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THE LIGHT-RECORD OF THE PAST. 
most perplexing. He would overtake first the light-rays recording 
the end of a transaction, then those of its middle , and finally would 
witness its earlier stages. Thus, when arrived at the distance of 
254 light-years from our planet, the head of Charles the First 
would be seen to roll on the scaffold ; after which the observer 
should see the executioner’s axe raised on high ; and later still the 
king would ascend the scaffold. 
If we can conceive of the occurrence at varying distances in 
space of perfectly reflecting surfaces, we (granting the existence of 
adequate optical instruments on the earth) might believe in the 
possibility of seeing the past reflected from some great ball of 
mercury, just as Dr. Dee’s little sphere of rock-crystal revealed the 
future to those peerers into its depths who were possessed of the 
necessary powers of faith and vision. And in this case our light 
scale would be doubled , for the rays would have to travel outwards 
from the earth and back again. Thus, a mirror placed at the 
distance of Sirius would at this moment show to gazers from the 
earth those historical events which happened in the year 1857. 
Such thoughts—surely allowable, if only as a scientific use of 
the imagination—may easily become “ too deep for tears ” if pursued 
too far. The waves of light from our sun fall upon the earth, 
and are reflected by it to outer space, carrying with them 
the impress of our every action. We talk of “ communicating 
with Mars,” a neighbouring planet—but how if there be 
a thousand watching worlds, inhabited by beings with lenses— 
or other instruments—able to perceive our every movement ? 
It has been—nay, is—the belief of nations that there is kept a 
record of our lives, with which we shall be confronted at some 
judgment day. Suppose that record to take the form of impres¬ 
sions produced by the waves of light upon an exquisitely sensitive, 
moving surface enveloping our planet; transparent to light from 
without, but arresting and absorbing the same rays after reflection, 
just as the glass of a greenhouse entraps the solar rays. Then 
such a web on its unravelling and development would unfold a 
panorama of history to which the Bayeux tapestry would be indeed 
but a rag. 
October, 1893. 
