may not be unacceptable to the less scientific portion of my readers.
The sun is above the horizon nearly a fortnight, and below it as long; of course the day here is equal to about twenty-seven of ours. The earth answers the same purpose to half the inhabitants of the moon, that the moon does to the inhabitants of the earth. The face of the latter, however, is more than twelve times as large, and it has not the same silvery appearance as the moon, but is rather of a dingy pink hue, like that of her iron when beginning to lose its red heat. As the same part of the moon is always turned to the earth, one half of her surface is perpetually illuminated by a moon ten times as large to the eye as the sun; the other hemisphere is without a moon. The favoured part, therefore, never experiences total darkness, the earth reflecting to the Lunarians as much light as we terrestrials have a little before sunrise, or after sunset. But our planet presents to the Lunarians the same changes as the moon does to us, according to its position in relation to the sun. It always, however, appears to occupy nearly the same part of the heavens, when seen from the same point on the moon's surface; but its altitude above the horizon is greater or less, according to the latitude of the place from which it is seen: so that there is not a point of the heavens which the earth may not be seen permanently to occupy, according to the part of the moon from which the planet is viewed.
From the length of time that the sun is above the horizon, the continued action of his rays, in those climates where they fall vertically, or nearly so, would be intolerable, if it was not for the high mountains, from whose snow-clad summits a perpetual breeze derives a refreshing coolness, and for the deep glens and recesses, in which most animals seek protection from his meridian beams. The transitions from heat to cold are less than one would expect, from the length of their days and nights—the coolness of the one, as well as the heat of the other, being tempered by a constant east wind. The climate gradually becomes colder as we approach the Poles; but there is little or no change of seasons in the same latitude.
The inhabitants of the moon have not the same regularity in their meals, or time for sleep, as we have, but consult their appetites and inclinations like other animals. But they make amends for this irregularity, by a very strict and punctilious observance of festivals, which are regulated by the motions of the sun, at whose rising and setting they have their appropriate ceremonies. Those which are kept at sunrise, are gay and cheerful, like the hopes which the approach of that benignant luminary inspires. The others are of a grave and sober character, as if to prepare the mind for serious contemplation in their long-enduring night. When the earth is at the full, which is their midnight, it is also a season of great festivity with them.
Eclipses of the sun are as common with the Lunarians as those of the moon are with us—the same relative position of the three bodies producing this phenomenon; but an eclipse of the earth never takes place, as the shadow of the moon passes over the broad disc of our planet, merely as a dark spot.
The inhabitants of the moon can always determine both their latitude and longitude, by observing the quarter of the heavens in which the earth is seen: and, as the sun invariably appears of the same altitude at their noon, the inhabitants are denominated and classed according to the length of their shadows; and the terms long shadow, or short shadow, are common forms of national reproach among them, according to the relative position of the parties. I found the climate of those whose shadows are about the length of their own figure, the most agreeably to my own feelings, and most like that of my own country.
Such are the most striking natural appearances on one side of this satellite. On the other there is some difference. The sun pursues the same path in the corresponding latitudes of both hemispheres; but being without any moon, they have a dull and dreary night, though the light from the stars is much greater than with us. The science of astronomy is much cultivated by the inhabitants of the dark hemisphere, and is indebted to them for its most important discoveries, and its present high state of improvement.
If there is much rivalship among the natives of the same hemisphere, who differ in the length of their shadows, they all unite in hatred and contempt for the inhabitants of the opposite side. Those who have the benefit of a moon, that is, who are turned towards the earth, are lively, indolent, and changeable as the face of the luminary on which they pride themselves; while those on the other side are more grave, sedate, and industrious. The first are called the Hilliboos, and the last the Moriboos—or bright nights, and dark nights. And this mutual animosity is the more remarkable, as they often appeared to me to be the same race, and to differ much less from one another than the natives of different climates. It is true, that enlightened and well educated men do not seem to feel this prejudice, or at least they do not show it: but those who travel from one hemisphere to the other, are sure to encounter the prejudices of the vulgar, and are often treated with great contempt and indignity. They are pointed at by the children, who, according as they chance to have been bred on one side or the other say, "There goes a man who never saw Glootin," as they call the earth; or, "There goes a Booblimak," which means a night stroller.
All bodies are much lighter on the moon than on the earth; by reason of which circumstance, as has been mentioned, the inhabitants are more active, and experience much less fatigue in ascending their precipitous mountains. I was astonished at first at this seeming increase in my muscular powers; when, on passing along a street in Alamatua, soon after my arrival, and meeting a dog, which I thought to be mad, I proposed to run out of his way, and in leaping over a gutter, I fairly bounded across the street. I measured the distance the next day, and found it to be twenty-seven feet five inches; and afterwards frequently saw the school-boys, when engaged in athletic exercises, make running leaps of between thirty and forty feet, backwards and forwards. Another consequence of the diminished gravity here is, that both men and animals carry much greater burdens than on the earth.
The carriages are drawn altogether by dogs, which are the largest animals they have, except the zebra, and a small buffalo. This diminution of gravity is, however, of some disadvantage to them. Many of their tools are not as efficient as ours, especially their axes, hoes, and hammers. On the other hand, when a person falls to the ground, it is nearly the same thing as if an inhabitant of the earth were to fall on a feather bed. Yet I saw as many instances of fractured limbs, hernia, and other accidents there, as I ever saw on the earth; for when they fall from great heights, or miscarry in the feats of activity which they ambitiously attempt, it inflicts the same injury upon them, as a fall nearer the ground does upon us.
After we had been here sufficiently long to see what was most remarkable in the city, and I had committed the fruit of my observations to paper, the Brahmin proposed to carry me to one of the monthly suppers of a philosopher whom he knew, and who had obtained great celebrity by his writings and opinions.
We accordingly went, and found him sitting at a small table, and apparently exhausted with the labour of composition, and the ardour of intense thought. He was a small man, of quick, abrupt manners, occasionally very abstracted, but more frequently voluble, earnest, and disputatious. He frankly told us he was sorry to see us, as he was then putting the last finish to a great and useful work he was about to publish: that we had thus unseasonably broken the current of his thoughts, and he might not be able to revive it for some days. Upon my rising to take my leave, he assured me that it would be adding to the injury already done, if we then quitted him. He said he wished to learn the particulars of our voyage; and that he, in turn, should certainly render us service, by disclosing some of the results of his own reflections. He further remarked, that he expected six or eight friends—that is, (correcting himself,) "enlightened and congenial minds," to supper, on the rising of a constellation he named, which time, he remarked, would soon arrive. Finding his frankness to be thus seasoned with hospitality, we resumed our seats. It soon appeared that he was more disposed to communicate information than to seek it; and I became a patient listener. If the boldness and strangeness of his opinions occasionally startled me, I could not but admire the clearness with which he stated his propositions, the fervour of his elocution, and the plausibility of his arguments.
The expected guests at length arrived; and various questions of morals and legislation were started, in which the disputants seemed sometimes as if they would have laid aside the character of philosophers, but for the seasonable interposition of the Brahmin. Wigurd, our host, often laboured with his accustomed zeal, to prove that every