such attractions had produced their greatest effect on one side or on another), yet, in most cases, many circuits of the earth-that is, many years-would elapse before the earth and an earthborn meteorite would again be simultaneously near the scene of the original outburst which gave the meteorite separate existence; thousands of years would elapse (on the average) before an approach close enough, apart from perturbations, to bring the meteorite to rest upon the earth would occur; and the chances would be enormous against the occurrence of one of these near approaches at a time when the meteorite's orbit was, at this point, in actual intersection with the earth's. Perturbations would sway the meteorite's orbit, and also the earth's orbit, hither and thither across the mean position of either not to any great extent, considering the dimensions of the solar system, but by a range amply sufficient to separate the point of nearest approach of the two orbits more than a diameter of the earth from each other. So that unless a close approach of the earth and meteorite occurred at a time when in the swaying hither and thither of the two orbits the effect of perturbations at the place of nearest approach of the orbits was nearly at a minimum, the earth and meteorite would pass clear of each other, however nearly the two might synchronize in their passage of the respective points where the two orbits at the moment approached each other most nearly.* Thus we recognize in the myriads *The non-astronomical reader will find some difficulty in understanding the above sentence if he does not note carefully the distinction between the close approach of two orbits and the close approach of two bodies travelling in those orbits. The orbits, undergoing constant flux, may approach each other very closely at some point, or may even intersect at a moment when the bodies travelling on those orbits are very far apart; and vice versa, the two bodies may make a near approach to each other by coming nearly simultaneously to the points where the two orbits approach most nearly, yet at the moment the orbits may there be separated (owing to perturbations) more widely than usual. For a very near approach of the two bodies, both conditions must be simultane ously fulfilled the points of nearest approach of the two orbits must be brought by perturbations very close together, and the two bodies must reach those points very nearly at the same time. of meteorites which have already been gathered in, and in the circumstance that as yet the supply shows no sign of exhaustion, conclusive evidence that millions on millions of years must have elapsed since first such meteorites were expelled from the interior of the still youthful earth. But we may carry back much farther the range of our mental vision. The meteorites we are considering present clear signs, as has been shown, of having once formed parts of solid strata, and not only so, but of strata which must have been formed slowly. We thus recognize the coexistence during a long time-interval (a period itself measurable probably by myriads of years) of two features which we have been apt to regard as belonging to different eras of the earth's history-a solid crust and an explosive energy competent to expel matter so forcibly that thereafter it would be free from the earth's control, though not from accidental future encounters with the earth. But once again we are thus led to recognize the prior existence of yet longer periods, when the greater part of the substance of the forming earth was vaporous, when in fact during the process of slow contraction the earth was gathering, as it were, those powers by which during the sequent stage of her existence she was able to expel miilions of meteoric masses from her interior. Even more interesting, however, than the considerations thus suggested as to the past stages of our earth's history, is the thought that what happened to our earth must have happened to all the planets of the solar system-nay, we may say almost certainly, must have happened, or must be now in progress, or must happen hereafter, with every orb throughout the infinities of space. Each sun and each planet, each asteroid and each moon (to say nothing of nebulæ on the one hand, or of comets and aërolites on the other) has its eruptive stage, in which, diverse though the powers of large and small orbs may be, expulsive power probably has been, is, or will be attained, competent to drive the expelled matter beyond the attractive range (also diverse for orbs of different Nor need we size) of the parent mass. be perplexed by the consideration that, in thus viewing millions of meteors and meteorites as sun-expelled or planet-expelled masses, we seem to set on one side the evidence which shows that the orbs peopling space have been in large part formed by the aggregation of meteoric masses. The two processes are no more inconsistent than are the two processes by one of which trees gather nutriment from the earth, and so grow, bud, blossom, bear fruit, and throw out leaves, while by the other they strew upon the earth leaves, fruit, blossoms, and buds, and in the fulness of time yield even their own substance to the all-nourishing soil. The earth-born meteorites which return in thousands year by year to the earth from which they sprang are but as the leaves of a tree compared with the soil from which the tree derives its nourishment, when we compare the total mass of all those meteorites with that of those portions of the mighty cosmical nebula from which the mass of the earth itself was formed, while this portion in turn compared with the whole nebula is but as the soil nourishing a single tree to that from which a whole forest derives support.-Cornhill Magazine. A SLEEPLESS NIGHT. BY ALFRED AUSTIN. WITHIN the hollow silence of the night And unto star star cadencing aright. Nor these alone. Cloistered from deafening sight, All things that are, made music to my ear: Hushed woods, dumb caves, and many a soundless mere, Cornhill Magazine But true, tender, and lion-hearted, She is pleased with the rapidity of her Yestreen the Queen had four Maries. What has that got to do with the sketch of the shining gray castle? Among these tags and ends of ballads, the young doctor at last becomes emboldened to put in an appearance. She Good-morning, Miss Avon," says he; "you are busy at work again?" She is not in the least surprised. has got accustomed to his coming on deck before the others; they have had a good deal of quiet chatting while as yet the laird was only adjusting his high white collar and satin neckcloth. devote to them what I can get for my scrawls—that is, I deduct the cost of the frames, and keep the rest for them. It is not a large sum." "Any other woman would spend it in jewellery and dresses," says he bluntly. At this Miss Mary Avon flushes slightly, and hastily draws his attention to a small boat that is approaching. Dr. Sutherland does not pay any heed to the boat. He is silent for a second or so; and then he says, with an effort to talk in a cheerful and matter-of-fact way, "You have not sent ashore yet this morning: don't you know there is a post-office at Dunvegan?" "Oh, yes, 1 heard so. But the men are below at breakfast, I think, and 1 am in no hurry to send, for there won't be any letters for me, 1 know." Oh, indeed," he says, with seeming carelessness, "it must be a long time since you have heard from your friends." "I have not many friends to hear from," she answers, with a light laugh, "and those I have don't trouble me with many letters. I suppose they think I am in very good hands at present." "It is only a sketch," said she, in a rapid and highly business-like fashion, but I think I shall be able to sell it. You know most people merely value pictures for their association with things they are interested in themselves. A Yorkshire farmer would rather have a picture of his favorite cob than any Raphael or Titian. And the ordinary English squire: I am sure that you know in his own heart he prefers one of Herring's farm-yard pieces to Leon ardo's Last Supper." Well, if some yachting gentleman, who has been in this loch, should see this sketch, he will. probably buy it, however bad it is, just because it interests him—” "But you don't really mean to sell it?" said he. "That depends," said she demurely, "on whether I get any offer for it." "Why!" he exclaimed, "the series of pictures you are now making should be an invaluable treasure to you all your life long a permanent record of a voyage that you seem to enjoy very much. I almost shrink from robbing you of that one of Canna; still, the temptation is too great. And you propose to sell them all ?" "Oh, yes-no doubt," says he, and suddenly he begins to talk in warm terms of the delightfulness of the voyage. He is quite charmed with the appearance of Dunvegan loch and castle. A more beautiful morning he never saw. in the midst of all this enthusiasm the small boat comes alongside. And There is an old man in the boat, and when he has fastened his oars he says a few words to Angus Sutherland, and hands up a big black bottle. Our young Doctor brings the bottle over to Mary Avon. He seems to be very much pleased with every thing this morning. "Now is not that good-natured?" "It is a bottle of fresh milk, compliments of Isn't it good-natured?" Ch, indeed it is," says she, plunging her hand into her pocket. You must let me give the messenger half a crown.' says he. of "No, no; that is not the Highland custom," says the Doctor; and therewith he goes below, and fetches up another black bottle, and pours out a glass of whiskey with his own hand, and presents it to the ancient boatman. You should have seen the look of surprise in the old man's face when Angus Sutherland said something to him in the Gaelic. And alas! and alas !-as we go ashore on this beautiful bright day, we have to give up forever the old Dunvegan of many a dream-the dark and solitary keep that we had imagined perched high above the Atlantic breakers-the sheer precipices, the awful sterility, the wail of lamentation along the lonely shores. This is a different picture altogether that Mary Avon has been trying to put down on her canvas-a spacious, almost modern-looking, but nevertheless picturesque, castle, sheltered from the winds by softly-wooded hills, a bit of smooth, blue water below, and further along the shores the cheerful evidences of fertility and cultivation. The wail of Dunvegan? Why, here is a brisk and thriving village, with a postoffice and a shop and a building that looks uncommonly like an inn; and there, dotted all about, and encroaching on the upper moorland, any number of those small crofts that were once the pride of the Highlands and that gave to England the most stalwart of her regiments. Here are no ruined huts and voiceless wastes; but a cheerful, busy picture of peasant life; the strapping wenches at work in the small farm-yards, well built and frank of face; the men well clad; the children well fed and merry enough. It is a scene that delights the heart of our good friend of Denny-mains. If we had but time, he would fain go in among the tiny farms, and inquire about the rent of the holdings, and the price paid for those pictures que little beasts that the artists are forever painting with a lowering sky beyond, and a dash of sunlight in front. But our Doctor is obdurate. He will not have Mary Avon walk further; must return to the yacht. she But on our way back, as she is walking by the side of the road, he suddenly puts his hand on her arm, apparently to stop her. Slight as the touch is, she naturally looks surprised. "I beg your pardon," he says hastily, 'but I thought you would rather not tread on it-" He is looking at a weed by the wayside a thing that looks like a snapdragon of some sort. We did not expect to find a hard-headed man of science betray this trumpery sentiment about a weed. "I thought you would rather not tread upon it when you knew it was a stranger,' he says, in explanation of that rude assault upon her arm. "That is not an English plant at all; it is the Mimulus; its real home is in America." We began to look with more interest on the audacious small foreigner that had boldly adventured across the seas. "Oh," she says, looking back along the road, "I hope I have not trampled any of them down. 46 Well, it does not much matter,'' he admits, "for the plant is becoming quite common now in parts of the West Highlands; but I thought as it was a stranger, and come all the way across the Atlantic on a voyage of discovery, you would be hospitable. 1 suppose the Gulf Stream brought the first of them over." But After that there was a dead silence on the part of Angus Sutherland. why should he have been embarassed? There was no compliment levelled at him that he should blush like a schoolboy. It was quite true that Miss Avon's liking-even love-for the West Highlands was becoming very apparent; but Banffshire is not in the West Highlands. What although Angus Sutherland could speak a few words in the Gaelic tongue to an old boatman? He came from Banff. Banffshire is not in the West Highlands. Then that afternoon at the great castle itself what have we but a confused recollection of twelfth-century towers; and walls nine feet thick; and ghost chambers; and a certain fairy flag, that is called the Bratach-Sith; and the wide view over the blue Atlantic; and of a great kindness that made itself visible in the way of hot-house flowers and baskets of fruit, and what not? The portraits, too: the various centuries got mixed up with the old legends, until we did not know in which face to look for some transmitted expression that might tell of the Cave of Uig or the Uamh-naCeann. But there was one portrait there, quite modern, and beautiful, that set all the tourist folk a-raving, so lovely were the life-like eyes of it; and the Laird was bold enough to say to the gentle lady who was so good as to be our guide that it would be one of the greatest happinesses of his life if he might be allowed to ask Mr. Galbraith, the well-known artist of Edinburgh, to select a young painter to come up to Dunvegan and make a copy of this picture for him, Denny-mains. And Dr. Sutherland could scarcely come away from that beautiful face; and our good Queen T. was quite charmed with it; and as for Mary Avon, when one of us regarded her, behold! as she looked up, there was a sort of moisture in the soft black eyes. What was she thinking of? That it must be a fine thing to be so beautiful a woman, and charm the eyes of all men? But now-now that we had had this singing bird with us on board the yacht for so long a time-would any one of us have admitted that she was rather plain? It would not have gone well with any one who had ventured to say so to the Laird of Denny-mains, at all events. And as for our sovereign lady and mistress, these were the lines which she always said described Mary Avon : Was never seen thing to be praised derre,* Forthwith we resolve to make another effort. Far away, on the outer shores of Dunvegan Loch, we can faintly descry, in the glow of the evening, some crofter's huts on the slopes of the hill. Down with the gig, then, boys; in with the fishing rods; and away for the distant shores, where, haply, some tender ewe-lamb, or brace of quacking duck, or some half dozen half-starved fowls, may be withdrawn from the reluctant tiller of the earth! It is a beautiful clear evening, with a lemon-gold glory in the north-west. And our stout-sinewed Doctor is rowing stroke, and there is a monotonous refrain of "I am paid already," says he. would work my passage through for the sketch of Canna that Miss Avon gave me." Would you like to ask the other men whether they would take the same payment?" says Miss Avon, in modest depreciation of her powers. 66 "Do not say any thing against the landscape ye gave to Dr. Sutherland," observes the Laird. No, no; there is great merit in it. I have told ye before I would like to show it to Tom Galbraith before it goes south; I am sure he would approve of it. Indeed, he is jist such a friend of mine that I would take the leeberty of asking him to give it a bit touci. here and there what an experienced artist would see amiss ye know-" "Mr. Galbraith may be an experienced artist," says our Doctor friend with unnecessary asperity, "but he is not going to touch that picture." 66 'Ah, can tell ye," says the Laird, who is rather hurt by this rejection," that the advice of Tom Galbraith has been taken by the greatest artists in England. He was up in London last year, and was at the studio of one of the first of the Acadaashamed to ask the opeenion of Tom Galmeecians, and that very man was not braith. And says Tom to him, The face is very fine, but the right arm is out of drawing.' You would think that impertinent? The Acadameecian, I can. tell you, thought differently. Says he, 44 |