A TRIP TO THE MOON.

Ashburton Guardian, Volume VII, Issue 1735, 9 January 1888, Page 2

A TRIP TO THE MOON.

(By A. leexand ) Let those of your readers who are fond >f astronomy accompany ma m an maginary trip to the moon. On leaving the atmoasphere of ihe idrth vf c are at once surrounded by more ;han Egyptian darknesi. On every land, whichever way we look, an abyss of mimaginable darkness provonts cur rißion, except when our eyes are brought n a straight line with some luminous the rays from which enter thorn jfith a directues3 and intensity which ;iuaes pain to the optic nerves. Here m i space between the earth and moon the Bun ' iver shines, and never acts nor Bhinea with te3B intensity. Be is coatinua'ly shedding a volume of light m all directions, and yet if w« turn our eyes away at any angle from him, all is black as Erebus. The reason is that there is no atmosphere to disperse and scatter, nor looal objects to rtfleothis rays. Here '»o object is visible unless it be itself emitting rays of light, either reflected or original. Arrive! at the moon , what strange anomalies await us. Instead of the who'.e landscape being illuminated as on the earth, those places which are m the direct rays of ihesuu are lighted up with an unearthly glare, while those m shadow are m impenetrable darkness. What a strange and ffierd eight meets our gaze. It is morning m the locality In whioh we stand We oan Bee the mountain tops, as it were suspended in^ mid-air, shining with dazzling brilliancy, but nothing else ia visible anywhere ; and as it tikes four weeks for the moon to experience the circle of day and night, it would be too long for us to wait for the consequent transformations m the landscape, which, however, would be worth the time ho spent. We can, by travelling to meet the sun, make up for the tardy motion of ttie mocn ou her axis. As we journey on, more of the mountain sides coma into the sun's rays, and their rugged and angular character impresses us with awe. (We are journeying m mid air, a3 it were; the lower surface of the moon still being obscured by complete darkne s.) From our vantage point we can see the mountains presont the appearancJ of rugged circular walla ot vast extent, enclosing a great abyaa. Nowhere yet can we ace the plains or valleys. The moon has no atmosphere, consequently there ia no such thing as twilight. The dun's rays oome upon the unlighted parts with the suddenness of lightning, and depart as Bwif tly. Thia is partly obviated by the slowness with whioh the moon rotates on her axis, morniDg bod evening light coming and going with such slow progress. We have now come td that part of the moon's day corresponding to that m which wo Bee her from toe earth at the quarter. This part has experienced th« sun's continual rays foi three and a-half days— that is for a peri d equal to three and a-half daya on the earth. Let us pause Lere a little and contemplate tha scene. The plains now are illuminated, except m the shadow of mountains What a vast diifrenoefrom guch a view of the earth. Here there are no valltye, properly so called j there is uo soi', vegetation, or animal life. Everywhere silence reigns, and everything has the motiooleesness of death. There is no landscape— nothing but igneous rocks, bare, angular, and rugged, whioh, where not m Bhadow, reflect the sun's rays with a glare and brilliancy such as we have no experience of. What a strange unearthly eight it all presents ; the comparatively level parts or plains are glaring with reflected light; the mountains and every prominence has a two-fold aspect, one pait bright and the other black as Erebus. One fltep is .sufficient to take us from total darkness into noonday glare. We see a huge uneartb'y mountain, towering to an enormous altitude, one aide m darkness and the other lighted up. We travel up the lighted side and find it almost perpendicular, It h a solid mass of rock without Bigna of stratification, -saowing-plamlyitio igneous origin. The craggy mmunit is beautifully lighted by the nun's rays, but a hair's breadth beyond there is nothing but the darknesa of a bottomless pit. It aeems as if to take one Btep beyond the edge of this wall were to plunge into oblivion. Casting our geze forward we Bee a ring of light encircling a vast amphitheatre measuring many miles m diameter. This is the top of a circular mountain, m the oantre of which ia an immense crater. We see the inside walls of the crater on ihe opposite side lighted by the sun's rays, and the side which we have just ascended is also lighted, but of the inside wall immediately below us, nothing can be aeen Everything on this side lies m the depth of an impenetrable gloom. The scene baffles description, it is grand, sublime, and awful. The stillness has a depressing effect, for there being no atmosphere no sound can be produoed. [We caa only conceive of the importance of an atmosphere when we think of the conditions which prevail without it. If that much-spoken-of individual, «' the Man m the Moon," were to go the way of all mortals and die, his corpse would for ever lie upon the bare hard rock as imperishable as the mountains around him. Other worlds may change their flora and/aima,ia the lapse of many ages, but still that lifeless form would lie unchanged to all eternity, lime can work no ravages where there is no atmosphere.] From our elevated position no rivers, lakes, or oceans ate visible; clouds or vaponc there is none. Tbe position would be the very beau ideal for the location of an astronomi* cal obeervatorp, for there are no such things as abberaticn, refraction, or any of those other atmospheric influences which, trouble terrestrial astronomers so much Travelling still on to meet the sun, we vow arrive at a part of the moon's snrf ace where it is noonday, the sun is m the zenith. Here there is no such thing as a shadow to be seen anywhere, oven the deep craters are all i.luminated m every part Unlike the earth, every hole or abyss, however deep, is filled with light to its very bottom. We aßcend one of the oircular mountains to see to wh»t change there is there ; and see the wholo of the orrtter reflecting light, no part being m shadow/ The mountain whereon wes f aod has no parrallel on earth, it is unique. The mouth of the crater is 30 miles m diameter, its depth is twice as great as the height of the mountain ; it descends into the bowels of the planet. A pomioal raaas of rook projects from tho centre of the orater— itia quite a mountain m itrelf— and huge mas os of stone lio piled within. It is an awe-inspiring and wonderful eight. Travelling on— and now away from the sun — wte come to a part where night is approaching, there being no even* Ing. Here the son has been shining continuously for fourteen of our days. We emerge from light into darkness like a flash of lightning. We oannot now sac anything of the moon except by (not moonlight, but— earthlight. What a grand and glorious sight the heavens present here? The earth, a huge round orb, shining with a mellow liftht, the great i continents and oceans plain y diatioguish- ' ible. We watch intently for some time, j mdcan see the earth revolving on its axis. I'ho different continents and oceans come i nto view on one side and disappear on the ' )ther with absolute regularity. It is like l i huge clock by which we can tell the lours with unfailing accuracy, for it never ; raries or gets out of order. Bat, writing r i he word •' dock/ causes me to look up ( it mine, and I find that it warns me that ( '. have been writing so long that I am fraid my '* Trip to the Moon " will be too bng for your columns if I go on sortbbliog ny more, so I will close hore with the * lope that this little sketch of things, as ' iiey appear upon theearth'a satellite, will v elp to ihduoe ia . some of your readers ( xc determination to devote more atten- a on to that most wonderful and faaoina- , og of ' all sojenoes, th.9 gofcnoe of , >tr<jnsmy f ' *