Part 7

Before concluding, it may be well to make a few remarks upon some misapprehensions which seem to exist as to the propriety in the first place, and the desirability in the second, of comments upon the arrangements adopted by Government astronomers to utilize particular astronomical phenomena, and upon the value of the results which may be obtained by means of such arrangements. Many seem to suppose that astronomical matters are in some sense like military or naval (warlike) manoeuvres, to be discussed effectively only by those who 'are under authority, having (also) soldiers under them,' in other words by Government astronomers. It would be very unfortunate for science were this so, seeing that in that case those chiefly responsible for the selection of methods and the supervision of operations would be perfectly free from all possibility of criticism. No one under their authority would be very likely to speak unfavourably of their plans. And no one possessing higher general authority would be likely to have any adequate knowledge of astronomy to form an opinion, either as to the efficiency of the arrangements adopted in any case, or as to the significance of the results obtained. In warlike matters, to some degree, the wisdom of the strategy employed is tested by results which all can appreciate, seeing that they affect directly the well-being of the nation. Moreover, there are special reasons in these cases why in the first place there should be a complete system of subordination, and why in the second few should undertake the study of the science unless they proposed to take their part in its practical application and therefore to submit to its disciplinary system. But it is quite otherwise with the science of astronomy. The nation requires, chiefly for the regulation of its commerce, a certain number of trained astronomers, to carry out systematically observations of a certain class,--observations having in the main scarcely any closer relation to the real living science of astronomy than land surveying has to such geology as Lyell taught, or the bone-trade to the science of anatomy. The stars by their diurnal motion form the most perfect time-measurers, therefore they must be constantly timed by trained observers. The sun and moon are the most effective time-indicators for seamen, and therefore their movements must be most carefully noted. Our Nautical Almanac in fact embodies the kind of astronomical materials which Government astronomers are employed to collect and arrange. Such work may rather be called celestial surveying than astronomy. But from the days of Flamsteed, the first of our Astronomers Royal (as the chief Government astronomer is technically called) whose contemporary, Newton, discovered the great law of the universe, to those of Maskelyne and Sir G. Airy, whose contemporaries, the elder and the younger Herschel, disclosed the structure of the universe, there have always been astronomers outside the ranks of official astronomy, in no way desirous of entering those ranks, and in fact so taking their course from the beginning of their study of the science as to preclude themselves from all possibility of undertaking any official duties in astronomy. 'Non sua se voluntas,' necessarily, 'sed suæ vitæ rationes, hoc aditu laudis, qui semper optimo cuique maxime patuit, prohibuerunt:' though, indeed, it may not untruly be said that to one who apprehends the true sublimity of astronomy as a science the routine of official astronomy is by no means inviting, and probably personal tastes have had very much to do with the choice, by such men, of the more attractive departments of astronomy. Be this as it may, it is certain that the astronomers who thus keep outside the official ranks are not only free, and may not only be fully competent, to express an opinion on the arrangements made by Government astronomers, or on the results obtained by them, but as the only members of the community who are at once free and able so to do, their right to speak may often involve, in some degree, the duty of speaking. If through some mistake wrong arrangements were proposed for instance,--and all men, even officials (Herbert Spencer says, especially officials), are apt to make mistakes,--then, unless non-official astronomers, who had carefully examined the subject, expressed their doubts, it is certain that there would be no means whatever of correcting the error, or even of detecting its consequence, until many years had elapsed. The leading official astronomers would in such a case be apt, in fact they are apt enough as it is, to stand by each other,--a chief in one department commending the zeal and energy of the chief in another department, this chief in turn commending the industry and ability of the other, and so forth,--while subordinates of all ranks might be apt either to maintain a judicious silence, or else at least to avoid any utterance which would endanger their position. It may, on the one hand, be to some degree questioned whether it would be fitting that discipline should be so far neglected in such a case that a subordinate should have eyes to see, or ears to hear, or thoughts to note, any error on the part of his superior in office. And on the other hand, those who know little or nothing of astronomy can of course form no opinion on astronomical matters, however high they may be in authority outside matters scientific. To assert, then, that it is either improper or undesirable for unofficial astronomers to comment on the plans or results of astronomers employed and paid by the nation is practically equivalent to asserting that it is improper or undesirable for the work of these paid astronomers to be examined at all,--a conclusion manifestly absurd.

FOOTNOTES:

'A few months ago I said in these columns that the determination of the sun's distance, then recently communicated to Parliament--namely, 93,375,000 miles--was probably some 800,000 miles too great; and I spoke of the method on which the determination was based as to some degree discredited by the wide range of difference both between that result and the mean of the best former measurements, and between the several results of which that one was itself the mean. Captain Tupman, as straightforward as he is skilful and zealous, announces as the result of a re-examination of the British observations a distance about 600,000 miles less than the above, or, more exactly, about 92,790,000 miles, as the sun's mean distance. But while he obtains from the ingress observations a mean distance of only 92,300,000 miles, he obtains from the egress observations a mean distance of about 93,040,000 miles; and the value, 92,790,000 miles, is only obtained as the mean of these two values duly weighted, the egress observations being more satisfactory than the ingress observations. 'It appears to me that the doubts which I formerly expressed as to the trustworthiness of the method employed, are to some degree justified.

'To the general public it will be more interesting to inquire what probably is the true mean distance of the sun. To this it may be replied that in all probability the sun's mean distance does not lie so much as 600,000 miles on either side of the value 92,300,000 miles' (it should be 92,400,000).]

THE PAST HISTORY OF OUR MOON.

The moon, commonly regarded as a mere satellite of the earth, is in truth a planet, the least member of that family of five bodies circling within the asteroidal zone, to which astronomers have given the name of the terrestrial planets. There can be no question that this is the true position of the moon in the solar system. In fact, the fashion of regarding her as a mere attendant of our earth may be looked upon as the last relic of the old astronomy in which our earth figured as the fixed centre of the universe, and the body for whose sake all the celestial orbs were fashioned. In this aspect, also, the moon is a far more interesting object of research than when viewed as belonging to another and an inferior order. We are able to recognise, in her, appearances probably resulting from the relative smallness of her dimensions, and hence to derive probable information as to the condition of other orbs in the solar system which fall below the earth in point of size. Precisely as the study of the giant planets, Jupiter and Saturn, has led astronomers to infer that certain peculiarities must result from vastness of dimensions, so the study of the dwarf planets, Mars, our moon, and Mercury, may indicate the relations we are to associate with inferiority of size.

This thought immediately introduces us to another conception, which causes us to regard with even greater interest the evidence afforded by the moon's present condition. It can scarcely be questioned that the size of any member of the solar system, or rather the quantity of matter in its orb, assigns, so to speak, the duration of that orb's existence, or rather of the various stages of that existence. The smaller body must cool more rapidly than the larger, and hence the various periods during which the former is fit for this or that purpose of planetary life (I speak with purposed vagueness here) are shorter than the corresponding periods in the life of the latter. Thus the sun, viewed in this way, is the youngest member of the solar system, while the tiniest members of the asteroid family, if not the oldest in reality, are the oldest to which the telescope has introduced us. Jupiter and Saturn come next to the sun in youth; they are still passing through the earliest stages of planetary existence, even if we ought not rather to adopt that theory of their condition which regards them as subordinate suns, helping the central sun to support life on the satellites which circle around them. Uranus and Neptune are in a later stage, and perchance when telescopes have been constructed large enough to study these planets with advantage, we may learn something of that stage, interesting as being intermediate to the stages through which our earth and Venus on the one hand, and the giant brothers Jupiter and Saturn on the other, are at present passing. After our earth and Venus, which are probably at about the same stage of planetary development (though owing to the difference in their position they may not be equally adapted for the support of life), we come to Mars and Mercury, both of which must be regarded as in all probability much more advanced and in a sense more aged than the earth on which we live. In a similar sense,--even as an ephemeron is more aged after a few hours of existence than a man after as many years,--the small planet which we call 'our moon' may be described as in the very decrepitude of planetary existence, nay (some prefer to think), as even absolutely dead, though its lifeless body still continues to advance upon its accustomed orbit, and to obey the law of universal attraction.

Considerations such as these give singular interest to the discussion of the past history of our moon, though they add to the difficulty of interpreting the problems she presents to us. For we have manifestly to differentiate between the effects due to the moon's relative smallness on the one hand, and those due to her great age on the other. If we could believe the moon to be an orb which simply represents the condition to which our earth will one day attain, we could study her peculiarities of appearance with some hope of understanding how they had been brought about, as well as of learning from such study the future history of our own earth. But clearly the moon has had another history than our earth. Her relative smallness has led to relations such as the earth never has presented and never will present. If our earth is, as astronomers and physicists believe, to grow dead and cold, all life perishing from her surface, it is tolerably clear, from what we already know of her history, that the appearance she will present in her decrepitude will be utterly unlike that presented by the moon. Grant that after the lapse of enormous time-intervals the oceans now existing on the earth will be withdrawn beneath her solid crust, and even (which seems incredible) that at a more distant future the atmosphere now surrounding her will have become greatly reduced in quantity, either by similar withdrawal or in any other manner, yet the surface of the earth would present few features of resemblance to that of the moon. Viewed from the distance at which we view the moon, there would be few crateriform mountains indeed compared with those on the moon; those visible would be small by comparison with lunar craters even of medium dimensions; and the radiated regions seen on the moon's surface would have no discernible counterpart on the surface of the earth. The only features of resemblance, under the imagined conditions, would be probably the partially flat sea bottoms (though these would bear a different proportion to the more elevated regions) and the mountain ranges, the only terrestrial features of volcanic disturbance which would be relatively more important than their lunar counterparts.

I do not purpose, however, to discuss the probable future of the earth, having only indicated the differences just touched upon in order to remind the reader at the outset that we have not in 'the moon' a representation of the earth at any stage of her history. Other and different relations are presented for our consideration, although it may well be that by carefully discussing them we may learn somewhat respecting our earth, as also respecting the past history and future development of the solar system.

It appears reasonable to regard the moon, after her first formation as a distinct orb, as presenting the same general characteristics that we ascribe to our earth in its primary stage as a planet. In one respect the moon, even at that early stage, may have differed from the earth. I refer to its rotation, the correspondence between which and its revolution may probably have existed from the moon's first formation. But this would not materially have affected the relations with which we have to deal at present. We may apply, then, to the moon the arguments which have been applied to the discussion of the first stages of our earth's history.

Adopting this view, we see that at the first stage of its existence as an independent planet, the moon must have been an intensely heated gaseous globe, glowing with inherent light, and undergoing a process of condensation, 'going on at first at the surface only, until by cooling it must have reached the point where the gaseous centre was exchanged for one of combined and liquefied matter.' To apply now to the moon at this stage the description which Dr. Sterry Hunt gives of the earth. 'Here commences the chemistry of the moon. So long as the gaseous condition of the moon lasted, we may suppose the whole mass to have been homogeneous; but when the temperature became so reduced that the existence of chemical compounds at the centre became possible, those which were most stable at the elevated temperature then prevailing would be first formed. Thus, for example, while compounds of oxygen with mercury, or even with hydrogen, could not exist, oxides of silicon, aluminium, calcium, magnesium, and iron, might be formed and condensed in a liquid form at the centre of the globe. By progressive cooling still other elements would be removed from the gaseous mass, which would form the atmosphere of the non-gaseous nucleus.' 'The processes of condensation and cooling having gone on until those elements which are not volatile in the heat of our ordinary furnaces were condensed into a liquid form, we may here inquire what would be the result on the mass of a further reduction of temperature. It is generally assumed that in the cooling of a liquid globe of mineral matter congelation would commence at the surface, as in the case of water; but water offers an exception to most other liquids, inasmuch as it is denser in the liquid than in the solid form. Hence, ice floats on water, and freezing water becomes covered with a layer of ice which protects the liquid below. Some metals and alloys resemble water in this respect. With regard to most other earthy substances, and notably the various minerals and earthy compounds like those which may be supposed to have made up the mass of the molten globe, the case is entirely different. The numerous and detailed experiments of Charles Deville and those of Delesse, besides the earlier ones of Bischoff, unite in showing that the density of fused rocks is much less than that of the crystalline products resulting from their slow cooling, these being, according to Deville, from one-seventh to one-sixteenth heavier than the fused mass, so that if formed at the surface they would, in obedience to the laws of gravity, tend to sink as soon as formed.'

Here it has to be noted that possibly there existed a period (for our earth as well as for the moon) during which, notwithstanding the relations indicated by Dr. Hunt, the exterior portions of the moon were solid, while the interior remained liquid. A state of things corresponding to what we recognise as possible in the sun may have existed. For although undoubtedly any liquid matter forming in the sun sinks in obedience to the laws of gravity towards the centre, yet the greater heat which it encounters as it sinks must vapourise it, notwithstanding increasing pressure, so that it can only remain liquid near the region where rapid radiation allows of sufficient cooling to produce liquefaction. And in the same way we may conceive that the solidification taking place at any portion of the surface of the moon's or the earth's liquid globe, owing to rapid radiation of heat thence, although it might be followed immediately by the sinking of the solidified matter, would yet result in the continuance (rather than the existence) of a partially solid crust. For the sinking solid matter, though subjected to an increase of pressure (which, in the case of matter expanding on liquefaction, would favour solidification), would nevertheless, owing to the great increase of heat, become liquefied, and, expanding, would no longer be so much denser than the liquid through which it was sinking as to continue to sink rapidly.

Nevertheless, it is clear that after a time the heat of the interior parts of the liquid mass would no longer suffice to liquefy the solid matter descending from the surface, and then would commence the process of aggregation at the centre described by Dr. Hunt. The matter forming the solid centre of the earth consists probably of metallic and metalloidal compounds of elements denser than those forming the known portions of the earth's crust. In the case of the moon, whose mean density is very little greater than the mean density of the matter forming the earth's crust, we must assume that the matter forming the solid nucleus at that early stage was relatively less in amount, or else that we may attribute part of the difference to the comparatively small force with which lunar gravity operated during various stages of contraction and solidification.

In the case of the moon, as in that of the earth, before the last portions became solidified, there would exist a condition of imperfect liquidity, as conceived by Hopkins, 'preventing the sinking of the cooled and heavier particles, and giving rise to a superficial crust, from which solidification would proceed downwards. There would thus be enclosed between the inner and outer solid parts a portion of uncongealed matter,' which may be supposed to have retained its liquid condition to a late period, and to have been the principal seat of volcanic action, whether existing in isolated reservoirs or subterranean lakes, or whether, as suggested by Scrope, forming a continuous sheet surrounding the solid nucleus.

Thus far we have had to deal with relations more or less involved in doubt. We have few means of forming a satisfactory opinion as to the order of the various changes to which, in the first stages of her existence as a planet, our moon was subject. Nor can we clearly define the nature of those changes. In these matters, as with the corresponding processes in our earth's case, there is much room for variety of opinion.

But few can doubt that, by whatever processes such condition may have been attained, the moon, when her surface began to form itself into its present appearance, consisted of a globe partially molten surrounded by a crust at least partially solidified. Some portions of the actual surface may have remained liquid or viscous later than others but at length the time must have arrived when the radiating surface was almost wholly solid. It is from this stage that we have to trace the changes which have led to the present condition of the moon's surface.

It can scarcely be questioned that those seismologists are in the right who have maintained in recent times the theory that in the case of a cooling globe, such as the earth or moon at the stage just described, the crust would in the first place contract more quickly than the nucleus, while later the nucleus would contract more quickly than the crust. This amounts, in fact, to little more than the assertion that the process of heat radiation from the surface would be more rapid, and so last a shorter time than the process of conduction by which in the main the nucleus would part with its heat. The crust would part rapidly with its heat, contracting upon the nucleus; but the very rapidity (relative) of the process, by completing at an early stage the radiation of the greater portion of the heat originally belonging to the crust, would cause the subsequent radiation to be comparatively slow, while the conduction of heat from the nucleus to the crust would take place more rapidly, not only relatively but actually.

Now it is clear that the results accruing during the two stages into which we thus divide the cooling of the lunar globe would be markedly different. During the first stage forces of tension (tangential) would be called to play in the lunar crust; during the later stage the forces would be those of pressure.

Taking the earlier stage, during which the forces would be tensional, let us consider in what way these forces would operate.

At the beginning, when the crust would be comparatively thin, I conceive that the more general result of the rapid contraction of the crust would be the division of the crust into segments, by the formation of numerous fissures due to the lateral contraction of the thin crust. The molten matter in these fissures would film over rapidly, however, and all the time the crust would be growing thicker and thicker, until at length the formation of distinct segments would no longer be possible. The thickening crust, plastic in its lower strata, would now resist more effectively the tangential tensions, and when yielding would yield in a different manner. It was at this stage, in all probability, that processes such as those illustrated by Nasmyth's globe experiments took place, and that from time to time the crust yielded at particular points, which became the centres of systems of radiating fissures. Before proceeding, however, to consider the results of such processes, let it be noted that we have seen reason to believe that among the very earliest lunar formations would be rifts breaking the ancient surface of the lunar crust. I distinguish in this way the ancient surface from portions of surface whereof I shall presently have to speak as formed at a later time.

Now let us conceive the somewhat thickened crust contracting upon the partially fluid nucleus. If the crust were tolerably uniform in strength and thickness we should expect to find it yielding (when forced to yield) at many points, distributed somewhat uniformly over its extent. But this would not be the case if--as we might for many reasons expect--the crust were wanting in uniformity. There would be regions where the crust would be more plastic, and so readier to yield to the tangential tensions. Towards such portions of the crust the liquid matter within would tend, because there alone would room exist for it. The down-drawing, or rather in-drawing, crust elsewhere would force away the liquid matter beneath, towards such regions of less resistance, which would thus remain at (and be partly forced to) a higher level. At length, however, the increasing tensions thus resulting would have their natural effect; the crust would break open at the middle of the raised region, and in radiating rifts, and the molten matter would find vent through the rifts as well as at the central opening. The matter so extruded, being liquid, would spread, so that--though the radiating nature of the rifts would still be indicated by the position of the extruded matter--there would be no abrupt changes of level. It is clear, also, that so soon as the outlet had been formed the long and slowly sloping sides of the region of elevation would gradually sink, pressing the liquid matter below towards the centre of outlet, whence it would continue to pour out so long as this process of contraction continued. All round the borders of the aperture the crust would be melted, and would continue plastic long after the matter which had filled the fissures and flowed out through them had solidified. Thus there would be formed a wide circular orifice, which would from the beginning be considerably above the mean level of the moon's surface, because of the manner in which the liquid matter within had been gathered there by the pressure of the surrounding slopes. Moreover, around the orifice, the matter outflowing as the crust continued to contract would form a raised wall. Until the time came when the liquid nucleus began to contract more rapidly than the crust, the large crateriform orifice would be full to the brim (or nearly so), at all times, with occasional overflows: and as a writer who has recently adopted this theory has remarked, 'We should ultimately have a large central lake of lava surrounded by a range of hills, terraced on the outside,--the lake filling up the space they enclosed.'

The crust might burst in the manner here considered, at several places at the same--or nearly the same--time, the range of the radiating fissures, depending on the extent of the underlying lakes of molten matter thus finding their outlet; or there might be a series of outbursts at widely separated intervals of time and at different regions, gradually diminishing in extent as the crust gradually thickened and the molten matter beneath gradually became reduced in relative amount. Probably the latter view should be accepted, since, if we consider the three systems of radiations from Copernicus, Aristarchus, and Kepler, which were manifestly not formed contemporaneously, but in the order in which their central craters have just been named, we see that their dimensions diminished as their date of formation was later. According to this view we should regard the radiating system from Tycho as the oldest of all these formations.

At this very early stage of the moon's history, then, we regard the moon as a somewhat deformed spheroid, the regions whence the radiations extended being the highest parts, and the regions farthest removed from the ray centres being the lowest. To these lower regions whatever was liquid on the moon's surface would find its way. The down-flowing lava would not be included in this description, as being rather viscous than liquid; but if any water existed at that time it would occupy the depressed regions which at the present time are called Maria or Seas.

It is a question of some interest, and one on which different opinions have been entertained, whether the moon at any stage of its existence had oceans and an atmosphere corresponding in relative extent to those of the earth. It appears to me that, apart from all the other considerations which have been suggested in support of the view that the moon formerly had oceans and an atmosphere, it is exceedingly difficult to imagine how, under any circumstances, a globe so large as the moon could have been formed under conditions not altogether unlike, as we suppose, those under which the earth was formed (having a similar origin, and presumably constructed of the same elements), without having oceans and an atmosphere of considerable extent. The atmosphere would not consist of oxygen and nitrogen only or chiefly, any more than, in all probability, the primeval atmosphere of our own earth was so constituted. We may adopt some such view of the moon's atmosphere--mutatis mutandis--as Dr. Sterry Hunt has adopted respecting the ancient atmosphere of the earth. Hunt, it will be remembered, bases his opinion on the former condition of the earth by conceiving an intense heat applied to the earth as now existing, and inferring the chemical results. 'To the chemist,' he remarks, 'it is evident that from such a process applied to our globe would result the oxidation of all carbonaceous matter; the conversion of all carbonates, chlorides, and sulphates into silicates; and the separation of the carbon, chlorine, and sulphur in the form of acid gases; which, with nitrogen, watery vapour, and an excess of oxygen, would form an exceedingly dense atmosphere. The resulting fused mass would contain all the bases as silicates, and would probably nearly resemble in composition certain furnace-slags or basic volcanic glasses. Such we may conceive to have been the nature of the primitive igneous rock, and such the composition of the primeval atmosphere, which must have been one of very great density.' All this, with the single exception of the italicised remark, may be applied to the case of the moon. The lunar atmosphere would not probably be dense at that primeval time, even though constituted like the terrestrial atmosphere just described. It would perhaps have been as dense, or nearly so, as our present atmosphere. Accordingly condensation would take place at a temperature not far from the present boiling-point, and the lower levels of the half-cooled crust would be drenched with a heated solution of hydrochloric acid, whose decomposing action would be rapid, though not aided--as in the case of our primeval earth--by an excessively high temperature. 'The formation of the chlorides of the various bases and the separation of silica would go on until the affinities of the acid were satisfied.' 'At a later period the gradual combination of oxygen with sulphurous acid would eliminate this from the atmosphere in the form of sulphuric acid.' 'Carbonic acid would still be a large constituent of the atmosphere, but thenceforward (that is, after the separation of the compounds of sulphur and chlorine from the air) there would follow the conversion of the complex aluminous silicates, under the influence of carbonic acid and moisture, into a hydrated silicate of alumina or clay, while the separated lime, magnesia, and alkalies would be changed into bicarbonates, and conveyed to the sea in a state of solution.'

It seems to me that it is necessary to adopt some such theory as to the former existence of lunar oceans in order to explain some of the appearances presented by the so-called lunar seas. As regards the present absence of water we may adopt the theory of Frankland, that the lunar oceans have withdrawn beneath the crust as room was provided for them by the contraction of the nucleus. I think, indeed, that there are good grounds for looking with favour on the theory of Stanislas Meunier, according to which the oceans surrounding any planet--our own earth or Mars, for example--are gradually withdrawn from the surface to the interior. And in view of the enormous length of the time-intervals required for such a process, we must consider that while the process was going on the lunar atmosphere would not only part completely with the compounds of sulphur, chlorine, and carbon, but would be even still further reduced by chemical processes acting with exceeding slowness, yet effectively in periods so enormous. But without insisting on this consideration, it is manifest that--with very reasonable assumptions as to the density of the lunar atmosphere in its original complex condition--what would remain after the removal of the chief portion by chemical processes, and after the withdrawal of another considerable portion along with the seas beneath the lunar crust, would be so inconsiderable in quantity as to accord satisfactorily with the evidence which demonstrates the exceeding tenuity of any lunar atmosphere at present existing.

These considerations introduce us to the second part of the moon's history,--that corresponding to the period when the nucleus was contracting more rapidly than the crust.

One of the first and most obvious effects of this more rapid nuclear contraction would be the lowering of the level of the molten matter, which up to this period had been kept up to, or nearly up to, the lips of the great ringed craters. If the subsidence took place intermittently there would result a terracing of the interior of the ringed elevation, such as we see in many lunar craters. Nor would there be any uniformity of level in the several crater floors thus formed, since the fluid lava would not form parts of a single fluid mass (in which case, of course, the level of the fluid surface would be everywhere the same), but would belong to independent fluid masses. Indeed it may be noticed that the very nature of the case requires us to adopt this view, since no other will account for the variety of level observed in the different lunar crater-floors. If these ceased to be liquid at different times, the independence of the fluid masses is by that very fact established; and if they ceased to be liquid at the same time, they must have been independent, since, if communication had existed between them, they would have shown the uniformity of surface which the laws of hydrostatics require.

The next effect which would follow from the gradual retreat of the nucleus from the crust (setting aside the withdrawal of lunar seas) would be the formation of corrugations,--in other words, of mountain-ranges. Mallet describes the formation of mountain-chains as belonging to the period when 'the continually increasing thickness of the crust remained such that it was still as a whole flexible enough, or opposed sufficient resistance of crushing to admit of the uprise of mountain-chains by resolved tangential pressures.' Applying this to the case of the moon, I think it is clear that--with her much smaller orb and comparatively rapid rate of cooling--the era of the formation of mountain-chains would be a short one, and that these would therefore form a less important characteristic of her surface than of the earth's. On the other hand, the period of volcanic activity which would follow that of chain-formation would be relatively long continued; for regarding this period as beginning when the thickness of the moon's crust had become too great to admit of adjustment by corrugation, the comparatively small pressure to which the whole mass of the moon had been subjected by lunar gravity, while it would on the one hand cause the period to have an earlier commencement (relatively), would on the other leave greater play to the effects of contraction. Thus we can understand why the signs of volcanic action, as distinguished from the action to which mountain-ranges are due, should be far more numerous and important on the moon than on the earth.