we can form no other conception of our | subordinate or secondary suns, and must earth's primal condition than as a vapour certainly have been such long after the globe. Our moon likewise affords abun-earth and her fellow minor planets had dant evidence of having once been in an intensely heated state. And doubtless there was once a time when the earth and moon were both (at the same time) vaporous through intensity of heat.

cooled down into the condition of habitable worlds we find very striking evidence to show that these minor suns or major planets erupted from their interior the material of meteor systems and of those comets of small period which have been called the comet-families of the major planets. The evidence on this point will be found fully detailed in the article called "The Recent Meteor Shower and Meteor Showers generally," which ap

uary last; and the circumstance will there be found noted, that we need not inquire into the dimensions of a body, in considering the possibility of its expelling matter from its interior with a velocity sufficient to carry such matter altogether away; since, in point of fact, the inferior

Now we have not gone back to that far distant epoch for the purpose of seeking there for the secret of the moon's present figure. It appears to us reasonable to trace back to such an epoch the singular law of the moon's rotation, whereby she always keeps the same face turned to-peared in the Cornhill Magazine for Janwards the earth; for far off though that epoch may be, it is not separated from our time by so enormous a lapse of ages as could be required to "brake a rapidly rotating moon to the moon's present strangely slow rotation rate. In the distant era then, when the moon was a vapour nucleus within the great vapour-ity (for instance) of the major planets globe which was at some future period to form the earth we live upon, the moon thus involved learned to rotate synchronously with her revolution. But gradually the earth's vapour-globe shrunk in its dimensions until the moon was left outside - or we may say that the vaporous envelopes around the two chief nuclei so far shrank as no longer to be anywhere intermixed. From this time forth the moon must have cooled more rapidly than the earth; and the time must at length have arrived when the moon had become an opaque orb, while the earth on which we live was still a sun. Even at this early stage of our existence the moon must have so rotated as to turn the same face towards the earth's then glowing orb.

But now a circumstance has to be considered which, startling though it may seem at first, is yet consistent with what has been ascertained respecting the sun and other bodies. There is a great mass of evidence tending to show that our sun expels matter from his interior with a velocity sufficient to carry such matter entirely away from him. This has been shown by the microscopic and chemical structure of meteorites, by their paths and rates of motions, and by many circumstances which will be found detailed at length in the article called "Meteors, Seed-bearing and Otherwise," in the Cornhill Magazine for November, 1872. It is also very strikingly supported by the behaviour of the so-called eruption-prominences of the sun. Passing from the sun to the major planets which even now seem to have some of the qualities of

compared with the sun, is compensated by the inferior attractive power which their eruptional forces have to overcome. All that is required is a sunlike condition with respect to heat; granting this, a small globe like the earth, or even so small a globe as the moon, would be as competent to expel matter to great distances from its interior, as the major planets, or as the sun himself, or even as an orb like Sirius, exceeding our sun at least a thousand times in volume.

So long then as our earth continued in a sunlike state, she would probably expel matter in all directions with a velocity small indeed compared with the velocity of matter erupted from the sun, but quite as large relatively to the attractive power of the earth. This process of continual eruption would not exhaust the earth, simply because it would be compensated by arrivals from without; and moreover, far the greater quantity of the erupted matter would doubtless fall back upon the glowing orb of the earth. But it is manifest, that whatever erupted directly towards the moon, so as to fall upon her, would recruit her mass. As we must assume from the known mass of the earth that she was for ages in a sunlike condition, we must believe that during those ages that face of the moon which was continually directed earthwards received no inconsiderable supply of erupted matter. For it must be remembered that when the process began, the moon was much larger in volume, though considerably less in mass, than at the present time. She would, there

matter was

fore, at that time intercept a much great- | This, as it flows from the furnace, is er proportion of the erupted matter. received in stout iron boxes (called 'cinMoreover, since, after she had shrunk der bogies'). The following phenomena into a semiplastic but still growing orb, are usually observable on the cooling of the moon must have continued for a very the fused cinder in a circular bogie. long time subject to this rain of earth- First a thin solid crust forms on the red born missiles, there is reason for regard- hot surface. This speedily cools suffiing as very considerable the quantity of ciently to blacken. If pierced by a slight matter by which her bulk was thus in- thrust from an iron rod, the red-hot matcreased. Moreover, if it be remembered ter within is seen to be in a state of that the meteoric missiles thus expelled seething activity, and a considerable from the earth would necessarily be quantity exudes from the opening. If a exceedingly hot, probably liquid even bogie filled with fused cinder is left unbefore their fall, and certainly liquefied disturbed, a veritable spontaneous volat the moment of collision with the canic eruption takes place, through some moon's surface, we find à priori evidence portion, generally near the centre, of the for that very downfall of liquid drops, solid crust. In some cases, this eruption of which, as mentioned above, the is sufficiently violent to eject small spurts present aspect of the moon seems to of molten cinder to a height equal to afford evidence. It is certainly a note- four or five times the width of the bogie. worthy circumstance that a theory de- The crust once broken, a regular crater vised to explain a most striking peculiarity is rapidly formed, and miniature streams of the moon's globe, should account also of lava continue to pour from it; somefor a feature, not less striking, which had times slowly and regularly, occasionally not been specially in view when the with jerks and spurts, due to the bursting theory was invented. of bubbles of gas. The accumulation of these lava-streams forms a regular cone, the height of which goes on increasing. I have seen a bogie about ten or twelve inches in diameter, and nine or ten inches deep, surmounted in this way by a cone about five inches high with a base equal to the whole width of the bogie. These cones and craters could be but little improved by a modeller desiring to represent a typical volcano in eruption."

We must pass, however, from these considerations, because the evidence on which they have been based is too slight to warrant any prolonged or exact discussion respecting them. But a few words remain to be said on the question which originated the strange theories devised to explain why the moon at present shows no traces either of oceans or an atmosphere.

We have said that on our earth the law seems established that where there is no water there are no volcanoes. May it not be, however, that this law does not extend to the moon? Mr. Mathieu Williams, whose work, The Fuel of the Sun, has suggested many new and striking considerations respecting the celestial orbs, has brought to bear on this question an experience which very few students of astronomy have possessed the knowledge, namely, of the behaviour of fused masses of matter cooling under a variety of circumstances. "I have watched the cooling of such masses very frequently," he says, "and have seen abundant displays of miniature volcanic phenomena, especially marked where the Cooling has occurred under conditions most nearly resembling those of a gradually cooling planet or satellite-that is when the fused matter has been enclosed by a resisting and contracting crust. The most remarkable that I have seen are those presented by the cooling of the 'tap cinder' from puddling furnaces.

The aspect of the moon's crater-covered surface certainly accords better with the supposition that active processes like those described by Mr. Williams were in operation when that surface was formed, than with the theory that slow and intermittent volcanic action like that with which we are now familiar on earth, modelled the moon's surface to its present configuration. In the former case water would not have been needed, and vaporous matter would not have been expelled to an extent irreconcilable with observed phenomena.

It is manifest that we have in the moon a subject of research which has been by no means exhausted. Ascertained facts respecting her have not yet been explained; and doubtless many facts still remain to be ascertained. The moon will hereafter be examined with greater telescopic power than has yet been applied, and when this is done appearances may be accounted for which are at present unintelligible. Again new inquiries into the question of the evolu

tion of our solar system, can hardly fail to throw light on the peculiar relations presented by the moon with reference to the terrestrial globe. We believe that the problems suggested by lunar research, perplexing though they unquestionably are, will not be found insoluble; and it is most probable that their solution will in turn throw important light on the history of our earth and her fellow terrestrial planets, on the giant planets which travel outside the zone of asteroids, and lastly, on the past history, present condition, and future fate of the great central luminary bearing sway over the planetary system.

From The Cornhill Magazine.
WILLOWS: A SKETCH.

been given to reach a higher level than is yet possible for the mass-a standing ground from which they can discern a clearer light, a truer beauty, and a wider love-a few should from time to time pause in the struggle and shed abroad in tenderness and sympathy for others the good they have themselves acquired.

A stone's throw away, beyond the iron railings which bound my garden, and where the mill-lake narrows to a stream, another willow grows amid a tangle of blue forget-me-nots and coarse weeds and rushes. It is a pollard willow, and I have heard it called ungraceful, for its boughs do not droop - they seldom have length enough even to wave in the summer winds because every autumn they are cut down and bound into sheaves and carried away to be woven by patient fingers into baskets to bear the burdens of many men and women. I was very sad about the poor willow the first time I saw its green shoots shorn off. It was slim and graceful then, and it seemed to me that its young life was just developing into a fulness and beauty that bid fair to rival those of its elder sister on my lawn. But the ruthless shears cut off its crown and it has stood ever since as the type of a maimed and broken life-a I CAN see two willows from my win-maimed life of which the personal indow. One grows on the edge of the completeness is compensated by a wider lake at the bottom of my lawn. Its roots usefulness.

PART I.

CHAPTER I.

This is a spray the bird clung to,
Making it blossom with pleasure,
Ere the high tree-top she sprung to,
Fit for her nest and her treasure.
Oh, what a hope beyond measure
Was the poor spray's, which the flying feet hung to,
So to be singled out, built in, and sung to!
R. BROWNING.

a

is use in the beauty of the one and beauty in the usefulness of the other. As I look at them to-day I find my thoughts wandering away to a little village among the Sussex Downs and to two women in whose lives I lived long years ago.

run under the soft turf and grasp the Of my two willows I hardly know which mossy bank. Its languid branches droop I love the best, for I have watched them over the water and make a pleasant mur-long, and I have learnt to see that there muring sound as they sweep its surface and caress the little pleasure boat that is moored beneath their shade. All my friends praise my weeping willow for its grace and beauty, and say there is no tree for miles round that is so plea ant to sit and dream under on summer I lived with my father in the Rectory afternoon. And so I find it myself. house; they lived half a mile away in a When I am tired of the heat and dust of pretty gabled cottage with their mother this work-a-day world I find rest under and a swarm of younger brothers and its whispering boughs; when I am sore sisters. Of their father I never knew with continual knocking against the more than that he had been a naval angles of my fellow-creatures, I find re-officer with a florid complexion and lief in the contemplation of its harmo- black bushy whiskers, and even so much nious curves; when I am in despair over I only knew by inference from a full disappointed hopes and baffled efforts length portrait which hung against the and aspirations never to be realized, my drawing-room wall and toward which willow, bending its tall head earthward Mrs. Barnard was wont to look pathetias if to give back in loving sympathy to cally when she wished you to understand the soil from which it sprung whatever that the burden of life was pressing upon of goodness and beauty it may have ac-her more heavily than on her neighbours. quired in its upward growth, reminds me that if it is a good work to toil and agonize in the cause of human progress, it is not less good that of those to whom it has

Whether these pathetic glances meant that the gallant captain had added more to the burden by his life or by his death I could never quite make up my mind,

but I think the silence of the other mem- | when she was standing at the store-room bers of the family on his score and the cupboard, with a large brown holland indifference with which they contemplat- apron over her blue cotton gown, dealing ed the blue uniform and gold buttons out soap and candles to the two maids inclined me to the former supposition. who formed the establishment of Cedar Grace and Madeline Barnard were the Cottage. But I had found out that, if only intimate friends of my girlhood. there was more of practical usefulness in Perhaps I ought to say that Madeline Madeline's brown fingers than in Grace's was my friend and that Grace was Mad- taper white ones, there was also a good eline's sister. deal more philosophy and certainly not To most people Grace was the central less poetry nestling under her unmanfigure at the gabled cottage. It was ageable brown curls than under Grace's Grace whom passers by looked over the dusky coils. And, though both were good, garden gate to admire as she stood pic- kind, loving girls, it seems to me even turesquely gathering honeysuckle in the now, after a life's experience of a world porch; Grace who sat all the long sum-in which kind hearts are, after all, not mer days reading poetry under the sweetscented shade of the cedar that spread its arms, like a benevolent giant, over the little house and garden; Grace, whose white fingers moved nimbly among the old blue china tea-cups when visitors came in at five o'clock: it was Grace who sung old ballads in a tender, melting voice. Grace, who made little water colour sketches of the country about; Grace, who murmured pretty nothings and smiled sweetly, and interested and fascinated everybody; it was Grace of whom my father said that she was like a summer evening, with its tender haze and quiet sadness.

very few, that only those who knew Madeline Barnard as I came to knew her, can tell what a width and warmth of sympathy one human heart may hold.

It was about six years after the Barnards came to Endle Down that our girlish intimacy deepened into a sacred friendship.

Madeline had been unexpectedly absent one summer afternoon from a meeting of a clothing club committee, and I, who had counted on her support in some disputed question, had felt a little vexed with her for staying away. I had lost my point, which I should certainly have And certainly she was very pretty, with carried had she been there to state it for her tall slight figure and the masses of dull me in her clear and persuasive manner. dark hair that she wound round her head I felt so much annoyed that, as I locked as nobody else could ever succeed in do- the schoolroom door and turned my back ing, and the liquid grey eyes with a range on the scene of my defeat, I gave up the of varying expression that seemed abso- intention I had formed on first missing lutely infinite, and the faint rose-blushes my friend, of going up to the cottage to that came and went at a word or a look inquire if she were ill, and I turned in the cheeks that were normally colour-homeward to nurse my dignity over a less. She was very pretty, and so I suppose it was the most natural thing in the world that everybody should feel that Mrs. Barnard and Madeline, the schoolboy brothers and the sisters in pinafores, the gables and the honeysuckle aye, and the grand old cedar itself, had no other meaning or raison d'être than just this, that they were the setting of the gem, Grace Barnard.

But, as I said before, Madeline was my friend. It was she who helped me in the schools and with the old women, who advised me in my difficulties and comforted me in my troubles. To most people she seemed a matter-of-fact, housewifely little person, who darned the children's stockings, helped the boys with their Latin grammar, and cut thick bread and butter for the nursery tea; who was always good-humoured and happy, but never so much in her element as

solitary tea. But dignity is a poor thing in comparison with sympathy, and as I bethought me that, my father being out, I should not even have the satisfaction of telling him my grievance, I began to relent towards Madeline, who might after all, have good reasons for her absence from the committee meeting. So I flung dignity to the winds, and feeling rather ashamed of myself turned quickly round and took the lane that led to the cottage.

Dick Barnard was sitting on the garden gate, lazily aiming stones at the sparrows that hopped in and out of the cart ruts.

"If you've come after Madeline," he shouted as I came up, "you won't find her, for she has been up at the Dene all the afternoon."