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ceivable uprush from beneath. In place of the quiet cloud I had left, the air (if I may use the expression) was filled with flying debris—a mass of detached vertical fusiform (that is, extended) filaments, brighter and closer together, where the 'pillars' had formerly stood, and rapidly ascending.
They consisted of glowing hydrogen, and looked like mere filaments, but they were from four or five thousand to thirteen or fourteen thousand miles long, and from nine hundred to fourteen hundred miles wide—threads, therefore, of goodly dimensions.
These monstrous filaments were rapidly ascending. When I first saw them some of them had already reached a height of nearly 100,000 miles; in ten minutes the uppermost were more than 200,000 miles above the solar surface. This was ascertained by careful measurement. The velocity of ascent, 166 miles per second, is considerably greater than anything hitherto recorded.
But, wonderful as a velocity of 166 miles per second must appear, the velocity indicated by this upward motion is enormously greater. Matter flung forth from the sun could not reach a height of 200,000 miles, unless it crossed the sun's surface (or what appears to us as such) with a velocity of upwards of 210 miles per second. Here is at once an increase of 50 miles per second. But even this is not all. Although matter flung from the sun at this enormous rate would reach a height of 200,000 miles (not taking into account the resistance of the solar atmosphere), it would by no means traverse the last 100,000 miles of such an upward flight at an average rate of 166 miles per second. As the filaments rose they gradually faded away like a dissolving cloud, and at a quarter past one only a few filmy wisps, with some brighter streamers low down near the sun, remained to mark the place. Thus we seem precluded from regarding the range of 200,000 miles, enormous though it is, as the extreme limit reached by the filaments.
In the meantime the little white cloud had grown and developed wonderfully, into a mass of rolling and everchanging flame, to speak according to appearances. First it was crowded down, as it were, along the solar surface; later it rose almost pyramidally 50,000 miles in height; then its summit was drawn out into long filaments and threads, which were most curiously rolled backwards and downwards, like the volutes of an Ionic capital; and finally, it faded away, and by half-past two had vanished like the other.
THE TEAR OF EEPENTANCE.—Moore.
Thomas Moore was torn in Dublin in 1779, and died in 1852. His longest poem is " Lalla Rookh," of which this is one of the tales. He was an intimate friend of Byron and Sheridan, and wrote the lives of both. His poetry is melodious and elegant, but it wants simplicity and naturalness.
One morn a Peri at the gate
Of Life -within, like music flowing,
Through the half-open portal glowing,
"How happy," exclaim'd this child of air,
'Mid flowers that never shall fade or fall;
One blossom of Heaven out-blooms them all!"
The glorious Angel who was keeping
Within his eyelids, like the spray
On the blue flow'r, which—Bramins say—
The Peri yet may he forgiven,
The Gift that is most dear to Heaven!
Rapidly as comets run
At those dark and daring sprites
Who would climb the empyreal heights,
Down the blue vault the Pebi flies,
And, lighted earthward by a glance That just then broke from morning's eyes,
Hung hovering o'er our world's expanse.
Still laughs the radiant eye of Heaven,
Slowly, she sees a child at play,
As rosy and as wild as they;
From his hot steed, and on the brink
Impatient fling him down to drink. Then swift his haggard brow he turn'd
To the fair child, who fearless sat, Though never yet hath day-beam burn'd
Upon a brow more fierce than that— Sullenly fierce—a mixture dire, Like thunder-clouds, of gloom and fire! In which the Peri's eye could read Dark tales of many a ruthless deed.
* * * *
Yet tranquil now that man of crime
Met that unclouded, joyous gaze,
Encounter morning's glorious rays.
But, hark! the vesper call to prayer,
As slow the orb of daylight sets,
From Syria's thousand minarets!
Kneels, with his forehead to the south,
From Purity's own cherub mouth,
* * * *
And how felt he, the wretched Man
"There was a time," he said, in mild,
And hope, and feeling, which had slept From boyhood's hour, that instant came
Fresh o'er him, and he wept—he wept! Blest tears of soul-felt penitence!
In whose benign, redeeming flow Is felt the first, the only sense
Of guiltless joy that guilt can know.
And now—behold him kneeling there
'Twas when the golden orb had set,
*' Joy! joy for ever! my task is done—
Peri.—In Persian Mythology a de- of the heavens. — Frykb. Tmaret.— A
scendant of fallen spirits excluded from small caravanserai where travellers are
Paradise till a penance had been ac- lodged and fed for three days, without
complished. Baalbec.—A ruined city of charge. Damsel-flies.—You behold there
Syria, north of Damascus, in the valley a considerable number of a remarkable
of the Lebanon. Starry Brands.—The species of beautiful insects, the elegance
Mahometans suppose that falling stars of whose appearance, and their attire,
are the fire-brands wherewith the good procured for them the name of Damsels,
angels drive away the bad, when they —Sonniki. approach too near the empyrean, or verge
Composition.—Write the story of the poem in your own words, in prose.
AN ODE TO PEACE.—T. Hood.
The following is the supposed effort of an inspired Footman, written amidst interruptions.
WRITTEN ON THE NIGHT OF MY MISTRESS'S GRAND ROUT.
Oh, Peace! oh come with me and dwell—
But stop, for there's the bell.
On Wednesday when there's very few
Hush! there's a carriage.
The five Miss Woods.
There come some more.