378 



♦ KNOWLEDGE ♦ 



[Nov. 7, 1884. 



enchanted island ; but do you think it so pleasant 

 to have a scorching sun always over our heads, and 

 not the least cloud to moderate its heat 1 Tho' I fancy 

 'tis for this reason that Nature hath made great cavities in 

 the moon : we can discern 'em easily with our telescopes, 

 for they are not mountains, but so many wells or vaults in 

 the middle of a ])laiii ; and how do we know but the in- 

 habitants of the moon, being continually broil'd by the 

 excessive heat of the sun, do retire into those great wells 1 

 Perhaps they live nowhere else, and 'tis there they build 

 'em cities ; for we still see in the ruins of old Kome that 

 that part of the city which was under ground was almost 

 as large as that which was above ground. We need but 

 take that part away, and the rest would remain like one of 

 these lunar towns ; the whole people reside in wells, and 

 from one well to another there are subterraneous passages 

 for the communication of the inhabitants. I perceive, 

 madam, you laugh at me ; yet, if I may be so free with a 

 fair lady, you deserve it much better than I : for you 

 believe the people in the moon must live upon the surface 

 of their planet, because we do so upon ours ; but quite the 

 contrary ; for, as we dwell upon the superficies of our 

 planet, they should not dwell upon the superficies of theirs. 

 If things differ so much in this world, what must they do 

 in another V 



" 'Tis no matter," said the Marchioness, " I can never 

 suffer the inhabitants of the moon to live in perpetual 

 darkness." 



" You wOl be more concern'd for 'em," I reply'd, " when 

 I tell you that une of the antient philosophers long since 

 discover'd the moon to be the abode of the blessed souls 

 departed otit of this life, and that all their happiness con- 

 sisted in hearing the harmony of the spheres, which is 

 made by the motion of the celestial bodies. And the 

 philosopher pretending to know exactly all they do there, 

 he tells you that when the moon is obscured by the shadow 

 of the earth, they no longer hear the heavenly musick, 

 liut howl like so many souls in purgatory ; so that the 

 moon, taking pity of 'em, makes all the haste she can to 

 get into the light again." 



" Methinks, then," says the lady, " we should now and 

 then see some of the blessed souls arrive here from the 

 moon, for certainly they are sent to us." 



" I confess, indeed," said I, " it would be very pleasant 

 to see different worlds. Such a voyage, tho' but in imagi- 

 nation, is very delightful. What would it be in reality 1 

 It would be much better, certainly, than to go to Japan, 

 which at best is but crawling from one end of the globe to 

 t'other ; and after all to see nothing but men." 



" Well, then," says she, " let us travel over the planets 

 as fast as we can. What should hinder us 1 Let us place 

 ourselves at all the different prospects, and from thence 

 consider the universe. But, first, have we anything more 

 to see in the moon ? ' 



"Yes, madam," says I, "our description of that world is 

 not quite exhausted. You must remember that the two 

 movements which turn the moon on herself, and about us, 

 being equal, the one always presents to our eyes that 

 part of which the other must consequently deprive us, and 

 so she always to us wears the same face. We have then 

 but one moiety of her which looks on us ; and as the 

 moon must be supposed not to turn on her own center, in 

 respect to us, that moiety which sees us always, and that 

 which never sees us, remains fixed in the same point of 

 the firmament. When it is night with her, and her nights 

 are equal to fifteen of our days, she at first sees but a 

 little corner of the earth enlightened, after that a larger 

 spot, and so almost by hourly gradations spreads her light 

 till it covers the face of the whole globe ; whereas these 



same changes do not appear to us to affect the moon, but 

 from one night to another, because we lose her a long 

 time out of our sight." 



" I would give anything that I could possibly fathom 

 the awkward reasonings of the philosophers of their world 

 upon our earth's appearing immoveable to them, when all 

 the other celestial bodies rise and set over their 

 heads within the compass of fifteen days. It is 

 plain they attribute this immobility to her bigness, 

 for she is forty times larger than the moon ; and 

 when the poets have a mind to extol indolent Princes, 

 I doubt not but they take care to compare their inactivity 

 to this majestic repose of the earth : however, this opinion 

 is attended with one difficulty ; they must very sensibly 

 perceive in the moon, that our earth turns upon her own 

 center. For instance, suppose that Europe, Asia, and 

 America present themselves one after another to them in 

 miniature, and in different shapes and figures, almost as we 

 see them upon maps : now this sight must be a novelty 

 to such travellers, as pass from that moiety of the moon 

 whicli never sees us, to that which always does. Ah ! how 

 cautious would they be of believing the relation of the first 

 travellers, who should speak of it after their return to that 

 great country, to which we are so entirely unknown ! " 



" Now, I fancy," says the Marchioness, " they make a 

 sort of voyage from one side of their country to the other, 

 to try to make discoveries in our world, and that there are 

 certain honours and privileges assigned to such as have 

 once in their lives had a view of our great planet." 



" At least," replied I, " those who have had this view 

 obtained the privilege of being better lighted dtiring their 

 nights. The residence in the other moiety of the moon 

 must of necessity be much less commodious in that respect. 

 But now let us continue the journey we proposed to take 

 from one planet to another, for I think we have had a 

 pretty curious survey of the moon ; at least you have seen 

 all I can show you." 



(To he continued.) 



THE ENTOMOLOGY OF A POND. 



By E. A. BuTLEB. 



ABOVE THE SURFACE— (coM^iimed). 



THE caddis-flies, which we left a short time ago, just 

 emerging from pupahood, may now engage our atten- 

 tion. Of these insects we have upwards of 150 species 

 already recorded from the British Isles, but, no doubt, 

 others exist which have not yet fallen into the hands of the 

 very small band of entomologists specially interested in 

 the group. The larger kinds, which in some cases reach 

 an expanse of wing of almost two inches, are nocturnal in 

 habits, concealing themselves by day amongst herbage and 

 on the trunks of tree?. But many of the smaller ones 

 may be seen during the daytime flittiug backwards and 

 forwards with an uncertain kind of movement just above 

 the surface, seeming sometimes to be trying how near they 

 can approach the water, without actually touching it. All 

 these insects are delicate in texture, their four membranous 

 wings being easily damaged, and their soft bodies, Uke 

 those of the May-flies, shrivelling up in an unsightly manner 

 after death, a peculiarity which does not tend to lessen the 

 diflSculties that, at the best of times, beset the discrimina- 

 tion of the species. The wings, which are always some 

 shade of brown or black, are sometimes, like those of 

 moths, adorned with patterns, and as, in many respects, 

 they closely resemble the latter insects, for which, indeed, 

 they are often mistaken, it will be beat first of all to point 



