July 1, 1887.] 



KNOW^LEDGE ♦ 



195 



little sooner than the star could manage it. Picture the 

 professor's state of mind with these ideas possessing him, 

 and that perfect freedom of imagination which comes from 

 sheer ignorance. How axn he possibly c;irry out his idea 

 better than by telling the world he has seen what Tycho 

 Brahe actually saw 'i He turns, therefore, to the oft- 

 repeated narrative of the discovery of the new star in 1.572. 

 Tycho Brahe saw the star in Cassiopeia ; there, then, must 

 the Kentuckian professor see it. Tjxho Brahe saw the star 

 near the zenith, so that Cassiopeia manifestly lodges over- 

 head ; there, then, our professor must see her. In unfor- 

 tunate ignorance of the fact that a constellation which is 

 near the zenith in November (Tycho Brahe first saw the 

 star on November 11) is bound to be a long way from the 

 zenith in May, our Kentuckian prophet saw C;vssiopeia 

 overhead, when she was really near the horizon ; saw a 

 new star where no new star existed, and — to speak in the 

 language of the profane- developed a series of untruths 

 until all outside was azure. Mr. Lockyer's achievement in 

 telling little learners where the stars which pass overhead 

 in London rise and set — stars which never come within a 

 score of moon-breadths of the horizon — was nothing to the 

 feat of this Kentuckian professor ; for Mr. Lockyer only 

 implied that he thought those stars might rise or set : our 

 Kentuckian religionist tells us he actually saw Cassiopeia 

 overhead, when she was in reality low down near the 

 horizon. 



But it may be asked whether, though this particular 

 charlatan has not seen Tycho Brahe's star, that orb may 

 not soon resume the abnormal splendour with which it 

 shone in 1.572 and 157-!. This is possible (so many things 

 are possible), but the evidence which led Goodricke to sup- 

 pose that the star is an irregular variable, with a period 

 averaging 312 years, is so slight that no astronomer would 

 give much for the chance that Tycho Brahe's star will return 

 to vii-ibility this century, or perhaps for many centuries. 

 In Tycho Brahe's time, a Bohemian astronomer (Cyprianus 

 Leovitius was his highly respectable name), stated that in 

 an old manuscript he had found records of the appearance 

 of a new star between Cassiopeia and Cepheus in the year 

 945, and of another — or the same star — similarly situate in 

 1264. Even at the time much doubt was thrown over the 

 account of these stars, several astronomers regarding it as 

 probably relating to comets. But Tycho Brahe accepted 

 the account as relating to stars, and considered that the 

 object seen might possibly have been the same which blazed 

 out so brightly in 1572. 



That is absolutely all the evidence we have 1 Assuming 

 the statement of Leovitius not wholU' apocryphal, as some 

 have not hesitated to assert that it was, we have statements 

 about two bodies which may have been comets, but possibly 

 were stars appearing in a tract of the heavens described as 

 between Cassiopeia and Cepheus, a tract which must be 

 assumed to be very broad indeed if it is to include the 

 place of Tycho Brahe's star, in the years 945 and 1264 — the 

 intervals, if these were indeed apparitions of that orb, being 

 319 years and 308 years. This cannot be regarded as 

 absolutely demonstrative evidence that Tycho Brahe's star 

 is a variable blazing out, like a revolving signal light, at 

 average intervals of 312 years, as Goodricke supposed, or 

 315 years, as others have suggested. 



But even if, which is quite possible, the small star now 

 under telescopic scrutinj' for a quarter of a century because 

 astronomers believe it to te Tycho Brahe's should blaze out 

 suddenly with a lustre akin to that which it dis]>layed in 

 1572, we may be well assured that the display, however 

 interesting to astronomers and physicists, will not otherwise 

 be a matter of the slightest moment for the inhabitants of 

 this earth. To associate the idea of the systematic variation 



of some remote sun with remarkable events upon this little 

 earth of ours, is to exhibit such an absence of all power of just 

 reasoning as unfortunately characterises too many among 

 the unscientific. It would not be possible to argue men out 

 of such a belief, who, by the very fact that they have enter- 

 tained it, have shown that sound re:isoning (in such matters) 

 is impossible for them. But as a mere matter of foct, the idea 

 is as wild in its absurdity as would be the thought that the 

 fortunes of a race of insects inhabiting a New Zealand tree 

 must be aftected by the systematic flashing out of the Eddy- 

 stone Signal Light on the other side of the earth. 



FREAKS OF THE WIND. 



By Henry J. Slack, F.G.S., F.R.M.S. 



;VTURE often exhibits on a small scale 

 actions which on a large one produce enor- 

 mous eSects. Thus when a heavy shower 

 sweeps along the sand and gravel of a 

 garden-path we have a miniature representa- 

 tion of what great floods do in transporting 

 boulders and drift; and when tiny runnels 

 cut a zigzag way through soft soil, being easily deflected 

 by small obstacles, we have a copy of the way large rivers 

 flow. With winds it is the same. The strong gales and 

 cyclones which tear up trees, overthrow houses, and over- 

 whelm ships, are sometimes represented by small aerial 

 disturbances of a size that can be conveniently studied. The 

 writer on one occasion, when driving home from a railway 

 station, saw in front of him a shifting sand column about 

 twenty feet high, small at the bottom and widening as it 

 went up. It moved, rotating dancingly from one side of the 

 road to the other, and fell to pieces as the vehicle passed 

 swiftly by. If it had fiillen on the travellers they would 

 have been unpleasantly dusted, but innocent as its small 

 power would have made it, as an illustration of the great 

 du.st-storms of the deserts it was better than any picture, 

 because it was all alive with characteristic motion. 



On a March day of the present year in South Devon a 

 brisk strong wind from the north-cast gave for many hours 

 what may be called miniature rehearsals of the curious 

 gyrations often performed with terrible consequences on a 

 grand scale by wind and sea. The scene was on the top of 

 the Down of Babbicombe, where in front of some terraces, 

 and across a road of common width, is a long strip of grass 

 constituting a favourite promenade, as it commands an ex- 

 tensive curving line of clifis and shores of all colours, from 

 crimson miirl to pearly marble, yellow sand, and white 

 chalk. In fact, it is the view of the coast ftom Oddi- 

 combe to Portland Bill. The wind came across some 

 miles of sea. Part of its current may have rushed up the 

 rocky clifis, about 270 feet high ; another part probably 

 came straight to the gras.sy plain, and the two may have 

 conflicted. Also some rebounding currents may have come 

 back from the row of houses. 



What happened was exhibited by sundry pieces of paper, 

 small biscuit bags, and other reminders that light refresh- 

 ments had been taken on the spot. The same pieces of 

 paper were made to perform all day in a space of some 

 thirty or forty yards long, and half that width. Moreover, 

 they never mounted high in the air. Any one would 

 have thought that a strong bja.'^t from north-east would at 

 once have carried them ofl' south west, but it did nothing of the 

 kind. A glance at the pennon on an adjacent flagstaff showed 

 the wind generally true to its north-east line of approach, 

 but it went all ways on the grass. Frequently pieces of 

 paper, of about the stime size and shape, and only a few 



