Part 5

The third kind of oscillations are the semidiurnal tides, so remarkable on our coasts; they are occasioned by the combined action of the sun and moon, but as the effect of each is independent of the other, they may be considered separately.

The particles of water under the moon are more attracted than the centre of gravity of the earth, in the inverse ratio of the square of the distances; hence they have a tendency to leave the earth, but are retained by their gravitation, which this tendency diminishes. On the contrary, the moon attracts the centre of the earth more powerfully than she attracts the particles of water in the hemisphere opposite to her; so that the earth has a tendency to leave the waters but is retained by gravitation, which this tendency again diminishes. Thus the waters immediately under the moon are drawn from the earth at the same time that the earth is drawn from those which are diametrically opposite to her; in both instances producing an elevation of the ocean above the surface of equilibrium of nearly the same height; for the diminution of the gravitation of the particles in each position is almost the same, on account of the distance of the moon being great in comparison of the radius of the earth. Were the earth entirely covered by the sea, the water thus attracted by the moon would assume the form of an oblong spheroid, whose greater axis would point towards the moon, since the columns of water under the moon and in the direction diametrically opposite to her are rendered lighter, in consequence of the diminution of their gravitation in order to preserve the equilibrium, the axes 90° distant would be shortened. The elevation, on account of the smaller space to which it is confined, is twice as great as the depression, because the contents of the spheroid always remain the same. The effects of the sun's attraction are in all respects similar to those of the moon's, though really less in degree, on account of his distance; he therefore only modifies the form of this spheroid a little. If the waters were capable of instantly assuming the form of equilibrium, that is, the form of the spheroid, its summit would always point to the moon, notwithstanding the earth's rotation; but on account of their resistance, the rapid motion produced in them by rotation prevents them from assuming at every instant the form which the equilibrium of the forces acting on them requires. Hence, on account of the inertia of the waters, if the tides be considered relatively to the whole earth and open sea, there is a meridian about 30° eastward of the moon, where it is always high water both in the hemisphere where the moon is, and in that which is opposite. On the west side of this circle the tide is flowing, on the east it is ebbing, and on the meridian at 90° distant, it is everywhere low water. It is evident that these tides must happen twice in a day, since in that time the rotation of the earth brings the same point twice under the meridian of the moon, once under the superior and once under the inferior meridian.

In the semidiurnal tides there are two phenomena particularly to be distinguished, one that happens twice in a month, and the other twice in a year.

The first phenomenon is, that the tides are much increased in the syzigies, or at the time of new and full moon. In both cases the sun and moon are in the same meridian, for when the moon is new they are in conjunction, and when she is full they are in opposition. In each of these positions their action is combined to produce the highest or spring tides under that meridian, and the lowest in those points that are 90° distant. It is observed that the higher the sea rises in the full tide, the lower it is in the ebb. The neap tides lake place when the moon is in quadrature, they neither rise so high nor sink so low as the spring tides. The spring tides are much increased when the moon is in perigee. It is evident that the spring tides must happen twice a month, since in that time the moon is once new and once full.

The second phenomenon in the tides is the augmentation which occurs at the time of the equinoxes when the sun's declination is zero, which happens twice every year. The greatest tides take place when a new or full moon happens, near the equinoxes while the moon is in perigee. The inclination of the moon's orbit on the ecliptic is 5° 9'; hence in the equinoxes the action of the moon would be increased if her node were to coincide with her perigee. The equinoctial gales often raise these tides to a great height. Beside these remarkable variations, there are others arising from the declination of the moon, which has a great influence on the ebb and flow of the waters.

Both the height and time of high water are thus perpetually changing; therefore, in solving the problem, it is required to determine the heights to which they rise, the times at which they happen, and the daily variations.

The periodic motions of the waters of the ocean on the hypothesis of an ellipsoid of revolution entirely covered by the sea, are very far from according with observation; this arises from the very great irregularities in the surface of the earth, which is but partially covered by the sea, the variety in the depths of the ocean, the manner in which it is spread out on the earth, the position and inclination of the shores, the currents, the resistance the waters meet with, all of them causes which it is impossible to estimate, but which modify the oscillations of the great mass of the ocean. However, amidst all these irregularities, the ebb and flow of the sea maintain a ratio to the forces producing them sufficient to indicate their nature, and to verify the law of the attraction of the sun and moon on the sea. La Place observes, that the investigation of such relations between cause and effect is no less useful in natural philosophy than the direct solution of problems, either to prove the existence of the causes, or trace the laws of their effects. Like the theory of probabilities, it is a happy supplement to the ignorance and weakness of the human mind. Thus the problem of the tides does not admit of a general solution; it is certainly necessary to analyse the funeral phenomena which ought to result from the attraction of the sun and moon, but these must be corrected in each particular case by those local observations which are modified by the extent and depth of the sea, and the peculiar circumstances of the port.

Since the disturbing action of the sun and moon can only become sensible in a very great extent of water, it is evident that the Pacific ocean is one of the principal sources of our tides; but in consequence of the rotation of the earth, and the inertia of the ocean, high water does not happen till some time after the moon's southing. The tide raised in that world of waters is transmitted to the Atlantic, and from that sea it moves in a northerly direction along the coasts of Africa and Europe, arriving later and later at each place. This great wave however is modified by the tide raised in the Atlantic, which sometimes combines with that from the Pacific in raising the sea, and sometimes is in opposition to it, so that the tides only rise in proportion to their difference. This great combined wave, reflected by the shores of the Atlantic, extending nearly from pole to pole, still coming northward, occurs through the Irish and British channels into the North sea, so that the tides in our ports are modified by those of another hemisphere. Thus the theory of the tides in each port, both as to their height and the times at which they take place, is really a matter of experiment, and can only be perfectly determined by the mean of a very great number of observations including several revolutions of the moon's nodes.

The height to which the tides rise is much greater in narrow channels than in the open sea, on account of the obstructions they meet with. In high latitudes where the ocean is less directly under the influence of the luminaries, the rise and fall of the sea is inconsiderable, so that, in all probability, there is no tide at the poles, or only a small annual and monthly one. The ebb and flow of the sea are perceptible in rivers to a very great distance from their estuaries. In the straits of Pauxis, in the river of the Amazons, more than five hundred miles from the sea, the tides are evident. It requires so many days for the tide to ascend this mighty stream, that the returning tides meet a succession of those which are coming up; so that every possible variety occurs in some part or other of its shores, both as to magnitude and time. It requires a very wide expanse of water to accumulate the impulse of the sun and moon, so as to render their influence sensible; on that account the tides in the Mediterranean and Black Sea are scarcely perceptible.

These perpetual commotions in the waters of the ocean are occasioned by forces that bear a very small proportion to terrestrial gravitation: the sun's action in raising the ocean is only the 1/38448000 of gravitation at the earth's surface, and the action of the moon is little more than twice as much these forces being in the ratio of 1 to 2.35333. From this ratio the mass of the moon is found to be only 1/15 part of that of the earth. The initial state of the ocean has no influence on the tides; for whatever its primitive conditions may have been, they must soon have vanished by the friction and mobility of the fluid. One of the most remarkable circumstances in the theory of the tides is the assurance that in consequence of the density of the sea being only one-fifth of the mean density of the earth, the stability of the equilibrium of the ocean never can be subverted by any physical cause whatever. A general inundation arising from the mere instability of the ocean is therefore impossible.

The atmosphere when in equilibrio is an ellipsoid flattened at the poles from its rotation with the earth: in that state its strata are of uniform density at equal heights above the level of the sea, and it is sensibly of finite extent, whether it consists of particles infinitely divisible or not. On the latter hypothesis it must really be finite; and even if the particles of matter be infinitely divisible, it is known by experience to be of extreme tenuity at very small heights. The barometer rises in proportion to the superincumbent pressure. Now at the temperature of melting ice, the density of mercury is to that of air as 10320 to 1; and as the mean height of the barometer is 29.528 inches, the height of the atmosphere by simple proportion is 30407 feet, at the mean temperature of 62°, or 34153 feet, which is extremely small, when compared with the radius of the earth. The action of the sun and moon disturbs the equilibrium of the atmosphere, producing oscillations similar to those in the ocean, which occasion periodic variations in the heights of the barometer. These, however, are so extremely small, that their existence in latitudes so far removed from the equator is doubtful; a series of observations within the tropics can alone decide this delicate point. La Place seems to think that the flux and reflux distinguishable at Paris may be occasioned by the rise and fall of the ocean, which forms a variable base to so great a portion of the atmosphere.

The attraction of the sun and moon has no sensible effect on the trade winds; the heat of the sun occasions these aerial currents, by rarefying the air at the equator, which causes the cooler and more dense part of the atmosphere to rush along the surface of the earth to the equator, while that which is heated is carried along the higher strata to the poles, forming two currents in the direction of the meridian. But the rotatory velocity of the air corresponding to its geographical situation decreases towards the poles; in approaching the equator it must therefore revolve more slowly than the corresponding parts of the earth, and the bodies on the surface of the earth must strike against it with the excess of their velocity, and by its reaction they will meet with a resistance contrary to their motion of rotation; so that the wind will appear, to a person supposing himself to be at rest, to blow in a contrary direction to the earth's rotation, or from east to west, which is the direction of the trade winds. The atmosphere scatters the sun's rays, and gives all the beautiful tints and cheerfulness of day. It transmits the blue light in greatest abundance; the higher we ascend, the sky assumes a deeper hue, but in the expanse of space the sun and stars must appear like brilliant specks in profound blackness.

The sun and most of the planets appear to be surrounded with atmospheres of considerable density. The attraction of the earth has probably deprived the moon of hers, for the refraction of the air at the surface of the earth is at least a thousand times as great as at the moon. The lunar atmosphere, therefore, must be of a greater degree of rarity than can be produced by our best air-pumps; consequently no terrestrial animal could exist in it.

Many philosophers of the highest authority concur in the belief that light consists in the undulations of a highly elastic ethereal medium pervading space, which, communicated to the optic nerves produce the phenomena of vision. The experiments of our illustrious countryman, Dr. Thomas Young, and those of the celebrated Fresnel, show that this theory accords better with all the observed phenomena than that of the emission of particles from the luminous body. As sound is propagated by the undulations of the air, its theory is in a great many respects similar to that of light. The grave or low tones are produced by very slow vibrations, which increase in frequency progressively as the note becomes more acute. When the vibrations of a musical chord, for example, are less than sixteen in a second, it will not communicate a continued sound to the ear; the vibrations or pulses increase in number with the acuteness of the note, till at last all sense of pitch is lost. The whole extent of human hearing, from the lowest notes of the organ to the highest known cry of insects, as of the cricket, includes about nine octaves.

The undulations of light are much more rapid than those of sound, but they are analogous in this respect, that as the frequency of the pulsations in sound increases from the low tones to the higher, so those of light augment in frequency, from the red rays of the solar spectrum to the extreme violet. By the experiments of Sir William Herschel, it appears that the heat communicated by the spectrum increases from the violet to the red rays; but that the maximum of the hot invisible rays is beyond the extreme red. Heat in all probability consists, like light and sound, in the undulations of an elastic medium. All the principal phenomena of heat may actually be illustrated by a comparison with those of sound. The excitation of heat and sound are not only similar, but often identical, as in friction and percussion; they are both communicated by contact and by radiation; and Dr. Young observes, that the effect of radiant heat in raising the temperature of a body upon which it falls, resembles the sympathetic agitation of a string, when the sound of another string, which is in unison with it, is transmitted to it through the air. Light, heat, sound, and the waves of fluids are all subject to the same laws of reflection, and, indeed, their undulating theories are perfectly similar. If, therefore, we may judge from analogy, the undulations of the heat producing rays must be less frequent than those of the extreme red of the solar spectrum; but if the analogy were perfect, the interference of two hot rays ought to produce cold, since darkness results from the interference of two undulations of light, silence ensues from the interference of two undulations of sound; and still water, or no tide, is the consequence of the interference of two tides.

The propagation of sound requires a much denser medium than that of either light or heat; its intensity diminishes as the rarity of the air increases; so that, at a very small height above the surface of the earth, the noise of the tempest ceases, and the thunder is heard no more in those boundless regions where the heavenly bodies accomplish their periods in eternal and sublime silence.

What the body of the sun may be, it is impossible to conjecture; but he seems to be surrounded by an ocean of flame through which his dark nucleus appears like black spots, often of enormous size. The solar rays, which probably arise from the chemical processes that continually take place at his surface, are transmitted through space in all directions; but, notwithstanding the sun's magnitude, and the inconceivable heat that must exist where such combustion is going on, as the intensity both of his light and heat diminishes with the square of the distance, his kindly influence can hardly be felt at the boundaries of our system. Much depends on the manner in which the rays fall, as we readily perceive from the different climates on our globe. In winter the earth is nearer the sun by 1/30th than in summer, but the rays strike the northern hemisphere more obliquely in winter than in the other half of the year. In Uranus the sun must be seen like a small but brilliant star, not above the hundred and fiftieth part so bright as he appears to us; that is however 2000 times brighter than our moon to us, so that he really is a sun to Uranus, and probably imparts some degree of warmth. But if we consider that water would not remain fluid in any part of Mars, even at his equator, and that in the temperate zones of the same planet even alcohol and quicksilver would freeze, we may form some idea of the cold that must reign in Uranus, unless indeed the ether has a temperature. The climate of Venus more nearly resembles that of the earth, though, excepting perhaps at her poles, much too hot for animal and vegetable life as they exist here; but in Mercury the mean heat, arising only from the intensity of the sun's rays, must be above that of boiling quick-silver, and water would boil even at his poles. Thus the planets, though kindred with the earth in motion and structure, are totally unfit for the habitation of such a being as man.

The direct light of the sun has been estimated to be equal to that of 5563 wax candles of a moderate size, supposed to be placed at the distance of one foot from the object: that of the moon is probably only equal to the light of one candle at the distance of twelve feet; consequently the light of the sun is more than three hundred thousand times greater than that of the moon; for which reason the light of the moon imparts no heat, even when brought to a focus by a mirror.

In adverting to the peculiarities in the form and nature of the earth and planets, it is impossible to pass in silence the magnetism of the earth, the director of the mariner's compass, and his guide through the ocean. This property probably arises from metallic iron in the interior of the earth, or from the circulation of currents of electricity round it: its influence extends over every part of its surface, but its accumulation and deficiency determine the two poles of this great magnet, which are by no means the same as the poles of the earth's rotation. In consequence of their attraction and repulsion, a needle freely suspended, whether it be magnetic or not, only remains in equilibrio when in the magnetic meridian, that is, in the plane which passes through the north and south magnetic poles. There are places where the magnetic meridian coincides with the terrestrial meridian; in these a magnetic needle freely suspended, points to the true north, but if it be carried successively to different places on the earth's surface, its direction will deviate sometimes to the east and sometimes to the west of north. Lines drawn on the globe through all the places where the needle points due north and south, are called lines of no variation, and are extremely complicated. The direction of the needle is not even constant in the same place, but changes in a few years, according to a law not yet determined. In 1657, the line of no variation passed through London. In the year 1819, Captain Parry, in his voyage to discover the north-west passage round America, sailed directly over the magnetic pole; and in 1824, Captain Lyon, when on en expedition for the same purpose, found that the variation of the compass was 37° 30' west, and that the magnetic pole was then situate in 63° 26' 51" north latitude, and in 80° 51' 25" west longitude. It appears however from later researches that the law of terrestrial magnetism is of considerable complication, and the existence of more than one magnetic pole in either hemisphere has been rendered highly probable. The needle is also subject to diurnal variations; in our latitudes it moves slowly westward from about three in the morning till two, and returns to its former position in the evening.

A needle suspended so as only to be moveable in the vertical plane, dips or become more and more inclined to the horizon the nearer it is brought to the magnetic pole. Captain Lyon found that the dip in the latitude and longitude mentioned was 86° 32'. What properties the planets may have in this respect, it is impossible to know, but it is probable that the moon has become highly magnetic, in consequence of her proximity to the earth, and because her greatest diameter always points towards it.

The passage of comets has never sensibly disturbed the stability of the solar system; their nucleus is rare, and their transit so rapid, that the time has not been long enough to admit of a sufficient accumulation of impetus to produce a perceptible effect. The comet of 1770 passed within 80000 miles of the earth without even affecting our tides, and swept through the midst of Jupiter's satellites without deranging the motions of those little moons. Had the mass of that comet been equal to the mass of the earth, its disturbing action would have shortened the year by the ninth of a day; but, as Delambre's computations from the Greenwich observations of the sun, show that the length of the year has not been sensibly affected by the approach of the comet. La Place proved that its mass could not be so much as the 5000th part of that of the earth. The paths of comets have every possible inclination to the plane of the ecliptic, and unlike the planets, their motion is frequently retrograde. Comets are only visible when near their perihelia. Then their velocity is such that its square is twice as great as that of a body moving in a circle at the same distance; they consequently remain a very short time within the planetary orbits; and as all the conic sections of the same focal distance sensibly coincide through a small arc on each side of the extremity of their axis, it is difficult to ascertain in which of these curves the comets move, from observations made, as they necessarily must be, at their perihelia: but probably they all move in extremely eccentric ellipses, although, in most cases, the parabolic curve coincides most nearly with their observed motions. Even if the orbit be determined with all the accuracy that the case admits of, it may be difficult, or even impossible, to recognise a comet on its return, because its orbit would be very much changed if it passed near any of the large planets of this or of any other system, in consequence of their disturbing energy, which would be very great on bodies of so rare a nature. Halley and Clairaut predicted that, in consequence of the attraction of Jupiter and Saturn, the return of the comet of 1759 would be retarded 618 days, which was verified by the event as nearly as could be expected.

The nebulous appearance of comets is perhaps occasioned by the vapours which the solar heat raises at their surfaces in their passage at the perihelia, and which are again condensed as they recede from the sun. The comet of 1680 when in its perihelion was only at the distance of one-sixth of the sun's diameter, or about 148000 miles from its surface; it consequently would be exposed to a heat 27500 times greater than that received by the earth. As the sun's heat is supposed to be in proportion to the intensity of his height, it is probable that a degree of heat so very intense would be sufficient to convert into vapour every terrestrial substance with which we are acquainted.

In those positions of comets where only half of their enlightened hemisphere ought to be seen, they exhibit no phases even when viewed with high magnifying powers. Some slight indications however were once observed by Hevelius and La Hire in 1682; and in 1811 Sir William Herschel discovered a small luminous point, which he concluded to be the disc of the comet. In general their masses are so minute, that they have no sensible diameters, the nucleus being principally formed of denser strata of the nebulous matter, but so rare that stars have been seen through them. The transit of a comet over the sun's disc would afford the best information on this point. It was computed that such an event was to take place in the year 1627; unfortunately the sun was hid by clouds in this country, but it was observed at Viviers and at Marseilles at the time the comet must have been on it, but no spot was seen. The tails are often of very great length, and are generally situate in the planes of their orbits; they follow them in their descent towards the sun, but precede them in their return, with a small degree of curvature; but their extent and form must vary in appearance, according to the position of their orbits with regard to the ecliptic. The tail of the comet of 1680 appeared, at Paris, to extend over sixty-two degrees. The matter of which the tail is composed must be extremely buoyant to precede a body moving with such velocity; indeed the rapidity of its ascent cannot be accounted for. The nebulous part of comets diminishes every time they return to their perihelia; after frequent returns they ought to lose it altogether, and present the appearance of a fixed nucleus; this ought to happen sooner in comets of short periods. La Place supposes that the comet of 1682 must be approaching rapidly to that state. Should the substances be altogether or even to a great degree evaporated, the comet wilt disappear for ever. Possibly comets may have vanished from our view sooner than they otherwise would have done from this cause. Of about six hundred comets that have been seen at different times, three are now perfectly ascertained to form part of our system; that is to say, they return to the sun at intervals of 76, 6 1/3, and 3 1/4 years nearly.

A hundred and forty comets have appeared within the earth's orbit during the last century that have not again been seen; if a thousand years be allowed as the average period of each, it may be computed by the theory of probabilities, that the whole number that range within the earth's orbit must be 1400; but Uranus being twenty times more distant, there may be no less than 11,200,000 comets that come within the known extent of our system. In such a multitude of wandering bodies it is just possible that one of them may come in collision with the earth; but even if it should, the mischief would be local, and the equilibrium soon restored. It is however more probable that the earth would only be deflected a little from its course by the near approach of the comet, without being touched. Great as the number of comets appears to be, it is absolutely nothing when compared to the number of the fixed stars. About two thousand only are visible to the naked eye, but when we view the heavens with a telescope, their number seems to be limited only by the imperfection of the instrument. In one quarter of an hour Sir William Herschel estimated that 116000 stars passed through the field of his telescope, which subtended an angle of 15'. This however was stated as a specimen of extraordinary crowding; but at an average the whole expanse of the heavens must exhibit about a hundred millions of fixed stars that come within the reach of telescopic vision.

Many of the stars have a very small progressive motion, especially μ Cassiopeia and 61 Cygni, both small stars; and, as the sun is decidedly a star, it is an additional reason for supposing the solar system to be in motion. The distance of the fixed stars is too great to admit of their exhibiting a sensible disc; but in all probability they are spherical, and must certainly be so, if gravitation pervades all space. With a fine telescope they appear like a point of light; their twinkling arises from sudden changes in the refractive power of the air, which would not be sensible if they had discs like the planets. Thus we can learn nothing of the relative distances of the stars from us and from one another, by their apparent diameters; but their annual parallax being insensible, shows that we must be one hundred millions of millions of miles from the nearest; many of them however must be vastly more remote, for of two stars that appear close together, one may be far beyond the other in the depth of space. The light of Sirius, according to the observations of Mr. Herschel, is 324 times greater than that of a star of the sixth magnitude; if we suppose the two to be really of the same size, their distances from us must be in the ratio of 57.3 to 1, because light diminishes as the square of the distance of the luminous body increases.

Of the absolute magnitude of the stars, nothing is known, only that many of them must be much larger than the sun, from the quantity of light emitted by them. Dr. Wollaston determined the approximate ratio that the light of a wax candle bears to that of the sun, moon, and stars, by comparing their respective images reflected from small glass globes filled, with mercury, whence a comparison was established between the quantities of light emitted by the celestial bodies themselves. By this method he found that the light of the sun is about twenty millions of millions of times greater than that of Sirius, the brightest, and supposed to be the nearest of the fixed stars. If Sirius had a parallax of half a second, its distance from the earth would be 525481 times the distance of the sun from the earth; and therefore Sirius, placed where the sun is, would appear to us to be 3.7 times as large as the sun, and would give 13.8 times more light; but many of the fixed stars must be immensely greater than Sirius. Sometimes stars have all at once appeared, shone with a brilliant light, and then vanished. In 1572 a star was discovered in Cassiopeia, which rapidly increased in brightness till it even surpassed that of Jupiter; it then gradually diminished in splendour, and after exhibiting all the variety of tints that indicates the changes of combustion, vanished sixteen months after its discovery, without altering its position. It is impossible to imagine any thing more tremendous than a conflagration that could be visible at such a distance. Some stars are periodic, possibly from the intervention of opaque bodies revolving about them, or from extensive spots on their surfaces. Many thousands of stars that seem to be only brilliant points, when carefully examined are found to be in reality systems of two or more suns revolving about a common centre. These double and multiple stars are extremely remote, requiring the most powerful telescopes to show them separately.

The first catalogue of double stars in which their places and relative positions are determined, was accomplished by the talents and industry of Sir William Herschel, to whom astronomy is indebted for so many brilliant discoveries, and with whom originated the idea of their combination in binary and multiple systems, an idea which his own observations had completely established, but which has since received additional confirmation from those of his son and Sir James South, the former of whom, as well as Professor Struve of Dorpat, have added many thousands to their numbers. The motions of revolution round a common centre of many have been clearly established, and their periods determined with considerable accuracy. Some have already since their first discovery accomplished nearly a whole revolution, and one, if the latest observations can be depended on, is actually considerably advanced in its second period. These interesting systems thus present a species of sidereal chronometer, by which the chronology of the heavens will be marked out to future ages by epochs of their own, liable to no fluctuations from planetary disturbances such as obtain in our system.

Possibly among the multitudes of small stars, whether double or insulated, some may be found near enough to exhibit distinct parallactic motions, or perhaps something approaching to planetary motion, which may prove that solar attraction is not confined to our system, or may lead to the discovery of the proper motion of the sun. The double stars are of various hues, but most frequently exhibit the contrasted colours. The large star is generally yellow, orange, or red; and the small star blue, purple, or green. Sometimes a white star is combined with a blue or purple, and more rarely a red and white are united. In many cases, these appearances are due to the influences of contrast on our judgment of colours. For example, in observing a double star where the large one is of a full ruby red, or almost blood colour, and the small one a fine green, the latter lost its colour when the former was hid by the cross wires of the telescope. But there are a vast number of instances where the colours are too strongly marked to be merely imaginary. Mr. Herschel observes in one of his papers in the Philosophical Transactions, as a very remarkable fact, that although red single stars are common enough, no example of an insulated blue, green, or purple one has as yet been produced.