After our curiosity respecting wells, pipes, drips, and tanks, had been pretty well satisfied, the crater-exploring mania seized us again; and one fine afternoon my husband and I, accompanied by Mrs. Phillimore, set out for “Cricket Valley,” one of the mysterious basins lying among the plateaux on the eastern part of the island. David had walked there the day before, and had picked up in one of the furrows or runs near the valley, some beautiful specimens of carbonate of iron, the bright sparkle of which has given to the spot where they are found, the name of the “Silver Ore Run.”

It was this silver that we now went in search of. Making use of Jimmy Chivas alternately, Mrs. Phillimore and I followed David round the north side of the mountain along what we confidently supposed to be Elliot's Path. But we now found, that when Elliot's Path gets round to the north side of the mountain, it becomes Rupert's Path—in honour of some other admiral, no doubt—and with the effect of needlessly complicating the geography of the little island. However, it is the same narrow mountain way with a new name; and along Rupert's Path we now proceeded towards Cricket Valley, admiring as we went the rock-hewn gulleys sliding from our feet down to the plain below, and hiding in their deep gloom, aloes and banana trees.

A scientific expedition may be said to have two histories. The one treats of the special object of the expedition, the other of the personal adventures of those concerned in it. It is only the former which finds permanent record in the Transactions of scientific societies: the other too often remains unwritten.

For many reasons I think this is a matter of regret. Mere details of observations are never looked at, except by a very limited number of specialists; to the general public such details are meaningless as well as inaccessible; whilst the ordinary student usually accepts the result merely as he finds it quoted in some standard work or text-book.

It is not because popular accounts of such expeditions do not interest a sufficient circle of readers that they have not been more frequently written, but rather, I think, because the faculties of original research and popular exposition are seldom united in the same individual. Besides this, I have found in my own experience, that on such expeditions there is so much actual work to be done, and the hours are so completely filled with it, that there is neither time nor inclination to write a diary. Thus, before the story can be committed to writing, it has lost its crispness—the interest has faded, and, from treacherous memory, incident is wanting to complete the narrative.

Christmas morning found us again at Commodore's Cottage, with everything around looking much the same as during our first occupation. Only now there was no Observatory on the croquet lawn, while, lying snugly in a strong box were five books of manuscript, containing “Observations of the Opposition of Mars at Ascension, A.D. 1877.” These differences contributed much to our comfort, and even with the thermometer at 89° F. and not a bit of holly in the land, I was prepared to enjoy my first summer Christmas.

Having fallen asleep with the sound of imaginary “waits” and “Christmas Carols” ringing in my ears, I was awakened at sunrise by a very different sound—the beat of tom-toms, accompanied at intervals by a sort of hoarse monotonous chant, which we were given to understand was intended as a song of rejoicing on the part of the Kroomen.

As we walked down to church in the bright morning, our little Garrison looked quite gay and festal. Flags of various colours and devices were flying over the different mess-rooms, and all the men showed clean and trim in holiday attire. Alas! I fear some of them were less clean and trim before the shades of night had fallen; but I must not make the behaviour of a faulty few, a type of the whole. Generally speaking, the men enjoyed their Christmas rationally, and not a single disturbance annoyed us in Garrison during their three days' idleness.

Next morning, Sunday, we were awakened by the novel sound of rain pattering against the window panes, and on looking out I saw—nothing. A dense fog surrounded us, and hid the pretty garden which I doubted not was benefiting richly from its temporary concealment.

By the time I had dressed, however, the air was somewhat clearer, and when I opened the door of our little drawing-room, a curious, perplexing view lay before me. Three paces from the door the ground went headlong down a precipice of 150 feet, covering its fall with Bahama grass, castor-oil trees and shrubs of different kinds. Then a rocky shoulder shot out from the main head, and on this stood the Mountain Hospital in a thicket of Port Jackson willows, now looking cool and fresh from their morning bath. Beyond this another steep descent went sheer down to the broad, crater-dotted plain which stretched away to Garrison and the sea, and where the sun was now shining with a fierce light, while the mist still floated fitfully above and around us.

Here the air felt fresh, sweet, and English-like; there it looked stifling and altogether tropical.

Thus passed two weary weeks. We pored over dry statistics, hunted up every scrap of weather record, and annoyed everybody with questions about cloud and wind; but to little purpose.

The crew of the Ascension is a changing one, three years being the usual term of service, so that no one was able to give us the benefit of long experience of Ascension weather. The answers to our questions were contradictory and distracting in the extreme, being based on casual observation or general impression. The only thing that everybody seemed to agree about was, that “such cloudy weather had not been known within the memory of the oldest inhabitant; it was altogether exceptional, and by-and-by there would be as clear skies as even we could desire.” Yes, “by-and-by” perhaps; but meantime Mars would not wait, and the present was threatening our expedition with disaster.

Oh! those weary weeks. Fearful of losing a single hour of star-light during the night, we watched alternately for moments of break in the cloud, sometimes with partial success, but more frequently with no result but utter disappointment, and the mental and physical strain, increasing every night, grew almost beyond our strength. What was to be done? There was the Observatory complete, the instruments faultless, and the astronomer idle, for there too was the cloud.

Ever since our arrival on the island, we had been much interested about the water supply, and now that we were at the source, we hoped to be able to learn the parentage and history of our one gallon per day.

We had already seen, peeping aboveground here and there, the pipe which we knew conveyed the water to Garrison, there to be stored for the use of man and beast; but we had seen no spring, and I was delighted at a proposal to visit the “Wells” under guidance of Captain Phillimore, who made himself so thoroughly acquainted with the all-important system of our water supply.

Starting from Garden Cottage, we again passed through the tunnel I have already mentioned; this time with lanthorns, which showed it to be worked out of compact beds of cinders and ashes, and occasionally of clay and trachyte, to which clung green moss and lichens. Along one side, just aboveground, an iron pipe ran the length of the tunnel, and we did not lose sight of it until we found sun-light once more in Breakneck Valley. Here we found the two circular wells that contributed so largely to our daily gallon of water. These are known as the “Brandreth Wells,” named after Lieutenant Brandreth, R.E., who came out here in 1830 to assist Captain Bates in his anxious search for water.

Meantime the 5th of September has come. I could write no diary, and have not the slightest recollection of how I spent the day—unprofitably, I fear, in watching and waiting; finally bringing on a violent headache towards evening, which was less painful, however, than the excessive nervous excitement I was endeavouring to repress. To-night Mars will be nearer to us—his ruddy glare brighter than ever again for a hundred years, and what if we should not see him?

The sun had shone all day in a cloudless sky, but before sunset some ugly clouds rolled up from wind-ward, and made me feel quite feverish. I could not rest, but kept wandering about from tent to tent like an unquiet spirit; inwardly resenting David's exceeding calm, as a tacit reproof to my perturbation. There he sat, quietly tying up photographs, softly whistling to himself, as if nothing were going to happen, and then he actually smoked a very long pipe, with even longer and slower whiffs than usual. Of course it was affectation! But I wondered how he managed to keep up the deception, and for the first time fully believed what he had told me of having enjoyed his breakfast on the morning of the Transit of Venus, notwithstanding that it rained.

Do all comets belong to tile solar system?–Orbits -which are clearly hyperbolic– Opinion of Laplace with regard to the rarity of hyperbolic comets–Are there any comets which really describe parabolas?–First glance at the origin of comets.

Do all the comets which have been observed up to the present time belong to the solar system? Or, as we have already suggested, are there comets which visit the sun but once, and which before penetrating to the sphere of his activity and submitting to the influence of his attraction were altogether strangers to our system?

Theoretically speaking the reply is not doubtful. A celestial body, describing under the influence of gravitation an orbit of which the sun is the focus, may move in a parabola, an ellipse, or an hyperbola. All depends upon its velocity at any one given point of its course, that is, upon the relation existing between the velocity and the intensity of gravitation at that point. The better to explain this let us take a point whose distance from the sun is equal to the mean distance of the earth, and let us suppose the body to have arrived at this point.

Discovery of the comet and of its periodicity by D'Arrest–Return predicted by M. Yvon Villarceau for 1857 ; verification to within half a day–Importance of the perturbations caused by Jupiter–Research of MM. Yvon Villarceau and Leveau –Return of the comet in September 1870.

Here, again, we have a periodical comet whose periodicity has been determined by calculation, and whose returns have been predicted and observed without the help of any comparison with previous comets. It bears the name of the astronomer who discovered it in 1851, and who recognised the periodicity of its orbit. M. Yvon Villarceau had drawn the same conclusion, and calculated the ephemeris for its next return to perihelion, which he announced for the end of 1857, a prediction verified to within twelve hours. The new comet was seen again at the Cape of Good Hope by Sir Thomas Maclear. On its following return, which took place in 1864, astronomers were less fortunate, and were unable to perceive the comet, whose position in the heavens and distance from the earth were very unfavourable. In 1870 the perihelion passage of the comet took place on September 23; it was observed three weeks before by M. Winnecke, thanks to the ephemeris calculated by MM. Yvon Villarceau and Leveau.

‘Of all the comets which have not failed to return to us,’ says M. Yvon Villarceau, ‘ the comet of D'Arrest is perhaps the most interesting in regard to its perturbations. T do not thinkthat any other comet has been so closely followed by Jupiter.’

How to discover the periodicity of an observed Comet and predict its return –First method: comparison of the elements of the orbit with those of comets that have been catalogued –Resemblance or identity of these elements; presumed period deduced from it–Second method: direct calculation of elliptic elements – Third method.

There are, however, a certain number of comets of whose return astronomers are certain, and the time of whose apparition they can calculate. The prediction of the probable epoch at which these comets will be situated in regions of the heavens where they will be visible from the earth, and the determination of their perihelion passage, can be effected more or less accurately. These are the comets whose orbits, when calculated from a sufficient number of observations, prove to be neither parabolas nor hyperbolas, but, on the contrary, are closed and elliptic, and such that the comet thenceforth continues to describe them in regular periods; in a word, they are periodical comets Newton treated the orbits of comets as parabolic, merely in order to so represent the arc, always very short, described in the neighbourhood of the perihelion, when the comparatively small distance of the comet from the sun renders observations possible. In his opinion comets were bodies of regular periods, and which described ellipses, certainly very elongated, but in all respects similar to the planetary orbits.

Comets which have or seem, to have a common origin–Double comets–Systems of comets according to M. Hoek–Distribution of aphelia over the celestial vault; region of the heavens particularly rich in aphelia.

When, in accordance with the actual facts of science, we endeavour to form an idea of the constitution of the visible universe, we see that the celestial bodies which compose this whole are everywhere distributed into groups and associations united by the common bond of universal gravitation.

There are the planetary systems. In the centre of each group is a star or central sun, whose preponderating mass retains near him, circulating in regular orbits, other stars or planets, to which this central sun distributes heat and light. Our planetary system is the type of associations of this kind.

There are the stellar systems, groups of two, three, or more suns gravitating about one another, probably in accordance with the same laws. These systems are themselves the elements of greater associations, which, like the resolvable nebulas known under the name of stellar masses, are composed of myriads of suns. The Milky Way is one of the most splendid examples of these immense agglomerations.

In certain regions of the heavens the nebulae are themselves to all appearance grouped into systems, so that the general plan of the universe is one vast synthesis of associations of different orders encompassing each other without end.