Such are many of the fantasies which these peculiar visitors have called up. The beautiful comet of 1811, the most splendid of modern times, was considered, even by many intelligent persons, as the harbinger of the war which was declared the spring following; and the remembrance will be fresh in the minds of many of an indefinite apprehension of some dreadful catastrophe, which pervaded both continents, in anticipation of Bela's comet in 1832.
Comets, unlike the planets, observe no one direction in their orbits, but approach to and recede from their great centre of attraction in every possible direction. Some seem to come up from immeasurable depths below the ecliptic, and, having doubled the heaven's mighty cape, again plunged downward with their fiery trains,
"On the long travel of a thousand years."
Again, they seem to come from the zenith of the universe, and, after doubling their perihelion about the sun, reascend far above human vision. Others, again, seem to be dashing through the solar system in every conceivable direction, apparently in an undisturbed path; others are known, however, to obey laws like those which regulate planets. Nothing is known with certainty as to the composition of these bodies, although it is certain they contain very little matter, for they produce little or no effect on the motions of planets when passing near those bodies. Upon what errands they come, what regions they visit when they pass from view, what is the difference between them, the sun, and planets, and what is their mission in the economy of the universe, are questions often pondered over, but the solution of which is beyond the limited powers of human understanding.
MRS. MURDEN'S TWO DOLLAR SILK.
BY THE AUTHOR OF "MISS BREMER'S VISIT TO COOPER'S LANDING," "GETTING INTO SOCIETY," "MUSTARD TO MIX," ETC. ETC.
"ISN'T it perfect?" said young Mrs. Murden, drawing her husband towards a shop window as she herself made a halt in front of it. "I think it is the loveliest shade I ever saw, and that satin stripe gives it such an air so perfectly genteel!"
"What?" asked Mr. Murden, simply, roused from his calculation of percentage on certain articles just consigned to him. "It" was certainly an indefinite pronoun, with all that display of elegant silks, ribbons, laces, and embroideries, so skilfully arranged to attract the promenaders of Chestnut Street.
"Why, that silk. I've stopped to look at it twice this week."