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have been seen to rise to a great height, and then either to subside slowly towards the region whence they have been ejected, or else to bend over like the curved jet of a fountain, so descending until a complete arch of red matter has been formed.

Accordingly, we find that Zöllner, Respighi, Secchi, and others who have studied the sun, have agreed in recognizing the action of solar eruptive forces in the production of the jet-shaped prominences.

But the most striking evidence of the energy of the sun's eruptive forces was obtained by the astronomer to whom the Bubble Theory of the Sun is due - Professor Young, of Dartmouth College, Hanover, U. S. He was observing the edge of the sun in October, 1871, having his telescope (armed with a powerful spectroscope) directed upon a long, low-lying band of solar clouds. We say low-lying, but in point of fact the upper side of the cloud-layer was fully fifty thousand miles above the sun's surface, the lower side being not less than twenty thousand miles above that surface. The cloud-layer was about 400,000 miles in length. Professor Young was called away from his telescopic work for half an hour at a somewhat interesting epoch, for he had noticed that a bright rounded cloud was rapidly forming beneath the larger and quieter cloud-layer. In less than half an hour he returned, however; and then, to his amazement, he found that the great cloud had been literally scattered into fragments by an explosion from beneath. The small rounded cloud had changed in shape, as if the explosion had taken place through it, and all that remained of the large cloud was a stream of ascending fragments, averaging about three thousand miles in length and about three hundred in breadth. Professor Young watched the ascent of these fragments (each of which, be it noted, had a surface largely exceeding that of the British Isles), and he found that before vanishing (as by cooling) they reached a height of about 210,000 miles. Moreover, he timed their ascent, and from his time-measurements the present writer was able to demonstrate the surprising fact that the outrushing matter by which the great cloud had been rent to shreds must have crossed the sun's surface at a rate of at least five hundred miles per second!

Now, no explosion can occur where there has been no repression. When a volcano, for example, gives vent to some great eruption, the energy of the eruption is due to and corresponds with the extent of the repression which had been exerted on the imprisoned gases up to the moment of eruption. When a bullet is fired from a gun, the velocity of its flight depends on the completeness with which before and during the passage of the bullet along the barrel, the escape of the gases resulting from the firing of the gunpowder has been prevented. And although a quantity of loose gunpowder can, in a sense, explode in the open air, yet not only are the effects of explosion altogether less marked than where the exploding matter has been confined, but the explosion takes place in no definite direction, but all around the place where fire had been applied. In order that matter may be propelled along some particular path there must, before explosion takes place, be an enclosing substance of some sort, the yielding of which at a particular point determines the direction in which the outrushing matter proceeds.

Accordingly, both Zöllner and Respighi, in adopting the general theory that the jet prominences are phenomena of eruption, although they held different opinions as to the cause of eruption, agreed in maintaining that the eruptions must take place through some substance forming a sort of solar crust. Zöllner held that the eruptions are akin to terrestrial volcanic outbursts, Respighi considered that some kind of electrical action was in question; but neither astronomer doubted that the eruptions sprung from beneath a compact solid or liquid surface.

But there is one great difficulty in the assumption that the sun has a solid or liquid nucleus. The sun is a body whose density is very small by comparison with the earth's, and still more by comparison with the density we should be led to expect from the consideration of the enormous

gravitating and compressive energy of the sun's globe regarded as a whole. It may serve to give an idea of this energy to mention the following circumstance: If an atmosphere constituted like ours surrounded the sun (which, for the moment, we will regard as a cool body), this atmosphere, instead of doubling in density with about 3 miles of descent, as happens with ours, would double some twenty-seven times in that short distance, so that if at the sun's actual surface the pressure were the same as that of the air at our sea-level, then at a depth of 31 miles (and many of the sun's spots show a depth of two or three thousand miles) the pressure would be increased more than six million times, under which enormous action the air would beyond question be solidified. If we could suppose that the air were not solidified, then we should have to assume that it became compressed to a density exceeding that of our air more than six million timesthat is, exceeding the density of platinum about four hundred times.

Now the actual density of the sun is but about one fourth the density of the earth, and is very little greater than the density of water. Remembering that at the sun's tremendous heat vapors and gases could remain as such at a pressure very far exceeding that to which we can subject any gas, and probably when so compressed as to exceed water in density, it is clear that we must regard the sun as in the main a gaseous body. It cannot possibly have a large solid or liquid nucleus, whatever opinion we may form as to its having a solid or liquid crust; for if it had such a nucleus, it would be a much more massive body than we know it to be. As we see, moreover, that it must have a solid or liquid crust, we may fairly dismiss the idea that it has any solid or liquid nucleus at all.

But there is a great difficulty in understanding how a globe like the sun, not only glowing throughout with the intensity of its inherent heat, but also manifestly the scene of tremendous processes of internal disturbance, can have a crust (in the ordinary acceptance of the term) encircling its vaporous interior. The phenomena presented by the spots show us that the forces acting from within are competent to burst their way through any existing solar crust; and any ordinary crust would be reduced to fragments under the action of such forces. Moreover, it is not easy to see how a crust thus readily rent asunder and tossed on one side could act the part which the solar enclosing shell or skin certainly does perform, let its nature be what it may. The exceeding definiteness of direction recognized in the jets we have spoken of above is sufficient to show that the crust bears sway, so to speak, over the internal gaseous nucleus, and that the gases forming this nucleus, though they escape, yet owe the energy of their outrush to the action of the enclosing shell.

The theory advanced by Professor Young seems exactly suited to meet the difficulties here indicated, and to account for those more prominent solar phenomena with which alone, at present, astronomers can hope to deal successfully. He considers that the sun has no permanent crust, nor in fact any envelope which can in the ordinary sense of the term be regarded as a crust at all. But inasmuch as the vaporous globe of the sun is in the presence of what Sir John Herschel has called "the cold of space," a process necessarily takes place over its whole outer surface corresponding to the formation of clouds in our skies, when the vapor of water has risen to such a height as to be condensed into the form of visible cloud. The vapors of the sun's globe consist in the main, we know, of the metallic elements, and these metallic vapors would condense into clouds composed of minute globules (or perhaps vesicles) of fluid metal. But such clouds would not usually remain in the simple cloud-form. They would be continually gathering with a rapidity of formation incomparably exceeding that which we recognize in our summer clouds, even when a great storm is approaching. They would become rain-clouds, the rain falling from them consisting simply of molten metals. More and more heavy would this metallic rain become as it descended, even as our own rains are heavier at low levels than at considerable heights.

Quite low down, and when approaching the region where the intense heat of the sun's interior would revaporize them, the metallic rains would descend in perfect sheets, forming a nearly continuous liquid envelope.

It will be well, however, to give Professor Young's own account of the theory, not only because it is always desirable in presenting views of the kind to avoid the risk of false interpretation, but because in the present instance the subject is one of so stupendous a nature, and surrounded by such great difficulty, that the reader will do well to examine the new theory in more than one aspect: "The eruptions which are all the time occurring on the sun's surface," says Professor Young, "almost compel the supposition that there is a crust of some kind which restrains the imprisoned gases and through which they force their way with great violence. This crust may consist of a more or less continuous sheet of rain, not of water, of course, but of materials whose vapors are shown by means of the spectroscope to exist in the solar atmosphere, and whose condensation and combinations are supposed to furnish the solar heat. The continuous outflow of the solar heat is equivalent to the supply that would be developed by the condensation from steam to water of a layer about five feet thick, over the whole surface of the sun, per minute. As this tremendous rain descends, the velocity of the falling drops would be retarded by the resistance of the denser gases underneath, the drops would coalesce until continuous sheets would be formed, and the sheets would unite and form a sort of bottomless ocean resting upon the compressed vapors beneath, and pierced by innumerable ascending jets and bubbles. It would have nearly a constant depth in thickness, because it would revaporate at the bottom nearly as fast as it would grow by the descending rains above, though probably the thickness of this sheet would continually increase at some slow rate, and its whole diameter diminish. In other words, the sun, according to this view, is a gigantic bubble whose walls are gradually thickening and its diameter diminishing at a rate determined by its loss of heat. It differs, however, from ordinary bubbles in the fact that its skin is constantly penetrated by blasts and jets from within."

Professor Young proceeds to remark that "the hypothesis leaves the question of the solar spots untouched, but is consistent with either of those most in vogue at present." Here, however, we have to note an interesting circumstance tending to show that Professor Young's theory is one which accords better than any other with the phenomena presented by the surface of the sun. Unknown to Professor Young 1 a theory not unlike his was suggested four or five years ago by Mr. Stoney, F. R. S., especially to explain the features presented by the solar spots. After carefully examining the evidence, Stoney was led to the conclusion that the brightest parts of the sun (the bright granules) are regions where there are solar clouds and solar showers, the less bright parts-on which the granules are seen as on a background are regions where there are clouds but no showers, and the penumbral parts of the spots are regions where there are showers without cloud, that is, where we are looking at the edge of a shower.

In fact, if we consider those features of the solar heat which have been regarded as most characteristic as well as most difficult to explain, we shall find reason for considering Professor Young's theory as affording a very satisfactory explanation of the observed appearances. It has always been regarded as a very remarkable circumstance that the outlines of sun-spots are well defined not only on the inside, where the dark central part of the spot is, but also on the outside, where the spot adjoins on the bright surface of the sun. But this peculiarity is explained at once, if we regard the solar shell-envelope as consisting of a very

1 Professor Young communicated to the writer a sketch of his theory several weeks before he published it, inviting comments and asking particularly whether any similar theory had been previously enunciated. A great pressure of engagements prevented the writer from replying at the time to this letter, otherwise the published statement of the theory would have con

bright outer layer of clouds, from which metallic rains are falling. The edge of the clouds would then define the outside of the spot's fringe like border, while the lower limits of the shower would define the inside. It is true that this explanation assumes that the lower limits of the showers falling all round a spot lie closer than the upper; but this would naturally happen if, as is suggested by many circumstances, a spot is a scene where there is a cyclonic downrush of matter from without; for the whirling vapors would sway the upper parts of the downfalling streams more effectively than the lower parts, which parts would therefore tend inwards towards the spot's central region. It will probably occur to the reader that if heavy solar showers fell in this particular way, then, unless the showers were perfectly continuous (a most improbable contingency) the edges of the shower regions thus brought into view should show streaks radiating from the direction of the spot's centre. To explain our meaning more clearly, suppose a large region of the earth to be covered by rainclouds from which showers are falling; then suppose a circular part of the cloud-covering removed, and that the rain falling all around this circular space slopes inward towards the middle of the space; now suppose a balloonist to ascend from the middle of the circular space until he is high above the level of the cloud-layer; then he would see below him a great opening in the cloud-layer (white in the sunlight, which would be shining on its outside), and he would see all round the opening and within it the streams of falling rain, forming, as it were, a fringe within the circular gap; and it is manifest that this fringe would show streaks in the direction of the falling rain streams, that direction as seen by the balloonist appearing to be radial with respect to the circular openings. Now it has long been noted as one of the most remarkable features of the solar spots that their penumbral fringes are streaked precisely in this manner.

But again, it will be seen that if falling solar showers were thus thrust outwards at their upper edges, then since lines drawn towards a centre lie closer as the centre is approached - the penumbra of a spot ought to be brighter at its inner edge than at its outer. The difference would be rendered all the more remarkable because the showers would grow heavier as they descended, according to the law observed in our rain-showers. Now here, again, it is a noteworthy circumstance that long before the bubble theory of the sun had been invented, astronomers had recognized the fact that the penumbral fringe of a spot is markedly darker on the outside than on the inside. The observation has been made in such a way as to preclude the possibility that contrast alone would account for the phenomenon. Thus a second and most remarkable feature of sun-spots finds its explanation in the new theory. We venture, indeed, to say with some confidence that the appearance in question suffices to throw serious doubts upon all other theories which have hitherto been propounded in explanation of sun-spot phenomena. We do not say that the bubble theory can be regarded as demonstrated on the strength of this simple fact; but we do assert that no theory hitherto put forward has given any account whatever of the peculiarity in question.

It is manifest, however, that Professor Young's theory gives no explanation of the origin of sun-spots, nor does the theory throw any light whatever on that perplexing subject. Nevertheless, it is impossible to consider the condition of the sun, as presented by the startling theory before us, without being led to reexamine the questions suggested by what we have learned respecting sun-spots. We see confirmed by the theory the view to which astronomers had for some time been led, that spots are produced by action exerted from without. We perceive reasons for believing that this action is one of great energy, its energy being probably in the main dynamical. It is true that the darkness of a spot must be explained by physical considerations depending on the laws of heat and

tained a reference to the facts mentioned in what follows. In any case, how light, and that chemical relations must be taken into ac

ever, it is manifest that the views of Professor Young and of Mr. Stoney are independent of each other, being devised in explanation of two wholly distinct sets of circumstances.

count in dealing with the subject. But we seem to recognize clear evidence of the actual thrusting on one

side of solar clouds with their down-pour of metallic rain, where spots are formed. Apart from the considerations relating to the penumbral fringe of a spot, there is a manifest heaping up of the solar cloud-layers all round a spot, where the bright and elevated regions called faculæ are seen. Besides, many spots indicate by their shape and changes of shape the action of most energetic forces, breaking up and thrusting apart, as it were, the masses of clouds which form the light giving surface of the sun.

Now the various theories, which have been formed to account for the periodic recurrence of spot-frequency, have been based on influences supposed to be exerted in some mysterious manner by the planets. In particular, In particular, Jupiter has been held responsible for the great spotperiod of about eleven years. Jupiter's period of revolution around the sun being about eleven years and ten months, it has been inferred that he regulates this period of spot-frequency; and a comparison has been made. between his supposed action in this respect and the apparent connection existing between our moon's motions and the recurrence of terrestrial volcanic action. It is manifest that the explanation (if such it can be called) thus indicated would correspond with a theory presenting sunspots as caused by solar forces acting from within outwards, but would by no means accord with a theory indicating as the source of solar spots an action exerted from without the solar orb. Moreover, we cannot readily overlook the circumstance that the eleven-year spot-period does not accord exactly with Jupiter's period of revolution. In consequence of this want of agreement, we have not to go far back to find periods when spots have been very numerous, corresponding with the time when Jupiter has been at his nearest to the sun, farthest from the sun, and at his mean distance. This appears to render altogether untenable the theory that there is any connection whatever between Jupiter's distance from the sun and the appearance of spots upon the sun's surface. And if we give up the theory that Jupiter influences the sun in this manner, it seems impossible to believe in planetary influence at all. So that we may regard ourselves as free to search for other causes, and especially for the possible existence of matter reaching the sun from time to time from without, and so producing those openings.

Thus viewing the matter, one might be led to suspect the existence of some as yet undetected comet with its train of exceptionally large meteoric masses, travelling in a period of about eleven years around the sun, and having its place of nearest approach to that orb so close to the solar surface that when the main flight is passing the stragglers fall upon the sun's surface. But then there is this difficulty, that the spots appear always on two zones of the sun's surface, corresponding in a general sense to the temperate zones on the surface of the earth, and though it would be easy to account for one such zone by the suggested comet theory, the existence of two is not so readily accounted for.

And yet though no single comet can be accepted in explanation of the observed facts, there are some circumstances which, so soon as the general idea of cometic influence has been mooted, attract our attention as favoring that theory. For example, if we ascribed the sun's spots to comets, we should require that many comets should have paths carrying them very close to the sun's surface; and though few such comets have been detected, yet the laws observed in the paths of discovered comets indicate that if we only had an equal chance of detecting comets which passed very near to the sun, they would be found to be very numerous indeed. It has been shown that, if a model of the solar system were constructed and a material particle were set to indicate that point of each cometic path which lies nearest to the sun, the density with which such particles would be aggregated would be found to increase rapidly in approaching the sun.

Again, since there are two zones of sun-spots, we should expect to find the cometic paths showing an average slant 1 We emphasize the word "source," because whatever opinion may be formed as to the origin of sun-spots, no doubts can be entertained respecting the action of expicsive solar forces.

to the level of the sun's equator, according with the corresponding slant in the case of lines drawn from the spot-zones to the centre of the sun's globe. Such a tendency has been discovered, though the assigned slant of the cometic orbits is somewhat greater than the theory requires. Let us be permitted to quote, notwithstanding the technicality of its terms, a passage from Dunkin's excellent Appendix to Lardner's" Astronomy," in which this relation is stated: "There are evident indications of a tendency of the planes of the cometary orbits to collect around a plane whose inclination to the plane of the ecliptic is forty-five degrees; or if a cone be imagined to be formed, having a semi-angle of forty-five degrees, and its axis at right angles to the plane of the ecliptic, the planes of the cometary orbits betray a tendency to take the position of tangent-planes to the surface of such a cone." We beg those of our readers who eschew cones, semi-angles, and tangent-planes, to trust in our assurance that the sentence just quoted bears the meaning we have assigned to it. So far, then, the observed relations among cometic orbits seem to accord with the idea that the meteoric stragglers following on the track of comets may be in some way the cause of solar spots.

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But we might also expect, if this theory were the true one, that some great comet which had approached the sun very nearly would give evidence in favor of the theory. For we could hardly but suppose that such a comet would be followed by very large meteoric attendants, and we might expect to find some one or other of these not passing like the parent comet quite clear of the sun, and accordingly occasioning (if the theory be true) a great spot. Such evidence would be particularly striking if it occurred at a time almost midway between two epochs when spots had been very numerous. Now, a comet once appeared which made a singularly near approach to the sun's surface. This was the comet of 1843, which Sir John Herschel thus graphically describes : Many, I dare say, remember its immense tail, which stretched half-way across the sky after sunset in March of that year. But its head, as we here saw it, was not worthy of such a tail. Farther south, however, it was seen in great splendor. I possess a picture by Professor Piazzi Smyth, Astronomer-Royal of Scotland, of its appearance at the Cape of Good Hope, which represents it with an immensely long, brilliant, but very slender and forked tail. Of all the comets on record, that approached nearest the sun. Indeed, it was at first supposed that it had actually grazed the sun's surface, but it proved to have just missed by an interval of not more than 80,000 miles, about a third of the distance of the moon from the earth, which (in such a matter) is a very close shave indeed to get clear off. There seems very considerable reason to believe that this comet has figured as a great comet on many occasions in history; and especially in the year 1668, when just such a comet, with the same remarkable peculiarity, of a comparatively feeble head and an immense train, was seen at the same season of the year, and in the very same situation among the stars. Thirty-five years has been assigned with considerable probability as its period of return, but it cannot be regarded as quite certain." Now, this remarkable comet having passed thus close to the sun, in the year 1843, which was very nearly the time of fewest spots,2 afforded precisely such an opportunity for testing the comet theory of sun-spots as we have indicated above. This would be a time when we should expect no large spot to make its appearance, for it has been observed that the larger spots occur at or near the time when spots are most numerous. But Professor Kirkwood (of Bloomington, Indiana, U. S.) has called attention to the fact that "one of the largest and most remarkable spots ever seen on the sun's disk appeared in June, 1843, and continued visible to the naked eye for seven or eight days. The diameter of this spot was, according to Schwabe, 74,000 miles, so that its area was many times greater than that of

2 This will be manifest from the following numbers, indicating how many new spots were observed in the years between 1836 and 1849: In 1836, 272; in 1837, 333; in 1838, 282; in 1839, 162: in 1840, 152; in 1841, 102; in 1842, 68: in 1943, 34; in 1844, 52; in 1845, 114; in 1846, 157; in 1847, 257; in 1848, 339; and in 1849, 239. We thus see that 1837 and 1848 were years of greatest spot-frequency, while 1843 was a year of least spot-frequency.

the earth's surface." "It would seem," he proceeds, commenting on the facts mentioned above, "that the formation of this extraordinary spot was an anomaly, and that its origin ought not to be looked for in the general cause of the spots of Schwabe's cycle." He then describes, as having a possible bearing on the question, the wonderful phenomenon observed simultaneously by Carrington at Redhill and Hodgson at Highgate, in 1859, when two intensely luminous bodies seemed to burst into view on the sun's surface, which moved side by side for about 35,000 miles in five minutes, first increasing, then diminishing in brightness, then fading away. The opinion has been expressed by more than one astronomer," he proceeds, "that this phenomenon was produced by the fall of meteoric matter upon the sun's surface. Now the fact may be worthy of note that the comet of 1843 actually grazed the sun's atmosphere about three months before the appearance of the great sunspot of the same year. Had it approached but little nearer the resistance of the atmosphere would probably have brought its entire mass to the solar surface. Even at its actual distance it must have produced considerable atmospheric disturbance. But the recent discovery that a number of comets are associated with meteoric matter, travelling in nearly the same orbits, suggests the inquiry whether an enormous meteorite following in the comet's train, and having a somewhat less perihelion distance, may not have been precipitated upon the sun, thus producing the great disturbance observed so shortly after the comet's perihelion passage."

We will not further pursue this theme, however, interesting though the considerations it suggests may be. We have, indeed, been led somewhat far away from the bubble theory of the sun with which we began. But after all, in the present state of our knowledge of the great central luminary of the system, we can hardly be too ready, on the one hand, to look around for all side lights which may perchance help us to see our way towards the truth, or too watchful, on the other hand, lest we be led astray. So that we need offer no excuse for directing attention to the association which may possibly exist between solar and cometic phenomena, though we must at the same time caution the reader against the supposition that such an association can be regarded as in any sense demonstrated. It cannot, indeed, be too often insisted upon that in discussing so stupendous an object as our sun, the scene of processes so marvellous, and the centre of activities so tremendous, we must not expect to find simple theories of its constitution, or of the changes which it is undergoing. It is altogether a mistake for the students of astronomy to range themselves on this side or on that, when diverse solar theories are advanced, as though necessarily the truth must lie on one side or the other. Whether the sunspots are phenomena of indraught or of outrush; whether the corona is due to expulsive forces, to perpetual solar auroras, or to meteoric systems in the sun's neighborhood; whether the sun's photosphere is solid, liquid, or gaseous; whether his heat is due to meteoric down-pour, to the gradual contraction of his globe, or to chemical changes: these and a hundred other such questions may be made the subject of endless controversy, simply because the truth does not lie altogether on one side. Such controversy cannot but be useless in the present state of our knowledge. It does, indeed, occasionally happen, even in dealing with solar phenomena, that a decision can be pronounced decisively between contested theories, so soon as certain considerations have been fully taken into acA noteworthy instance was afforded by the longcontinued discussion whether the corona is a solar appendage: a question which really admitted of being answered definitely on the strength of a few not very recondite mathematical considerations, long before eclipse photography disposed of it. But such cases are the exception, not the rule. Now that we know how exceedingly complicated is the structure of the sun; that processes are taking place within his globe which are not merely wonderful in their extent and variety, but are probably for the most part quite unlike any that we are or can ever

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be familiar with; when we see how the tremendous attractive energies of the sun, by which the great gaseoliquid mass which sways our system is compressed towards its centre, contend continually with mighty expulsive forces by which vast masses of matter are visibly projected from the sun, and with still mightier repulsive forces, whose action we see in the phenomena of comets; when again we consider that all the elements we know, probably, exist in the sun in quantities such as we can form no conception of, and in forms with which we are unfamiliar, it is mere folly to insist on adopting definite theories respecting the sun's condition. Let us remember that in all probability we see in the sun a state of things partially resembling what existed in our own earth countless ages before the changes began which our geologists find so difficult to interpret; and seeing thus that we have a state of things removed from us in this sense by a practical infinity of time, existing on a globe too remote in space to be studied by any really satisfactory methods of research, and presenting only its glowing surface for our examination; seeing also that although some of the forces at work there are nominally those whose action we are acquainted with, yet even these act on a scale which must render their operation as utterly unlike that of the same forces on earth as though they were forces of a totally different nature; while, lastly, we cannot doubt that forces utterly unknown to us are at work in the sun, we may well look doubtingly on the easy and simple (but contradictory) theories of the sun which are from time to time presented by students of science in this country and abroad. After many years of patient labor, we shall begin to comprehend more clearly than at present how utterly incomprehensible is the great centre of our system; for though many difficulties which now perplex us may then have been removed, each difficulty mastered will be found to have introduced others greater than itself.

NOVEL-READING.

THE question, What kind of literature is most read? is often made a theme for social homilies. It may be not less profitable to put the question for once in the converse form. And to this we answer without hesitation, that no class of books is so little read in the present age and country as novels. This seems a surprising statement, but it shall be justified. We do not say that novels are not as much taken up and looked at as other books. The thing to be settled is, What is meant by reading? Now we do not call it reading a book to glance over two or three pages anywhere near the beginning, two or three pages anywhere near the end, and perhaps one or two in the middle. This is a process not without its uses for several purposes, which it would be needless and perhaps invidious to enumerate, but it is not reading. Again, we do not include taking up a book for ten minutes and laying it down again, and so on at irregular intervals for ten minutes or a quarter of an hour at a time, till one has nibbled a way through the volume from title to colophon. This is reading every part of the book, but not reading the whole book. It is a partial substitute with which we sometimes have to put up for want of opportunity to take in the whole, but let us not fancy that it is the same thing. Neither do we allow that it is properly to be called reading when we rock ourselves as it were to a sweet intellectual slumber over a novel, being in the lazy mood which desires repose rather than active enjoyment, and not grasping definite conceptions, but letting a series of pictures float before us. This is an excellent way of taking pleasure in a book which one knows already; and there are some works of fiction notably Mr. Morris's tales in verse, which, as he himself says, live and move in an atmosphere betwixt waking and sleeping-which are more enjoyable in the mellowed and dreamy twilight of these after-meditations than in the vivid apprehension of their novelty. But such later delights presuppose a former wakeful reading;

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and this perhaps is a good aesthetic reason for the publishing season being what it is, inasmuch as a romance or poem brought out in November is about ripe for dreaming over when the summer holidays come round. However, it is plain that all this has nothing to do with the first and true reading, except that it must come after it.

The conditions necessary for the full and sufficient enjoyment of a novel or other playbook (to use an expressive school term covering every book read without any purpose of instruction) are such as unhappily do not come together as often as might be wished. One or two are at once seen to be indispensable, and it is equally obvious that they are beyond control; such as being in the general frame of mind proper for novel-reading, and then finding the particular novel suited to one's particular frame of mind. But the most important is to have nothing else to do. It is impossible to give one's self up to the influence of a great writer, or to keep one's self in the attitude of sympathy and moral correspondence which he has a right to expect from his readers, if serious conflicting claims are present, or even expected. And freedom from interruption is necessary, not only for the purpose of ensuring the due quality of the artistic impression at any moment, but for preserving a continuous order of all the impressions which in the result are to build up a harmonious ideal whole. This practically means that one ought to have a clear day at least to give to a novel, in order to read it to the best advantage; for certainly there are very few good novels which can be fairly read through at the ordinary pace of an educated reader in any shorter time.

Now there is an occasion which does present itself to most persons of the literary class a certain number of times in every year, on which a novel may be read continuously through the greater part of the day with a reasonable assurance of there being nothing else to do. This is a long railway journey, on which, barring accidents, there is generally an abundance of spare time, and also an absence of any strong outward excitement. The first condition gives the opportunity, the second favors the disposition, for novelreading. And thus the practice of reading a novel in the train is to be not only explained but justified. The reason for it is deeper than mere vacancy or craving for amusement. It is not simply that a traveller wants something to do; it is that he has a singularly good occasion for doing a particular thing which cannot always be done, but which, when it can be done, is exceedingly pleasant. We can recall sundry railway journeys which would in themselves have brought no gifts but a dreary resignation to the necessities of time and space, but whose hours were so transfigured by a volume of George Sand that there are few others in our memory for which we would willingly exchange them. It is true that the doctors say reading in a train is bad for the eyes. And so it is, no doubt, beyond a certain point, just as going in a train at all may be very bad for the whole body if it is made a fixed habit. It is by this time common knowledge that a man may seriously injure his health, and even induce special forms of disease, by travelling every day up and down such a distance as that between London and Brighton. But the same amount of railway travelling once a month will do him no harm; and we venture to think that a corresponding amount of reading in the train will leave any sound pair of eyes practically unharmed too. It is not suggested, indeed, that one should attempt to read bad print in a shaky carriage. This is one reason why we mentioned George Sand's works in particular as railway-books. French novels are printed in better and larger type than the editions of English ones produced at anything like a similar price, and the light flexible volume in its paper cover is easily balanced in the hand and accommodated to the changes of motion so as to neutralize, in part at least, the alleged ill effects on the eyesight. Another advantage of a book in this form is that it is good enough to be worth keeping (which English railway editions generally are not), and yet not so good that one need be afraid of squeezing it into a hand-bag or a pocket in company with odds and ends. Another and a crowning merit is that it is generally in one volume, and so can be

read right through in the course of a single journey, or at any rate a single excursion. Very few English novels are short enough to begin and finish with complete satisfaction in this way, at least in their own country. On the Continent, the more sedate pace of railway travelling and the more convenient shape of Tauchnitz reprints make the case somewhat different. A German, more especially a South German, train and a Tauchnitz volume of English wit or wisdom do indeed match one another with a fitness of mutual complement which may seem fore-ordained, and whereupon a philosopher might not unjustly fall to musing on the intricate ways of the universe, and the subtle manifestations of final causes.

It will be seen that we confine our observations to travelling on land. A real sea voyage is a world of itself, into which we cannot now permit ourselves to wander. For the petty Channel and North Sea passages incident to Continental touring, there is nothing to be said but that a passenger must be either upon deck or below deck. Upon deck it is impossible to help looking about one; and as for reading a book below, we forbear to pursue a suggestion which may be listened to when the Bessemer or Dicey scheme is perfected, but which for the present can only call up a ghastly smile. Another excellent kind of opportunity for novel-reading in the true and artistic manner, perhaps in itself better than the last, but not so much within the general experience of mankind, is afforded by the intervals of walking expeditions. Days of rest provided for by the traveller's design, or enforced by bad weather, must sometimes fall on small inns bare of resources. Yet even in these one may find a happy godsend. In a little hostelry recently opened in an Alpine valley there has within our knowledge occurred a strange deposit left by some good Englishman unknown-nothing less than an odd half volume of Kinglake's "Invasion of the Crimea," which, having read, he must have left behind him to economize weight. But oftener than not the Alpine climber can manage to dispose his times and distances so as to spend the idle day or day and a half between one march and another at one of the comparatively populous mountain resorts. And though he has taken no thought, and perhaps has no spare room, for any provision of literature, he may reap the fruits of a laudable custom by which the more prudent, who bring up books from the cities of men, piously leave them to benefit those who come after. A novel cannot be more worthily read than at such a time and place. The wholesome bodily indolence of well-earned repose, already tempered with bracing anticipations of new delight in action; the even balance of a mind unstrung from cares, and opened to fuller knowledge of all beautiful things by its fresh communion with nature; the splendor of the Alpine sky, and the clear, purifying breath of the glaciers-with these accompaniments how should one fail to enjoy the power and skill of an admired author with a more lively apprehension, a more true and abiding emotion, than fall to the lot of moments hastily snatched and confusedly pieced together from amidst the monotonous bustle of everyday life? This is a virtue of travel in grand and inspiriting scenery which is not sufficiently recognized. Our admiration is so occupied with the wholly new objects put before us, that we hardly take note of the subtle power of such an environment to exalt all the ordinary faculties and occupations we bring with us, which at home seem commonplace.

In this attempt to arrive at the true principles of novelreading we have adhered to a rather severely artistic way of looking at the question, which may possibly be considered impracticable; and there are certain necessary exceptions to be made. These are of two opposite kinds. For some books are too great, and many too small, to come within the description of novels as we understand the term. On the one hand, such a work as "Les Misérables," or 'Middlemarch," to take two instances in extremely different styles, cannot possibly be read with the same fluency as a book which consists entirely or chiefly of story. Generally the book exists for the sake of the story; but here the relation is reversed, and the story exists for the sake of some

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