Christ-like enough to cease to be inhuman, mad, but which were doubtless familiar to those accustomed to the incidents of ancient executions. One of the main themes of Jesus Christ's teaching was the majesty, the severity, the unchangeableness of God's moral government, as contrasted with the levity of the world's judgments. In enforcing this great idea He used a variety of illustrations. Some of these quite dispense with the instrumentality of fire; as the leading one of the exclusion of guests from a marriage-supper. Some of them almost pointedly negative permanence of fire; for the use of fire in burning the weeds that have injured a crop is to make an end of them. The hell of Dante and Milton is the result of two processes: the intense and gloating selection of the imagery of fire; and the addition of a device, purely gratuitous, not countenanced in the remotest hint of Scripture, by which fire is made to yield a maximum of pain. This device Milton borrowed from Dante; we may read Milton's description of it.

"The parching air

Burns frore, and cold performs the effect of fire.
Thither, by harpy-footed Furies haled,
At certain revolutions all the damned
Are brought; and feel by turns the bitter change
Of fierce extremes, extremes by change more
fierce,

From beds of raging fire, to starve in ice Their soft ethereal warmth, and there to pine Immoveable, infixed and frozen round, Periods of time, thence hurried back to fire." And so there is no prospect that "our torments may become our elements." From whom Dante got this truly devilish notion I know not; but there is, I think, proof in his poem that there was a taint of cruelty in his own nature, and indeed, if we can trust the evidence of Roman relentlessness to Carthage, of the gladiatorial shows, and of the savage treatment of animals in modern Italy, the taint must be pronounced general in the Italian race. It seems like ly that poetry, however noble in execution, which is inseparably associated with a stupendous horror and incredibility, will be outgrown and left behind by the race, and that both the Divine Comedy and Paradise Lost will sooner or later be peremptorily refused a place among the constellations beside the poems of Homer and the dramas of Shakespeare.

The spiritual depths of Christianity, the divine power of kindness and self-sacrifice, were fully fathomed neither in Paradise

Lost nor in Paradise Regained. In these dwells the inspiration of Puritan battle, but there were gentler tones in the angels' song above the fields of Bethlehem. Deeper Christian tones than any in Milton are to be found scattered through the hymnology of the Christian Churches, through the works of Goethe, and in Mrs. Browning's Drama of Exile and Tennyson's In Memoriam. These, however, are single tones: no such body of Christian music, no poems so great, so monumental, as Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained, have been produced since the time of Milton.

To the man himself we turn, for one brief glance before laying down the pen. In the evil times of the Restoration, in the land of the Philistines, Agonistes but unconquerable, the Puritan Samson ended his days. Serene and strong; conscious that the ambition of his youth had been achieved. He begins the day with the Hebrew Bible, listens reverently to words in which Moses, or David, or Isaiah spake of God. But he attends no church, belongs to no communion, and has no form of worship in his family; notable circumstances, which we may refer, in part at least, to his blindness, but significant of more than that. His religion was of the spirit, and did not take kindly to any form. Though the most Puritan of the Puritans, he had never stopped long in the ranks of any Puritan party, or given satisfaction to Puritan ecclesiastics and theologians. In his youth he had loved the night; in his old age he loves the pure sunlight of early morning as it glimmers on his sightless eyes. The music which had been his delight since childhood has still its charm, and he either sings or plays on the organ or base-violin every day. In his gray coat, at the door of his house in Bunhill Fields, he sits on clear afternoons; a proud, ruggedly genial old man, with sharp satiric touches in his talk, the untuneable fibre in him to the last. Eminent foreigners come to see him; friends approach reverently, drawn by the splendor of his discourse. It would range, one can well imagine, in glittering freedom, like "arabesques of lightning," over all ages and all literatures. He was the prince of scholars; a memory of superlative power waiting, as submissive handmaid, on the queenliest imagination. The whole spectacle of ancient civilization, its cities, its camps, its landscapes, was before

him. There he sat in his gray coat, like a statue cut in granite. He recanted nothing, repented of nothing. England had made a sordid failure, but he had not

failed. His soul's fellowship was with the great Republicans of Greece and Rome, and with the Psalmist and Isaiah and Oliver Cromwell.-Contemporary Review.

DURING the months of September, October, and November, Mars and Saturn are companions as evening stars. It will not be difficult to recognise them, though the ruddy glories of Mars have been greatly reduced since July and August, when he shared with Jupiter the dominion over the western skies after sunset. The dull yellow lustre of Saturn differs markedly from the red but more star-like light of Mars; and, as the two planets draw near to each other late in November (making their nearest approach on the 20th), it will be interesting to observe the contrast between the red and yellow planets of the solar system. Striking, however, as this contrast will be found to be, it is insignificant, compared with the real contrast which exists between the two planets. Mars is the least but one of the primary members of the solar family, and, although he pursues a course outside the earth's, he is unlike all the other superior planets in being unaccompanied by any moon; his small orb, also, appears to have but a shallow atmospheric envelope, while, in physical constitution, he apparently occupies a position between the earth and the moon. Saturn, on the other hand, is inferior only to Jupiter in dimensions and mass, while he is superior to Jupiter not only in the astronomical sense that he travels on a wider orbit, but in the extent and importance of the scheme over which he bears sway: his orb, moreover, like that of Jupiter, appears to be the scene of marvellous processes of change, implying a condition altogether unlike that of the earth on which we live.

We propose to give a brief sketch of what has been ascertained respecting this wonderful planet, the most beautiful telescopic object in the whole heavens, and the one which throws the clearest light upon the nature of the solar system, and particularly of those giant planets which circle outside the zone of asteroids.

We would at the outset impress upon the reader the necessity of raising his thoughts above those feeble conceptions respecting Saturn and his system which are

In

suggested by the ordinary pictures of the planet. When we see Saturn presented as a ball within a ring, or more carefully pictured as a striped globe within a system of rings, we are apt to regard the ideas suggested by such drawings as affording a true estimate of the planet's nature. fact, many believe that the planet and its rings are really like what is presented in these pictures. It should be understood that what has been actually seen of Saturn by telescopic means cannot, in the nature of things, afford any true picture of the planet and its ring system. The picture must be filled in, not by the imagination but by the aid of reason; and then, though much will still remain unknown, we shall have at least a far juster conception of the glories of the ringed world than when we simply contemplate drawings which show how the planet looks under telescopic scrutiny. This will at once appear, when we consider that Saturn never lies at a less distance than 732 millions of miles from the earth. With the most powerful telescope we see him no better (taking atmospheric effects into account) than we should if this distance were reduced to about a million miles. It is manifest that at this enormous distance all save the general features of his globe and of his rings must be indistinguishable. Where we seem to see a smooth solid globe striped with belts, there may be an orb no part of which is solid, girt round by masses of matter lying many miles above its seeming surface. Where we seem to see solid flat rings, neatly divided one from the other either by dark spaces or by difference of tint, there may be no continuous rings at all; the apparent spaces may be no real gaps; the difference of tint may imply no difference of material. On these and other points, the known facts afford important evidence, and, by reasoning upon them, we are carried far beyond the results directly conveyed to us by telescopic researches.

Saturn is distinguished, in the first place, by the enormous range of his orbit,

not merely in distance from the sun, but in the distances which separate it from the orbits of his neighbor planes. His mean distance from the sun is about 872 millions of miles, his actual range of distance lying between 921 millions and 823 millions. These figures are imposing, but they are, in fact, meaningless save by comparison with other distances of the same class. Let it be noticed, then, that Saturn's mean distance from the sun exceeds the earth's more than nine and a half times. Now Jupiter's distance exceeds the earth's rather more than five times (five and a fifth is very nearly the true proportion); so that between Jupiter's path and Saturn's there lies everywhere a span fully equal to four times the earth's distance from the sun. So much for Saturn's nearest neighbor on that side. But on the farther side lies Uranus, more than nineteen times as far away from the sun as our earth is; so that between the paths of Saturn and Uranus there lies everywhere a span equal to Saturn's own distance from the sun. Now all this is not intended as a mere display of wonderful distances. So far as mere dimensions are concerned, these arrays of figures are more imposing than impressive. But so soon as we take into account the circumstance that a planet is in some sense ruler over the spaces through which its course carries it, those spaces being by no means tenantless, we see that, cæteris paribus, the dignity of a planet is enhanced by the extent of the space separating its orbit from the orbits of its neighbors on either side. Now the space between the paths of Saturn and Jupiter exceeds the space enclosed by the earth's orbit no less than sixtythree times, while the space between the paths of Saturn and Uranus exceeds the space enclosed by the earth's orbit two hundred and seventy times! Assuming (as we seem compelled to do by continually growing evidence) that Saturn and his system were formed by the gathering in of matter from the region over which Saturn now bears sway, we cannot wonder that the planet is a giant and his system wonderful in extent and complexity of structure. It is true that Jupiter on one side and Uranus on the other, share Saturn's rule over the vast space, 330 times the whole space circled round by the earth, which lies between the orbits of his neighbor planets. But Saturn's rule is almost

supreme over the greater part of that enormous space. Combining the vastness of the space with its position-not so near to the sun that solar influence can greatly interfere with Saturn's, nor so far away as to approach the relatively-barren outskirts of the solar system-we seem to find a sufficient explanation of Saturn's high position in the scheme of the planets as respects volume and mass, and his foremost position as respects the complexity of the system over which he bears sway.

Briefly, then, to indicate his proportions, and the dimensions of his system,—

Saturn has a globe considerably flattened, his equatorial diameter being about 70,000 miles while his polar axis is nearly 7,000 miles shorter. Thus in volume he exceeds the earth nearly 700 times, and all the four terrestrial planets-Mercury, Venus, the Earth, and Mars-taken together, more than 336 times. In mass he does not exceed the earth and these other smaller planets so enormously, because his density (regarding him as a whole) is much less than the earth's. In fact, his density is less than that of any other known body (comets of course excepted) in the solar system. The reader is doubtless aware that the sun's mean density is almost exactly one-fourth of the earth's; Jupiter's is almost exactly the same as the sun's; but Saturn's is little more than half the sun's, being represented by the number thirteen only, where 100 represents the earth's. Thus, instead of exceeding the earth nearly 700 times in mass, as he would if he were of the same density, he exceeds her but about ninety times. But this disproportion must still be regarded as enormous, especially when it is added that the combined mass of the four terrestrial planets amounts to little more than the forty-fourth part of Saturn's mass. The combined mass of Uranus and Neptune, though these are members of the family of major planets, falls short of one-third of Saturn's mass : yet, by comparison with Jupiter, whose mass exceeds his more than three-fold, Saturn appears almost dwarfed. may be noted as a striking circumstanceone that is not sufficiently recognised in our astronomical treatises - that while Jupiter's mass exceeds the combined mass of all the other planets (including Saturn) about two and half times, Saturn exceeds all the remaining planets in mass about two and three quarter times. So unequally is

And it

the material of the planetary system distributed.

The mighty globe of Saturn rotates on its axis in about nine hours and a half, the most rapid rotation in the solar system so far as is yet known.

But what shall we say to indicate adequately the dimensions of that enormous ring system which circles around Saturn? Here we have no unit of comparison, and scarcely any mode of presenting the facts except the mere statement of numerical relations. Thus, the full span of the rings, measured across the centre of the planet, amounts to 167,000 miles; the full breadth of the ring-system amounts to 35,600 miles. But these numbers convey only imperfect ideas. Perhaps the best way of indicating the enormous extent of the ring-system is to mention that circumnavigation of the world by a ship sailing from England to New Zealand by Good Hope and from New Zealand to England by Cape Horn would have to be repeated twenty-one times to give a distance equalling the outer circumference of the ring-system. The same double journey amounts in distance to but about two-thirds of the breadth of the ring-system.

As to the scale on which Saturn's system of satellites is constructed, we shall merely remark that the span of the outermost satellite's orbit exceeds nearly two-fold the complete span of the Jovian system of satellites, and exceeds the span of our moon's orbit nearly tenfold.

And now let us consider what is the probable nature of the vast orb, which travels-girl round always by its mighty ring-system-at so enormous a distance from the sun that his disc has but the ninetieth part of the size of the solar disc we see. Have we in Saturn, as has been so long the ordinary teaching of astronomy, a world like our own, though larger-the abode of millions on millions of living creatures or must we adopt a totally dif ferent view of the planet, regarding it as differing as much from our earth as our earth differs from the moon, or as Saturn and Jupiter differ from the sun?

We must confess that if we set on one side altogether the ideas received from books on astronomy, endeavoring to view these questions independently of all preconceived opinions, it appears antecedently improbable that Saturn or Jupiter can re semble the earth either in attributes or

purpose. We conceive that if a being capable of traversing at will the interstellar spaces were to approach the neighborhood of our solar system, and to form his opinion respecting it from what he had observed in other parts of the sidereal universe, he would regard Jupiter and Saturn, the brother giants of our system, as resembling rather those companion orbs which are seen in the case of certain unequal double stars, than small dependent worlds like our earth and Venus. There are, perhaps, no instances known to our telescopists in which the disparity of light, as distinguished from real magnitude, is quite so great as that which exists in the case of the sun and the two chief planets of the solar system.* But we see in the heaven of the fixed stars all orders of disproportion between double stars, from the closest approach to equality down to such extreme inequality, that while the larger star of the pair is one of the leading brilliants of the heavens, the smaller can only just be discerned with the largest telescopes yet made, used on the darkest and clearest nights. We have no reason to believe that the series stops just where our power of tracing it ceases; on the contrary, since the series is continuous as far as it goes, and since our own solar system is constituted as if it belonged to the series prolonged far beyond the limits which telescopic scrutiny has reached, we have reason for believing that such is indeed the interpretation of the observed facts. In other words, we may not unreasonably regard our solar system as a multiple system, a double star at certain ranges of distance, whence only the sun and Jupiter could be seen; a triple star at distances whence Saturn could be seen;

illumination from a standpoint so distant that both * Even this is not certain. Jupiter, seen in full Jupiter and the sun might be regarded as equally distant from it, would appear to shine with rather more than the 3,000th part of the sun's light. This would correspond to the difference of ap parent brightness between two stars of equal real magnitude and splendor, whereof one was about fifty-four times as far away as the other. There can be no doubt that the larger reflectors of the Herschels, Rosse, and Lassell, and the great refractors of Greenwich, Pulkowa, and Cambridge, U.S., would bring the farther of two such stars into view if the nearer were of the first or second magnitude; and it is not at all unlikely that some of the exceedingly minute companions to bright stars, disclosed by these instruments, may be planets shining with reflected, not with inherent lustre.

and a quintuple star where Uranus and Neptune would come into view. To show what excellent reason exists for regarding Mercury, Venus, the earth, and Mars as not to be included in this view, it is only necessary to remark that not one of these planets could be seen until the limits of the solar system had been crossed. To eyesight such as ours, not one of the four terrestrial planets could be seen from Saturn, and still less of course from Uranus or Neptune. It would be as unreasonable to hold the ring of asteroids, or even the myriads of systems of meteorolites and aërolites to be bodies resembling the earth and her fellow terrestrial planets, as it is to hold these terrestrial planets to be bodies resembling Jupiter and his fellow giants.

In all characteristics yet recognised by astronomers, Jupiter and Saturn differ most markedly from the earth and her fellow planets. In bulk and mass they belong manifestly to a different order of created things; in density they differ more from the earth than the sun does; they rotate much more swiftly on their axes; they receive much less light and heat from the sun; the lengths of their year exceed the length of the earth's year as remarkably as their day falls short of hers; the atmospheric envelope of each is divided into variable belts, utterly unlike anything existing in the earth's atmosphere; and, lastly, each is the centre of an important subsidiary scheme of bodies quite unlike the moon (the only secondary planet in the terrestrial family) as respects their relations to the primary around which they travel.

Notwithstanding all these circumstances in evidence of utter dissimilarity, and the fact that not one circumstance in the condition of the major planets suggests resemblance to the terrestrial planets, astronomy continues to treat of the planets of the solar system as though they formed a single family. It would appear as though the teachings of the astronomers who lived before the telescope was invented, had so strong an inherent vitality, that more than two centuries and a half of discoveries adverse to those teachings are powerless to dispossess them of their authority. For no other reason can be suggested, as it appears to me, for the complete disregard with which the most striking characteristics of the major planets have been treated by modern astronomers.

If,

If we consider one feature alone of those which have been just mentioned— the small mean density of the giant planets-we have at once the strongest possible evidence to show that the condition of these bodies must be unlike that of the earth. Of course, if we assume that Saturn's substance (to limit our attention to this planet) is composed of materials altogether unlike any which exist on earth, a way out of our difficulty is found, though not an easy one. In that case, however, we are only substituting one form of complete dissimilarity for another. And all the results of spectroscopic analysis, as applied to the celestial bodies, tend to show the improbability that such dif ferences of elementary constitution exist― we will not say in the solar system only, but in the sidereal universe itself. however, we admit that Saturn is in the main constituted of elements such as we are familiar with, we find it extremely dif ficult, or rather it is absolutely impossible, to suppose that the condition of his substance is like that of the earth's. There are certain unmistakable facts to be accounted for. There is the mighty mass of Saturn, exceeding that of the earth ninetyfold. That mass is endued with gravitating energy, precisely in the same way as the earth's mass. There must be from the surface towards the centre a continually increasing pressure. This pressure is calculable,* and enormously exceeds the internal pressures existing within the earth's interior. There is no possibility of cavities, as Brewster and others have opined; for there is no known material, not the

water.

*It is a misfortune for science that Newton never published the reasoning which led him to the conclusion that the earth's mean density is equal to between five and six times the density of firmed by several experimental methods; and, so This, as every one knows, has been confar as appears, the problem is a purely experi mental one. Newton, however, made no experiments; at least, none have been heard of as afhad any instruments of sufficient delicacy for a fected by him, and it is scarcely probable that he task so difficult. Prof. Grant ascribes Newton's conclusions to a happy intuition; yet it is very unlike Newton to make a guess on such a matter. It is more probable that he guessed the elements of the problem than the result. He probably assumed that the earth's mass is composed of a substance like granite, and adopting some law of compression for such a substance (based on ex sion at different depths, and so obtained the mean periment perhaps), calculated thence the compres density of the whole mass.