puissance; with one hand it bears the resistless emblem of sovereignty, before which the armed traitors must kneel; and with the other it lays the corner-stone of Free Society, before which the barbarism of lord and vassal must fade away.

ARTICLE XIV.

Astronomy of the Seasons.

THE poetry of the Seasons is a familiar theme, but some one may inquire, "What can be said of the Astronomy of the Seasons?" The poetry is felt by many who never read Thomson, and many a tuneful bard has drawn inspiration from their scenes. The Greek among his groves and islands, the Hebrew on his hills, the Swiss peasant by the Alps, the Huron by his lakes, have enjoyed the poetry of the Seasons, as it blossomed in spring, fruitened in summer, ripened in autumn, and lay gathered in full winter stores; but what can be said of the Astronomy of the Seasons, to entertain our readers for half an hour?

We scarcely know what we may be able to say, but we feel that a more competent writer might take up the latter theme and give instruction, and open a reader's eyes to the pictures of a new poetry in which the light of science unrolls the seasons, while he would be left with a finer remembrance of their bounty and joy. Let us call the reader's attention to a few facts and inferences, and leave him to judge whether a master of astronomy might not give him numbers and harmonies as pure and enchanting as those of the Greek poets, or any of Thomson's strains.

Let us speak of the causes of the seasons, and their action and order. Let us trace those causes to two simple arrangements of the earth's axis, and to three simple motions, while we regard their character as of three different kinds. One 18

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grand cause of the life and glory of the seasons, we must never forget, is found in the sun, moon and stars, while the other causes we will mention, produce their order, variety and movement. 1. The earth's axis of rotation points to one place in the heavens, and is always parallel to itself; this is the first arrangement. 2. The earth's axis is not parallel to the plane of her orbit, nor perpendicular to that plane, but inclined from the perpendicular toward the plane, 231°. This is the second arrangement, and these are so fixed and constant that they do not vary a minute in an hundred years.

On that axis, so constant in position, so inclined, the earth revolves like a cart wheel on its axle, once in 24 hours. This is the first motion; this gives the first unit from which all time is reckoned, and all seasons roll. One revolution makes a day as the sun and stars shine; a day with evening and morning in its circle, and evening before morning. On the side next the sun is morning, on the side against the sun is evening, and morning follows evening round the globe, turning the darkness into light. The second motion is the earth's revolution in her orbit round the sun in 365 days. This is the second unit of time cutting it into years. This measure is not discovered by any thing we find on earth, though we might guess at it from seeing the changes of winter and summer, and the birth and death of plants and flowers. The year cannot be perceived by any motion alone that we detect on earth. It is astronomical. It is measured to a fraction of a second, by the light of the stars. The third motion we will mention by and by, as connected with other seasons, that man in one generation does not discover.

Let us now return to the first motion we have mentioned: the earth's rotation on her axis, and to the first circle of seasons, that gives us night and day. The seasons of the poet and the farmer rise in the year, but night and day are seasons, and let us so consider them. This circle is 24 hours, and is so unerring, the astronomer cannot detect an added or a missing second, if he trace back every revolution the earth has made for six thousand years. This is the first circle of seasons.

Now consider what mighty consequences flow from so simple a cause. By that revolution no doubt the earth holds her vast globe together, maintains the balance of her lands and waters, and sets the direction of some of her most beneficent winds and waves. It regulates the life of plants and animals, and scientists find the very life of the globe so timed and balanced to her night and day seasons, they marvel at the fact. It brings all the earth's inhabitants, except in the polar regions, every day into the light of the sun, and fills with gladness the beings on her sphere. So truly is the life of the globe adjusted to the day, and the perfect circle of its hours, that Linnæus projected a flower-clock, consisting of plants which mark certain hours of the day by opening and shutting their leaves.

As day opens the flowers and night shuts them; and sometimes, vice versa; so also do they open and close the mind of man,--and what revelations they give him! Day unveils the earth and her life and glory to him, and night unveils the heavens. What darkness and mystery night brings upon earth! How soon her loveliest scenes are dreary, and melted to a mass of glooms and shadows, without one trace of order, or one gleam of hope! Wait till morning rises to complete the day, and what visions rejoice your eyes! The sky kindles with the dawn, the hills are tipped with gold, the trees and waters shine, the valleys come out into radiant bloom, your dandelions glow like little suns, your syringas in glorious white and green are cut with lines of celestial beauty, your tulips stand like star-clusters, your grasses and pebbles are transfigured, your birds and children sparkle like the morning, and all is harmony, melody, fragrance and joy. Day unveils the earth, and night unveils the heavens. But while day reveals all needful beauty, and shows us the wonders of our homeworld here, if day had been perpetual, what glories of heaven would have been hidden from man forever! Think of any scene of stellar beauty and glory now, and remember how night could reveal it to your eyes, while the light of day conceals it. In 1858, a wonderful comet was seen in our heavens, and smiling like some kindly minister sent from a distant world on

an embassy of love to man. All through the day it was sailing in our skies, and seemed to convoy a fleet of stars, as if taking a grand ovation. One night it took old Arcturus in tow, and we fancied it repeating the question of God, “Canst thou guide Arcturus with his sons?" Few of us have seen a more beautiful object in the heavens, and yet we could not observe it at all when the sun was above the horizon. Had it appeared at the same points of right ascension where we saw it, but directly west of us, we should not have seen it at all without a glass. The sun's light would have concealed it, till our horizon, less depressed here than where the comet first appeared, would have eclipsed its lovely form. Sometimes there are comets in our sky at midday with their heads at the zenith and their trains on the horizon, all glowing, as if set with pearls and diamonds, and filling a quarter of the heavens with their delicate flame, but they are not observed till an eclipse of the sun unveils them, and they float out of the clear empyrean like forms of angels on cathedral windows, and men hold their breath and marvel at the sight. What constellations and firmaments are concealed by the daylight and revealed by, the night!

When night unveils the heavens we find the pole-star above the real horizon at an altitude of about 48°, and the sun, moon and stars, as far south as we can see, appear to revolve round the pole-star in oblique circles. Those within about 40° of the pole are seen to wheel round it without setting. Those further south have their circles cut more and more by the horizon, till at last none rise above it, and all remain in perpetual eclipse. If we were nearest the south pole, however, all the stars we could see would appear to revolve in oblique circles round that. If we were on the equator, the sun and stars would rise and set in circles perpendicular to the horizon; the heavens north and south would almost seem to divide and revolve round each pole, as the landscapes on the north and south revolve on different centres, when we are going eastward on a railway train. If we were at the north pole, the equator would be on the horizon, the pole-star would be right over

head, and the stars and constellations would revolve round the pole-star in circles parallel to the horizon. At that point our night and day seasons would be six months in length, we should have fifty mornings' twilight, reddening into day till the sun appeared on the horizon and rose round and round on a spiral to the height of 231°, and then descended round and round the horizon till he set, and fifty nights' twilight lingered to prolong his reign. Where we now live, night is before day; morning, midday, evening and night make four seasons of the first order; on the side of the earth next the sun it is morning; on the side against the sun it is evening; morning follows evening round and round the globe at the flight of a thousand miles an hour, while we are sailing on the earth's orbit eighty-five times faster than a sixty pound cannon ball can fly.

Now let us pass to the second motion, and the simple arrangements that produce the seasons of the year. The second motion is the earth's revolution in her orbit. This is completed in about 365 days. This forms the second unit of time and cuts it into years. But what causes the second round of seasons? Why do we have seasons at all? Whence are their changes? Why does the sun appear to come north in the summer, and go south in the winter, and like the ball of a pendulum swing from pole to pole? Why do the seasons follow these motions in such alternations of cold and heat and darkness and light; Is the motion really in the sun? It is not, as everybody ought to know; if that were the case, what would be gain to our little marble of a world, would be loss to all others, and order and harmony would cease. Does the earth wabble on her axis like a falling top, tipping south in summer, tipping north in winter, and playing bo-peep with the sun, as many suppose? No, if that were the case, there would be more terrible discord still. Land and water would rush back to chaos, our sight of the heavens would be confused and uncertain, science and beauty would be impossible, and men could no more study the stars and trace their laws and movements, than a boy on a rocking-horse could read a