University of Virginia Library

1. LECTURES ON ASTRONOMY.—PART I.
CHAPTER I.

The term Astronomy is derived from two Latin words,—
Astra, a star, and onomy, a science; and literally means the
science of the stars. “It is a science,” to quote our friend
Dick (who was no relation at all of Big Dick, though the
latter occasionally caused individuals to see stars), “which
has, in all ages, engaged the attention of the poet, the philosopher,

and the divine, and been the subject of their study
and admiration.”

By the wondrous discoveries of the improved telescopes of
modern times, we ascertain that upwards of several hundred
millions of stars exist, that are invisible to the naked eye—
the nearest of which is millions of millions of miles from the
Earth; and as we have every reason to suppose that every
one of this inconceivable number of worlds is peopled like
our own, a consideration of this fact—and that we are undoubtedly
as superior to these beings, as we are to the rest
of mankind—is calculated to fill the mind of the American
with a due sense of his own importance in the scale of animated
creation.

It is supposed that each of the stars we see in the Heavens
in a cloudless night, is a sun shining upon its own curvilinear,
with light of its own manufacture; and as it would be
absurd to suppose its light and heat were made to be diffused
for nothing, it is presumed farther, that each sun, like an old
hen, is provided with a parcel of little chickens, in the way
of planets, which, shining but feebly by its reflected light,
are to us invisible. To this opinion we are led, also, by
reasoning from analogy, on considering our own Solar
System.

The Solar System is so called, not because we believe it
to be the sole system of the kind in existence, but from its
principal body the Sun; the Latin name of which is Sol.
(Thus we read of Sol Smith, literally meaning the son of Old
Smith.) On a close examination of the Heavens we perceive

numerous brilliant stars which shine with a steady light
(differing from those which surround them, which are always
twinkling like a dew-drop on a cucumber-vine), and which,
moreover, do not preserve constantly the same relative distance
from the stars near which they are first discovered.
These are the planets of the Solar System, which have no
light of their own—of which the Earth, on which we reside,
is one,—which shine by light reflected from the Sun,—and
which regularly move around that body at different intervals
of time and through different ranges in space. Up to the
time of a gentleman named Copernicus, who flourished about
the middle of the Fifteenth Century, it was supposed by our
stupid ancestors that the Earth was the centre of all creation,
being a large flat body, resting on a rock which rested on
another rock, and so on “all the way down;” and that the
Sun, planets and immovable stars all revolved about it once
in twenty-four hours.

This reminds us of the simplicity of a child we once saw
in a railroad-car, who fancied itself perfectly stationary, and
thought the fences, houses and fields were tearing past it at
the rate of thirty miles an hour;—and poking out its head,
to see where on earth they went to, had its hat —a very nice
one with pink ribbons—knocked off and irrecoverably lost.
But Copernicus (who was a son of Daniel Pernicus, of the
firm of Pernicus & Co., wool-dealers, and who was named Co.
Pernicus, out of respect to his father's partners) soon set this
matter to rights, and started the idea of the present Solar
System, which, greatly improved since his day, is occasionally

called the Copernican system. By this system we learn that
the Sun is stationed at one focus (not hocus, as it is rendered,
without authority by the philosopher Partington) of an ellipse,
where it slowly grinds on for ever about its own axis, while
the planets, turning about their axes, revolve in elliptical
orbits of various dimensions and different planes of inclination
around it.

The demonstration of this system in all its perfection
was left to Isaac Newton, an English Philosopher, who, seeing
an apple tumble down from a tree, was led to think thereon
with such gravity, that he finally discovered the attraction
of gravitation, which proved to be the great law of Nature
that keeps every thing in its place. Thus we see that as an
apple originally brought sin and ignorance into the world,
the same fruit proved thereafter the cause of vast knowledge
and enlightenment;—and indeed we may doubt whether any
other fruit but an apple, and a sour one at that, would have
produced these great results;—for, had the fallen fruit been
a pear, an orange, or a peach, there is little doubt that Newton
would have eaten it up and thought no more on the subject.

As in this world you will hardly ever find a man so
small but that he has some one else smaller than he, to look
up to and revolve around him, so in the Solar System we
find that the majority of the planets have one or more
smaller planets revolving about them. These small bodies
are termed secondaries, moons or satellites—the planets
themselves being called primaries.

We know at present of eighteen primaries, viz: Mercury,
Venus, the Earth, Mars, Flora, Vesta, Iris, Metis, Hebe,
Astrea, Juno, Ceres, Pallas, Hygeia, Jupiter, Saturn, Herschel,
Neptune, and another, yet unnamed. There are distributed
among these, nineteen secondaries, all of which,
except our Moon, are invisible to the naked eye.

We shall now proceed to consider, separately, the different
bodies composing the Solar System, and to make
known what little information, comparatively speaking,
science has collected regarding them. And, first in order, as
in place, we come to

THE SUN.

This glorious orb may be seen almost any clear day, by
looking intently in its direction, through a piece of smoked
glass. Through this medium it appears about the size of a
large orange, and of much the same color. It is, however,
somewhat larger, being, in fact 887,000 miles in diameter,
and containing a volume of matter equal to fourteen hundred
thousand globes of the size of the Earth, which is certainly
a matter of no small importance. Through the telescope it
appears like an enormous globe of fire, with many spots
upon its surface, which, unlike those of the leopard, are continually
changing. These spots were first discovered by a
gentleman named Galileo, in the year 1611. Though the
Sun is usually termed and considered the luminary of day,
it may not be uninteresting to our readers to know that it
certainly has been seen in the night. A scientific friend of
ours from New England (Mr. R. W. Emerson) while traveling

through the northern part of Norway, with a cargo of
tinware, on the 21st of June, 1836, distinctly saw the Sun
in all its majesty, shining at midnight!—in fact, shining all
night! Emerson is not what you would call a superstitious
man, by any means—but, he left! Since that time many persons
have observed its nocturnal appearance in that part of the
country, at the same time of the year. This phenomenon has
never been witnessed in the latitude of San Diego, however,
and it is very improbable that it ever will be. Sacred history
informs us that a distinguished military man, named Joshua,
once caused the Sun to “stand still;” how he did it, is not
mentioned. There can, of course, be no doubt of the fact, that
he arrested its progress, and possibly caused it to “stand still;”
—but translators are not always perfectly accurate, and we
are inclined to the opinion that it might have wiggled a very
little, when Joshua was not looking directly at it. The
statement, however, does not appear so very incredible, when
we reflect that seafaring men are in the habit of actually
bringing the Sun down to the horizon every day at 12 Meridian.
This they effect by means of a tool made of brass,
glass and silver, called a sextant. The composition of the
Sun has long been a matter of dispute.

By close and accurate observation with an excellent opera-glass,
we have arrived at the conclusion that its entire surface
is covered with water to a very great depth; which water,
being composed by a process known at present only to the
Creator of the Universe and Mr. Paine of Worcester, Massachusetts,
generates carburetted hydrogen gas, which, being

inflamed, surrounds the entire body with an ocean of fire, from
which we, and the other planets, receive our light and heat.
The spots upon its surface are glimpses of water, obtained
through the fire; and we call the attention of our old friend
and former schoolmate, Mr. Agassiz, to this fact; as by
closely observing one of these spots with a strong refracting
telescope, he may discover a new species of fish, with little
fishes inside of them. It is possible that the Sun may burn
out after awhile, which would leave this world in a state of
darkness quite uncomfortable to contemplate; but even under
these circumstances it is pleasant to reflect, that courting and
love-making would probably increase to an indefinite extent,
and that many persons would make large fortunes by
the sudden rise in value of coal, wood, candles, and gas, which
would go to illustrate the truth of the old proverb, “It's an
ill wind that blows nobody any good.”

Upon the whole, the Sun is a glorious creation; pleasing
to gaze upon (through smoked glass), elevating to think upon,
and exceedingly comfortable to every created being on a cold
day; it is the largest, the brightest, and may be considered
by far the most magnificent object in the celestial sphere;
though with all these attributes it must be confessed that it
is occasionally entirely eclipsed by the moon.