To the inhabitants of Jupiter, our important globe appears like a smallstar of the fourth or fifth magnitude. We recollect, some years ago,gazing with astonishment upon the inhabitants of a drop of water,developed by the Solar Microscope, and secretly wondering whether theywere or not reasoning beings, with souls to be saved. It is notaltogether a pleasant reflection that a highly scientific inhabitant ofJupiter, armed with a telescope of (to us) inconceivable form, may bepursuing a similar course of inquiry, and indulging in similarspeculations regarding our Earth and its inhabitants. Gazing withcurious eye, his attention is suddenly attracted by the movements of agrand celebration of Fourth of July in New York, or a mighty conventionin Baltimore. "God bless my soul," he exclaims, "I declare they'realive, these little creatures; do see them wriggle!" To an inhabitant ofthe Sun, however, he of Jupiter is probably quite as insignificant, andthe Sun man is possibly a mere atom in the opinion of a dweller inSirius. A little reflection on these subjects leads to the opinion thatthe death of an individual man on this Earth, though perhaps asimportant an event as can occur to himself, is calculated to cause nogreat convulsion of Nature or disturb particularly the great aggregateof created beings.
The Earth moves round the Sun from west to east in a year, and turns onits axis in a day; thus moving at the rate of 68,000 miles an hour inits orbit, and rolling around at the tolerably rapid rate of 1,040miles per hour. As our readers may have seen that when a man isgalloping a horse violently over a smooth road, if the horse fromviciousness or other cause suddenly stops, the man keeps on at the samerate over the animal's head; so we, supposing the Earth to be suddenlyarrested on its axis, men, women, children, horses, cattle and sheep,donkeys, editors and members of Congress, with all our goods andchattels, would be thrown off into the air at a speed of 173 miles aminute, every mother's son of us describing the arc of a parabola, whichis probably the only description we should ever be able to give of theaffair.
This catastrophe, to one sufficiently collected to enjoy it, would,doubtless, be exceedingly amusing; but as there would probably be notime for laughing, we pray that it may not occur until after our demise;when, should it take place, our monument will probably accompany themovement. It is a singular fact that if a man travel round the Earth inan eastwardly direction he will find, on returning to the place ofdeparture, he has gained one whole day; the reverse of this propositionbeing true also, it follows that the Yankees who are constantlytraveling to the West do not live as long by a day or two as they wouldif they had stayed at home; and supposing each Yankee's time to be worth$1.50 per day, it may be easily shown that a considerable amount ofmoney is annually lost by their roving dispositions.
Science is yet but in its infancy; with its growth, new discoveries ofan astounding nature will doubtless be made, among which, probably, willbe some method by which the course of the Earth may be altered and itbe steered with the same ease and regularity through space and among thestars as a steamboat is now directed through the water. It will be avery interesting spectacle to see the Earth "rounding to," with her headto the air, off Jupiter, while the Moon is sent off laden with mails andpassengers for that planet, to bring back the return mails and a largeparty of rowdy Jupiterians going to attend a grand prize fight in thering of Saturn.
Well, Christopher Columbus would have been just as much astonished at arevelation of the steamboat and the locomotive engine as we should be towitness the above performance, which our intelligent posterity duringthe ensuing year A.D. 2000 will possibly look upon as a very ordinaryand common-place affair.
Only three days ago we asked a medium where Sir John Franklin was atthat time; to which he replied, he was cruising about (officers and crewall well) on the interior of the Earth, to which he had obtainedentrance through SYMMES HOLE!
With a few remarks upon the Earth's Satellite, we conclude the firstLecture on Astronomy; the remainder of the course being contained in asecond Lecture, treating of the planets, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn andNeptune, the Asteroids, and the fixed stars, which last, being"fixings," are, according to Mr. Charles Dickens, American property.
THE MOON
This resplendent luminary, like a youth on the Fourth of July, has itsfirst quarter; like a ruined spendthrift its last quarter, and like anomnibus, is occasionally full and new. The evenings on which it appearsbetween these last stages are beautifully illumined by its clear, mellowlight.
The Moon revolves in an elliptical orbit about the Earth in twenty-ninedays twelve hours forty-four minutes and three seconds, the time whichelapses between one new Moon and another. It was supposed by the ancientphilosophers that the Moon was made of green cheese, an opinion stillentertained by the credulous and ignorant. Kepler and Tyco Brahe,however, held to the opinion that it was composed of Charlotte Russe,the dark portions of its surface being sponge cake, the light _blancmange_. Modern advances in science and the use of Lord Rosse's famoustelescope have demonstrated the absurdity of all these speculations byproving conclusively that the Moon is mainly composed of the_Ferro_--_sesqui_--_cyanuret, of the cyanide of potassium_! Up to thelatest dates from the Atlantic States, no one has succeeded in reachingthe Moon. Should anyone do so hereafter, it will probably be a woman, asthe sex will never cease making an exertion for that purpose as long asthere is a man in it.
Upon the whole, we may consider the Moon an excellent institution, amongthe many we enjoy under a free, republican form of government, and it isa blessed thing to reflect that the President of the United States cannot _veto_ it, no matter how strong an inclination he may feel, fromprinciple or habit, to do so.
It has been ascertained beyond a doubt that the Moon has no air.Consequently, the common expressions, "the Moon was gazing down with anair of benevolence," or with "an air of complacency," or with "an air ofcalm superiority," are incorrect and objectionable, the fact being thatthe Moon has no air at all.
The existence of the celebrated "Man in the Moon" has been frequentlyquestioned by modern philosophers. The whole subject is involved indoubt and obscurity. The only authority we have for believing that suchan individual exists, and has been seen and spoken with, is a fragmentof an old poem composed by an ancient Astronomer of the name of Goose,which has been handed down to us as follows:
"The man in the Moon came down too soon To inquire the way to Norwich; The man in the South, he burned his mouth, Eating cold, hot porridge."
The evidence conveyed in this distich is, however, rejected by theskeptical, among modern Astronomers, who consider the passage anallegory. "The man in the South," being supposed typical of the lateJohn C. Calhoun, and the "cold, hot porridge," alluded to the project ofnullification.
END OF LECTURE FIRST
NOTE BY THE AUTHOR--Itinerant Lecturers are cautioned against making use of the above production, without obtaining the necessary authority from the proprietors of the Pioneer Magazine. To those who may obtain such authority, it may be well to state that at the close of the Lecture it was the intention of the author to exhibit and explain to the audience an orrery, accompanying and interspersing his remarks by a choice selection of popular airs on the hand-organ.
An economical orrery may be constructed by attaching eighteen wires of graduated lengths to the shaft of a candlestick, apples of different sizes being placed at their extremities to represent the Planets, and a central orange resting on the candlestick, representing the Sun.
An orrery of this description is, however, liable to the objection that if handed around among the audience for examination, it is seldom returned uninjured. The author has known an instance in which a child four years of age, on an occasion of this kind, devoured in succession the planets Jupiter and Herschel, and bit a large spot out of the Sun before he could be arrested.
J.P.
AT AUNTY'S HOUSE
BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY
One time, when we'z at Aunty's house-- 'Way in the country!--where
They's ist but woods--an' pigs, an' cows-- An' all's out-doors an' air!-- An' orchurd-swing; an' churry-trees-- An' _churries_ in 'em!--Yes, an' these- Here red-head birds steals all they please, An' tetch 'em ef you dare!-- W'y, wunst, one time, when we wuz there, _We et out on the porch_!
Wite where the cellar-door wuz shut The table wuz; an' I Let Aunty set by me an' cut My vittuls up--an' pie. 'Tuz awful funny!--I could see The red-heads in the churry-tree; An' bee-hives, where you got to be So keerful, goin' by;-- An' "Comp'ny" there an' all!--an' we-- _We et out on the porch_!
An' I ist et _p'surves_ an' things 'At Ma don't 'low me to-- An' _chickun-gizzurds_--(don't like _wings_ Like _Parunts_ does! do _you_?) An' all the time, the wind blowed there, An' I could feel it in my hair, An' ist smell clover _ever_'where!-- An' a' old red-head flew Purt' nigh wite over my high-chair, _When we et on the porch_!
WILLY AND THE LADY
BY GELETT BURGESS
Leave the lady, Willy, let the racket rip, She is going to fool you, you have lost your grip, Your brain is in a muddle and your heart is in a whirl, Come along with me, Willy, never mind the girl!
Come and have a man-talk; Come with those who _can_ talk; Light your pipe and listen, and the boys will see you through; Love is only chatter, Friends are all that matter; Come and talk the man-talk; that's the cure for you!
Leave the lady, Willy, let her letter wait, You'll forget your troubles when you get it straight, The world is full of women, and the women full of wile; Come along with me, Willy, we can make you smile!
Come and have a man-talk, A rousing black-and-tan talk, There are plenty there to teach you; there's a lot for you to do; Your head must stop its whirling Before you go a-girling; Come and talk the man-talk; that's the cure for you!
Leave the lady, Willy, the night is good and long, Time for beer and 'baccy, time to have a song; Where the smoke is swirling, sorrow if you can-- Come along with me, Willy, come and be a man!
Come and have a man-talk, Come with those who _can_ talk, Light your pipe and listen, and the boys will see you through; Love is only chatter, Friends are all that matter; Come and talk the man-talk; that's the cure for you!
Leave the lady, Willy, you are rather young; When the tales are over, when the songs are sung, When the men have made you, try the girl again; Come along with me, Willy, you'll be better then!
Come and have a man-talk, Forget your girl-divan talk; You've got to get acquainted with another point of view! Girls will only fool you; We're the ones to school you; Come and talk the man-talk; that's the cure for you!
THE ITINERANT TINKER
BY CHARLES RAYMOND MACAULEY
Away off in front, and coming toward them along the same path, appeareda singularly misshapen figure. As they came nearer, Dickey saw that itwas an old man carrying on his back, at each side and in front of him,some part or piece of almost every imaginable thing. Umbrellas, chairbottoms, panes of glass, knives, forks, pans, dusters, tubs, spoons andstove-lids, graters and grind-stones, saws and samovars,--"Almosteverything one could possibly think of," said Dickey to himself.
The moment that the Fantasm caught sight of the strange figure hestopped, and Dickey noticed that his face, which was tucked securelyunder his left arm, turned quite pale.
"Gracious me!" he exclaimed in a thoroughly frightened way. "There's theItinerant Tinker again! Now," he added hastily and dolefully, "I shallhave to leave you and run for it."
"Why, you're surely not afraid of _him_!" Dickey exclaimedincredulously. Dickey was really surprised, for the old man, so far ashe could judge from that distance, wore an extremely mild and kindlylook. "Why do you have to run?" he asked.
"Why? _Why?_" the Fantasm fairly shouted. "I told you a moment ago thathe was the _Itinerant Tinker_! He tries to mend every broken andunbroken thing in Fantasma Land! Every time he catches me," went on theFantasm, as he edged cautiously away, "he tries to glue on my head. It'svery annoying--and, besides, it hurts! Good-by, Dickey!" he called, anddisappeared forthwith into the bushes.
"Isn't he a droll person?" thought Dickey. "He never stops with me morethan ten minutes at a time but what he either loses his head or runsaway."
By that time the Itinerant Tinker had come up to where Dickey stood. Hesat wearily down on a boulder by the wayside, removed some of theheavier merchandise from off his back, and proceeded to mop his facevigorously with a great red handkerchief. Dickey waited several minutesfor the old man to speak; but the Itinerant Tinker only regarded himsolemnly. He did not even smile.
"It's very warm work, sir," ventured Dickey, at last, "carrying all thatstuff--isn't it?"
"Stuff?" returned the Itinerant Tinker, in a very mild, but unmistakablyhurt tone of voice.
"Well--" Dickey hesitated timidly.
"_Don't_ call them stuff, please," sighed the Itinerant Tinker; "callthem necessary commodities."
"But whatever one _does_ call them," Dickey persisted, "they still makeyou warm to carry them all about, don't they?"
The Itinerant Tinker nodded his head and sighed again.
Again Dickey waited for a considerable space of time. But the old manwould have been perfectly content to sit there for ever, Dickey thought,without speaking. "I _do_ wish he would talk," said he to himself."It's awfully annoying to have him sit there and look at one withoutsaying a word."
"What do you mend, sir?" Dickey inquired at last.
"I tried once," sighed the Itinerant Tinker, sadly, "to mend the breakof day. It took me twenty-seven hours and eleven minutes to fix it, andit broke every twenty-four. At that rate how long would it take to patchthem all together?"
Another distressing silence.
"Have you figured _that_ out?" whispered the Itinerant Tinker at length.
"I haven't tried," Dickey admitted.
"_I_ tried once," the Itinerant Tinker said, "but I ran out of paper andgave it up. Then, when the night fell," he resumed dolefully, afteranother long interval of silence, "I tried to prop it up. But I met withthe same difficulty that confronted me in patching up the day, and wasforced to abandon _that_ too."
"In which direction were you going when I met you?" Dickey asked.
The Itinerant Tinker pointed ahead of him along the path and mopped hisbald head.
"But where?" insisted Dickey.
"To the Crypt. I was going to the Crypt," murmured the Itinerant Tinker,"to see whether I couldn't get some umbrellas to mend."
"But they don't need umbrellas in the Crypt, do they?" Dickey asked,surprised.
"No, they don't," sighed the Itinerant Tinker; "and _that's_ the reasonI'm going there."
"If you don't mind," said Dickey, "I should like to go with you."
Without a word of reply the Itinerant Tinker rose slowly and painfullyto his feet, rearranged on his back the merchandise he had laid aside,and started off up the hill, with Dickey following closely at his heels.
"I tried to mend the Great Dipper once," resumed the Itinerant Tinker,at length. "I only succeeded, however, in crooking the handle; but itlooks better that way, I think."
"How did you manage to reach it?" asked Dickey, a little doubtfully.
"I climbed up the Milky Way," replied the Itinerant Tinker, sadly. "Inorder to reach it after I got there, I was obliged to stand on the hornof the moon. It was a very perilous undertaking."
Dickey couldn't believe quite all that the Itinerant Tinker was tellinghim. But his mild and gentle eyes wore such a serious expression that hevery much disliked to doubt the old man's word.
"Speaking of the moon," went on the Itinerant Tinker after a while, "Itried once to make her stand up--after she had set, you know. It proveda thankless task. She treated me
very rudely, indeed. By the by, haveyou seen the Flighty-wight?"
"No, sir; I have not," replied Dickey.
"_He's_ always jumping at conclusions, you know. I jumped at aconclusion once, fell into disgrace, and was very much cut up over it. Itried to patch _him_ up and he called me an old meddler! You haven'theard of such ingratitude before, I fancy?"
"It was very mean of him, I think," said Dickey, sympathetically.
"Oh, _that's_ nothing," pursued the Itinerant Tinker, in a melancholytone. "That's _nothing_! I once attempted to solder a new tip on theWizard's wand. He turned me into a rabbit, _he_ did."
"Whatever did you do then?" asked Dickey.
"I protested, of course. He merely said that he was only making game ofme. But if there's any one thing that I can do better than another,"went on the Itinerant Tinker, after another embarrassing pause, "it'spiecing together a split infinitive. Would you like me to show you howit's done?"
"Indeed, I should," Dickey eagerly answered; "very much, indeed."
"Very well, then. Just give me time to set down these necessarycommodities, and I'll show you exactly the manner in which it's done andundone."
After he had rid himself of his awkward burden, the Itinerant Tinkercarefully selected a saw from his kit of tools.
"Is that a log over there?" he asked, pointing toward a mound of earth."I'm a trifle nearsighted, you know."
The Wit and Humor of America, Volume V. (of X.) Page 5
