But between our solar system and these other suns—between each of these suns and all the rest—there exist vast empty spaces, apparently devoid of matter.
We have now to ask, Are these spaces really empty? Is there really nothing in space but the nebulæ, the suns, their planets, and their satellites? Are all the bodies in space of this gigantic size? May there not be an infinitude of small bodies as well?
The answer to this question is in the affirmative. There appears to be no special size suited to the vastness of space; we find, as a matter of fact, bodies of all manner of sizes, ranging by gradations from the most tremendous suns, like Sirius, down through ordinary suns to smaller ones, then to planets of all sizes, satellites still smaller, then the asteroids, till we come to the smallest satellite of Mars, only about ten miles in diameter, and weighing only some billion tons—the smallest of the regular bodies belonging to the solar system known.
But, besides all these, there are found to occur other masses, not much bigger and some probably smaller, and these we call comets when we see them. Below these, again, we find masses varying from a few tons in weight down to only a few pounds or ounces, and these when we see them, which is not often, we call meteors or shooting-stars; and to the size of these meteorites there would appear to be no limit: some may be literal grains of dust. There seems to be a regular gradation of size, therefore, ranging from Sirius to dust; and apparently we must regard all space as full of these cosmic particles—stray fragments, as it were, perhaps of some older world, perhaps going to help to form a new one some day. As Kepler said, there are more "comets" in the sky than fish in the sea. Not that they are at all crowded together, else they would make a cosmic haze. The transparency of space shows that there must be an enormous proportion of clear space between each, and they are probably much more concentrated near one of the big bodies than they are in interstellar space.[30] Even during the furious hail of meteors in November 1866 it was estimated that their average distance apart in the thickest of the shower was 35 miles.
Consider the nature of a meteor or shooting-star. We ordinarily see them as a mere streak of light; sometimes they leave a luminous tail behind them; occasionally they appear as an actual fire-ball, accompanied by an explosion; sometimes, but very seldom, they are seen to drop, and may subsequently be dug up as a lump of iron or rock, showing signs of rough treatment by excoriation and heat. These last are the meteorites, or siderites, or aërolites, or bolides, of our museums. They are popularly spoken of as thunderbolts, though they have nothing whatever to do with atmospheric electricity.
Fig. 95.—Meteorite.
They appear to be travelling rocky or metallic fragments which in their journey through space are caught in the earth's atmosphere and instantaneously ignited by the friction. Far away in the depths of space one of these bodies felt the attracting power of the sun, and began moving towards him. As it approached, its speed grew gradually quicker and quicker continually, until by the time it has approached to within the distance of the earth, it whizzes past with the velocity of twenty-six miles a second. The earth is moving on its own account nineteen miles every second. If the two bodies happened to be moving in opposite directions, the combined speed would be terrific; and the faintest trace of atmosphere, miles above the earth's surface, would exert a furious grinding action on the stone. A stream of particles would be torn off; if of iron, they would burn like a shower of filings from a firework, thus forming a trail; and the mass itself would be dissipated, shattered to fragments in an instant.