RGL e-Book Cover 2019©
RGL e-Book Cover 2019©
Poliopolis and Polioland, 1900
James Macdonald Chaney
BUT few, even among the more intelligent, have any clear conception of the appearance and apparent movements of the heavenly bodies as seen from the North Pole. This is true, even of the simplest of these things, as the six months presence and absence of the sun.
In this narrative, great care has been exercised that all the statements of the positions, and real or apparent movements of the sun, moon, planets and stars, shall be astronomically correct. By this is meant that when it is stated that on a given date the moon appeared in one place and a certain planet in another, they were really in the very place in the heavens indicated at that hour.
Independence, Mo., Aug., 1900
J. M. C.
IT may seem like fiction, of an incredible character, to speak of a visit to the North Pole.
Ever since it was known that the earth is round, and that it revolves on its axis, men have been desirous of visiting the Polar regions. Many efforts have been made to reach it. Men skilled in science and navigation, backed and aided by men of wealth, have fitted out expeditions and spent weary months and years in a vain effort to accomplish that end. Some have never returned to tell of their success or failure. While they failed to reach the pole, yet their efforts were not fruitless. Many, and valuable discoveries were made. These acted as guides to aid those who should make subsequent efforts.
So marked were the failures of those who had every aid that science and wealth could afford, that a man, without either of these aids, who should seriously contemplate making an effort to reach that inaccessible region, would not be willing to make his purpose public.
But it may be asked, how could his purpose be kept secret? How could he keep from others, the knowledge of his preparations for such a work? Men are employed and paid good salaries, whose sole business is to discover such news and report for the daily paper. Do we not already know that soon we shall be able to send messages across the ocean without wires? Have we not now the knowledge that it is only a question of time when we shall hold communication with the inhabitants of Mars? That we shall soon cease to travel by the slow, dusty railroad, and voyage through the domain of the feathered tribe?
It has been said that the Wizard would not have invented the phonograph, but for the alertness of the newsmonger, the interviewer. It has been thus reported. His finances were inadequate for his needs. To obtain means to carry on his inventions, he sent a partner on a lecturing tour. Just before he started, the Wizard had been experimenting with the telephone. He attached a pin to the diaphragm and when one from the other end would talk, he held his chin to the end of the pin, and distinctly felt the pricks caused by the vibration of the diaphragm. He reported his experiment to his partner, telling him that these pricks were the result of sound waves, and if these could be caught and fixed, he believed they could be reproduced, and thus he would have a "talking" machine.
The partner started on his lecturing tour, having appointments in different cities. The first was in Buffalo. After the lecture, an interviewer made him a visit, to whom he told the Wizard's experiments, and what might result from it. In one of the dailies the next morning, on the first page were great headlines, announcing the most wonderful invention of the century, a veritable Talking Machine. Its wonderful possibilities were portrayed in a vivid and fascinating manner. The lecturer was besieged by a host of interviewers and capitalists. The poor fellow did not know what to do. He was not, however, long in determining. He cancelled all his appointments for lectures, hastened home, told the Wizard he must drop everything else, and perfect the talking machine. The great inventor had almost forgotten about his experiments with the diaphragm. He had not seriously contemplated making an effort in that direction, at least for a time. But he heeded the suggestion, went to work, and a crude phonograph was the result, since perfected so that it is, indeed a most wonderful machine.
But man is a bundle of inconsistencies. This is true of the newsmonger. While at one time they will convert a molehill into a mountain, at another, they seem unable to see a veritable mountain, though its peak penetrates the clouds. We see an illustration when Morse invented the electric telegraph, or rather, when he made practicable the discovery of that wonderful man of science, Prof. Henry. For a time, he could find no one to take an interest in his invention. He could demonstrate its wonderful possibilities, its vast utility, especially to the government in time of war. In a moment, news could be sent to great distances.
But Morse was almost driven to desperation in his vain efforts to induce the government to make an appropriation to test his apparatus between Washington City and Baltimore. When he had given up all hope of the passage of the bill by congress, to aid him, and had gone home, his hopes blasted, and at a late hour had sought repose in a sleepless bed, in the dead hours of night a sympathizing friend rang his door bell and made the announcement to him that, at the last hour, the bill granting him aid, had passed.
The wireless telegraph affords another illustration. It is difficult to calculate its possibilities and value. Mahlon Loomis, an American citizen, on the 30th of July, 1872, obtained letters patent for his wireless telegraph. He demonstrated its working for a distance of twenty miles. He sought government and private aid for putting it into practical use. "He met with jeers, rebuffs, and opposition alike from the scientist, the capitalist and especially the telegraph companies." He succeeded in demonstrating its practicability for a distance of four hundred miles. Yet Loomis and his inventions were forgotten until a young foreigner made a similar invention, and now the earth resounds with praises to Marconi, and his wonderful method of doing precisely what our own Loomis accomplished so many years ago.
It need not, then, be a matter of surprise that Gus Heins determined that the world should not know of his purpose to make an effort to reach the North Pole.
IT was while attending college at — in the year 18—, that I first met Gus Heins.
He was a machinist, skilled in the use of all kinds of tools, and kept a sort of general repair shop. It would be difficult to name a machine that Gus could not repair. He had a work bench by a large front window, and almost daily I could see him at work as I passed on my way to and from college. His general appearance was striking and pleasing. He was young, not more than 25. His height about five feet eight inches. His weight about 160 pounds. He had a round, full face, and a very pleasing countenance. He wore side whiskers cut rather high. His hair was light in color. My first visit to his shop was the day before Thanksgiving. One of my skates was in need of repairs. He received me with a smile, and when he had examined my skate, he said he could supply what was needed, but that I could not get it until Friday. This was a disappointment, as the ice was in a good condition for skating, and I wished to enjoy the sport on Thanksgiving day. The screw, used for tightening the skate was broken. The screw was right hand on one end and left hand on the other. He said it would not require much time to make it, but he was very busy at that time. But sympathizing with me in my disappointment, he said I should have the skate at 8 o'clock that evening. He said he did not work for people by lamplight, but in my case he would do so.
I thanked him, and at the hour appointed, I called and my skate was ready. I asked the charge. He said, "Oh, I shall not charge you anything for that. But some evening when you have leisure, I shall be greatly pleased if you will stop and give me some instruction about the lever, as I suppose you know all about it. I wish to fix a safety valve on a little engine, and I do not know how long the lever should be, nor how much weight to put on it to indicate a certain amount of pressure." I said, "All right; I will be here to-morrow night at seven thirty."
On Thanksgiving evening I was there at the hour named, and he gave me a hearty welcome. Adjoining his shop was another room, the door to which was open, and within was a bright light. Into this he led the way. It was his dining room, kitchen, bed room, and his sitting room. It was furnished in a plain but neat manner. On a table was a beautiful German student lamp, giving a flood of light. Neatly arranged around it, were pencils, paper, rulers, and a box of drawing instruments. A small bookcase was well filled with books, mostly of a scientific character. Among them I noticed two volumes of considerable size, "Lectures on Science and Art. Lardner." A hasty glance at these impressed me with the fact of their value to one eager for scientific knowledge.
In one of the volumes were three lectures on the lever, and the different mechanical powers. These he had carefully studied, but he was still unable to solve the problem about which he wished me to tell him. I explained to him that in levers of all three kinds there are four things to be considered. These are the long arm, the short arm, the weight or resistance, and the power. Three of these must be given, then the fourth is easily found by proportion. In all kinds of levers, the long arm is from power to fulcrum. The short arm from weight to fulcrum. Let La stand for long arm, Sa for short arm, w for weight, and p for power. These must always be so arranged that La and p, will be the extremes or means; Sa and w in the same manner. I explained to him how easy it is to remember the proportion by noting that they spell lap saw. I drew diagrams of levers of all three kinds, and he had no difficulty in securing the unknown term, and did not make a mistake in getting the proportion correctly. But when he turned to the problem of the safety valve, he was unable to decide whether it is a lever of the second or third kind. I assured him that he could regard it as either; the result would be the same. He had a counterpoise of a known weight which he intended to use. He had also determined on the distance from the safety valve to the support of the lever, which would be the fulcrum. What he wished to ascertain, was the exact place on the lever where the counterpoise should be suspended to indicate a given pressure of the steam. He first tried it as a lever of the second kind regarding the counterpoise as the power, and the steam as the weight or resistance. He then tried it as a lever of the third kind, regarding the steam as the power. The place for the counterpoise was the same in both cases. He was greatly pleased and grateful for my suggestions.
DURING the Christmas holidays, I had plenty of leisure, and almost daily stopped to talk with my new friend, Gus. The front room, where he worked, might well be called a curiosity shop. He had tools used by every kind of mechanic of which I had knowledge. He did not have to take a second thought to know the exact location of any tool needed, nor of any material for which he might have use. He did not seem to be in a hurry, but it was marvelous how speedily he performed any work. His charges were moderate, yet he made money rapidly. He would take in, daily, anywhere from five to fifteen dollars. Among his most numerous and profitable customers were ladies with jewelry to repair. When he knew what was wanted—what specific end was to be accomplished, his inventive genius seemed to enable him to know, as if by instinct, the means by which it could be accomplished. I saw this illustrated in a manner that, to me, was very astonishing. An amateur astronomer, having a telescope with a four inch objective, and supplied with an equatorial movement, brought the instrument to him for some small repairs. I happened to be present when it was brought. Gus had no knowledge of telescopes, and had never seen an equatorial movement. He became very much interested in this attachment. Almost at sight, he comprehended the double movement for right ascension and declination. There were two graduated circles, one for right ascension, on which were marked the twenty four hours, the other for declination, on which were the three hundred and sixty degrees. The circle for right ascension was small, and could not be depended on for much less than fifteen minutes. The owner expressed the wish that he could read right ascension to a single minute. After a few minutes' examination, Gus, said: "I can fix a simple attachment that will enable you to read a single minute or less, with great accuracy." The owner promptly replied, "I will give you a ten dollar gold coin if you will make such an attachment." In less than a week the work was done. It would do not only what was promised, but would read down to two seconds. It was a marvel of simplicity. A heavy brass collar was fitted to the upper part of the equatorial movement, which could be made fast by a set screw. To this was fastened a quarter-inch brass rod, about twenty inches long, extending toward the object glass. On the end of this rod was an attachment having a nut in which a screw worked, having thirty-six threads to the inch. The end of this screw worked against a piece that was attached to the tube of the telescope. By turning the screw, the body of the telescope was moved away from it. The circumference of the circle in which that point would be moved would be 120 inches, or five inches for one hour. One turn of the screw would move the telescope over a space of 20 seconds. One-tenth of a revolution would move it over just two seconds.
From such feats of genius, I concluded that when Gus said he could accomplish a given work, he could do it.
He had many questions to propound in reference to specific gravity. He made many inquiries about the buoyant effort of air. I gave him the weight of air as about .31 grains per cubic inch, or 1.23 ounces per cubic foot. He had studied how a fish lowers itself in water, not by diving, but simply by changing its relative size, and thus increasing its relative weight.
His questions and conversations about balloons and fish greatly excited my curiosity. At last I asked him what he had on hand to accomplish. He replied that he would tell me under a promise of secrecy, which I readily promised.
He then told that it was his purpose to make an effort to reach the North Pole, by means of a balloon. He had carefully read all that he could find about attempts made to reach it by ships, and that all had failed, and he thought always would fail. He said that he had been thinking of it from boyhood, but had never mentioned it to anyone.
Upon hearing his statement, my emotions were of a mixed character. The first impression was that he was joking. But when he joked, there was a certain twinkle of his eye that was now wanting. His countenance had an intense expression of earnestness and determination. His gaze was fixed and his eyes seemed to be set. My next thought was that I was in the presence of a madman, a lunatic. After a silence that seemed long to me, I ventured to ask him if he really meant what he said. He assured me that his plans were arranged, and in some measure executed.
He said his father was a machinist, and had accumulated several thousand dollars, and had then gone to central Kansas and bought a large tract of land. On the land was a considerable quantity of good timber. The country was then in a prosperous condition, and he had put up a sawmill and had done well. The water supply for his engine was from a creek near by, but it was not to be depended on in case of dry weather. Therefore he concluded to sink a well in hope of a good supply of water. After he had struck rock about forty feet below the surface, he wrote to Gus, telling him what he had done, and requested him to send some iron tubing, four inches in diameter, and a drill for a three inch hole through the rock. As he sent the money, and urged him to send it immediately, Gus complied, but wrote to dissuade him from such an undertaking. But the old man persevered. He put down his four-inch tubing to the rock, and bored nearly a hundred feet through it. He had plenty of help, and drilled by means of a spring pole.
Instead of finding water, he came to some kind of a cave, and gas issued with considerable force from the top of the tubing. For this he was not prepared. He plugged the hole secure, and made an attachment by which the gas could be confined, or allowed to flow as needed.
The well supplied a quantity of gas sufficient to run his engine, and for all household purposes, including cooking and heating.
There came a succession of dry seasons, and the people became discouraged, and many moved away. All improvements stopped. Gus was the only child. His father and mother both died, and the property became his. It was about twelve miles from the railroad. His father always kept on hand a large supply of lumber, and at the time of his death there was a stock of about one hundred thousand feet, well stacked, and of every kind that would be called for, for fencing or building purposes.
Gus then took me into a back room, the existence of which I had not known. There he showed me a pattern of his intended balloon. It was about four feet in height, and two and a half or three feet in diameter. It was inflated, and capable of supporting a weight of nearly two pounds. He said he intended to devise some kind of a propeller, and a steering apparatus. The whole balloon was covered with small cords, about thirty-six in number. At the bottom was a metallic disk, about the size of a dollar. This was perforated with holes through each of which a cord was passed. About half of the cords terminated at the disk. The other half were carried down to a windlass, and there made fast. He illustrated the object of the cords and the windlass. When the balloon was floating more than a foot from the table, he wound a portion of the cord on the windlass, and the balloon began to descend, and soon rested on the table. He now slackened the cords, and at once it arose. Gus looked at me and laughing said, "That is my fish bladder."
I asked him about the engine to which he attached the safety valve. He showed it to me in one corner of the room. He used it to run a lathe.
He told me that his farm was rented to a trusty German and that after a few years he himself would remove to it, and there construct his balloon that was to carry him to the pole.
He made the startling disclosure that it was his desire that I should accompany him. Against this I made a sudden and vigorous protest. He said it would require several years for him to prepare for the voyage, and that perhaps by that time I would reconsider the matter.
AFTER leaving college, I traveled for several years for a hardware company, and did well. In the midst of a successful trip, I received an unexpected summons to return to headquarters. No explanation was given, and I was at a loss to conjecture the reason of my recall. To my great amazement, the company was going into the hands of a receiver. My employers were well satisfied with my work, and were sorry that I should be thrown out of employment. I greatly sympathized with them, but felt no special concern about myself, as I felt sure I would find no difficulty in securing another position.
On my way to St. Louis, I had to wait a short time at Sedalia for a train on the main line. As I was standing on the platform, waiting for an opportunity to enter the car, among those getting off, was a gentleman whose gaze was fixed on me. I noticed it, and wondered what could be the cause, and tried to locate him, but could not. Soon he approached me, extended his hand and called my name. As I saw his smile, and heard his voice, I said, "Why, Gus Heins, is this you?" He, too, was on his way to St. Louis. He had seen me as the train stopped, and recognized me. It had been seven or eight years since we had last seen each other. On the way to St. Louis he gave me an account of his life on his farm. He had done something in the matter of farming, but his chief work had been in the construction of his balloon and in making preparations for his voyage northward. He thought he would be ready for trial trips in a few weeks. He insisted on my accompanying him home. I told him I was not then engaged in any work, and that I might make him a visit. He asked how about my going with him on his voyage? I told him I could not consider it. His business detained him in the city a few days, and I then accompanied him to his Kansas home. When we reached the station at― we found the German there waiting for us. He had a two- horse wagon for the freight, and his son had brought a buggy for Gus. We took charge of this, and the boy rode with his father.
The home of Gus was in the edge of the timber. He had but few neighbors, the nearest being about two miles distant. Most of the settlers were Germans. The farm house was comfortable, but well filled by the family of the German, consisting of a wife, three daughters, and five boys.
Gus had his home a few hundred yards distant, in a strange looking building. It was on sloping ground, and the back part extended into the timber. At a distance, the building looked like a three story barn, with great sheds on the sides. The central portion was more than forty feet
high, and about thirty-five in width. In depth it was about forty feet. On each side were shed-like projections about fifteen feet wide. Most of one side was taken up by a workshop, except the back part, which was the kitchen and dining room. On the other side were three rooms, one for two Germans helping Gus with the balloon, one for Gus's bed room, and one vacant, which I occupied.
For the construction of such a house, a vast amount of lumber was required, but he found it there all ready for use. Gus was a good cook, and had plenty to eat. The gas supply was still sufficient for all purposes. It was amusing to hear the wife of the German describing how very "conwenient" it was for cooking, and keeping the house warm in cold weather.
The balloon was practically finished, but had not yet been tested. He had laid a pipe so that it could be conveniently filled with gas. On the third day after my arrival, he turned the gas into the balloon. He could regulate the flow at pleasure. In a few minutes it showed signs of swelling. Fold after fold would swell up. There was some danger of things getting tangled. But the force at the house was on hand, and every string was kept in position, or soon placed there if there was any sign of tangling. It was about 11 o'clock when the gas was turned on, and by noon the monster had assumed an upright position. After filling, we tested its buoyant effort and found it required 785 pounds to balance it or to support its tendency to rise. Allowing 325 pounds for two passengers, and 200 pounds for the machinery and tackling, there would be left 260 pounds for provisions and the necessary buoyant effort.
One of his helpers had often expressed a desire to accompany Gus on his journey, but Gus had made him no definite promise. The man was about my size and weight. Gus was still hoping that I would change my mind, and make the trip with him. The most encouragement I could
give him was to tell him to wait and see how the machine would perform.
The balloon was about thirty-five feet in height, and about twenty-four feet in diameter in the widest part. The lower part of the neck of the balloon tapered down from about five feet from the bottom to a little less than one foot. The envelope of strings was a curiosity. One of his helpers had been a shoemaker in Germany, but had spent some years in sail making. There were 288 cords extending from the top of the balloon down nearly twenty-five feet. At that point, two cords became one. The splicing was done in an artistic manner, and the two cords combined had fewer strands than both separately. The cords were made of a species of linen thread, not much larger than coarse sewing thread, but so strong that I found it difficult to break a single strand. These were combined so the size of the cord was about three-sixteenths of an inch. Below the splice or fork, it was about four-sixteenths. Below this the cords were reduced from 144 to 72, in the same manner. Now the size was about three- eighths. Again they were reduced to 36, and the size nearly half an inch. The size and the number of the cords made it impracticable to arrange to pass them through a disk as did the cords in the small balloon. The windlass, around which these cords were wound, was a hollow cylinder, eight inches in diameter, and four feet long. The cords themselves occupied less than eighteen inches, and the extra length was to furnish a receptacle for gasoline. The windlass was double geared with cog wheels to gain power in turning it.
Gus had given much thought to the matter of propulsion. Some of his methods of reasoning seemed to be logical. One of these was that no better mode of propulsion in the air could be devised than that which Nature has provided for birds. He carefully watched them in their flight. He took measurements of their wings, and noted their shape. He examined the wing of a dove, and compared it with the wing of a large wild turkey. He estimated the area of the dove's wing as about twelve square inches, and the turkey's about ninety-six, the latter being eight times the former. He estimated the weight of the turkey as about forty times that of the dove. While the turkey was not capable of long continued flight, yet in addition to propulsion it had its weight to sustain in the air. With his balloon, there was no weight to sustain. It was simply a question of propulsion and the resistance of the atmosphere in a calm. It was specially in a calm that he would need it, as he felt sure of a current under all ordinary circumstances at some altitude. But sometimes he might wish to sail near the surface when there was no current, and would then need propulsion. He fixed on wings, patterned after those of the dove. The extreme length was ten feet. At the widest part, about four feet, and tapering to a point. For these he had made light steel bicycle tubes in three sections for a wing, about an inch and a quarter at the largest part, and tapering. The sections were made to telescope into each other about two inches. For the lower part were similar tubes, but smaller. A third tube, like the lower one was provided for the middle, running longitudinally. These were all firmly brazed together in shape. Between these were brazed small steel rods, like the spokes of the bicycle. The wings were covered with a thin material like the body of the balloon.
For giving necessary motion to the wings, he made a fine specimen of a gas engine, for which he claimed three horse power. The chief metal in its construction was aluminum. Its weight was about thirty-three pounds. The ends of the wings had a motion of nearly four feet, and with a possible velocity of 100 flaps per minute. It was so arranged that when necessary, the motion of one of the wings could be stopped.
Several days were required for properly adjusting the engine, wings and the windlass.
When the balloon was fairly balanced, the windlass was turned, and though the compression of the balloon seemed scarcely perceptible, yet it began to descend. The "fish bladder" was pronounced a perfect success. I had warned Gus that his windlass would probably prove a failure, because, in the large balloon, it seemed probable that more power would be required to compress the balloon than to lift the weight below. In that case, the windlass would simply pull the basket toward the balloon. But it worked all right.
The steering apparatus was about twelve feet long, with an average width of five feet. It was bounded by a continuous steel tube, light but strong. It had a middle section and was covered with the same material as the wings. In the middle of the end next to the balloon was a steel tube, extending to a brass collar, through which passed a steel tube which telescoped into another tube which extended several feet into the balloon. The latter tube was closed at the top and firmly fastened at the bottom of the balloon to a disk of brass about eight inches in diameter, and a quarter of an inch thick. On the opposite side of the brass collar was another steel tube extending some distance on which a weight could be suspended to balance the other end of the steering apparatus. The brass collar made its circular motion on steel balls.
When the steering apparatus was adjusted, it was interesting to see how readily it answered to the slightest pressure, the monster balloon turning even when a slight breeze was blowing through the building.
But I fear to weary the reader with a detailed description of minutiae. Only a few words more in reference to the basket, if basket it might be called. He had it made to order. It would be difficult to find a finer specimen of wicker work. It was somewhat oval in shape, fourteen feet long, three feet deep, four feet wide at the top, tapering to three feet at the bottom. Around the top was a light bicycle tube, an inch in diameter, but hidden from view by the wicker work around it. A similar, but smaller tube was at the bottom. Connecting the top and bottom tubes were six smaller ones, and two of a similar kind extending longitudinally on the bottom. All were hidden from view by the wicker work. Both the inside and outside were covered with thin, strong rubber cloth. A space of three feet on each end was appropriated to receptacles for food and whatever was to be carefully stowed away. These could be made air and water tight. The little engine had its resting place in the center of the basket, occupying not more than sixteen inches lengthwise.
The basket and the steering apparatus were always in the same direction.
He built a small railroad track extending about fifty yards from the building, on which was a small car on which the basket and balloon could be taken in or out.
It was necessary that I should make a trip to Kansas City, but I was determined to see Gus make a start, if I should be detained the whole summer. He gave me a list of things to purchase for him. I was absent about five days. During my absence, they had the balloon out on the car experimenting with it. It behaved nicely, and seemed to be all that Gus could desire. He was specially delighted with the "fish bladder." With one hand he could, almost instantly, stop its upward motion and cause it to hang suspended in the air when the wind was not blowing.
The gas engine was a success, and the wings seemed to act like those of a veritable bird. He could cause it to alight with the ease and grace of a wild goose settling down on the earth. He made several short flights of a few hundred yards. He and the sail maker made several trips. They could land the balloon on the car without much effort. I could not resist the temptation of taking a short ride. At first I had some emotion of fear, but it soon left me. The balloon did not seem to move as it rose. It seemed to remain motionless, and the earth seemed to be the moving body, moving away from us. It would be difficult to conceive of anything more delightful than a ride in such a balloon.
Gus proposed that we should take a night ride of some distance, to which I readily assented. We had a light aboard. We found no difficulty in navigating the air. We could go any direction at will, except in the face of a stiff breeze. We arose until our little aneroid indicated a height of one thousand feet. I do not know the distance traversed, but we were absent nearly three hours.
We learned from the newspapers that we had been seen. Men were ready to swear that they had seen an air ship. We made several night trips and were sighted in different parts of the state. Once we sailed directly over Kansas City, at an altitude of more than a thousand feet. The papers reported an air ship sighted, and told the direction it traveled.
I MADE up my mind definitely that I would accompany Gus on his trip. I argued that the whole journey, until our return would not occupy more than three weeks.
We fixed on the 18th of May for our departure. Everything was prepared. We had a supply of clothing for any emergency. Our food supply was for three months; the water for three weeks, feeling sure that it could be renewed. The cylinder of the windlass was filled with gasoline. Our supply of books was a Bible, a New Testament, both small, and Nautical almanacs for three years. We had two winchesters. Each carried two good watches. We had a mercurial and an alcohol thermometer, and a very fine aneroid barometer on which were marked elevations. We took with us a good binocular field glass. We had a sextant, and a little apparatus called a planetarium. The latter we saw advertised in a Kansas City paper. It claimed to possess divers merits, and gave promise of being useful on our journey. When it came, it seemed to be too complicated for our use, and the first impulse was not to be bothered with it on our journey. But the machine proved to be simple in its working beyond all expectation, and one of the most valuable things we could have taken, not only for our trip, but also after reaching Polioland. Its weight was only a few ounces, very convenient to handle, and it could tell us all we wished to know about the stars above us, and even the latitude in which we might be.
When we reached Polioland, it made plain to us the appearances and apparent motions of the sun, moon, planets and stars. Without its aid many of these things could not have been so thoroughly comprehended. There seemed to be no end to the uses to which we might put it.
It was a little after nine o'clock, p. m. when we began to make an ascent for our journey. The night was all that we could desire. We bade them all goodby, and Gus slackened the cords on the windlass, and we began to ascend with considerable velocity; or rather, the earth seemed thus to move away from us. By the light of a lantern, I watched the aneroid. The extent of our ascent would depend on finding the proper current. On the surface there was a slight breeze from the south, and it continued as we ascended. Gus stopped the ascent when we were about six hundred feet up. The moon, nearing the first quarter, was yet three or four hours high. Close to it was the giant planet, Jupiter, which seemed striving to rival the half moon in sending forth light. Saturn was near the meridian. Venus was not visible. The stars seemed brighter than I had ever seen them. In the extreme northeast, low down, was Capella. Castor and Pollux were preparing to retire below the horizon. Arcturus was almost overhead. The most beautiful among the fixed stars was Vega, in the northeastern sky. It was an easy matter to locate these by the Planetarium.
Gus took the matter of starting in a very matter of fact way. He did not seem to mind it any more than if going aboard a train of cars to take a journey of a few hundred miles. I confess I had some misgivings. Neither of us was in a talking humor. Gus kept his hand near the handle of the windlass. He also took charge of the steering apparatus. We did not have an opportunity to give it a test that night. The tail was to the south, and the current carried us toward the pole star. The gas engine was not started during the night.
About midnight, at the suggestion of Gus, I fixed for a nap. I was not sleepy, and did not think it. possible to get to sleep. But Gus assured me that I was sound asleep in less than ten minutes. It was five when I awakened. I told Gus to take a nap, but he said he had no disposition to sleep. But he made trial, and was as successful as I had been. He slept about four hours. Day was beginning to dawn before I awoke, and Gus had ascended to an elevation of 1200 feet. When Gus awoke, the sun was high up, and the earth looked beautiful. We could see forests, lakes, rivers, towns and even farm houses. When Gus awaked, he took the field glass, and said he could see a woman milking a cow. He saw another feeding young chickens. At our elevation, there was a considerable lowering of the temperature. The mercury fell to fifty degrees. Our motive in seeking a higher altitude, was that we should not be disturbed by things terrestrial. I know not whether we were sighted by any one.
We got out our lunch, at noon, and when I had finished, Gus had scarcely made a beginning. His eyes seemed to be more hungry than his stomach. He stood up, both hands holding his lunch. A large pocket knife, open, was between the fingers of his left hand, and his mouth partly opened, and his eyes greedily feeding on the landscape beneath. He presented a very interesting picture. I spoke to him and asked him why he did not eat? He seemed like one waking from a sleep. "This view," said he, "is worth all our expense and trouble." I stood up, and took turn about sight-seeing with the field glass. In the southeast we saw a large city and concluded that it was Omaha. Any effort to describe the grandeur of the scenery, the magnificence of the views, would be impossible to any one, and most certainly to me.
On this day we had occasion to try the steering apparatus, but it would not perform. When he would turn it to change our course, instead of doing this, the balloon and all would turn, and leave the steering sail just as it had been in reference to the wind. For a time, this bewildered and annoyed Gus. After thinking the matter over, I laughed and told him we ought to have known that it would thus act. I suggested to him to start the engine, and then he could steer. He did so, and we were astonished and delighted at its action. When the wings were flopping, he had no trouble in guiding in almost any direction save directly in the face of the wind. Even then, with a moderately strong wind, we could make some progress, but slow. Gus slackened the cords, and we rapidly ascended until the aneroid indicated an elevation of more than 4000 feet. There was not as much fall in the temperature as we had anticipated. There we found a current that carried us directly northward. This pleased Gus, and he said, if necessary, he would ascend ten thousand feet.
At noon I took the zenith distance of the sun with the sextant and found it to be 25 degrees, which gave us a distance of 5 degrees from home, or nearly 350 miles.
For practical use we found the Planetarium far more convenient than the sextant. With the latter, we had to take the altitude of the sun at noon, that we might know its distance from the equator. But with the Planetarium, we could find our latitude, approximately, at any time of the day. It consists of a small globe, about three inches in diameter, having a piece of felt inserted for the ecliptic. A pin, about six inches long, on the end of which was a ball half an inch in diameter, represented the sun. A table accompanies it giving the right ascension of the sun throughout the year. The hours of right ascension are marked on the globe. You insert the pin in the felt ecliptic at the place of the sun's right ascension. On the lower part of the globe is a hand which points to the date of the month and day. Below that is another hand pointing to the hour of the day. When the hand was pointing to the correct hour of the day, and the Planetarium was held level and pointing toward the north, then loosen the nut for latitude, and move the globe in latitude until the shadow of the ball representing the sun falls directly around the base of the pin, then the hand for latitude points to the latitude of the place where you are.
Our dipping needle indicated some progress toward the north pole. We had fine weather, and a fine breeze all Tuesday afternoon and night. On Wednesday at noon our latitude was 53, a gain of eight degrees in 24 hours, or about 550 miles.
On Thursday at noon, latitude 63. During the whole of this afternoon we have been over a large body of water, which we suppose is Hudson's bay. The dipping needle indicates that we are rapidly approaching the magnetic pole. I was anxious to note our position when we reached it. The night was not favorable for observations, because of clouds which, though not dense, yet interfered with taking observations. In the south, I got a glimpse of Saturn, about 11 o'clock. It was about 8 degrees above the horizon. This would locate us about latitude 68. Just as the sun was rising, about 2 o'clock, the dipping needle was 90 degrees, showing that we were at the magnetic pole. The pole star was about 20 degrees from our zenith. Before sun rise, I saw Capella, and it was evident that it would not get below the horizon, at its northern point. Just as the sun was rising, we got a sight of Venus. She was several degrees south of the sun.
Before us, and around us was a scene not so inviting as it had been. There was a strange commingling of land and water. After passing the magnetic pole, we descended until within a few hundred feet of the surface. There was a good breeze, at that elevation, toward the north. At 10 o'clock the mercury indicated 60 degrees. Some distance ahead, Gus sighted an island appearing to be about ten miles in diameter. It was almost barren, but abounded with birds of some kind. He determined to make a stop, but I protested, fearing that some injury might result to our basket. But he insisted on stopping. When we reached the shore, we were not more than fifty feet from the ground. Gus selected a suitable place, and quietly dropped down until the basket was not more than a foot from the earth. He told me to jump out. I obeyed, and up went the balloon. But soon it descended a short distance from the place I was standing. I then held it until he got out, still holding the crank of the windlass. He tightened this until the balloon floated near the ground when he was out. It might have been safe to leave it in that condition, but we made it fast with cords. On our approach, the birds had flown. But in a short time many of them alighted at a little distance. They were wild geese, and several varieties of ducks. We had no difficulty in getting all we desired. It would have been no difficult matter to have gathered eggs by the wagon load. We had a regular picnic. Gus showed his adeptness in the culinary art. We remained on the island two hours. Before starting, I found that our latitude was about 73:30. There was scarcely a sign of a breeze near the surface, and Gus started up his engine. It performed admirably. We flew along at an altitude of about two hundred feet.
On some of the land over which we passed, there was a considerable amount of vegetation, as we thought some species of pine. In the waters, were great icebergs many of which were manifestly loose and floating. We slept by turns. Neither of us felt any special need of sleep, but found no difficulty in getting to sleep when we made the effort.
No night awaited us on that Friday. The sun, instead of sinking below the horizon, made a complete circle. At midnight it had a respectable altitude. At that hour we both were awake. Neither of us had ever seen a midnight sun. Neither seemed inclined to talk. Gus was peculiarly thoughtful. I watched him as he took his hand from his face. He had been brushing away a tear. I wondered what was the occasion of such emotion. In a few minutes he took out his new testament, and began to read. Fresh tears started. I said nothing. After reading some time in silence, deeply affected, he began to read aloud. It was at the 22nd verse of the 21st chapter of the book of Revelation. When he had read the 25th verse, which he did with great emphasis, he stopped a few moments and looked at the midnight sun. He preached me a little sermon on the relation between daylight and morality, and between darkness and sin. Then, doubling his fist, and bringing it down with force on his knee, he said, "Show me a place where there is perpetual light, and I will show you a place where there is no sin." After a short silence, he continued reading aloud.
When he read the 27th verse, he said, "There it is. If sin should try to enter, it would wait at the outskirts until darkness came, and finding that darkness would not come at all, it would skulk away to its own home of perpetual darkness."
Gus tried to draw a picture of the sun's path in the sky as it now appeared. He said the best way to describe it would be by a wagon wheel resting on the floor, but one side tilted so that it would be on
the floor and the opposite side up in the air.
We now found it difficult to keep track of the points of the compass, by observing the sun. To know which was north or south, we had to note carefully when it was at the highest or lowest point of its course. About nine p. m. we became bewildered. Gus said, "Get out your little machine. It may be that it will tell you." I replied, "No, it will do many things, but I suppose that is one of the things for which it is not adapted."
However, I took it out, and adjusted it to the time of day, and holding it level, I turned it around until the shadow of the sun was in the proper place around the pin where it was inserted in the felt ecliptic, at the same time adjusting the axis for latitude, and then I said "Yes, here it is." We were going considerably to the east of north. He then ascended until he found a current that would take us northward. Gus was loud in his praises of the "little machine."
The scenery around us was by no means inviting. The water, for the most part was in a solidified condition. Where there was land it was difficult to see it on account of hills and mountains of ice. From this view it was easy to understand why all efforts to reach the pole by land or water had proven failures. There may be seasons at long intervals, and points in some directions by means of which that end might be attained. Such a condition may occur once in a century, but could not be anticipated. To be successful under such circumstances, the opportunity must be improved when it comes.
At noon on Saturday, we estimated our distance from the pole at about 500 miles. The prospect was by no means inviting. We began making preparations for our return. Our hope was to reach home in the early days of June.
After we had discussed the matter of our return, assuming that our homeward journey would begin within a few days at the most, and possibly within a few hours, Gus raised the question, "Has it paid?" Whatever might be the outcome, I assured him that I was richly repaid for my trouble and time. Gus said, "It has cost me a great deal of time, labor and money; but it is the best investment of my life." But he said he felt no uneasiness on the money question, as he knew he could dispose of his "air ship" at a good profit on his return.
On Saturday night at midnight, the sun was perceptibly higher than on the preceding midnight.
On Sunday forenoon, Gus, holding the glass, said, "Water ahead." I took the glass, and there was no mistaking it.
There was a large body of water, and apparently free of ice, at least in large quantities.
About noon Gus cried, "Land ahead." It seems to fall to his lot to make all such discoveries. He handed the glass to me. I held it for a long time. I could distinctly see vegetation, and felt sure that I could see something resembling human habitations. After a good look, Gus said I was correct. There was the land, and it was inhabited.
We ascended several thousand feet, but found the current away from the pole. From that elevation we could see that the land was an island of considerable size, and had many towns or villages. We descended to within a few hundred feet of the ground. Here there was but a slight breeze.
At four o'clock, 90th meridian time, on Sunday afternoon, we were hovering over the largest city, apparently, on the island. This, we concluded, was very near the pole. We were now within less than a hundred feet of the ground.
Near the city was a large open space, and on this we determined to settle down. The gas engine had been in operation for some time. We knew not what fate awaited us. We had been seen by thousands of people, but none came to welcome us. Instead, they scampered off and gave us as wide a berth as possible. I held the glass, and Gus managed the balloon. I could see the people very distinctly, and saw they were greatly excited. I could see some of the men smoking, it seemed, cigars. In vain we waited hoping that some one would come to us. I suggested that we should deposit something on the ground, then ascend and see what they would do. But we were limited in our supplies for such a purpose. I wrapped a little salt in a piece of paper, tying it with a piece of red twine. I had a copy of a Kansas City paper about a week old. This might attract their attention. A few minutes before, Gus had filled and lighted his pipe. It was briar root, with trimmings that shone like silver, and was a handsome pipe and had not been in use but a few days. He had others, and consented that I might deposit it with the other articles. They were all placed on the ground in the sight of those who were watching us at a distance. We then ascended, and I watched to see the result. A crowd of boys made a rush for the place where the things had been deposited, followed by men at a more leisurely gait. A boy twelve or fourteen, secured the pipe. He hastily examined it, then ran to meet the men that were approaching. He gave the pipe to one of the men, who proved to be the boy's father. The latter examined it, then put the stem in his mouth, and it was still lighted, and he puffed away with manifest delight. This same man got hold of the newspaper, and holding it up, flourished it about toward us, making signs for us to descend. I told Gus what I had seen, and that we were all right. As we approached the ground, there was another scampering, but several remained. The man with the pipe was the first to greet us. As we afterwards learned, he held an office in the state.
THE man who greeted us was a fine specimen, and looked as if he might claim kin with Gus. He had light hair, blue eyes, and appeared to be about fifty years old. In a short time the crowd around us had increased to thousands. It is amazing to what an extent communication can be carried on between persons who know nothing of each other's language. It can be done by signs and gestures. By this method we were directed to get out of the balloon, make it fast, and go into the city. We were made to understand that no harm would come to our balloon. We did as directed. A guard was left with the balloon with assurance that nothing should be touched. We were then directed to accompany the man who had the pipe. As we were marching along, I told Gus that the man resembled him, and that we must call him Gustavus. As soon as I had pronounced that name, he turned around, pointed to himself, and said, nodding, "Yustavo, Yustavo." From this it appeared that that was his name. On the way to the town, we heard some one calling him "Yus" I said to Gus, "Who are these people, and whence came they?"
On being taken into the city, we were led to a stone building, having the general appearance of a prison. It had massive doors, and securely locked. A man soon appeared, with keys, and unlocked the outside door. As we entered, I asked Gus if it was a prison. He said nothing, simply shaking his head as if to mean, "I don't know."
We followed the motion of Yus, and ascended a flight of stairs. A man accompanied us with keys, who stopped before a heavy cumbrous door, to unlock it. A prison, sure, I thought. Yet the surroundings did not present the appearance of a jail. Besides, every one seemed to be delighted with our coming to their land. I do not think that my mind was ever more mystified, and that I thought of so many things in so short a time. So great was my mental agitation, that the perspiration dripped from my face. Gus seemed to take it coolly, as if nothing unusual was happening. When we got inside the room, and ascertained the object of our being taken there, I felt so exhausted that I wished some place to sit down. What I beheld on a table in the room created such a sudden revulsion in my emotions and feelings, that it had the effect of a tonic or stimulant. I forgot all about prisons and my former fears. Gould I believe my eyes? Was I waking or sleeping? Where was I, and what were these things on the table before me?
There, on the table, were divers kinds of astronomical apparatus. There was a fine Bitz telescope, three and a half inch objective, with one terrestrial, and three celestial eye pieces. There was a fine sextant, with a small telescope. Besides these, there were drawing instruments,
and several articles that a scientific explorer would find use for in his work. There were some books, including an English Nautical Almanac for 1846. Also several papers of 1845.
By sign language, Yus made us understand that these things were taken from the wreck of a boat, when he was a babe. As near as we could ascertain, this occurred in 1850 or 51. Yus took twelve little sticks, and by sign language made us understand that they represented men on the wreck. Nine of them he laid down, to show that they were dead when found. Three he stood upright, but indicated that, though alive, they were in a very enfeebled condition, and did not long survive.
Yus had taken us to this room to show us these things, in the hope that we could explain their use. I told Gus that we must, at once, show them the use of the telescope, as it was certain that they would be greatly interested in it, and by such means we should be able the more perfectly to ingratiate ourselves into their favor. By signs, Yus asked me the use of the telescope. I motioned to him to have it and the tripod taken down stairs. I followed with the terrestrial eye piece. I looked around for as distant a view as possible. I found something some three or four miles away. I adjusted the focus on the object, made the telescope fast, then showed Yus how to look through the small aperture. He was familiar with the scene on which it was focused. The terrestrial eye piece had a power of forty or fifty diameters. The object on which it was focused did not appear to be more than a few hundred feet distant. It showed up very distinctly. Yus looked through the glass, then looked outside, then through the glass, and outside again, then he looked at me, then to the telescope, and again at me, with an indescribable and curious expression, as if to say, "What sort of trickery is this you are working off on me?" He meditated, and again looked. Suddenly it seemed to flash on his mind that this was a wonderful instrument. There was a great crowd standing around. He began to address them. He did a vast amount of gesticulation, and they seemed to become very much excited. From the rush to him, it appeared that he had extended a general invitation to them to look for themselves. But he motioned most of them away, and called for a few of the more prominent looking of the crowd. We were kept there two hours, while scores or hundreds had an opportunity of taking a brief look.
Greatly to our relief, Yus directed that the telescope should be returned to its place. It was now about 7 o'clock, p. m., and we were tired and hungry. We made signs that we wished to return to the balloon. He made us understand that it was all safe, and that we must go with him. He led us some distance and stopped in front of a stone house with heavy walls which seemed to be characteristic of all the better class of houses in the city. The windows, to us, seemed very small. The house had two stories, and several rooms. The ceilings were quite low. Yus took us through several of the rooms to show us how they lived in Polioland. He took us to the kitchen. From nose and eyes we found that they were then engaged in cooking. The odor indicated something good for the palate. To our great astonishment, we found that the fuel used for cooking was some form of gas. This attracted our attention, and Yus noticed our curiosity. He then showed us the pipes through which the gas came, and indicated that the gas came from the earth. This delighted Gus beyond measure. He had wondered how he should be able to refill his balloon, in case he should empty it. Now that question was solved, and he said we must empty the balloon as soon as possible.
In a short time we were ushered into the dining room. There we found things so little dissimilar to what we had been accustomed to, that we felt no special surprise. The chairs had no backs. They were simply stools. The dishes were a species of white porcelain, and odd looking, but really beautiful. I suspected that these were not the ones in common use, judging from the way the boy examined them. The knives were steel blades, and had beautiful ivory handles. We afterwards found that ivory in Polioland was very abundant. They had no forks, at all like those to which we had been accustomed. It was something half way between a fork and a spoon. The handle was as long as that of a fork, but at the other end was something in the shape of a spoon that was almost flat. It had a slight concavity, and after a little use of it, I concluded that it was an excellent substitute for our fork. The bread offered us was leavened, rather dark, but palatable. The meat I took for beef, but found it was a species of venison. It was tender, well cooked, and delightful to the taste. At the table were Yus, his wife and four children—three girls and one boy. The oldest girl seemed to be past twenty. The next a girl about seventeen. Then the boy, about fifteen. The youngest a girl, about twelve. All had light colored hair, and blue eyes. I have no recollection of ever partaking of a meal that I relished and enjoyed more than that first meal in the home of our new Polio- land friend, Yus.
After supper, Yus took out his new pipe, and manifested his great appreciation of it. The bright metallic mounting greatly pleased his fancy. He and Gus took a smoke.
I took out my watch to see the time. Yus motioned to me to let him see it. He held it to his ear, and understood its use. He showed us a clock. It had no striking attachment. The wheels were made of wood. On the dial were 24 divisions instead of 12.
For the first time since we left on our trip I felt drowsy and inclined to sleep. I yawned. Gus caught the contagion. Yus noticed it, and imitating our yawning, smiling and nodding, he made a motion at reclining, as if to ask if we wished to go to bed. We nodded assent. He then led the way to a room in the second story. In the house and furniture there seemed to have been an unnecessary waste of material, as everything was so cumbersome. The room into which we were led, had two windows, rather diminutive. For these, curtains were provided that the room might be made as dark as desirable for a daylight sleep. As the rays of the sun poured through one of these windows, he said we had a room on the south side. I reminded him that the house had no other side except the one to the south. No north, no east, no west, for a house in Poliopolis. In any direction you might look, it was south. When we retired, it was 9 p.m. Sunday night. We drew down the heavy curtains, and all was darkness. We were in a state of blissful ignorance of all things terrestrial until awakened by a loud knocking. It was by Yus. He had raised the curtain, and by the amount of sunlight, we concluded it must be high time to get up. We had slept nine hours.
Judging from the preparations that we found for our morning ablution, we concluded that we were with a people with whom cleanliness was in high repute. There was a large, curiously wrought pitcher filled with water, and a large, neat porcelain washbowl. On a shelf near the table on which these were placed, was a pile of towels numbering two dozen.
When we entered the hall to go down stairs, we found the youngest girl there waiting for us. In a mechanical sort of way I said "good morning." I suppose she understood what I said, by instinct. She nodded assent. I held out my hand to her. She took hold of it, and thus we proceeded down stairs and into the dining room. The other members of the household seemed amused at our manner of entering the room. Her mother spoke to her, and I heard the word "Mauree." This, I concluded was the name of the little girl. Such was the case. It was the same as our familiar name "Mary," with a strong accent on the last syllable. That little girl proved to be a great treasure to me. I became her teacher, and she became mine. She tried to teach me the language of her people, and I taught her English. I suspect that I was the better teacher, as my pupil advanced far more rapidly than did hers. She had an excellent mind and a good memory.
It would be difficult to find a pupil more anxious and apt to learn. She would point to every article of apparel, to every piece of furniture, and to everything she got sight of, to have me give its name in English. When I would give her the name, she would repeat it over and over. She seemed never to forget a word once fixed in her mind. I may exaggerate, but I think that in one hundred minutes after breakfast, she had a vocabulary of one hundred words. Before dinner, Gus and I took a walk. When we returned, I was astonished to hear Marie say distinctly, "Good morning." For a moment I could not recollect having given her these words, but Gus reminded me that I spoke them to her as we came into the hall after getting up.
I shall now make a statement that is in no measure exaggerated, but which may seem incredible to the reader. It is this. Before sundown Marie and I could converse in English with great ease. Also, I taught her to read English. Our text book was the New Testament.
Her rapid progress in learning English, proved a great hindrance to our learning their language. She soon became our interpreter, and for a long time, conversation with others was carried on through her.
Gus found a turning lathe, and at my request made a wooden globe about five inches in diameter. On this, I marked the meridian lines, and parallels, and the divisions of the earth, and thus taught Marie geography. I taught her about the different nations inhabiting the different parts of the earth. I told her of the many efforts that had been made to reach Polioland, but had all failed. She was very much interested in my description of day and night in every part of the earth except at the poles. It was here that I found the Planetarium of great service. I could, by it, enable her to see the exact motion of the sun at any season of the year, and on any portion of the earth. By watching the long pin on which was the ball representing the sun, and also watching the hand that points to the hour of the day, she could tell just when the sun would set, or go out of sight, at any place. Also, when it would rise again.
Soon after our arrival, we made a device to enable us to point to any given meridian on the earth. Now we could explain it to Marie, and she was greatly interested in it. We got a flat, smooth stone, about two feet square. This we raised about two feet, making it level and fast. On each side we drove two small stakes, and fastened a piece across the top. From the center of this cross piece, we fastened a string, and tied a weight to the lower end, so that we had a plumb line. Our watches gave the time of the 90th meridian, very nearly that of St. Louis. On the shadow cast by the string at noon by our watches, we made a mark, and marked it 24, or the place of beginning. Thus we marked all the hours.
It required no little care on our part to keep track with the days, because our watches marked but 12 hours on the dial. It was necessary to note whether the time was a.m. or p.m.
OUR little Marie led us into a digression, and carried us nearly to the end of our first polar day. But it is difficult to know what method to pursue in giving an account of our experiences and observations. The upstairs room in the home of Yus was our abiding place during the whole period of our sojourn in Poliopolis. At one time, because of a misunderstanding, it seemed probable that I, at least, would be compelled to seek other quarters. But after explanations and a proper understanding of facts, the difficulties were amicably adjusted.
While there were other houses more costly and capacious than the home of Yus, yet we could not have found one more to our liking and comfort. He made us feel that our companionship was abundant compensation for any expense and trouble incurred for us.
Shortly after our arrival, we emptied the balloon, and Yus provided a safe repository for it. During our long sojourn, we filled it occasionally and made a few short excursions, Gus taking a few by turns for an aerial ride.
The inhabitants impressed us as being, for the most part, remarkable for their industry, sobriety, and freedom from those vices that degenerate and degrade humanity. They had made commendable progress in civilization, and were skilled in many of the arts. They were familiar with many of the metals. They had gold, silver, platinum, iron, copper, zinc and lead. There were vast deposits of coal of a very fine quality. It is doubtful if such deposits can be found in any other portion of the earth. This would indicate that in the earlier periods of the earth's history, vegetation abounded here as in no other part of the world. Ivory abounded in quantities sufficient to supply the needs of the whole world for a long period. It would be difficult to estimate the quantity that could be obtained. They utilized it for every conceivable purpose. A species of clay is found, useful for brick, from which they obtain large quantities of aluminum.
The island, or continent, in shape, is circular, extending about two degrees from the pole. It has an area of about 125,000 square miles. The population, we estimated at about one million, or probably a little more. For the most part, the people live in towns or villages. This is true of those whose chief work is agriculture. They so arrange it that their dwellings shall be as near together as possible. This results from their social peculiarities. During the long period of the absence of the sun, they have much leisure, and spend a great deal of it in a frolicsome, social way. An effort is made to have regular times for sleeping, but such rules are observed, for the most part, only by the younger portion of the family. The older ones eat and sleep when it suits them.
The soil is rich and productive, and the work of the agriculturist is not laborious. The country is well watered. There are four streams that might be called rivers. These, after meandering in different directions, unite and form one river which empties into the Arctic Ocean. They obtain their supply of gold on some of these streams. It is all obtained by what is known as placer mining, or washing the sand and separating the small grains of gold. They have frequent rains during the period of sunshine, but more frequent during the sun's absence. In the outer portions of the continent, snow abounds at certain seasons.
Fruit trees of several varieties are found. They have apples, cherries, plums, and some other varieties. Grapes also abound. In the matter of cereals they are well supplied. They have a species of maize, the stalks of which do not reach a height of more than five feet. The ears are small, and the grains are compact and hard. When ground, it makes an excellent, nutritious food. They have a species of wheat the grain of which resembles ours, but the stalk is more like that of barley. The forest trees are, for the most part, different species of evergreens. Some of them become very large. The growth of vegetation, during the period of sunlight is amazing. From planting to maturing maize does not require more than six weeks. The same rapid growth characterizes all kinds of vegetation. During our sojourn we saw forest trees that measured more than one hundred feet in circumference. I measured the height of one of these, and found it to be 367 feet.
Among the animals are several varieties of deer. Some of these have been domesticated, and are made useful in divers ways. They have several varieties of animals belonging to the class of sheep or goats. On some of these the wool is very long, and almost straight. Their dogs, about the head, resemble the wolf, but the body is larger and more compact than that of the wolf. They are intelligent and affectionate in their disposition, and are useful. Neither cats, rats nor mice are found there.
Birds of many varieties abound, but they are not remarkable for beauty of plumage. Some remain there the whole year, but most of them come after the sun rises, and depart when it goes down. The water fowl are most abundant and afford an inexhaustible supply of food, eggs and feathers. They do not wantonly or needlessly destroy the birds. They take only what can be profitably used.
The migratory birds seldom appear until the sun has risen, nor do they tarry long after its disappearance. There are several varieties of wild beasts, having a very fine quality of fur. Occasionally a polar bear is seen on the outer portions of the continent. His appearance affords great pleasure to the young men. A company is soon formed and the sport begins. The skin of a polar bear is highly esteemed. The hair is white, long and very thick. A bear skin is sufficient to cover a room of small size. A bear of good size will weigh 1,500 pounds.
Fish abound in the waters. More than a month before sunrise, the salmon begin to ascend the streams. It would be difficult to exaggerate their numbers. Often, so abundant are they, that a spear thrown at random into the water will strike a fish. Water fowl grow fat from the abundance of such food. At all seasons, in daylight, and when the sun has set, excellent fish, of several varieties may be secured without effort. So abundant are they that fishing ceases to be a sport.
One of the greatest blessings to the Arctic continent is the abundant supply of natural gas. It has been utilized for about half a century. They are lavish in its use when needed, but are not wasteful of it. The cost for household purposes is nominal. On certain occasions, in different parts of the country, for several hours together, the consumption of gas seems prodigious. It was during some national festival, or public occasion that this would occur. Even then, the flow of gas and the duration of it, was governed by those in authority. In some cases, the pressure was sufficient to throw the gas more than a hundred feet into the air. The pipes were about four inches in diameter. At any time the scene was magnificent, but especially when clouds were above. For miles around, the space would be brilliantly lighted, and the light visible at great distances. The flow would continue for a few hours.
THE present inhabitants of Polioland are, for the most part, descendants of a large number of refugees who fled to this region some three or four hundred years ago. Some fled from religious persecutions, and some from political. There is a tradition that at that time there was a connection between the northern part of Europe or Asia, and the Arctic continent. Some claim that it was land connection. But it is more probable that it was by means of the waters being frozen over, and giving them a safe and easy passage. There is a well founded tradition that such was the condition of things at an early period in the 19th century. From the statements of some of the oldest citizens, it was during or near the year 1816. The tradition is that the intense cold began during the absence of the sun, and was so great that all the waters around the continent were frozen to a thickness of two or three feet. During the whole succeeding period of sunshine, the cold continued so that scarce no crops were raised except in a small region immediately around Poliopolis. There was much suffering for the want of a sufficient supply of food. Thus, for a period of about eighteen months, it was an easy matter to pass from Polioland to the continent of Europe or Asia. During that period there were many accessions to the inhabitants from the old continents. Also, great numbers of the aborigines left the country. These latter were Lapps or Esquimo, who never did assimilate with the emigrants, and who had no liking for the ways of civilization. Those left on the continent had their dwelling places near the ocean, and as far as possible from Poliopolis. The ancestors of Yus, so he claimed, were among those who migrated in the first part of the century. The people are thoroughly civilized, and are interested in education, although not very much progress has been made save in the elementary principles. In the arts they have made commendable progress, being able to reduce and cast the metals, and were skillful in the use of tools. I imagine they were not very far behind our ancestors of a hundred years ago.
The religion of the Polianders is a mixture. A certain class have religious peculiarities that would seem to ally them with the papists. But in some things they differ from them, notably in the matter of baptism. They not only immerse, but do it repeatedly. The religion of the larger and more intelligent portion of the people is manifestly of Protestant origin. The individual churches seem in a measure to be independent, yet they have state assemblies to which delegates are sent. They keep one- seventh of the time as a Sabbath, but that which corresponds with our Tuesday. It is not surprising that they should become confused in attempting to keep trace of anything like our 24 hour day, or the days of the week, seeing that one day with them is six months of continued sunshine.
The climate of Polioland, and especially of Poliopolis, is without a parallel in the known world. There is a region, immediately around the pole, from ten to twenty miles across, where the mercury never reaches zero. The cold increases as you recede from the pole. On the coast, about 150 miles from the pole, the mercury, during the absence of the sun, gets far below zero. Also snow is abundant there, but rarely seen in Poliopolis.
The barometer indicates a far denser atmosphere at the pole than we are accustomed to. The aneroid which, at Kansas City, would vary from 28 to 30, at the pole will show as high as 34 inches.
The relatively high temperature, and the electrical phenomena at the pole are difficult to account for. Possibly the axis of the ocean of atmosphere may have something to do with them. At the equator, the surface of the earth, by reason of the earth's rotation, moves at the rate of nearly a thousand miles per hour. As the air is so mobile, we might suppose that it would be left behind, and that the earth would go much faster. If this were so, a bird that should hover in the air for a few moments, would find itself at a considerable distance from the point where it left the earth. The whole ocean of air rotates with the earth. While it is an intensely mobile fluid, yet it keeps up with the earth as if it were a solid, and firmly attached to the earth. Not only so, but in some measure it seems to defy the law of centrifugal motion, by which it should be piled up in a great protuberance at the region of the equator. In defiance of that law it rises at the equator, then pursues its journey northward until it reaches a half way station, then descends to the surface and moves on toward the pole. It is at the pole that it seems to accumulate the greatest mass. Having approached the pole from every direction, it finds a stopping place, and an axis of its own around which it must rotate. Here it has a twofold motion: rotary and upward. The currents from every direction seem so nearly to balance each other, that there is no perceptible disturbance. But there must be a vast amount of friction. Whatever may be the philosophy of the conditions, yet it is probable that this rotary motion of the atmosphere around its axis, has something to do with the strange meteorological peculiarities of the region around Poliopolis, both in respect to temperature and electrical displays.
THE government of Polioland is somewhat peculiar. There are, nominally, the usual three departments. What might be called the lower house of the legislature, is composed of members elected by the taxpayers of the state. With the upper house, it is different. For this the sole qualification is the possession of a specified amount of wealth. This is determined by the amount of taxes paid. It is argued that those who pay most of the revenue should have a voice in the manner of its expenditure.
From the members of the upper house one is chosen to be at the head of affairs, or practically the President of the state. Here, also, wealth is the qualification. The office belonged to the member of the upper house who paid the largest amount of taxes. He held the position so long as he possessed the qualification. While the ratio of the two houses was variable, yet usually it was three or four to one, in favor of the lower house.
While the major part of the taxes seemed to be paid by the rich, yet, practically, it came out of the pockets of the poor. The manufacturer is required to have a license. This is unreasonably high. Only the rich can pay it. As a result, all the manufacturing is done by the rich. Competition is destroyed, and they can fix what price they please on the manufactured article, usually at a profit of two or three hundred per cent, and thus the large amount paid for license is soon returned. The general tendency of the laws is to make the rich, richer, and the poor, poorer. A fair illustration occurred just before our arrival. The people all use tobacco in some form. Even many of the women use snuff. All the small farmers raise tobacco. It was a chief source of income to many of the poor. When no license was required, almost all the tobacco was manufactured by the farmers and their children. Children soon became adept in rolling the tobacco in the form of cigars. The price of the manufactured article was very low, but yet it yielded a good income to the poor. A few years before our arrival, a law was passed requiring a license for the privilege of manufacturing tobacco in any form. The amount required for the license was an absolute prohibition to the poor, as they could not pay it. Large factories were established by the rich. The output was better in appearance, but no better in quality. The price was doubled the first year. At the time of our arrival, the price had gone up more than fivefold. Of this increase, the government received perhaps 5 per cent, and the licensed manufacturer the other 95 per cent. It worked a great hardship to the poor, making them poorer. But it was a good thing for the rich, making them richer.
To the government alone pertained the right to make the coin of the country. As has been true of all nations having any measure of civilization since the world began, the chief metals used for coin, were gold and silver.
All, of either metal brought to them, was coined. The silver coins were awkward, because of their multiplicity, and the difficulty of distinguishing one coin from another of the next denomination. There were eleven silver coins. The smallest about the size of our dime, and the largest a little larger than our dollar. The weight of the latter was not far from 500 grains. The weight or value of the coin was stamped on its face. Of the gold coins there were only three denominations, ranging in value, as nearly as I could estimate, from about $7 to $28. The smallest was about the size of our twenty-five cent coin. The ratio of value was approximately 14 to 1. Just before the first sunset, when Marie had learned to converse in English, and acted as our interpreter, a wealthy man, a member of the upper house, made a call to see us. He made many inquiries about our country. Among other things, the wealth of our people, and our money. I then asked him how they happened to fix on the ratio of 14 to 1. He said the relative value depended to some extent on the quantities produced of each metal, but the matter of convenience had far more to do with the ratio they had adopted. They decided that the people's currency, or coins of small value, should be silver. For wealthy people, and for coins of large value, they chose gold. They then fixed on the smallest and the largest coins to be made of silver. Their aim was that the coin of least value should not be too small for convenience, and that of largest value should not be too large for convenience. In fixing on the weight and size of the gold coins, they were governed by the same rules. This made the ratio about 14 to 1. I then asked him how they managed
to maintain the relative value of the two metals. When Marie interpreted this question to him, he shrugged his shoulders, and said, "that takes care of itself." He explained that as all of both metals that were offered, was coined, that kept the ratio from changing. He then wished to know how we managed in our country? I told him that for a long time we had pursued the same course. But that now, our mints would only coin the gold that was offered. If they wished silver for the purpose of coining, the government would purchase it as needed. He gazed on the floor for some time in silence. Then again he shrugged his shoulders and twisted his mouth to show contempt, and said, "Then you have but one kind of money." I assured him that we still have both gold and silver coin. But again shrugging his shoulders he said, "Your silver coin is not money. It can not have any fixed value. It may be worth the full amount stamped on it, or not half that much. It is not money." When I assured him that it seemed to work very well, with another shrug and with a contemptuous expression, he said, "Oh, it will do well enough for the common people."
At a later period I had occasion to regret that the matter had been discussed between us.
IN this chapter we shall endeavor to give a description of some of the appearances of the sun during our first day in Poliopolis. When we landed, the sun had an altitude of 20½ degrees. To the eye, it seemed to maintain that altitude throughout its whole circuit of 24 hours. As a matter of fact, it was slowly creeping higher. At that time it required 83 hours for it to increase its altitude an amount equal to its apparent diameter. As if growing weary in its ascent, its pace slackened day by day, so that by the middle of June, its rate was so slow that it would require 16 days of 24 hours to ascend its own apparent diameter. On the 20th of June, at 5 p. m., wearied and exhausted, and overheated by its journey, it came to a stop. After a short rest, it prepared for its downward march. It put on the brakes as if afraid to gain too much speed in descending. It started very slowly, and gradually increased its pace, until by the 21st of September its velocity was increased fifty fold. As it was bidding us goodby it again began to slacken its pace, as if loth to leave us. This was no new trick of the sun, performed for our special amusement, but its regular habit in all its ascents and descents. Another of its habits which I explained to Marie, and which she said was "lovely," is that after it has really sunk below the horizon, so that on a straight line it would be invisible, it still holds its head high up so that its face remains visible for a period of 30 or 40 hours. It performs the same "lovely" antic on its return in March. For a like period before it would be visible in a straight line, it shows its face above the horizon. While Marie believed what I said about this action of the sun, and while she thought it was "lovely" for it to be so kind, yet she said, "Why does it do that way? How can it?" I tried to explain to her that it results from the refraction of the rays of light which come from the sun, and pass through masses of varying density. But my explanations seemed all Greek to her. I then procured a vessel for holding water. I placed a small silver coin on the bottom near one edge and stationed her so that she could not quite see the coin. Then I poured water into the vessel. Suddenly she cried, "Oh, it has moved." I assured her it had not, but she said she saw it move. Then I had her place the coin on the bottom up against the edge so that it could go no further. Again she watched as I poured in the water. "Oh, it has moved again," said she. I had her examine, and she became satisfied that it was where she had placed it. Then I took the small wooden globe, placed it on the table, and in front of it, placed a board so as just to hide the globe from her sight. I then explained to her that the globe represented the sun below the horizon, and as the rays from the sun pass through the air, they are bent just as the rays of reflected light from the coin were bent, and this caused the sun to appear higher than it really was.
I then showed her from the Nautical Almanac that the sun would be due to rise on the 20th of March, at 3 o'clock in the morning, but that it would show itself more than thirty hours before that time. She now seemed to understand it, and still insisted that it was "lovely."
When we had finished this conversation, Marie asked me to point out the exact spot where the sun would show itself when it returned? I told her that was not possible. If there were no refraction, it would require careful calculation to know just where it would first appear. But the amount of refraction depends on the condition of the atmosphere, and may slightly vary. A very slight variation would change the place of the sun's first appearance above the horizon.
For the benefit of those who may probably never enjoy the opportunity of a trip to Polioland, I shall describe somewhat more minutely the action of the sun as seen from that grand observatory. An old minister of the Gospel, highly educated, after he had witnessed the motion of the sun as seen from the pole, illustrated by a planetarium, said, "I have tried all my life to get a distinct impression of how the sun appeared at the pole, but always failed in my efforts. Now it is as plain as if I had been there."
For objects as distant as the heavenly bodies, the horizon includes the absolute half of the concave sphere above us. It spans a space of 180 degrees. If the sun could take the place of the pole star, or rather, if it occupied a position at the exact pole of the sky, then people living on the equator of the earth, would see the sun due north, and half submerged below the horizon. There it would remain, fixed and immovable. It would have no apparent motion of any kind.
Now reverse the condition of things. Place the sun directly over the earth's equator. The distance is 90 degrees, or half the space spanned by the celestial horizon. If you, then, were at the north pole, the sun would appear half submerged below your horizon. (In this statement no account is taken of refraction.) But now the sun would not appear to be fixed, as when you saw it in the position of the pole star from the equator. As you stand at the north pole, the earth rotates on its axis from right to left. This causes the sun to appear to move from left to right. But as long as it remains over the earth's equator, it is just 90 degrees from your place of observation, and that is on your horizon. Thus it is that you see it making the complete circuit of the horizon, half submerged beneath it. There are two periods of 24 hours when the sun is in that position: on the Vernal equinox in March, and the Autumnal equinox in September. In the former, the sun is just rising at the north pole.
The Ecliptic is the apparent path of the sun in the heavens. It crosses the equator at the equinoxes. At these points the angle between the ecliptic and equator is greatest. In the middle of June, the lines of the equator and ecliptic are practically parallel. Therefore from March to June, the angle is becoming less and less. From this you can readily see that if the sun should remain at the same distance from the equator, it would not get higher and lower, but would continue to move around its circuit, maintaining the same distance from the horizon. For this reason, its up and down motion is most rapid the nearer it is to the equator.
When it is farthest from the equator, and practically moving parallel with it, then it comes to a standstill so far as concerns motion up and down.
When its up and down motion is most rapid, at the equator, its angular velocity is almost one minute per hour of time. As the angular distance across the face of the sun is about 32 minutes, it follows that when it is crossing the equator, as seen from the pole, it requires about 32 hours for it to go out of sight after the lower limb has. touched the horizon. From this you can readily understand that as the altitude of the sun, as seen from the pole, increases, the rate of ascent becomes less and less until it stops entirely. This is called the summer "solstice," which means "the sun still."
As the "Ecliptic" is the home of the sun, moon and planets, what we have said in reference to the apparent motion of the sun will apply to the motions of the planets and the moon, with exceptions that may be noted when considering them.
ACCORDING to the notion of many, the most gloomy, dreary condition on earth, is a night at the north pole. The bare thought of being doomed to such punishment will produce an involuntary shudder. Think of it! Six long, weary months of total darkness! Six months of groping amid ice and snow, with the mercury frozen solid in the thermometer. What crime of man merits such a punishment as to be doomed to spend one such night there?
If a poor criminal should receive such a sentence, and it could and would be executed, and he knew what was awaiting him, he would not exchange places with the judge on the bench nor with any honorable member of the jury. If one should love darkness, and take a seat in Poliopolis at sundown to await the "gloomy dreary darkness" that he has pictured, his condition would be somewhat like that of a lazy fellow sitting down in idleness awaiting a rich legacy from some unknown rich kinsman. The darkness would never come.
For two months after the sun disappears from sight, you could read your morning or evening paper from the twilight. With us, twilight continues until the sun has fallen 18 degrees below the horizon. At Poliopolis, the sun does not get that far below the horizon until near the middle of November. A little after the middle of January, it has, in its upward march, approached that near the horizon. The light thus afforded is sufficient to drive the stars from view.
The moon is a very important factor in the question of light in the polar regions. Few persons have any conception of the conditions and motion of the moon as seen from such a position as Poliopolis. It is well worth your while to carefully follow in the description here given of the moon. She wastes but a small portion of her light in that region during the six months that the sun is visible. During the months of April, May, June, July and August, the full moon is never seen in Poliopolis. The reverse is true during the months of the sun's absence. In October, November, December, January and February, you see the full moon in all her glory, and in large measure the same is true of the months of March and September. The astronomical cause is this. When the moon is new, it is with the sun. When it is full, it is in the opposite part of the ecliptic. In the months first mentioned, the sun is visible at the pole, and therefore the moon is visible as waning moon while it is approaching the sun. It is also visible as new moon until it recedes nearly 90 degrees from the sun. Then it is in the condition we call the first quarter. It then looks like a half moon. When it "fulls" it is on the opposite side of the ecliptic, and is too far below the horizon to be visible at the pole.
Precisely the reverse is the condition of things during the sun's absence. The sun is then on that portion of the ecliptic below the horizon at Poliopolis, and it is there that the moon grows old and renews her horns, but becomes full when on that part of the ecliptic which is visible at the pole.
I had been in Poliopolis nearly two weeks before I got a sight of the moon. By means of the Planetarium, I kept track of its exact position below the horizon, and was on the outlook for her, and could know just where to look.
On the 3rd of June she made her appearance above the horizon. Her horns were to the right, turned away from the sun. This showed that she was old, and on her way to the sun to get her horns renewed. She skimmed around the horizon towards the right hand, about 60 degrees from the sun. Her apparent right-hand motion was not so rapid as that of the sun, because her real motion was in the opposite direction, or toward the left hand. In her upward march or departure from the horizon, she far outstripped the sun. In one circuit of the heavens, requiring 24 hours, she mounted six times her apparent diameter above the horizon. From the 3rd to the 9th of June, she climbed as high as the sun then was, the latter having been on its upward journey since the 20th of March. At this time she was too close to the sun to be visible. On the 13th I again caught sight of her on the left of the sun, with new horns and these turned to the left. She now rapidly departed from the sun, taking a course to the left, and downward toward the horizon. On the 17th, before completing her growth, she disappeared below the horizon and was seen no more until the 2nd of July. These are the capers she cuts throughout all the period of sunshine.
The first full moon that was seen in Poliopolis for six months, appeared on the 21st of September. The sun was getting ready to set. In the opposite heavens, about 15 degrees above the horizon, was the full moon, in all her beauty and glory. She seemed to announce that she had come to perform, as best she could, the duties of her liege lord, as he had been summoned to visit other climes.
She first showed herself on the 18th, creeping above the horizon, with gibbous shape. She rose higher and higher, until, on September 28th she was about five degrees higher than the sun ever gets in that region.
In December, Luna is at her best. It is then her lord has reached the farthest point in his journey. At that distance, not one dawn of twilight can he give to the inhabitants of Polioland. She feels that special duty has then been assigned her. In a queenly manner does she proceed to perform it. He throws floods of light to her, and expects her to be equally lavish with it for the benefit of the inhabitants of Poliopolis.
On December 12th she poked her head above the horizon, as a beautiful maiden, half grown, but bright and beautiful. She seemed to move toward the right hand or the west, as if forced by some current. But this was not her motion. Her motion was to the left, eastward. Onward she plunged, rising higher and higher with such rapidity that you might, by careful watching, see the shadow shortening that was cast by her. In her corkscrew upward course, she would increase her altitude almost her apparent diameter in about two hours. But like the sun, as if anxious to prolong her stay, she greatly slackened this upward gait.
On the 20th she put on her full dress. Then her altitude was more than 27 degrees. She remained in full view for two weeks, circling round and round. When robbed of half her glory, as if ashamed of her appearance, but her duties well performed, on the 27th she bowed herself below the horizon, to be seen no more until, on the 8th of January she re-appeared as a blooming, growing maiden, to repeat the tactics of her December visit.
The apparent track of both the sun and moon, as seen from Poliopolis, is very interesting. If the paths of both could be left on the sky, they would resemble the threads of a screw. This illustration, however, is defective, because of the constant varying in the width between the threads. The threads are nearest together at the highest altitude of each. The distance between the threads continually widens until the horizon is reached. Then also, the motion of the moon would defy the pencil to mark it because of its apparent motion to the right hand, caused by the rotation of the earth, and its real motion towards the left. If the latter alone be considered, then we might illustrate the screw motion of the sun by a screw with 48 threads to the inch, and a right hand screw, and that of the moon as a left hand screw averaging about three threads to the inch. To be fully appreciated it must be seen.
In addition to twilight and moonlight with which Polioland is so marvelously blessed, another astonishing source of light is in the electrical displays, that have no parallel in any other part of the known world. The probabilities are that this is unceasing, at all seasons of the year, but is visible only when the sun has disappeared. It is most beautiful when clouds overhang the sky. The light is beautiful and brilliant. The whole region is lighted up, surpassing the brightest twilight. Some notion of its exceeding brilliancy may be formed when it is remembered that frequently the heavens are lighted up by it even to the central portions of the United States. This light would suffice for the inhabitants of Poliopolis even without the aid of the moon.
It would seem a superfluity to speak of any artificial means of supplementing the light in Poliopolis during the absence of the sun. But circumstances are liable to occur when it would not prove unacceptable. In this means of lighting, the city is without a peer. The pipes used for this purpose have an inside aperture of about two inches. On the top is a hemisphere, about six inches across, and perforated with holes. When the gas is turned on, and this is lighted, there seems to be an almost solid ball of flame with a diameter of several feet. These lamp posts are found here and there wherever needed.
THE Poliolanders measure time somewhat after the manner employed by us. They have clocks, with 24 hours on the dial. They have a week of seven days. Their month is determined entirely by the moon. The word they employ to designate their year means about the same as our word "return." The year begins with the return of the sun. Few persons appreciate the difficulty of keeping track of the days of the week by a watch marking but twelve hours, in a country where the sun is visible for six months, then out of sight for a like period. Then, too, our effort was to keep track of the civil day beginning at midnight, and using a nautical almanac, the day of which is 24 hours, and beginning at noon. In the early part of September, I enlisted Marie in this work. I allowed her to take charge of one of my watches, explaining its twelve hour dial, and showing her how to note and mark the civil day in the almanac. She was very positive that their 24 hour dial was a great improvement on our 12 hour. I heartily agreed with her. In the almanac she marked the a. m. and p. m. of each day as given in the calendar for the moon. On the margin by the first twelve hours, she would mark p. m. and opposite the hours 12 to 24, she would write the name of the succeeding day, and a. m.
I explained to her the difference between a star and a planet. I gave her the names of the planets, their size, distance from the sun, and their motions. Also, that their light was that reflected from the sun, like the moon. She had thought that the moon gave its own light. When I explained the manner of it getting and giving light, she said, "Can the sun see the moon when it is so far down below?" I explained to her how this could be, also why the moon has so many different shapes.
The Planetarium was a great help to me in making these explanations. She became intensely interested in it. She soon learned to use it so that she could arrange it for any date, and arrange the sun, moon and planets in their proper places in the ecliptic, and then point in the exact direction in which they were in the sky. She could also tell just where and when any of them would be visible. In the last, however, she made many mistakes, and thought the planetarium was at fault. But I explained again that refraction would cause an object to appear above the horizon in advance of its true time.
When the sun disappeared in September, Marie brought the planetarium to me all arranged for that date, and the planets in place. Holding the Planetarium in position, and pointing to the sky, she said, "Right there is that big world. Do you think we could see it with the telescope?" While the sun was not visible, yet it was barely below the horizon, and clearly revealed its place. She pointed to a place about two hours, or 30 degrees to the right of the sun, and nearly 15 degrees above the horizon. I told her it was in a fine place for observing, but feared the sunlight was too strong. We had obtained permission to keep the telescope at our house, and I brought it out. I arranged the tripod on the ground, fixed the focus, and had her look. I took our field glass in hope that I might pick it up with that. Before I had time to look, Marie said, "I saw it, but it is gone." I soon found it with the field glass, and in a little while Marie saw it with her eye. I then got it into the field of the telescope, and made fast the declination. Marie had remarkable power of vision. The focus had to be adjusted to suit her. I then scratched a mark so that she could readily adjust it for herself. When she obtained a good view of the giant planet, she said, "That is the moon." This pleased me, because most persons have no idea of the apparent size of an object when seen through the telescope. The eye glass magnified 100 diameters. The angular distance across the face of Jupiter was 29 seconds. This, multiplied by 100 would give 48 minutes, while the full moon is only about 30 minutes. Therefore Jupiter should appear considerably larger than the full moon to the eye. But under similar circumstances, I have heard persons insist that it does not appear larger than the fist.
Marie looked at the Planetarium, and said, pointing to a place in the sky about as far to the right of Jupiter as it was to the right of the sun, "There is that one you call Mars; can I see it with the telescope?" I explained that it was a small body, and we should have to wait until the sun was lower, in order to see it. She then took another look at Jupiter. Suddenly she said, "I see three little bright stars close to it." I looked and told her there was another she had not seen. The three were on the right of Jupiter, and No. 4 was a long distance to the left. She then saw it, also. I explained to her that these were moons, just like ours; that Jupiter has five, but one is too small for us to see. I told her many things about these moons, how they made a total eclipse of the sun when they go between the planet and the sun. They would have more than one total eclipse every day. The first moon would give a total eclipse once every forty-two hours. No 2 in every three and a half of our days, and No. 3 one in every seven days. Besides No. 4 would occasionally give them an eclipse. I pointed out in the almanac how we could tell when an eclipse would occur on Jupiter, and that we could see it with the telescope. I know not where she learned it, but was amused to hear her repeat, "Oh that is lovely." I explained to her that No. 3 is the largest of the moons and the best to watch. Of course, Jupiter was now visible all the time. I noticed that on October 13th, No. 3 would make a disappearance and reappearance under favorable circumstances. It would occur soon after dinner, and the moon would be far below the horizon. I explained to her that my watch gave the time for the 90th meridian, and the time for Jupiter's moons was for the 75th, and therefore we must look an hour sooner than the time given in the almanac.
Immediately after dinner on the 13th we had the telescope arranged and turned on Jupiter. It was then 1 o'clock. Only two moons were visible. This I did not understand until I looked carefully at the almanac, and then saw that Nos. 1 and 3 were both out of sight. No. 3 was in the shadow of the planet, and No. 1 was passing over Jupiter's face. No. 3 would come into sight at 10 minutes after 1, and No. 1, 7 minutes later. I told her to keep a sharp lookout. In a few minutes she reported a moon visible on the left. It was No. 3. While she was watching for No. 1 to reappear, she reported the other one lost. It was No. 3 disappearing by occultation. She then found No. 1. At two minutes after 5, No. 3 would reappear, and she was ready for that, and saw it a few minutes after 5.
No observatory in the world could equal Poliopolis for watching the disappearance and reappearance of Jupiter's satellites, when the planet is above the equator. Opportunities are afforded several times during each period of 24 hours. No one in the world saw as many of them during the winter of 1896-7 as did little Marie. In December, Jupiter had settled down nearer the horizon, but in January it began to ascend again.
While Poliopolis is all right for Jupiter, yet we could not recommend it for general astronomical observations. At the time we were watching Jupiter's moons, not another star was visible, vet it was near the middle of October. Not until late in November could we hope for a favorable opportunity to view the stars.
I told Marie that the most beautiful of the planets, for brightness, is Venus. She put it in its place for the 13th of October. She found that it was far below the horizon. I told her we would get a sight of it about the 1st or 2nd of February. She thought that was a long time to wait. I told her that when it came, it would remain until the next October, and that she could get a sight of it almost any day through the period of sunshine. After the sun arose in June, she could see it for more than a week with her eyes. I also told her that at certain parts of its journey, when seen through the telescope, it would have horns, like the new moon.
Around one of the balls representing the planets, was a beautiful ring. She asked about that. I told her that is the most beautiful of all the planets, when seen through the telescope. I drew a picture of it, as it would appear through the telescope we then had. She put it in its place in the Planetarium, and found it was far below the horizon. I told her that I could see it at my home, but it would not be visible at her home until she was a grown young lady. Possibly in ten years it might show itself to the people in her country. This seemed to grieve her. But she found comfort in the thought that soon she could see Venus.
WE must not lose sight of Gus, though it was a difficult matter for me to keep track of him. He went here and there and was welcome wherever he went. For months, all the conversation he could carry on was by signs. In this he became adept, and was very successful. He visited manufacturing establishments of every kind. Every one seemed to know him, and the notion prevailed that he knew more about machinery than all the Poliolanders combined. His sign suggestions were attended to with an amount of interest calculated to turn the head of most men.
Yus was a mechanic, and had a sort of a machine shop, working in both wood and metals, but chiefly the latter. He had several men in his employ, and did not perform much labor himself. It was here that Gus spent much of his time. He gained the gratitude of a poor family of weavers. On his way home on one occasion, he saw, in a dilapidated house, some weavers at work, making a coarse kind of cloth. He went in. There was a man, and a woman of middle age, and two girls, at work at as many looms. The looms were cumbersome, each containing wood enough for two or three. He watched them. The filling was wound on a long bobbin, and thrown back and forth by the hand. He made a desperate effort to suggest a better plan. The only answer they could return was jabbering and shaking the head. He carried a rule in his pocket. He took some measurements, and left. At the shop of Yus, he found all necessary tools, and was accorded free use of any. He made a new bobbin, and a contrivance to place on the ends of the loom. This consisted of a piece of board something over a foot in length, on the ends of which were uprights about three inches high. Connecting the tops of these was a smooth iron rod, about three- sixteenths thick. This rod passed through a piece that would easily slide back and forth on it. He made a handle to hold in the hand. To each of the sliding pieces he attached a strong string, the other end of which was to fasten to the handle when the length of the string was properly adjusted. He made a pair of these, one for each end of the loom. They were fine specimens of workmanship. Taking the necessary tools to adjust and fasten them, he betook himself to the weaver's.
He made an effort to tell the man that he wished to put them on one of the looms, but the man shook his head. It seemed that his effort would be a failure. The woman, that he afterwards learned was the wife, either from curiosity or more probably from intuition, seemed to be trying to induce her husband to allow them to be put on. The man listened to her, and seemed inclined to change his mind. They then began to look at the different looms. They selected the one on which the woman was working. In less than an hour, Gus had the attachment all ready for work. He said he had never shot a bobbin in his life, but it was necessary for him to show its working, so when the strings were adjusted as to length, and securely fastened, he took his seat, pushed down a treadle with one foot, then with a left hand motion of his hand with a jerk, the bobbin flew to the other end. Then working the other foot to bring the woof in proper place, he jerked his hand toward the right, and away the bobbin flew as desired. Of course, every other loom was stopped, and all watching Gus with eyes and mouths open. Gus worked on for a few minutes, with increasing rapidity. He then arose and motioned the woman to take her seat. Her first effort was a pull instead of a jerk. The bobbin did not reach home. Gus motioned to her that she must give a jerk. The bobbin was pushed on through by hand, and again she tried and succeeded. At first it was awkward, and she made slow speed. Soon she took to it, and made the bobbin fly.
The man came to Gus and began to jabber as if he could understand all he said, but not a word did he recognize. As he talked, he would point to the old machines, then to the new attachment. He guessed that he wished such an attachment to each of the others. He tried the machine, but could not get the jerk. When he did, he neglected the pedals, and thus made trouble. The girls in turn made trial, and all succeeded, and in a few minutes trial could make it go all right. Their gratitude was profuse, and their methods of showing it amusing. When he was ready to leave, the man hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. The woman did the same thing. The two girls looked on, blushed, smiled, nodded their heads and waved their hands.
Yus had lathes in his shop, but all went by foot power. By the first of July, Gus had installed his gas engine, and the necessary attachments. The news spread, and so great was the throng of sightseers, that Yus was compelled to put up a sign that forbid admission. Yus had some excellent workmen, and he had Gus teach some of these how to make the engines. They were fine apprentices, and could soon equal their instructor. Yus manufactured them for sale, and when we left, scores were at work in Polioland. He added a foundry to his shops, and could cast both iron and brass.
Gus had good workmen at his bidding. He had them make patterns, and constructed a screw cutting lathe. By a combination of cog wheels, it would cut screws having any desired number of threads to the inch, and nuts also. With this, Yus was delighted beyond measure.
With all his work, Gus did a good deal visiting around, sight seeing. On one of his returns, he told me that after sleep I must go with him and he would show me a self-propelling machine. I supposed he was joking, or making sport of something he had seen. One of his early companions in a machine shop, had gone crazy in trying to make a machine for perpetual motion. I saw that he was in earnest, but had a sad look, probably caused by the recollection of his unfortunate companion. After breakfast, he took me to see it. Before we entered the room where it was at work, I could hear a thumping, thumping, with great regularity of motion. When we entered, there it was, thumping away. I looked carefully, but in vain, to find the source of the power. The machine was about six feet long. At the end next to us were two uprights, four by six inches, and about six feet high. They were about a foot apart, and made fast together at the top and bottom. Near the top there was a piece four by six, neatly fitted between the uprights, and held in place by journals in each end, these working in bearings or journal-boxes in the uprights. Suspended from the center of this was a rod, carrying, on the lower end, a heavy iron piece weighing, I imagine, about 150 pounds. Six feet distant was the counterpart of this. Between these were two horizontal pieces four by six and about two and a half feet in length. These were about ten inches apart. On the upper face of each was a piece of iron about half an inch thick, the inner edges projecting about an inch, so that these were eight inches apart. On these was fixed a sliding piece, having grooves which fitted the projecting iron. This piece would freely slide back and forth. On each end of this sliding piece was a stout piece of iron, extending to within about two inches of the heavy iron weights. A short distance from one end was a fly wheel, a pitman connecting it with the projecting rod on the slider. The rod of the latter, on this end was a Y shape, and the pitman was attached to the lower part of the Y. At the lower end of the weight stout cords were attached, running over a small pulley about three feet distant. These were attached to a light piece of timber 1x4, so that as a weight would descend, it would tighten the cord at the other end, causing that weight to move some distance back from the perpendicular. When one of the weights descended against the rod attached to the slider, the latter would be driven in the opposite direction where it would receive a blow from the other descending weight. The machine seemed to exert considerable power. One of the men saw me looking about for the motive power, and getting a block of wood, a hammer and a nail, he came to me. He started the nail into the wood, then pressed, with all his power on the nail, and motioned for me to do the same. I did so, but of course the nail did not enter. He then elevated the hammer a short distance, and let it fall by its own weight, simply guiding it so that it would fairly strike the nail. The nail began to enter the wood, and was soon driven in. His object was to show me the power of concussion, or percussion. He then got an iron wedge, and went through the same motions, with the same result. He then stopped the machine, and had me take hold of the cord, and see how easy it was to pull the heavy weight from the perpendicular. Then, when released, it fell with great power against the end of the iron rod, driving the slider before it.
When we left, I told Gus I knew there was some trick in it, because I knew it was an absurdity to talk about a self- propelling machine. I asked him if he had discovered in what the trick consisted? He shook his head with a sad look, but said nothing.
THE little sun dial we made, shortly after our arrival, attracted a great deal of attention, not so much because it would tell the time, when the sun was shining, but because of the geographical information it afforded in reference to the direction of the different parts of the earth.
A little more than a month after our arrival, a deputation of citizens waited on us, desiring that we should construct one similar, but on a large scale, in the middle of the great public square. That, however, is a misnomer, as it is destitute of an angle, and is in the form of a circle. It is a beautiful place. It has a diameter of nearly four hundred feet. At first sight, it appears level. But the central portion is about four feet higher than the outer edge. It was supposed to inclose the pole of the earth's axis.
It was a difficult matter to find out what they wanted. Marie had not yet mastered enough English to act as interpreter. She knew many words, but had not learned how to put them together in a very rhetorical or grammatical manner. They explained to her their mission. She
took me to the dial in the yard. She pointed to it, and said, "You make thing this city." I soon found out that they wished a dial in the middle of the large circle. I asked how large it should be? Marie asked them, and then she said, "Big, large this home." Gus and I accompanied by Marie went with them to the circle. They stopped at the center, and made signs that it was to be located there. One of the men had a cane. He stood this on end, turned it round, and made signs that the earth was turning around and that was the axis.
A post was in the ground which they said was the axis. We managed to make them understand that we must first ascertain if that post were in the proper place. Then we must have a place prepared for the dial, built up of stone, two and a half feet high, and twenty-one feet
in diameter.
We had a straight pole prepared, 15 feet long. This we erected by the post, and plumbed it. It was on the 26th of June, and the altitude of the sun was 23 degrees and 20 minutes. The length of the shadow cast was about 34 feet, 8.4 inches. The altitude of the sun was decreasing about one and one-fifth minutes of a degree per hour. Making due allowance for the decrease of the sun's altitude, the shadow should be of the same length in the whole circuit, providing it be cast on a level surface. After many trials continued through several days, we located the axis about 20 feet from their post. Gus superintended the erection of the structure, and it was done to our liking. Two feet of the outer surface was finished with a sort of cement, white as plaster, and hard as marble, and impervious to water. We discussed the question whether we should have a metallic post of small size in the center to cast the shadow, or a cord suspended from a support above. We fixed on the latter. Three small posts, eight feet high, were connected at the top, and from that center a cord came down with a weight at the lower extremity, thus forming a true vertical line for the shadow.
Three of our watches were together, not varying five seconds, and we felt sure that we had the true 90th meridian time. It was Monday, July 20th, when we made the first mark for the 90th meridian. It was noon, but it was necessary to add 6 minutes and 9 seconds to sun time to get the true, or mean sun time. At the mark thus secured, we placed the figure 12. This was not according to the marking I had intended. My purpose was to make the day begin at noon, marking that 24. But that would exceedingly complicate the meridian lines pointing to the direction of places on that meridian. After many trials, and much thought, it was deemed necessary to have the day begin at midnight. The sun would then be over the meridian of 270 degrees, and cast the shadow of the plumb line on the 90th meridian. This we marked 24, and the line from the center pointed in the direction of that portion of the earth situated on that meridian. The marking, when finished, was more complicated than I had anticipated. In the most convenient manner possible, the lines from the center were to point in the direction of that meridian on the earth. Again we desired to enable one to see at a glance what time it was in any given part of the earth at a specified time at Poliopolis.
This necessitated another set of figures for time, running in the reverse order. In the outer space, the time for Poliopolis is given in Roman characters. In the next space are found the meridian lines, corresponding to the meridians on the earth's surface. In the inner space, marked with figures, are the times on those meridians when it is 24, or midnight, at Poliopolis.
On the outer edge, the meridian lines for marking the hours, are thirty-three inches apart. This allowed a little more than half an inch for one minute of time.
In the large inner space, we placed marks to show between what meridian lines the principal countries are located.
In a similar manner, we placed small circles to represent the direction of many of the largest cities in the world. In addition to these, we provided for the capitals of all the states.
The letters for KANSAS CITY were in capitals, that special attention might be called to it, assured that when traffic is opened up between Poliopolis and the rest of the world, Kansas City will be the metropolis.
The diagram afforded instruction to the Poliolander on several matters. It enabled him to know the exact direction of all the leading countries of the northern hemisphere. In like manner, he could point to each one of the leading cities.
When it was noon in Poliopolis, he could see what time it was in any other portion of the world.
It is instructive in showing the peculiarities of the meridian lines by which longitude, or distance east and west is reckoned. These lines are the greatest distance apart at the equator, and converge from there to the pole. At the equator a degree of longitude is 69.2 miles. At Kansas City, in latitude 39, a degree of longitude is only 53.8 miles. Many persons, in thinking of the distance around the world, east or west, think of it as if they were at the equator. At latitude 39, the distance around the world is only 19,368 miles.
In estimating distances on parallels by difference in time, places on the equator one hour apart in time, are, in miles, 1,038. In latitude 39, the distance is but 807 miles.
On the dial at Poliopolis, these meridian lines, as marked on the dial, are but little more than half an inch, against nearly 70 miles at the equator.
Should the inhabitants of Poliopolis conclude to adopt the method of noting time which prevails in other portions of the world, their clocks would throw them into confusion. In one part of town, where a man lived, it might be 10 o'clock, and at his place of business, a few blocks distant, it might be 4 o'clock. Not only so, but while he would be busy at his store or shop on Saturday, it might be Sunday at his home. According to their method of reckoning time, a day on that part of the earth lasts 24 hours. But in other places, as in the latitude of Kansas City, a day on the earth lasts 48 hours. By way of illustration, take Sunday. At Kansas City it begins at midnight, Saturday night. It ends on midnight, Sunday night. By common agreement, a day begins at the 180th meridian. Therefore Sunday began on earth, at the 180th meridian, 18 hours before it began in Kansas City. But it does not close at the 180th meridian until 6 hours after midnight, Sunday night at Kansas City. Thus the Kansas City Sunday, governed by the 90th meridian time, actually began on earth at 6 o'clock on Saturday morning, and will not end, on earth, until
6 o'clock on Monday morning, thus remaining on earth 48 hours.
THE beauty of the starlit sky at the north pole, exists more in the imagination than in the reality. It was two months after the sun went down before I could get a sight of Polaris with the naked eye. This was on account of the twilight. Add to this the interference of the auroral light, and star gazing is a luxury not often enjoyed.
On our Christmas day, Marie and I had a very satisfactory view of many of the stars. I say our Christmas day, because while they try to keep Christmas, it did not agree, in time, with ours. It was two days removed. Such dates, with them, get terribly mixed. The year consists of an odd number of days, and almost a quarter of another day. They begin their year the hour 24 after the first glimpse of the rising sun. That, too, is the first day of the first month. If it should be cloudy when the sun is first above the horizon, their wise men count back as best they can, after the sun is first seen. They estimate the time by the distance it has arisen.
Gus made an attachment for their telescope by which they could measure this distance with great accuracy. It was similar to the one he had made for an amateur astronomer at his home, several years before. By means of it, they could measure small distances to within two seconds of a degree. This they prized, very highly. When the sun or moon was visible, they made frequent measurements of their disks. In February they told Gus that his machine would not work, because it gave different sizes to the moon. He thought they must be mistaken, but they insisted that it was so. He then told me of it, and I told him they were correct. I explained to him the reason. He then brought one of the young men who had done the measuring that I should explain the matter to him. I illustrated to him that the angular or apparent size of an object depends on its distance. As the distance increases the angular size decreases. He said he knew this, but could not see how it could apply to the moon. I then drew the shape of the path or orbit of the moon. It is not a circle, but oval or an ellipse, and the earth is in one of the foci. For this reason the moon is sometimes nearer the earth than at other times. I showed him from the Nautical Almanac that in October the full moon was 29½ minutes across its disk, and in January more than 31 minutes. I told him to watch the full moon on the 17th of February, at 10 o'clock, and he would find it a little more than 32 minutes across its disk. The young man wished to know if the same was true of the sun. I told him it was. During the whole period of sunshine, he took frequent measurements of the size of the sun, but again concluded there must be some mistake, because as the sun, from March to July, was getting nearer, it should appear larger, but was, by the telescope, getting smaller. Again I explained to him from the Almanac that the sun is nearest to the earth in January, and farthest away in July.
But I started to tell of the view of the sky as witnessed by Marie and myself. The moon had gone to shed her light on the south pole, or to the inhabitants far south of our locality. The aurora seemed to be taking a rest. A great number of stars were visible. Marie had the planetarium arranged for the day and hour. As one bright star after another was seen by me, I would point to it and ask, "What is that?" Looking at the planetarium she would answer by giving the three letters marked on the little ball that represented the star. Then I would give her the full name by which the star is known. One that was near the horizon had on it the letters, "Alt;" I told her that was Altair. In this way she pointed out Aldebaran and Regulas, at a little higher altitude. She even got a glimpse of Procyon and Betelgeuse. I told her the latter belonged to the most beautiful constellation in the sky, and tried to draw a picture of the position and appearance of some of the brighter stars in it. Higher above the horizon, she pointed out Arcturus, and Vega, and Capella. She also pointed out the twins, Castor and Pollux. She proposed that we should get the telescope and look at the stars through it. I explained to her that while the telescope would increase the apparent brightness of the stars, yet it could not make them appear any larger, because of their immense distance. She looked at several of the stars through the telescope, and greatly admired them. I pointed out the ones for her to examine, reserving Vega for the last. When it came into the field of the telescope, she fairly screamed, "Oh that is lovely!" She compared it to something worn by the wife of the president. From her description, I supposed it was a diamond about half an inch in diameter.
Soon Marie had the telescope on Jupiter. She reported two moons on each side. She ran and got the almanac for me to see if either of them would soon disappear. It was then 7 o'clock. I looked and told her that two of them would disappear within an hour and a half, Nos. 1 and 2.
She said she would run and get one of her little friends to come and see it. In a moment she was gone, and in about 15 minutes she came sailing back with a beautiful little girl about her own age and size. Her friend tried to look through the telescope, but could see nothing. Marie looked, and was astonished, and told her to look again, for it was very plain. She made another unsuccessful effort. I then pointed out the little hole through which she must look.
Now she saw it and told Marie it was the moon. She was astonished and delighted when she found it was a bright star. Marie showed her the two little moons that would soon go to sleep, or in hiding. No. 2 disappeared at 8:25, and No. 1 fifteen minutes later.
Stars visible in the United States have two apparent motions. One of these, caused by the rotation of the earth on its axis, is a motion from east to west. Their place of rising depends on their distance north or south of the equator, and to some extent on the position of the observer. A star on the equator, to one living at latitude 40, would appear to rise exactly in the east, move upward toward the west until it reaches an altitude of 40 degrees, then descend and set exactly in the west. For this motion, it would require 12 hours. If the star be south of the equator, it will rise south of east and set south of the west point, and make a correspondingly short circle across the southern sky.
If the star be north of the equator, it will rise in the northeast, pass across the heavens at a high altitude, and set in the northwest.
Besides this motion, caused by the rotation of the earth, the stars have another apparent motion, caused by the revolution of the earth around the sun. By this motion, every star will rise three or four minutes earlier each evening, giving them another westward motion, but much slower than the other. By this motion it requires six months to pass from the east to the west point.
At Poliopolis, this latter motion is not perceptible, except to a scientific observer. The motion caused by the rotation of the earth is entirely different. The same stars are always above the horizon. Such is the case with all stars north of the equator. The orbit of each star is a perfect circle, but the diameter of the circle depends on the distance of the star from the pole. The pole star is about one and a quarter degrees from the true pole. Therefore the diameter of the circle of its orbit is two and a half degrees. This is so small that it requires some care to notice it. Procyon is five and a half degrees north of the equator. Its perpetual motion is a great circle just above the horizon. It is pleasing to behold this motion of the stars, their orbits forming these concentric circles. In a latitude as low as 40 there is something analogous, only the circles are tilted. It is thus with the stars of the dipper. They culminate almost in the zenith, then swing around to the west, sink to the horizon in the north, and again mount upward. Stars still farther north, or nearer the pole, make this tilted circle complete.
THE legislature of Polioland met twice each year, on the "Two Firsts." These were the "First" after the return or sun rise, and the "First" after the "Departure" or sun set. "First" meant the full moon. By the Nautical Almanac they should not have met until the 21st of October, as the return, astronomically, did not occur until after the moon was full. But they were governed by appearances. The sun, by reason of refraction, was visible ahead of time.
Near the first of October, Gus returned one "sleep time" with a long face, and told me there was trouble brewing for me. From his tone and manner, I suspected that it was something serious. I had noticed that Yus did not seem to be in a good humor, but attributed it to his not feeling well. He was a member of the lower house, then in session.
Gus told me that some of the workmen in a machine shop, had told him, as well as he could understand, that I was their enemy because of what I had told an upper house man about what our country had done with silver. The very man who had called to see me, had introduced a similar measure for Polioland in reference to silver. By the proposed law they would not coin the silver that was brought to them, but would purchase what was needed for coin. All the upper house was in favor of the law, and some in the lower house. It was argued that such a law was in operation in all the great nations of the world, and it was very popular. He pointed out how it would be profitable to the government, and they would have gold, the best metal, for their standard, and thus be sure of "good money." He spoke as if I had commended the law, when I had done nothing of the kind, but had simply told him the facts. The truth was, he, and some of his wealthy friends had been studying on the question and had concluded that it would be a good thing for them, helping to increase their riches. As soon as opportunity offered, I asked Yus about it, and found that he was in a bad humor, not only because such a law had been proposed, but at me for suggesting and commending it. I assured him that the man was mistaken in saying that I had commended the law. On the contrary, I belonged to the party bitterly opposed it. This pleased Yus, and he was more communicative. I was surprised and pleased at the wisdom he displayed in reference to such a law. He said the law was wrong, and wholly in favor of the rich, regardless of its effect on the poor. He said that silver was the people's currency, and gold was the rich man's money. He said they talked about wanting such a law so that they could have "good money." They already had good money, and such a law would make the people's money "bad money," as it would happen, if such a law were passed, soon the people's money would not be worth half the amount stamped on it. He said it was to make the rich, richer, and the poor, poorer. He did not think such a law could be passed, because they had a good majority against it. Yus was an influential member of the lower house, though he was not much as a speaker in public. The speakers in favor of the bill, proposed that it should be guaranteed that the silver money should be worth its face value. Several of the wealthy members took special pains to gain the influence of Yus in favor of the law. One said it would be worth a large amount to him. He never suspected that they hinted at bribing him, as it was a capital offense to give or receive a bribe by an officer of the government. They regarded it as treason, because it would tend to strike at the life of the government. He supposed that they referred to the notion that it would bring such general prosperity that all business would be benefited, and would thus add to his wealth. He said, "Convince me of that, and I shall support the bill." At another conference, they hinted to him how it would be to his interest. It seemed to be a bribe at which they hinted, and his anger was greatly aroused. They feared to press the matter.
To the amazement of Yus, the bill passed by a small majority. It was speedily signed, and became the law. At the time the bill passed, silver bullion was of the same value as the coin. When the government refused to receive silver for coinage, its supply was greater than the demand, and the price rapidly fell. By the next "Return" silver was worth just half of what was stamped on it.
Yus called my attention to his prophecy. Taking a piece of silver from his pocket, and holding it up, he said: "Here it is, just as I said. On this is stamped 'Five zlot,' and it is not worth two kronor. If they will close the mint to gold, it will depreciate in the same manner."
No law ever passed in Polioland that created so much excitement. In the next election for members of the lower house, this was the only question taken into consideration. The one faction maintained that the law was good, and should remain. The other said it was an outrage, and it must be repealed, and that silver must be restored to the position it had held from the foundation of their government.
Members of the upper house traveled here and there, making speeches in favor of electing members who should be in favor of the law. They hired a large number of men, paying good salaries, to canvass the whole region, to be sure of the election of new members who would be all right on the money question. The arguments on which they seemed most to rely, were: First, that the repeal was being urged by those interested in the silver mines.
The second argument, and on which they placed great reliance, was that the repeal of the law would debase the "people's currency." They argued that it would be trying to make a piece of silver worth twice as much as it was really worth. Yus attended a political gathering several miles from Poliopolis, and was in a very bad humor. He said a member of the upper house had made a speech "full of lies." He described the man as an overgrown "walrus," with a huge, short neck, whose sole argument was about "debasing the people's money." One flight of the speaker's oratory very deeply impressed Yus, as he was able to quote it. As he walked the floor, he repeated it, twice. In substance it was this:"It seems to me that inconsistency of reasoning and false party leadership is impressively exhibited when the claim is made that the interest of the people sanctions the degradation of the people's currency." After repeating it twice, Yus said, "Was there ever anything more inconsistent and false uttered by the lying tongue of a heartless hypocrite? Think of it. When the people's currency was worth the full value stamped on it, he was one of the leading men who had the law made, that has so debased the people's money. Now, when we are trying to restore it, and make it worth what is stamped on it, the old hypocrite charges us with trying to debase the people's currency."
Money was freely spent, and enough members were elected to prevent the repeal of the law.
Not only was the law unrepealed, but a bill was offered in the interest of the people's currency that promised to be of great benefit to the people. Two things were to be accomplished.
First, the number of coins was to be reduced from eleven to five. This met with universal favor. It would greatly simplify the coin, and those of different denominations could easily be distinguished.
Second. As silver is so heavy and cumbersome, it was proposed to substitute the beautiful, light metal, aluminum, as the coin of less value. They now argued that silver was not true money, but simply represented it. Aluminum could do this just as well, and would be far more convenient.
This proposed change to aluminum aroused strong opposition. A piece of aluminum would not be worth one fiftieth of the amount stamped on it. But in principle the same was true of silver, though not to so great extent. The measure was carried with a respectable majority.
While on this topic, we may state the final result of the contest. Five men, four of the lower house, and one of the upper, were tried, convicted and executed for giving or receiving bribes. More were guilty, no doubt, but they escaped. At the next election a strong majority was returned who favored the repeal of the law relating to silver. Not only did they repeal it, but passed a similar law in reference to gold. A clause was added that the government should not even purchase gold until three "Returns," or three years. In a little while, the price of gold tumbled to one fourth its former value. It became so cheap that it was not even popular for ornaments.
The upper house then made a proposition that both metals should be restored to an equality, and that no change should ever be made without a two-thirds vote in both houses. This proved acceptable to all parties, and thus the strife ended. The law for five denominations of silver remained, and was pleasing to all parties.
MARIE was impatient to get a sight of Venus. I encouraged her to hope that it might show itself on the last day of January, though not really due until the 2nd or 3rd of February. She had the planet in place in the planetarium and during the whole day, January 31st, she kept the planetarium at the proper hour of the day. By this means she knew in exactly what part of the horizon to look for Venus.
But the atmosphere on the horizon was not clear, and her watching was in vain. Her vigil was renewed on February 1st. After dinner, I arranged the telescope, as this would greatly assist in seeing it when in the field. I put on the terrestrial eyepiece, as it would take in a larger space in the sky. The equatorial movement of the telescope enabled her easily to follow the horizon, along with the planetarium.
Twilight had been distinct for two weeks, and was gradually increasing. All, except the brightest stars, had disappeared from view. From the planetarium, she knew at what point under the horizon, the sun was.
At 3 o'clock, on the afternoon of February 1st, Venus appeared within the field of the telescope. It was on the 90th meridian. It was about 45 degrees to the left of the point of the horizon under which the sun then was. It was a beautiful crescent, about like the moon when a week old. The horns were away from the sun, and the extremities of the horns were distant from each other about half as far as those of the moon appear. She came flying up stairs and unceremoniously dashed into my room, saying, "I have Venus down there." I asked her how it looked? She said it looked just like a little moon. I told her to draw a picture of it. I gave her pencil and paper, and with her hand shaking from excitement, she drew a figure in the shape of a crescent.
When I went down, I looked to see it with my eye, but could not get a sight of it. Through the telescope, it was distinct and beautiful. Marie could only say, "Oh, isn't it lovely, lovely?" The members of the family had been laughing at her ever since she began looking for it, and her mother had kindly permitted her to watch for it to her heart's content, not asking her to perform any household duties. She seemed to be proud of her daughter's astronomical attainments. While I was viewing it through the telescope, Marie ran to bring her mother. They came, accompanied by every member of the household at home. By turns they all took a look. They all agreed that it was wonderful and beautiful. None of them could see it with their eyes, and the mother asked Marie how she knew where to look for it through the telescope? She said, pointing to the planetarium, "Oh, that thing tells me everything." She then spent some time explaining the planetarium to her mother.
Three planets were now in view. About 60 degrees to the left of Venus, and a little higher than the sun gets at Poliopolis, was Mars. It had a distinct disk, and had the appearance of a small moon. It was very red.
In almost the opposite part of the heavens from Venus, was the giant planet, Jupiter. It was about 10 degrees above the horizon, and was shining with great brilliancy.
During the summer of 1897, Venus and Jupiter had no watcher more constant and interested than Marie. She supposed that when the sun would rise and even before that, her watchings must cease, because they would become invisible. I assured her that both could be seen through the telescope, and that Venus could be seen very often without the aid of the telescope. She said she did not see how a star could be seen when the sun was shining.
The sun was due on Saturday, the 20th, but it showed its bright face on Thursday, about noon. About 40 degrees to the left of the sun, and 20 degrees above the horizon, Venus was shining in all her beauty.
To the unpracticed eye, it required an effort to get sight of her. Marie tried to point her out to all her friends. Some persisted that she was mistaken in thinking that she saw a star. She would then take them to such a position that Venus would be in line with some part of the house, and thus keep on until they could see it. When once seen, they would express their astonishment at her brightness, and wonder how any one could fail to see an object so bright.
Venus continued visible to the eye for more than a week, until she approached too near the sun. But there was not a day until October, if the sky was clear, that Marie could not get sight of her by some means.
The time when she had the greatest difficulty in getting sight of her was on the 28th of April, when Venus was in inferior conjunction with the sun. I had never seen it on a similar occasion. We knew that she was about 5 degrees above the sun. We selected a shady place where the direct rays of the sun would not interfere, and persevered until success crowned our efforts. We were favored not only by the shade of the house, but also by a cloud that covered the sun while we were hunting. In the telescope, the horns were toward the sun. But it was a celestial eyepiece which inverted objects. She was lying on her back, with horns away from the sun. The crescent was very thin, but the points of the horns wide extended. They seemed to be three times as far apart as the horns of the moon when it has a similar crescent appearance.
Venus now passed to the right of the sun, and by the end of May, was again visible to the naked eye. She reached her greatest brilliancy about the 3rd of June, and by a careful watcher could be picked up for several days. Her altitude was decreasing. She had been on her way to the horizon through April and May, and at the time of greatest brilliancy in June, she was about 11 degrees above the horizon. Suddenly she seemed to change her fickle mind. Instead of continuing on to the horizon, she concluded to make another trip upward, if possible, above the altitude of the sun. On the 24th of July her purpose was accomplished. She was then on a level with the sun, and about 40 degrees to the right. She kept on climbing until the 12th of August, when she was 7 degrees higher than the sun, and nearly 45 degrees to the right. Then she began to descend, but did not reach the horizon until a month after the sun had disappeared.
In February, Jupiter and Venus were in almost opposite parts of the sky. They gradually approached each other until, in October, they were but a few degrees apart. About two weeks before sunrise, Marie had been delighted in witnessing a conjunction of the new moon and Venus. The crescent moon passed under Venus at a distance of about three times her apparent diameter. She asked me if Jupiter and Venus would not get together, just like Mars and Jupiter had in July. On the 24th of July, these two planets were in the field of the telescope at the same time.
The field was about the size of the full moon and these planets were less than one fourth the apparent diameter of the moon, apart.
Also, on the morning of October 6th, Marie was watching Jupiter through the telescope. She came to tell me there was another little star, but in the wrong place for one of the moons, or that this was a fifth moon. I looked, and there, sure enough, was an object. It could not be a star, because it had a distinct, but small disk. It must be a moon or a planet. I examined the almanac, and found that Mercury was due at that point at that time.
I was surprised, because I had carefully examined to see if there would be an opportunity of seeing that little planet, and had given up all hope of getting a sight of it. It was above Jupiter, less than half the apparent diameter of the moon.
Marie insisted that Jupiter and Venus would get together. Sure enough, on the field of the telescope at the same time, 19th of October, as they were getting ready to set, they both appeared in the Venus was nearly the moon's diameter above Jupiter.
Venus remained above the horizon at Poliopolis almost nine months. Her apparent motion, caused by the rotation of the earth on its axis, was not unlike those of the sun and moon. As soon as she appeared on the first of February, she marched around to the right, hugging the horizon. At each revolution, she was higher by about the apparent diameter of the moon. There was, however, this marked difference. After she had attained an altitude, on the 9th of April, of nearly 23½ degrees, she began to descend, until, on the first of June she was only 11 degrees above the horizon. Then she began a second ascent, which continued until the 12th of August, at which date her altitude was between 21 and 22 degrees. Again she began her descent, disappearing during the last week of October.
Twice, during her visit, she attained her condition of greatest brilliancy. First, when about 37½ degrees to the left of the sun, on March 21st, and a second time on June 3rd, when about the same distance to the right of the sun. In the first case, her horns were pointed to the left. In the other, they were pointed to the right.
IT was our determination to leave Polioland sometime in June, 1898. By the first of February it was sufficiently light to see to read without any difficulty.
Gus kept watch over his balloon, frequently filling it and taking sails around Polioland. He found no difficulty in finding someone anxious to accompany him. After the sun rose, Marie took several trips with him.
She had become greatly interested in what I told her about Saturn, and was anxious to know when and where she could see it. This led me to devise a mechanical method of finding the right ascension of the planets. They can be found with great accuracy by mathematics, but that method is very complicated and tedious. But for using the planetarium it suffices to approximate the right ascension to within a few minutes.
I began with Saturn. The Nautical Almanac gives its longitude, as it would appear to one on the sun.
Its motion in space is slow, varying from about 2 minutes 15 seconds (angular), when it is nearest the sun, to 1 minute 48 seconds when it is farthest away. This is its daily motion. During the whole of the year 1897, the whole distance it traveled was 11 degrees, 10 minutes. This would decrease until 1900; its distance traveled would be about 10 degrees 57 minutes. Then it would continue to increase its speed for a period of nearly 15 years, attaining a velocity of 13 degrees 30 minutes. Thus, to find its longitude, it was necessary simply to make the addition for each year. By this means in a short time we constructed a table giving the longitude of Saturn for the first of each month for a period of 25 years. To find the approximate right ascension, we drew two concentric circles for the orbits of the earth and Saturn. That for Saturn had a radius nine and a half times greater than the radius of the circle for the earth. The orbit of Saturn was carefully divided into degrees.
The Nautical Almanac gives the longitude of the sun for each day in the year, and though it varies slightly, yet one year answers for all time. Of course, the longitude of the earth, as seen from the sun, would be 180 degrees from the longitude of the sun. Thus we would have the place of the earth in its orbit for each day in the year.
We had another small circle about six inches in diameter, on which were carefully marked the 24 hours of right ascension. We then proceed as follow: A pin was inserted on the orbit of Saturn at its longitude at that date. Another pin was inserted to show the place of the earth in its orbit. The pin showing the place of the earth, passed through the center of the right ascension disk, and it was turned until it coincided in right ascension with the right ascension of the sun. A ruler was then applied, showing a straight line from the pin of Saturn to the earth, and the right ascension (R. A.), of Saturn is thus indicated on the disk. Thus, the longitude of Saturn on January 2, 1900, equals 266 degrees and 33 minutes. The longitude of the sun on that date is 281 degrees and 40 minutes. Therefore the place of earth would be 101 degrees and 40 minutes. By proceeding as above, the little disk of R. A. gives the R. A. of Saturn as 17 hours and 53 minutes, only three minutes from that given in the Nautical Almanac, an error amounting to a space about one sixteenth the apparent diameter of the moon. By a similar method we found the R. A. of all the planets outside the orbit of the earth. For Mercury and Venus, we found it more convenient to proceed according to the old Ptolemaic theory of our solar system, that is, to regard the earth as in the center, and the sun and all the planets moving around us.
First, we made a table of the longitude of these planets for the whole period of 25 years. The motion of Mercury is very rapid and irregular. Its great velocity results from nearness to the sun. Its irregular motion is because of the great eccentricity of its orbit. In perihelion, when it is nearest the sun, its distance from the sun is but twenty-eight and a half millions of miles. At aphelion, when it is farthest from the sun, its distance is forty-three and a half millions. From this cause its daily motion varies from 2 degrees 44 minutes, when at aphelion, to 6 degrees 19 minutes when at perihelion. It might be thought that this great irregularity in its motion would cause great difficulty in making a table of its longitude at different dates. But it is very easy. Its year is 88 of our days. During each of its years, it passes over its orbit at approximately the same rate of speed. A slight addition is required for different months of our year, varying from 6 minutes to 12 minutes. Thus, the longitude of Mercury for May 21st, 1903, is 214 degrees and 9 minutes. For the corresponding day of Mercury's next year, that is August 17th, we add 6 minutes, which gives 214 degrees and 15 minutes, the longitude for that date. Thus the tables for longitude for any number of years are speedily made.
By the Ptolemaic theory we are not concerned as to the distance of Mercury or the sun, from the earth.
First, we mark on a card board the elliptical orbit of Mercury of any desired size, say having a major axis of six inches. We take the earth as a center, at which place is a fixed disk of right ascension. We now draw a circle on which the disk of Mercury is placed at such a distance from the center that the greatest possible elongation of Mercury, on the aphelion end, will be 28 degrees, and 18 degrees on the opposite end. There we draw a circle. It has been called the deferent. Beyond the deferent of Mercury, a circle is drawn, the orbit of the sun. This circle is divided into 360 degrees. The disk on winch is the
orbit of Mercury, is also divided into 360 degrees. This can be done by placing the disk at the center, the pin passing through the focus at the perihelion. It is so placed that the longitude of 76 degrees shall be at the perihelion point The degrees on the orbit of Mercury will be of varying distances, those at the perihelion end being closer to each other. The orbit of Mercury on the disk is called the epicycle.
To find the right ascension of Mercury, put a pin at the longitude of the sun on the outer circle. On a line with this and the earth, at the center, and on the deferent, put the disk having the orbit of Mercury. On the orbit of Mercury at the longitude of the planet insert a pin; apply the ruler showing a straight line from the pin of the earth and the pin at the longitude of Mercury, and the right ascension of the planet is indicated on the disk of right ascension at the earth.
In the same manner we find the R. A. of Venus. By such methods we constructed tables showing approximately the right ascension of all the planets for a period of 25 years.
Marie became very much interested in the construction of these tables, assisting in getting the tables of the longitudes of the planets, and of their R. A. also.
Gus made for her a very nice planetarium. Thus she was prepared to keep track of all the planets, and could tell their exact place in the sky at any day or hour.
From the tables we constructed, we found that Saturn would not be in position for observation at the city of Poliopolis until 1908. Marie thought that was a long time to wait. But she found some comfort in the fact that when it did make its appearance in that year, it would be in full view until 1923. During all this period it would not set.