about on the bottom, take his ownbearings, ascend to the surface at pleasure, and open his helmet withoutassistance. A few sets likewise of Rouquayrol and Denayrouze's famoussubmarine armor had been provided. These would prove of invaluableadvantage in all operations performed at great sea depths, as itsdistinctive feature, "the regulator, " could maintain, what is not doneby any other diving armor, a constant equality of pressure on the lungsbetween the external and the internal air. 

But perhaps the most useful article of all was a new form of diving bellcalled the _Nautilus_, a kind of submarine boat, capable of lateral aswell as vertical movement at the will of its occupants. Constructed withdouble sides, the intervening chambers could be filled either with wateror air according as descent or ascent was required. A proper supply ofwater enabled the machine to descend to depths impossible to be reachedotherwise; this water could then be expelled by an ingeniouscontrivance, which, replacing it with air, enabled the diver to risetowards the surface as fast as he pleased. 

All these and many other portions of the submarine apparatus which hadbeen employed that very year for clearing the channel, lifting thewrecks and recovering the treasure, lay now at San Francisco, unusedfortunately on account of the season of the year, and therefore theycould be readily obtained for the asking. They had even been generouslyoffered to Captain Bloomsbury, who, in obedience to a telegram fromWashington, had kept his crew busily employed for nearly two weeksnight and day in transferring them all safely on board the_Susquehanna_. 

Marston was the first to make a careful inspection of every articleintended for the operation. 

"Do you consider these buoys powerful enough to lift the Projectile, Captain?" he asked next morning, as the vessel was briskly headingsouthward, at a distance of ten or twelve miles from the coast on theirleft. 

"You can easily calculate that problem yourself, Mr. Marston, " repliedthe Captain. "It presents no difficulty. The Projectile weighs about 20thousand pounds, or 10 tons?"

"Correct!"

"Well, a pair of these buoys when inflated can raise a weight of 30tons. "

"So far so good. But how do you propose attaching them to theProjectile?"

"We simply let them descend in a state of collapse; the diver, goingdown with them, will have no difficulty in making a fast connection. Assoon as they are inflated the Projectile will come up like a cork. "

"Can the divers readily reach such depths?"

"That remains to be seen Mr. Marston. "

"Captain, " said Morgan, now joining the party, "you are a worthy memberof our Gun Club. You have done wonders. Heaven grant it may not be allin vain! Who knows if our poor friends are still alive?"

"Hush!" cried Marston quickly. "Have more sense than to ask suchquestions. Is Barbican alive! Am _I_ alive? They're all alive, I tellyou, only we must be quick about reaching them before the air gives out. That's what's the matter! Air! Provisions, water--abundance! Butair--oh! that's their weak point! Quick, Captain, quick--They'rethrowing the reel--I must see her rate!" So saying, he hurried off tothe stern, followed by General Morgan. Chief Engineer Murphy and theCaptain of the _Susquehanna_ were thus left for awhile together. 

These two men had a long talk on the object of their journey and thelikelihood of anything satisfactory being accomplished. The man of thesea candidly acknowledged his apprehensions. He had done everything inhis power towards collecting suitable machinery for fishing up theProjectile, but he had done it all, he said, more as a matter of dutythan because he believed that any good could result from it; in fact, henever expected to see the bold adventurers again either living or dead. Murphy, who well understood not only what machinery was capable ofeffecting, but also what it would surely fail in, at first expressed thegreatest confidence in the prosperous issue of the undertaking. But whenhe learned, as he now did for the first time, that the ocean bed onwhich the Projectile was lying could be hardly less than 20, 000 feetbelow the surface, he assumed a countenance as grave as the Captain's, and at once confessed that, unless their usual luck stood by them, hispoor friends had not the slightest possible chance of ever being fishedup from the depths of the Pacific. 

The conversation maintained among the officers and the others on boardthe _Susquehanna_, was pretty much of the same nature. It is almostneedless to say that all heads--except Belfast's, whose scientific mindrejected the Projectile theory with the most serene contempt--werefilled with the same idea, all hearts throbbed with the same emotion. Wouldn't it be glorious to fish them up alive and well? What were theydoing just now? Doing? _Doing!_ Their bodies most probably were lying ina shapeless pile on the floor of the Projectile, like a heap of clothes, the uppermost man being the last smothered; or perhaps floating about inthe water inside the Projectile, like dead gold fish in an aquarium; orperhaps burned to a cinder, like papers in a "champion" safe after agreat fire; or, who knows? perhaps at that very moment the poor fellowswere making their last and almost superhuman struggles to burst theirwatery prison and ascend once more into the cheerful regions of lightand air! Alas! How vain must such puny efforts prove! Plunged into oceandepths of three or four miles beneath the surface, subjected to aninconceivable pressure of millions and millions of tons of sea water, their metallic shroud was utterly unassailable from within, and utterlyunapproachable from without!

Early on the morning of December 29th, the Captain calculating from hislog that they must now be very near the spot where they had witnessedthe extraordinary phenomenon, the _Susquehanna_ hove to. Having to waittill noon to find his exact position, he ordered the steamer to take ashort circular course of a few hours' duration, in hope of sighting thebuoy. But though at least a hundred telescopes scanned the calm oceanbreast for many miles in all directions, it was nowhere to be seen. 

Precisely at noon, aided by his officers and in the presence ofMarston, Belfast, and the Gun Club Committee, the Captain took hisobservations. After a moment or two of the most profound interest, itwas a great gratification to all to learn that the _Susquehanna_ was onthe right parallel, and only about 15 miles west of the precise spotwhere the Projectile had disappeared beneath the waves. The steamerstarted at once in the direction indicated, and a minute or two beforeone o'clock the Captain said they were "there. " No sign of the buoycould yet be seen in any direction; it had probably been driftedsouthward by the Mexican coast current which slowly glides along theseshores from December to April. 

"At last!" cried Marston, with a sigh of great relief. 

"Shall we commence at once?" asked the Captain. 

"Without losing the twenty thousandth part of a second!" answeredMarston; "life or death depends upon our dispatch!"

The _Susquehanna_ again hove to, and this time all possible precautionswere taken to keep her in a state of perfect immobility--an operationeasily accomplished in these pacific latitudes, where cloud and wind andwater are often as motionless as if all life had died out of the world. In fact, as the boats were quietly lowered, preparatory for beginningthe operations, the mirror like calmness of sea, sky, and ship soimpressed the Doctor, who was of a poetical turn of mind, that he couldnot help exclaiming to the little Midshipman, who was standing nearest:

"Coleridge realized, with variations:

 The breeze drops down, the sail drops down, All's still as still can be; If we speak, it is only to break The silence of the sea. Still are the clouds, still are the shrouds, No life, no breath, no motion; Idle are all as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean!"

Chief Engineer Murphy now took command. Before letting down the buoys, the first thing evidently to be done was to find out, if possible, theprecise point where the Projectile lay. For this purpose, the Nautiluswas clearly the only part of the machinery that could be employed withadvantage. Its chambers were accordingly soon filled with water, its airreservoirs were also soon completely charged, and the Nautilus itself, suspended by chains from the end of a yard, lay quietly on the oceansurface, its manhole on the top remaining open for the reception ofthose who were willing to encounter the dangers that awaited it in thefearful depths of the Pacific. Every one looking on was well aware that, after a few hundred feet below the surface, the pressure would grow moreand more enormous, until at last it became quite doubtful if any linecould bear the tremendous strain. It was even possible that at a certaindepth the walls of the Nautilus might be crushed in like an eggshell, and the whole machine made as flat as two leaves of paper pastedtogether. 

Perfectly conscious of the nature of the tremendous risk they were aboutto run, Marston, Morgan, and Murphy quietly bade their friends a shortfarewell and were lowered into the manhole. The Nautilus having roomenough for four, Belfast had been expected to be of the party but, feeling a little sea sick, the Professor backed out at the last moment, to the great joy of Mr. Watkins, the famous reporter of the _N. Y. Herald_, who was immediately allowed to take his place. 

Every provision against immediate danger had been made. By means ofpreconcerted signals, the inmates could have themselves drawn up, letdown, or carried laterally in whatever direction they pleased. Bybarometers and other instruments they could readily ascertain thepressure of the air and water, also how far they had descended and atwhat rate they were moving. The Captain, from his bridge, carefullysuperintended every detail of the operation. All signals he insisted onattending to himself personally, transmitting them instantly by his bellto the engineer below. The whole power of the steam engine had beenbrought to bear on the windlass; the chains could withstand an enormousstrain. The wheels had been carefully oiled and tested beforehand; thesignalling apparatus had been subjected to the rigidest examination; andevery portion of the machinery had been proved to be in admirableworking order. 

The chances of immediate and unforeseen danger, it is true, had beensomewhat diminished by all these precautions. The risk, nevertheless, was fearful. The slightest accident or even carelessness might easilylead to the most disastrous consequence. 

Five minutes after two o'clock, the manhole being closed, the lamps lit, and everything pronounced all right, the signal for the descent wasgiven, and the Nautilus immediately disappeared beneath the waters. Adouble anxiety now possessed all on board the _Susquehanna_: theprisoners in the Nautilus were in danger as well as the prisoners in theProjectile. Marston and his friends, however, were anything butdisquieted on their own account, and, pencil in hand and noses flattenedon the glass plates, they examined carefully everything they could seein the liquid masses through which they were descending. 

For the first five hundred feet, the descent was accomplished withlittle trouble. The Nautilus sank rather slowly, at a uniform rate of afoot to the second. It had not been two minutes under water when thelight of day completely disappeared. But for this the occupants werefully prepared, having provided themselves with powerful lamps, whosebrilliant light, radiating from polished reflectors, gave them anopportunity of seeing clearly around it for a distance of eight or tenfeet in all directions. Owing to the superlatively excellentconstruction of the Nautilus, also on account of the _scaphanders_, orsuits of diving armor, with which Marston and his friends had clothedthemselves, the disagreeable sensations to which divers are ordinarilyexposed, were hardly felt at all in the beginning of the descent. 

Marston was about to congratulate his companions on the favorableauspices inaugurating their trip, when Murphy, consulting theinstrument, discovered to his great surprise that the Nautilus was notmaking its time. In reply to their signal "faster!" the downwardmovement increased a little, but it soon relaxed again. Instead of lessthan two minutes, as at the beginning, it now took twelve minutes tomake a hundred feet. They had gone only seven hundred feet inthirty-seven minutes. In spite of repeated signalling, their progressduring the next hour was even still more alarming, one hundred feettaking exactly 59 minutes. To shorten detail, it required two hours moreto make another hundred feet; and then the Nautilus, after taking tenminutes to crawl an inch further, came to a perfect stand still. Thepressure of the water had evidently now become too enormous to allowfurther descent. 

The Clubmen's distress was very great; Marston's, in particular, wasindescribable. In vain, catching at straws, he signalled "eastwards!""westwards!" "northwards!" or "southwards!" the Nautilus moved readilyevery way but downwards. 

"Oh! what shall we do?" he cried in despair; "Barbican, must we reallygive you up though separated from us by the short distance of only a fewmiles?"

At last, nothing better being to be done, the unwilling signal "heaveupwards!" was given, and the hauling up commenced. It was done veryslowly, and with the greatest care. A sudden jerk might snap the chains;an incautious twist might put a kink on the air tube; besides, it waswell known that the sudden removal of heavy pressure resulting fromrapid ascent, is attended by very disagreeable sensations, which havesometimes even proved fatal. 

It was near midnight when the Clubmen were lifted out of the manhole. Their faces were pale, their eyes bloodshot, their figures stooped. Eventhe _Herald_ Reporter seemed to have got enough of exploring. ButMarston was as confident as ever, and tried to be as brisk. 

He had hardly swallowed the refreshment so positively enjoined in thecircumstances, when he abruptly addressed the Captain:

"What's the weight of your heaviest cannon balls?"

"Thirty pounds, Mr. Marston. "

"Can't you attach thirty of them to the Nautilus and sink us again?"

"Certainly, Mr. Marston, if you wish it. It shall be the first thingdone to-morrow. "

"To-night, Captain! At once! Barbican has not an instant to lose. "

"At once then be it, Mr. Marston. Just as you say. "

The new sinkers were soon attached to the Nautilus, which disappearedonce more with all its former occupants inside, except the _Herald_Reporter, who had fallen asleep over his notes, or at least seemed tobe. He had probably made up his mind as to the likelihood of theNautilus ever getting back again. 

The second descent was quicker than the first, but just as futile. At1152 feet, the Nautilus positively refused to go a single inch further. Marston looked like a man in a stupor. He made no objection to thesignal given by the others to return; he even helped to cut the ropes bywhich the cannon balls had been attached. Not a single word was spokenby the party, as they slowly rose to the surface. Marston seemed to bestruggling against despair. For the first time, the impossibility of thegreat enterprise seemed to dawn upon him. He and his friends hadundertaken a great fight with the mighty Ocean, which now played withthem as a giant with a pigmy. To reach the bottom was evidentlycompletely out of their power; and what was infinitely worse, there wasnothing to be gained by reaching it. The Projectile was not on thebottom; it could not even have got to the bottom. Marston said it all ina few words to the Captain, as the Clubmen stepped on deck a few hourslater:

"Barbican is floating midway in the depths of the Pacific, like Mahometin his coffin!"

Blindly yielding, however, to the melancholy hope that is born ofdespair, Marston and his friends renewed the search next day, the 30th, but they were all too worn out with watching and excitement to be ableto continue it longer than a few hours. After a night's rest, it wasrenewed the day following, the 31st, with some vigor, and a good part ofthe ocean lying between Guadalupe and Benito islands was carefullyinvestigated to a depth of seven or eight hundred feet. No traceswhatever of the Projectile. Several California steamers, plying betweenSan Francisco and Panama, passed the _Susquehanna_ within hailingdistance. But to every question, the invariable reply one melancholyburden bore:

"No luck!"

All hands were now in despair. Marston could neither eat nor drink. Henever even spoke the whole day, except on two occasions. Once, whensomebody heard him muttering:

"He's now seventeen days in the ocean!"

The second time he spoke, the words seemed to be forced out of him. Belfast admitted, for the sake of argument, that the Projectile hadfallen into the ocean, but he strongly denounced the absurd idea of itsoccupants being still alive. "Under such circumstances, " went on thelearned Professor, "further prolongation of vital energy would be simplyimpossible. Want of air, want of food, want of courage--"

"No, sir!" interrupted Marston quite savagely. "Want of air, of meat, ofdrink, as much as you like! But when you speak of Barbican's want ofcourage, you don't know what you are talking about! No holy martyr everdied at the stake with a loftier courage than my noble friendBarbican!"

That night he asked the Captain if he would not sail down as far as CapeSan Lucas. Bloomsbury saw that further search was all labor lost, but herespected such heroic grief too highly to give a positive refusal. Heconsented to devote the following day, New Year's, to an exploringexpedition as far as Magdalena Bay, making the most diligent inquiriesin all directions. 

But New Year's was just as barren of results as any of its predecessors, and, a little before sunset, Captain Bloomsbury, regardless of furtherentreaties and unwilling to risk further delay, gave orders to 'boutship and return to San Francisco. 

The _Susquehanna_ was slowly turning around in obedience to her wheel, as if reluctant to abandon forever a search in which humanity at largewas interested, when the look-out man, stationed in the forecastle, suddenly sang out:

"A buoy to the nor'east, not far from shore!"

All telescopes were instantly turned in the direction indicated. Thebuoy, or whatever object it was, could be readily distinguished. Itcertainly did look like one of those buoys used to mark out the channelthat ships follow when entering a harbor. But as the vessel slowlyapproached it, a small flag, flapping in the dying wind--a strangefeature in a buoy--was seen to surmount its cone, which a nearerapproach showed to be emerging four or five feet from the water. And fora buoy too it was exceedingly bright and shiny, reflecting the red raysof the setting sun as strongly as if its surface was crystal or polishedmetal!

"Call Mr. Marston on deck at once!" cried the Captain, his voicebetraying unwonted excitement as he put the glass again to his eye. 

Marston, thoroughly worn out by his incessant anxiety during the day, had been just carried below by his friends, and they were now trying tomake him take a little refreshment and repose. But the Captain's orderbrought them all on deck like a flash. 

They found the whole crew gazing in one direction, and, though speakingin little more than whispers, evidently in a state of extraordinaryexcitement. 

What could all this mean? Was there any ground for hope? The thoughtsent a pang of delight through Marston's wildly beating heart thatalmost choked him. 

The Captain beckoned to the Club men to take a place on the bridgebeside himself. They instantly obeyed, all quietly yielding them apassage. 

The vessel was now only about a quarter of a mile distant from theobject and therefore near enough to allow it to be distinguished withoutthe aid of a glass. 

What! The flag bore the well known Stars and Stripes!

An electric shudder of glad surprise shot through the assembled crowd. They still spoke, however, in whispers, hardly daring to utter theirthoughts aloud. 

The silence was suddenly startled by a howl of mingled ecstasy and ragefrom Marston. 

He would have fallen off the bridge, had not the others held him firmly. Then he burst into a laugh loud and long, and quite as formidable as hishowl. 

Then he tore away from his friends, and began beating himself over thehead. 

"Oh!" he cried in accents between a yell and a groan, "what chuckleheadswe are! What numskulls! What jackasses! What double-treble-barrelledgibbering idiots!" Then he fell to beating himself over the head again. 

"What's the matter, Marston, for heaven's sake!" cried his friends, vainly trying to hold him. 

"Speak for yourself!" cried others, Belfast among the number. 

"No exception, Belfast! You're as bad as the rest of us! We're all a setof unmitigated, demoralized, dog-goned old lunatics! Ha! Ha! Ha!"

"Speak plainly, Marston! Tell us what you mean!"

"I mean, " roared the terrible Secretary, "that we are no better than alot of cabbage heads, dead beats, and frauds, calling ourselvesscientists! O Barbican, how you must blush for us! If we wereschoolboys, we should all be skinned alive for our ignorance! Do youforget, you herd of ignoramuses, that the Projectile weighs only tentons?"

"We don't forget it! We know it well! What of it?"

"This of it: it can't sink in water without displacing its own volumein water; its own volume in water weighs thirty tons! Consequently, itcan't sink; more consequently, it hasn't sunk; and, most consequently, there it is before us, bobbing up and down all the time under our verynoses! O Barbican, how can we ever venture to look at you straight inthe face again!"

Marston's extravagant manner of showing it did not prevent him frombeing perfectly right. With all their knowledge of physics, not a singleone of those scientific gentlemen had remembered the great fundamentallaw that governs sinking or floating bodies. Thanks to its slightspecific gravity, the Projectile, after reaching unknown depths of oceanthrough the terrific momentum of its fall, had been at last arrested inits course and even obliged to return to the surface. 

By this time, all the passengers of the _Susquehanna_ could easilyrecognize the object of such weary longings and desperate searches, floating quietly a short distance before them in the last rays of thedeclining day!

The boats were out in an instant. Marston and his friends took theCaptain's gig. The rowers pulled with a will towards the rapidly nearingProjectile. What did it contain? The living or the dead? The livingcertainly! as Marston whispered to those around him; otherwise how couldthey have ever run up that flag?

The boats approached in perfect silence, all hearts throbbing with theintensity of newly awakened hope, all eyes eagerly watching for somesign to confirm it. No part of the windows appeared over the water, butthe trap hole had been thrown open, and through it came the pole thatbore the American flag. Marston made for the trap hole and, as it wasonly a few feet above the surface, he had no difficulty in looking in. 

At that moment, a joyful shout of triumph rose from the interior, andthe whole boat's crew heard a dry drawling voice with a nasal twangexclaiming:

"Queen! How is that for high?"

It was instantly answered by another voice, shriller, louder, quicker, more joyous and triumphant in tone, but slightly tinged with a foreignaccent:

"King! My brave Mac! How is that for high?"

The deep, clear, calm voice that spoke next thrilled the listenersoutside with an emotion that we shall not attempt to portray. Exceptthat their ears could detect in it the faintest possible emotion oftriumph, it was in all respects as cool, resolute, and self-possessed asever:

"Ace! Dear friends, how is that for high?"

They were quietly enjoying a little game of High-Low-Jack!

[Illustration: HOW IS THAT FOR HIGH?]

How they must have been startled by the wild cheers that suddenly rangaround their ocean-prison! How madly were these cheers re-echoed fromthe decks of the _Susquehanna_! Who can describe the welcome thatgreeted these long lost, long beloved, long despaired of Sons of Earth, now so suddenly and unexpectedly rescued from destruction, andrestored once more to the wonderstricken eyes of admiring humanity? Whocan describe the scenes of joy and exuberant happiness, and deep feltgratitude, and roaring rollicking merriment, that were witnessed onboard the steamer that night and during the next three days!

As for Marston, it need hardly be said that he was simply ecstatic, butit may interest both the psychologist and the philologist to learn thatthe expression _How is that for high?_ struck him at once as with a kindof frenzy. It became immediately such a favorite tongue morsel of histhat ever since he has been employing it on all occasions, appropriateor otherwise. Thanks to his exertions in its behalf all over thecountry, the phrase is now the most popular of the day, well known andrelished in every part of the Union. If we can judge from its presenthold on the popular ear it will continue to live and flourish for many along day to come; it may even be accepted as the popular expression oftriumph in those dim, distant, future years when the memory not only ofthe wonderful occasion of its formation but also of the illustrious menthemselves who originated it, has been consigned forever to the darktomb of oblivion!

CHAPTER XXIV. 

FAREWELL TO THE BALTIMORE GUN CLUB. 

The intense interest of our extraordinary but most veracious historyhaving reached its culmination at the end of the last chapter, ourabsorbing chronicle might with every propriety have been then and thereconcluded; but we can't part from our gracious and most indulgent readerbefore giving him a few more details which may be instructive perhaps, if not amusing. 

No doubt he kindly remembers the world-wide sympathy with which ourthree famous travellers had started on their memorable trip to the Moon. If so, he may be able to form some idea of the enthusiasm universallyexcited by the news of their safe return. Would not the millions ofspectators that had thronged Florida to witness their departure, nowrush to the other extremity of the Union to welcome them back? Couldthose innumerable Europeans, Africans and Asiatics, who had visited theUnited States simply to have a look at M'Nicholl, Ardan and Barbican, ever think of quitting the country without having seen those wonderfulmen again? Certainly not! Nay, more--the reception and the welcome thatthose heroes would everywhere be greeted with, should be on a scalefully commensurate with the grandeur of their own gigantic enterprise. The Sons of Earth who had fearlessly quitted this terrestrial globe andwho had succeeded in returning after accomplishing a journeyinconceivably wonderful, well deserved to be received with everyextremity of pride, pomp and glorious circumstance that the world iscapable of displaying. 

To catch a glimpse of these demi-gods, to hear the sound of theirvoices, perhaps even to touch their hands--these were the only emotionswith which the great heart of the country at large was now throbbing. 

To gratify this natural yearning of humanity, to afford not only toevery foreigner but to every native in the land an opportunity ofbeholding the three heroes who had reflected such indelible glory on theAmerican name, and to do it all in a manner eminently worthy of thegreat American Nation, instantly became the desire of the AmericanPeople. 

To desire a thing, and to have it, are synonymous terms with the greatpeople of the American Republic. 

A little thinking simplified the matter considerably: as all the peoplecould not go to the heroes, the heroes should go to all the people. 

So decided, so done. 

It was nearly two months before Barbican and his friends could get backto Baltimore. The winter travelling over the Rocky Mountains had beenvery difficult on account of the heavy snows, and, even when they foundthemselves in the level country, though they tried to travel asprivately as possible, and for the present positively declined allpublic receptions, they were compelled to spend some time in the housesof the warm friends near whom they passed in the course of their longjourney. 

The rough notes of their Moon adventures--the only ones that they couldfurnish just then--circulating like wild fire and devoured withuniversal avidity, only imparted a keener whet to the public desire tofeast their eyes on such men. These notes were telegraphed free to everynewspaper in the country, but the longest and best account of the"_Journey to the Moon_" appeared in the columns of the _New YorkHerald_, owing to the fact that Watkins the reporter had had theadventurers all to himself during the whole of the three days' trip ofthe _Susquehanna_ back to San Francisco. In a week after their return, every man, woman, and child in the United States knew by heart some ofthe main facts and incidents in the famous journey; but, of course, itis needless to say that they knew nothing at all about the finer pointsand the highly interesting minor details of the astounding story. Theseare now all laid before the highly favored reader for the first time. Ipresume it is unnecessary to add that they are worthy of his mostimplicit confidence, having been industriously and conscientiouslycompiled from the daily journals of the three travellers, revised, corrected, and digested very carefully by Barbican himself. 

It was, of course, too early at this period for the critics to pass adecided opinion on the nature of the information furnished by ourtravellers. Besides, the Moon is an exceedingly difficult subject. Veryfew newspaper men in the country are capable of offering a singleopinion regarding her that is worth reading. This is probably also thereason why half-scientists talk so much dogmatic nonsense about her. 

Enough, however, had appeared in the notes to warrant the generalopinion that Barbican's explorations had set at rest forever several pettheories lately started regarding the nature of our satellite. He andhis friends had seen her with their own eyes, and under such favorablecircumstances as to be altogether exceptional. Regarding her formation, her origin, her inhabitability, they could easily tell what system_should_ be rejected and what _might_ be admitted. Her past, herpresent, and her future, had been alike laid bare before their eyes. Howcan you object to the positive assertion of a conscientious man who haspassed within a few hundred miles of _Tycho_, the culminating point inthe strangest of all the strange systems of lunar oreography? What replycan you make to a man who has sounded the dark abysses of the _Plato_crater? How can you dare to contradict those men whom the vicissitudesof their daring journey had swept over the dark, Invisible Face of theMoon, never before revealed to human eye? It was now confessedly theprivilege and the right of these men to set limits to that selenographicscience which had till now been making itself so very busy inreconstructing the lunar world. They could now say, authoritatively, like Cuvier lecturing over a fossil skeleton: "Once the Moon was this, ahabitable world, and inhabitable long before our Earth! And now the Moonis that, an uninhabitable world, and uninhabitable ages and ages ago!"

We must not even dream of undertaking a description of the grand _fête_by which the return of the illustrious members of the Gun Club was to beadequately celebrated, and the natural curiosity of their countrymen tosee them was to be reasonably gratified. It was one worthy in every wayof its recipients, worthy of the Gun Club, worthy of the Great Republic, and, best of all, every man, woman, and child in the United States couldtake part in it. It required at least three months to prepare it: butthis was not to be regretted as its leading idea could not be properlycarried out during the severe colds of winter. 

All the great railroads of the Union had been closely united bytemporary rails, a uniform gauge had been everywhere adopted, and everyother necessary arrangement had been made to enable a splendid palacecar, expressly manufactured for the occasion by Pullman himself, tovisit every chief point in the United States without ever breakingconnection. Through the principal street in each city, or streets if onewas not large enough, rails had been laid so as to admit the passage ofthe triumphal car. In many cities, as a precaution against unfavorableweather, these streets had been arched over with glass, thus becominggrand arcades, many of which have been allowed to remain so to thepresent day. The houses lining these streets, hung with tapestry, decorated with flowers, waving with banners, were all to be illuminatedat night time in a style at once both the most brilliant and the mosttasteful. On the sidewalks, tables had been laid, often miles and mileslong, at the public expense; these were to be covered with every kind ofeatables, exquisitely cooked, in the greatest profusion, and free toeveryone for twelve hours before the arrival of the illustrious guestsand also for twelve hours after their departure. The idea mainly aimedat was that, at the grand national banquet about to take place, everyinhabitant of the United States, without exception, could considerBarbican and his companions as his own particular guests for the timebeing, thus giving them a welcome the heartiest and most unanimous thatthe world has ever yet witnessed. 

Evergreens were to deck the lamp-posts; triumphal arches to span thestreets; fountains, squirting _eau de cologne_, to perfume and cool theair; bands, stationed at proper intervals, to play the most inspiringmusic; and boys and girls from public and private schools, dressed inpicturesque attire, to sing songs of joy and glory. The people, seatedat the banquetting tables, were to rise and cheer and toast the heroesas they passed; the military companies, in splendid uniforms, were tosalute them with presented arms; while the bells pealed from the churchtowers, the great guns roared from the armories, _feux de joie_resounded from the ships in the harbor, until the day's wildest whirl ofexcitement was continued far into the night by a general illuminationand a surpassing display of fireworks. Right in the very heart of thecity, the slowly moving triumphal car was always to halt long enough toallow the Club men to join the cheering citizens at their meal, whichwas to be breakfast, dinner or supper according to that part of the dayat which the halt was made. 

The number of champagne bottles drunk on these occasions, or of thespeeches made, or of the jokes told, or of the toasts offered, or of thehands shaken, of course, I cannot now weary my kind reader by detailing, though I have the whole account lying before me in black and white, written out day by day in Barbican's own bold hand. Yet I should like togive a few extracts from this wonderful journal. It is a perfect modelof accuracy and system. Whether detailing his own doings or those of theinnumerable people he met, Caesar himself never wrote anything morelucid or more pointed. But nothing sets the extraordinary nature of thisgreat man in a better light than the firm, commanding, masterlycharacter of the handwriting in which these records are made. Theelegant penmanship all through might easily pass for copper plateengraving--except on one page, dated "_Boston, after dinner_, " where, candor compels me to acknowledge, the "Solid Men" appear to havesucceeded in rendering his iron nerves the least bit wabbly. 

The palace car had been so constructed that, by turning a few cranks andpulling out a few bolts, it was transformed at once into a highlydecorated and extremely comfortable open barouche. Marston took the seatusually occupied by the driver: Ardan and M'Nicholl sat immediatelyunder him, face to face with Barbican, who, in order that everyone mightbe able to distinguish him, was to keep all the back seat for himself, the post of honor. 

On Monday morning, the fifth of May, a month generally the pleasantestin the United States, the grand national banquet commenced in Baltimore, and lasted twenty-four hours. The Gun Club insisted on paying all theexpenses of the day, and the city compromised by being allowed tocelebrate in whatever way it pleased the reception of the Club men ontheir return. 

They started on their trip that same day in the midst of one of thegrandest ovations possible to conceive. They stopped for a little whileat Wilmington, but they took dinner in Philadelphia, where the splendorof Broad Street (at present the finest boulevard in the world, being 113feet wide and five miles long) can be more easily alluded to than evenpartially described. 

The house fronts glittered with flowers, flags, pictures, tapestries, and other decorations; the chimneys and roofs swarmed with men and boyscheerfully risking their necks every moment to get one glance at the"Moon men"; every window was a brilliant bouquet of beautiful ladieswaving their scented handkerchiefs and showering their sweetest smiles;the elevated tables on the sidewalks, groaning with an abundance ofexcellent and varied food, were lined with men, women, and children, who, however occupied in eating and drinking, never forgot to salute theheroes, cheering them lustily as they slowly moved along; the spaciousstreet itself, just paved from end to end with smooth Belgian blocks, was a living moving panorama of soldiers, temperance men, free masons, and other societies, radiant in gorgeous uniforms, brilliant in flashingbanners, and simply perfect in the rhythmic cadence of their tread, wings of delicious music seeming to bear them onward in their proud andstately march. 

A vast awning, spanning the street from ridge to ridge, had been soprepared and arranged that, in case of rain or too strong a glare fromthe summer sun, it could be opened out wholly or partially in the spaceof a very few minutes. There was not, however, the slightest occasionfor using it, the weather being exceedingly fine, almost paradisiacal, as Marston loved to phrase it. 

[Illustration: THEIR ARRIVAL WAS WELCOMED WITH EQUAL _FURORE_. ]

The "Moon men" supped and spent the night in New York, where they werereceived with even greater enthusiasm than at Philadelphia. But nodetailed description can be given of their majestic progress from cityto city through all portions of the mighty Republic. It is enough to saythat they visited every important town from Portland to San Francisco, from Salt Lake City to New Orleans, from Mobile to Charleston, and fromSaint Louis to Baltimore; that, in every section of the great country, preparations for their reception were equally as enthusiastic, theirarrival was welcomed with equal _furore_, and their departureaccompanied with an equal amount of affectionate and touching sympathy. 

The _New York Herald_ reporter, Mr. Watkins, followed them closelyeverywhere in a palace car of his own, and kept the public fullyenlightened regarding every incident worth regarding along the route, almost as soon as it happened. He was enabled to do this by means of aportable telegraphic machine of new and most ingenious construction. Though its motive power was electricity, it could dispense with theordinary instruments and even with wires altogether, yet it managed totransmit messages to most parts of the world with an accuracy that, considering how seldom it failed, is almost miraculous. The principleactuating it, though guessed at by many shrewd scientists, is still aprofound secret and will probably remain so for some time longer, the_Herald_ having purchased the right to its sole and exclusive use forfifteen years, at an enormous cost. 

Who shall say that the apotheosis of our three heroes was not worthy ofthem, or that, had they lived in the old prehistoric times, they wouldnot have taken the loftiest places among the demi-gods?

As the tremendous whirl of excitement began slowly to die away, themore thoughtful heads of the Great Republic began asking each other afew questions:

Can this wonderful journey, unprecedented in the annals of wonderfuljourneys, ever lead to any practical result?

Shall we ever live to see direct communication established with theMoon?

Will any Air Line of space navigation ever undertake to start a systemof locomotion between the different members of the solar system?

Have we any reasonable grounds for ever expecting to see trains runningbetween planet and planet, as from Mars to Jupiter and, possiblyafterwards, from star to star, as from Polaris to Sirius?

Even to-day these are exceedingly puzzling questions, and, with all ourmuch vaunted scientific progress, such as "no fellow can make out. " Butif we only reflect a moment on the audacious go-a-headiveness of theYankee branch of the Anglo Saxon race, we shall easily conclude that theAmerican people will never rest quietly until they have pushed to itslast result and to every logical consequence the astounding step sodaringly conceived and so wonderfully carried out by their greatcountryman Barbican. 

In fact, within a very few months after the return of the Club men fromthe Continental Banquet, as it was called in the papers, the country wasflooded by a number of little books, like Insurance pamphlets, thrustinto every letter box and pushed under every door, announcing theformation of a new company called _The Grand Interstellar CommunicationSociety_. The Capital was to be 100 million dollars, at a thousanddollars a share: J. P. BARBICAN, ESQ. , P. G. C. Was to be President;Colonel JOSHUA D. M'NICHOLL, Vice-President; Hon. J. T. MARSTON, Secretary; Chevalier MICHAEL ARDAN, General Manager; JOHN MURPHY, ESQ. , Chief Engineer; H. PHILLIPS COLEMAN, ESQ. (Philadelphia lawyer), LegalAdviser; and the Astrological Adviser was to be Professor HENRY ofWashington. (Belfast's blunder had injured him so much in publicestimation, his former partisans having become his most mercilessrevilers, that it was considered advisable to omit his name altogethereven in the list of the Directors. )

From the very beginning, the moneyed public looked on the G. I. C. S, withdecided favor, and its shares were bought up pretty freely. Conducted onstrictly honorable principles, keeping carefully aloof from all suchdamaging connection as the _Credit Mobilier_, and having its booksalways thrown open for public inspection, its reputation even to-day isexcellent and continually improving in the popular estimation. Holdingout no utopian inducements to catch the unwary, and making no wheedlingpromises to blind the guileless, it states its great objects with alltheir great advantages, without at the same time suppressing itsenormous and perhaps insuperable difficulties. People know exactly whatto think of it, and, whether it ever meets with perfect success orproves a complete failure, no one in the country will ever think ofcasting a slur on the bright name of its peerless President, J. P. Barbican. 

For a few years this great man devoted every faculty of his mind to thefurthering of the Company's objects. But in the midst of his labors, therapid approach of the CENTENNIAL surprised him. After a long and carefulconsultation on the subject, the Directors and Stockholders of theG. I. C. S. Advised him to suspend all further labors in their behalf for afew years, in order that he might be freer to devote the full energiesof his giant intellect towards celebrating the first hundredthanniversary of his country's Independence--as all true Americans wouldwish to see it celebrated--in a manner every way worthy of the GREATREPUBLIC OF THE WEST!

Obeying orders instantly and with the single-idea'd, unselfishenthusiasm of his nature, he threw himself at once heart and soul intothe great enterprise. Though possessing no official prominence--this heabsolutely insists upon--he is well known to be the great fountain headwhence emanate all the life, order, dispatch, simplicity, economy, andwonderful harmony which, so far, have so eminently characterized themagnificent project. With all operations for raising the necessaryfunds--further than by giving some sound practical advice--he positivelyrefused to connect himself (this may be the reason why subscriptions tothe Centennial stock are so slow in coming in), but in the properapportionment of expenses and the strict surveillance of the mechanical, engineering, and architectural departments, his services have provedinvaluable. His experience in the vast operations at Stony Hill hasgiven him great skill in the difficult art of managing men. His voice isseldom heard at the meetings, but when it is, people seem to take apleasure in readily submitting to its dictates. 

In wet weather or dry, in hot weather or cold, he may still be seenevery day at Fairmount Park, Philadelphia, leisurely strolling frombuilding to building, picking his steps quietly through the bustlingcrowds of busy workmen, never speaking a word, not even to Marston hisfaithful shadow, often pencilling something in his pocket book, stoppingoccasionally to look apparently nowhere, but never, you may be sure, allowing a single detail in the restless panorama around him to escapethe piercing shaft of his eagle glance. 

He is evidently determined on rendering the great CENTENNIAL of hiscountry a still greater and more wonderful success than even his ownworld-famous and never to be forgotten JOURNEY through the boundlessfields of ether, and ALL AROUND THE MOON!

END.