Star-land: Being Talks With Young People About the Wonders of the Heavens

by Robert S. Ball

The view ([Fig. 20]) shows the ordinary aspect of the sun diversified with groups of dark spots. The fringe around the margin of the globe is of some ruddy material, forming the base of the flames which rise from the glowing surface. No doubt these flames are also often present on the face of the sun, but we cannot see them against the brilliant background. They are only perceptible when shown against the sky behind. At two points of this ruddy fringe, which happen curiously enough to be nearly opposite to each other, two colossal flames have burst forth. They extend to a vast distance, which is quite one-third of the width of the sun. The vigor of these outbreaks may be estimated by the remarkable changes which are incessantly going on. These great flames may indeed be said to flicker; only, considering their size, we must allow them a little more time than is demanded for the movements of flames of ordinary dimensions. The great flame on the left was obviously declining in brilliancy when first seen. In a quarter of an hour it had broken up into fragments, some of which were still to be seen floating in the sun’s atmosphere. In ten minutes more the light of this flame had almost entirely vanished. Surely these are changes of extraordinary rapidity when we remember the size of this prominence. It was nearly 300,000 miles in height—that is to say, about thirty-seven times the width of our earth.

Great as are these prominences, others have been recorded which are even larger. One of them has been seen to rush up with a speed of 200,000 miles an hour—that is, with more than two hundred times the pace of the swiftest of rifle-bullets.

NIGHT AND DAY.

The sun is bright, and the earth is dark. The sun gives light and heat, and the earth receives light and heat. We should be in utter darkness were it not for the sun; at least, all the light we should have, beyond our trivial artificial light, would come from the feeble twinkle of the stars. The moon would be no use, for the brightness of the moon is merely the reflection of the sunbeams. Were the sun’s light completely extinguished we could never again see the moon, and we should also miss from the sky a few other bodies, which we call planets, such as Jupiter and Venus, Mars and Saturn. But the stars would be the same as before, for they do not depend upon the sun for their light. We shall, indeed, afterwards see that each star is itself a sun.

Picture to yourself the earth as receiving a stream of sunbeams. These beams fall on one half of our globe, and give to it the brilliance of day. The other half of the earth of course receives no sunlight. It is in the shadow, and consequently the darkness of night there prevails. The boundary between light and darkness is not quite sharply defined, for the pleasant twilight softens it a little, so that we pass gradually from day to night. Looking at the progress of the sun in the course of the day, we see that he rises far away in the east, then he gradually moves across the heavens past the south, and in the evening declines to the west, sets, and disappears. All through the night the sun is gradually moving round the opposite side of the earth, illuminating New Zealand and Japan and other remote countries, and then gradually working round to the east, where he starts afresh to give us a new day here.

Our ancestors many ages ago did not know that the earth was round. They thought it was a great flat plain, and that it extended endlessly in every direction. They were, however, much puzzled about the sun. They could see from the coasts of France and Spain or Britain that the sun gradually disappeared in the ocean; they thought that it actually took a plunge into the sea. This would certainly quench the glowing sun; and some of the ancients used to think they heard the dreadful hissing noise when the great red-hot body dropped into the Atlantic. But there was here a difficulty. If the sun were to be chilled down every evening by dropping into the water hundreds of miles away to the west, how did it happen that early the next morning he came up as fresh and as hot as ever, hundreds of miles away to the east? For this, indeed, it seemed hard to account. Some said that we had an entirely new sun every day. The gods started the sun far off in the east, and after having run its course it perished in the west. All the night the gods were busy preparing a new sun to be used on the succeeding day. But this was thought to be such a waste of good suns that a more economical theory was afterwards proposed. The ancients believed that the continents of the earth, so far as they knew them, were surrounded by a limitless ocean. At the north, there were high mountains and ice and snow, which they thought prevented access to this ocean from civilized regions. Vulcan was the presiding deity who navigated those wastes of waters, and to him was intrusted the responsible duty of saving the sun from extinction. He had a great boat ready, so that when the sun was just dropping into the ocean at sunset he caught it, and during all the night he paddled with his glorious cargo round by the north. The glow of the sun during the voyage could even be sometimes traced in summer over the great highlands to the north. This, at all events, was their way of accounting for the long midsummer twilight. After a tedious night’s voyage Vulcan got round to the east in good time for sunrise. Then he shot the sun up with such terrific force that it would go across the whole sky, and then the industrious deity paddled back with all his might by the way he had come, so as to be ready to catch the sun in the evening and thus repeat his never-ending task.

THE DAILY ROTATION OF THE EARTH.

Vulcan and his boat seemed a pretty way of accounting for the sun’s apparent motion. The chief drawback was that it was all work and no play for poor Vulcan. There were also a few other difficulties. Captains of ships told us that they had sailed out on the great sea, and that so far from finding that the ocean extended on and on in one flat plain forever, the water seemed to bend round, so that, in fact, after sailing far enough in the same direction, they found that they would be brought back again to the place from which they started. They also knew a little about the north. They told us that there could be no such ocean as that which Vulcan in this fable was supposed to navigate. It also appeared that ships had been voyaging all over the globe night and day in every direction, and that no captain had ever seen the sun coming down to the sea, and still less had he ever met with Vulcan in the course of his incessant voyages. Thus it was discovered that the earth could not be a never-ending flat, but that it must be a globe, poised freely in space without any attachment to hold it up. It was thought that the change from day to night might be accounted for by supposing that the sun actually went round the earth through the space underneath our feet. This is, indeed, what it seems to do. But there was a great difficulty about this explanation, which began to be perceived when the size and distance of the sun were considered. It required the sun to possess an alarming activity. He would actually have to rush round a circle one hundred and eighty million miles in diameter and complete this astonishing voyage once every day.

Fig. 21.—How we illustrate the Changes between Day and Night.