A TRIP TO THE MOON. 281 



cate observations, and neither clouds nor fogs ever step 

 between the telescope and the heavenly bodies. 



It is a cold world, however, all over that pale, life- 

 less globe. The rays of the sun can hardly warm that 

 thin, imperceptible atmosphere, and on the plains near 

 the equator, a fortnight of scorching sun and burning 

 heat, which parches and withers all life, is instantane- 

 ously followed by another fortnight of fearful cold. Hu- 

 man eyes could not bear this ever cloudless, colorless 

 horizon. Over the mournful scene that looks like one 

 vast ruin of nature, broods eternal silence. The thin air 

 cannot carry the waves of sound. Not a word, not a 

 song is ever heard amid those desolate mountains ; no 

 voice ever passes over the sunken plains. Pain and 

 joy are equally silent. A rock may glide from its an- 

 cient resting-place, a mountain may fall from its eternal 

 foundation no thunder is heard, no echo awakened. 

 Grim silence reigns supreme. No rainbow is set in the 

 clouds as a token from on high; storm and tempest 

 give not way to the merry song of birds and the breath 

 of gentle, balmy winds. There we look in vain for 

 green forests with their cool shade, for playful fountains 

 'to cheer and to refresh us. Far as eye can reach we 

 see nothing but bare mountains, desolate masses of rock, 

 countless stones amidst huge boulders of glassy fabric. 

 Human bodies could not endure these long days and 

 endless nights; human souls could not bear that silent, 

 lifeless world of desolation. 



Even this universal devastation, however, does not 

 absolutely preclude the existence of created beings on 



