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 Chapter 7
Problem 7.1

The following MATLAB script finds the quantization levels as (−5.1865, −4.2168, −2.3706, 0.7228, −0.4599,
1.5101, 3.2827, 5.1865).

% MATLAB script for Computer Problem 7.1.

echo on ;
a=[−10,−5,−4,−2,0,1,3,5,10];
for i=1:length(a)−1
y(i)=centroid(’normal’,a(i),a(i+1),0.001,0,1);
echo off ;
end

In this MATLAB script the MATLAB function centroid.m given next finds the centroid of a region.

function y=centroid(funfcn,a,b,tol,p1,p2,p3)
% CENTROID Finds the centroid of a function over a region.
% Y=CENTROID(’F’,A,B,TOL,P1,P2,P3) finds the centroid of the
% function F defined in an m-file on the [A,B] region. The
% function can contain up to three parameters, P1, P2, P3.
% tol=the relative error.

args=[ ];
for n=1:nargin−4
args=[args,’,p’,int2str(n)]; 10
end
args=[args,’)’];
funfcn1=’x_fnct’;
y1=eval([’quad(funfcn1,a,b,tol,[ ],funfcn’,args]);
y2=eval([’quad(funfcn,a,b,tol,[ ]’,args]);
y=y1/y2;

MATLAB functions xfunct.m and normal.m that arse used in centroid.m are given next

function y=x fnct(x,funfcn,p1,p2,p3)

% y=x fnct(x,funfcn,p1,p2,p3)
% Returns the function funfcn(x) times x

args=[ ];
for nn=1:nargin−2
args=[args,’,p’,int2str(nn)];
end
args=[args,’)’] ;
y=eval([funfcn,’(x’,args,’.*x’ ]); 10

function y=normal(x,m,s)

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% FUNCTION y=NORMAL(x,m,s)
% Gaussian distribution
% m=mean
% s=standard deviation
y=(1/sqrt(2*pi*sˆ2))*exp(−((x−m).ˆ2)/(2*sˆ2));

Problem 7.2
1) By the symmetry assumption the boundaries of the quantization regions are 0, ±1, ±2, ±3, ±4, and ±5.
2) The quantization regions are (−∞, −5], (−5, −4], (−4, −3], (−3, −2], (−2, −1], (−1, 0], (0, 1], (1, 2],
(2, 3], (3, 4], (4, 5], and (5, +∞).
3) The MATLAB function uq_dist.m is used to find the distortion of a uniform quantizer (it is assumed
that the quantization levels are set to the centroids of the quantization regions). uq_dist.m and the function
mse_dist.m called by uq_dist.m are given next

function [y,dist]=uq dist(funfcn,b,c,n,delta,s,tol,p1,p2,p3)

%UQ DIST returns the distortion of a uniform quantizer
% with quantization points set to the centroids
% [Y,DIST]=UQ DIST(FUNFCN,B,C,N,DELTA,S,TOL,P1,P2,P3)
% funfcn=source density function given in an m-file
% with at most three parameters, p1,p2,p3.
% [b,c]=The support of the source density function.
% n=number of levels.
% delta=level size.
% s=the leftmost quantization region boundary. 10
% p1,p2,p3=parameters of the input function.
% y=quantization levels.
% dist=distortion.
% tol=the relative error.

if (c−b<delta*(n−2))
error(’Too many levels for this range.’); return
end
if (s<b)
error(’The leftmost boundary too small.’); return 20
end
if (s+(n−2)*delta>c)
error(’The leftmost boundary too large.’); return
end
args=[ ];
for j=1:nargin−7
args=[args,’,p’,int2str(j)];
end
args=[args,’)’];
a(1)=b; 30
for i=2:n
a(i)=s+(i−2)*delta;
end
a(n+1)=c;
[y,dist]=eval([’mse_dist(funfcn,a,tol’,args]);

function [y,dist]=mse dist(funfcn,a,tol,p1,p2,p3)

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writing from the publisher.
%MSE DIST returns the mean-squared quantization error.
% [Y,DIST]=MSE DIST(FUNFCN,A,TOL,P1,P2,P3)
% funfcn=The distribution function given
% in an m-file. It can depend on up to three
% parameters, p1,p2,p3.
% a=the vector defining the boundaries of the
% quantization regions. (Note: [a(1),a(length(a))]
% is the support of funfcn.)
% p1,p2,p3=parameters of funfcn. 10
% tol=the relative error.

args=[ ];
for n=1:nargin−3
args=[args,’,p’,int2str(n)];
end
args=[args,’)’];
for i=1:length(a)−1
y(i)=eval([’centroid(funfcn,a(i),a(i+1),tol’,args]);
end 20
dist=0;
for i=1:length(a)−1
newfun = ’x_a2_fnct’ ;
dist=dist+eval([’quad(newfun,a(i),a(i+1),tol,[ ],funfcn,’, num2str(y(i)), args]);
end

In uq_dist.m function we can substitute b = −20, c = 20, 1 = 1, n = 12 , s = −5, tol = 0.001,

p1 = 0, and p2 = 2. Substituting these values into uq_dist.m, we obtain a squared error distortion
of 0.0851 and quantization values of ±0.4897, ±1.4691, ±2.4487, ±3.4286, ±4.4089, and ±5.6455.

Problem 7.3
In order to design a a Lloyd-Max quantizer, the m-file lloydmax.m given next is used

function [a,y,dist]=lloydmax(funfcn,b,n,tol,p1,p2,p3)
%LLOYDMAX returns the the Lloyd-Max quantizer and the mean-squared
% quantization error for a symmetric distribution
% [A,Y,DIST]=LLOYDMAX(FUNFCN,B,N,TOL,P1,P2,P3).
% funfcn=the density function given
% in an m-file. It can depend on up to three
% parameters, p1,p2,p3.
% a=the vector giving the boundaries of the
% quantization regions.
% [-b,b] approximates support of the density function. 10
% n=the number of quantization regions.
% y=the quantization levels.
% p1,p2,p3=parameters of funfcn.
% tol=the relative error.

args=[ ];
for j=1:nargin−4
args=[args,’,p’,int2str(j)];
end
args=[args,’)’]; 20
v=eval([’variance(funfcn,-b,b,tol’,args]);
a(1)=−b;

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writing from the publisher.
d=2*b/n;
for i=2:n
a(i)=a(i−1)+d;
end
a(n+1)=b;
dist=v;
[y,newdist]=eval([’mse_dist(funfcn,a,tol’,args]);
while(newdist<0.99*dist), 30
for i=2:n
a(i)=(y(i−1)+y(i))/2;
end
dist=newdist;
[y,newdist]=eval([’mse_dist(funfcn,a,tol’,args]);
end

1) Using b = 10, n = 10, tol = 0.01, p1 = 0, and p2 = 1 in lloydmax.m, we obtain the quantization
boundaries and quantization levels vectors a and y as

a = ±10, ±2.16, ±1.51, ±0.98, ±0.48, 0

y = ±2.52, ±1.78, ±1.22, ±0.72, ±0.24

2) The mean squared distortion is found (using lloydmax.m) to be 0.02.

Problem 7.4
The m-file u_pcm.m given next takes as its input a sequence of sampled values and the number of desired
quantization levels and finds the quantized sequence, the encoded sequence, and the resulting SQNR (in
decibels).

function [sqnr,a quan,code]=u pcm(a,n)

%U PCM uniform PCM encoding of a sequence
% [SQNR,A QUAN,CODE]=U PCM(A,N)
% a=input sequence.
% n=number of quantization levels (even).
% sqnr=output SQNR (in dB).
% a quan=quantized output before encoding.
% code=the encoded output.

amax=max(abs(a)); 10
a quan=a/amax;
b quan=a quan;
d=2/n;
q=d.*[0:n−1];
q=q−((n−1)/2)*d;
for i=1:n
a quan(find((q(i)−d/2 <= a quan) & (a quan <= q(i)+d/2)))=. . .
q(i).*ones(1,length(find((q(i)−d/2 <= a quan) & (a quan <= q(i)+d/2))));
b quan(find( a quan==q(i) ))=(i−1).*ones(1,length(find( a quan==q(i) )));
end 20
a quan=a quan*amax;
nu=ceil(log2(n));
code=zeros(length(a),nu);
for i=1:length(a)
for j=nu:−1:0

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writing from the publisher.
 1
8−level
0.8 16−level

0.6

amplitude 0.4

0.2

−0.2

−0.4

−0.6

−0.8

−1
0 2 4 6 8 10
t

Figure 119: Uniform PCM for a sinusoidal signal using 8 and 16 levels

if ( fix(b quan(i)/(2ˆj)) == 1)
code(i,(nu−j)) = 1;
b quan(i) = b quan(i) − 2ˆj;
end
end 30
end
sqnr=20*log10(norm(a)/norm(a−a quan));

1) We arbitrarily choose the duration of the signal to be 10 s. Then using the u_pcm.m m-file, we generate
the quantized signals for the two cases of 8 and 16 quantization levels. The plots are shown in Figure 119.
2) The resulting SQNRs are 18.8532 dB for the 8-level PCM and 25.1153 dB for the 16-level uniform PCM.
A MATLAB script for this problem is shown next.

% MATLAB script for Computer Problem 7.4.

echo on
t=[0:0.1:10];
a=sin(t);

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writing from the publisher.
 3

input sequence 1

−1

−2

−3
0 100 200 300 400 500
m

Figure 120: The plot of input sequence for 64 quantization levels

[sqnr8,aquan8,code8]=u pcm(a,8);
[sqnr16,aquan16,code16]=u pcm(a,16);
pause % Press a key to see the SQNR for N = 8.
sqnr8
pause % Press a key to see the SQNR for N = 16.
sqnr16 10
pause % Press a key to see the plot of the signal and its quantized versions.
plot(t,a,’-’,t,aquan8,’-.’,t,aquan16,’-’,t,zeros(1,length(t)))

Problem 7.5
1) The plot of 500 point sequence is given in Figure 120
2) Using the MATLAB function u_pcm.m given in Computer Problem 7.4, we find the SQNR for the 64-level
quantizer to be 31.66 dB.
3) Again by using the MATLAB function u_pcm.m, the first five values of the sequence, the corresponding
quantized values, and the corresponding PCM codewords are given as

148

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as they currently exist. No portion of this material may be reproduced, in any form or by any means, without permission in
writing from the publisher.
 0.05

0.04

0.03
quantization error
0.02

0.01

−0.01

−0.02

−0.03

−0.04

−0.05
0 100 200 300 400 500
m

Figure 121: Quantization error in uniform PCM for 64 quantization levels

Input = [−0.4326, −1.6656, 0.1253, 0.2877, −1.1465] (20)

Quantized values = [−0.4331, −1.6931, 0.1181, 0.2756, −1.1419] (21)


 0 1 1 0 1 0
 0 0 1 0 1 0


Codewords = 1 0 0 0 0 1 (22)
1 0 0 0 1 1




0 1 0 0 0 1


4) Plot of the quantization error is shown in Figure 121

Problem 7.6
1) This question is solved by using the m-file mula_pcm.m, which is the equivalent of the m-file u_pcm.m
when using a µlaw PCM scheme. This file is given next

function [sqnr,a quan,code]=mula pcm(a,n,mu)

%MULA PCM mu-law PCM encoding of a sequence
% [SQNR,A QUAN,CODE]=MULA PCM(A,N,MU).

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as they currently exist. No portion of this material may be reproduced, in any form or by any means, without permission in
writing from the publisher.
% a=input sequence.
% n=number of quantization levels (even).
% sqnr=output SQNR (in dB).
% a quan=quantized output before encoding.
% code=the encoded output.

[y,maximum]=mulaw(a,mu); 10
[sqnr,y q,code]=u pcm(y,n);
a quan=invmulaw(y q,mu);
a quan=maximum*a quan;
sqnr=20*log10(norm(a)/norm(a−a quan));

The two m-files mulaw.m and invmulaw.m given below implement µ-law nonlinearity and its inverse.
signum.m function that finds the signum of a vector is also given next.

function [y,a]=mulaw(x,mu)
%MULAW mu-law nonlinearity for nonuniform PCM
% Y=MULAW(X,MU).
% X=input vector.

a=max(abs(x));
y=(log(1+mu*abs(x/a))./log(1+mu)).*signum(x);

function x=invmulaw(y,mu)
%INVMULAW the inverse of mu-law nonlinearity
%X=INVMULAW(Y,MU) Y=normalized output of the mu-law nonlinearity.

x=(((1+mu).ˆ(abs(y))−1)./mu).*signum(y);

function y=signum(x)
%SIGNUM finds the signum of a vector.
% Y=SIGNUM(X)
% X=input vector

y=x;
y(find(x>0))=ones(size(find(x>0)));
y(find(x<0))=−ones(size(find(x<0)));
y(find(x==0))=zeros(size(find(x==0)));
10

Let the vector a be the vector of length 500 generated according to N (0, 1); that is, let

a = randn(1, 500)

Then by using
[dist,a_quan,code] = mula_pcm(a, 16, 255)
we can obtain the quantized sequence and the SQNR for a 16-level quantization. Plots of the input–output
relation for the quantizer and the quantization error are given in Figures 122, 123, and 124.

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writing from the publisher.
 0.8

0.6

0.4

0.2
quantization error

−0.2

−0.4

−0.6

−0.8

−1
0 100 200 300 400 500
m

2.5

1.5

1
quantizer output

0.5

−0.5

−1

−1.5

−2

−2.5
−3 −2 −1 1510 1 2 3
quantizer input

Figure 122: Quantization error and quantizer input–output relation for a 16-level µ-law PCM

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as they currently exist. No portion of this material may be reproduced, in any form or by any means, without permission in
writing from the publisher.
 0.3

0.2

quantization error 0.1

−0.1

−0.2

−0.3

−0.4
0 100 200 300 400 500
m

1
quantizer output

−1

−2

−3
−3 −2 −1 1520 1 2 3
quantizer input

Figure 123: Quantization error and quantizer input–output relation for a 64-level µ-law PCM

© 2007 Pearson Education, Inc., Upper Saddle River, NJ. All rights reserved. This material is protected under all copyright laws
as they currently exist. No portion of this material may be reproduced, in any form or by any means, without permission in
writing from the publisher.
 0.15

0.1

quantization error 0.05

−0.05

−0.1

−0.15

−0.2
0 100 200 300 400 500
m

1
quantizer output

−1

−2

−3
−3 −2 −1 1530 1 2 3
quantizer input

Figure 124: Quantization error and quantizer input–output relation for a 128-level µ-law PCM

© 2007 Pearson Education, Inc., Upper Saddle River, NJ. All rights reserved. This material is protected under all copyright laws
as they currently exist. No portion of this material may be reproduced, in any form or by any means, without permission in
writing from the publisher.
Using mula_perm.m, the SQNR is found to be 13.96 dB. For the case of 64 levels we obtain SQNR = 26.30
dB, and for 128 levels we have SQNR = 31.49 dB.

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Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
group, while Saturn, Uranus and Neptune have smaller retinues.
There can be no question that a comet of first-class splendour, such
as that of 1811, that of 1858, or that of 1861, is one of the most
impressive spectacles that the heavens have to offer. Unfortunately it
is one which the present generation, at least in the northern
hemisphere, has had but little opportunity of witnessing. Chambers
notices 'that it may be taken as a fact that a bright and conspicuous
comet comes about once in ten years, and a very remarkable comet
once every thirty years;' and adds, 'tested then by either standard of
words "bright and conspicuous," or "specially celebrated," it may be
affirmed that a good comet is now due.' It is eleven years since that
hopeful anticipation was penned, and we are still waiting, not only
for the 'specially celebrated,' but even for the 'bright and
conspicuous' comet; so that on the whole we may be said to have a
grievance. Still, there is no saying when the grievance may be
removed, as comets have a knack of being unexpected in their
developments; and it may be that some unconsidered little patch of
haze is even now drawing in from the depths which may yet develop
into a portent as wonderful as those that astonished the generation
before us in 1858 and 1861.

The multitude of comets is, in all probability, enormous. Between the

beginning of the Christian era and 1888 the number recorded was,
according to Chambers, 850; but the real number for that period
must have been indefinitely greater, as, for upwards of 1600 out of
the 1888 years, only those comets which were visible to the naked
eye could have been recorded—a very small proportion of the whole.
The period 1801 to 1888 shows 270, so that in less than one century
there has been recorded almost one-third of the total for nineteen
centuries. At present no year goes by without the discovery of
several comets; but very few of them become at all conspicuous. For
example, in 1904, six comets were seen—three of these being
returns of comets previously observed, and three new discoveries;
but none of these proved at all notable objects in the ordinary sense,
though Comet 1904 (a), discovered by Brooks, was pretty generally
observed.
It would serve no useful purpose to repeat here the stories of any of
the great comets. These may be found in considerable detail in such
volumes as Chambers's 'Handbook of Astronomy,' vol. i., or Miss
Agnes Clerke's 'History of Astronomy.' Attention must rather be
turned to the question, 'What are comets?' It is a question to which
no answer of a satisfactory character could be given till within the
last fifty years. Even the great comet of 1858, the Donati, which
made so deep an impression on the public mind, and was so closely
followed and studied by astronomers, was not the medium of any
great advance in the knowledge of cometary nature. The many
memoirs which it elicited disclosed nothing fundamentally new, and
broke out no new lines of inquiry. Two things have since then
revolutionized the study of the subject—the application of the
spectroscope to the various comets that have appeared in the
closing years of the nineteenth century, and the discovery of the
intimate connection between comets and meteors.

It was in 1864, a year further made memorable astronomically by Sir

William Huggins's discovery of the gaseous nature of some of the
nebulæ, that the spectroscope was first applied to the study of a
comet. The celestial visitor thus put to the question, a comet
discovered by Tempel, was in nowise a distinguished object,
appearing like a star of the second magnitude, or less, with a feeble
though fairly long tail. When analyzed by Donati, it was found to
yield a spectrum consisting of three bright bands, yellow, green, and
blue, separated by dark spaces. This observation at once modified
ideas as to cometary structure. Hitherto it had been supposed that
comets shone by reflected light; but Donati's observation revealed
beyond question that the light of the 1864 comet at all events was
inherent, and that, so far as the observation went, the comet
consisted of glowing gas.
 PLATE XXV.

Great Comet. Photographed May 5, 1901, with the 13-

inch Astrographic Refractor of the Royal Observatory,
Cape of Good Hope.

In 1868 Sir William Huggins carried the matter one step further by
showing that the spectrum of Winnecke's comet of that year agreed
with that of olefiant gas rendered luminous by electricity; and the
presence of the hydrocarbon spectrum has since been detected in a
large number of comets. The first really brilliant comet to be
analyzed by the spectroscope was Coggia's (1874), and it presented
not only the three bright bands that had been already seen, but the
whole range of five bands characteristic of the hydrocarbon
spectrum. In certain cases, however—notably, that of Holmes's
comet of 1892 and that of the great southern comet of 1901 (Plate
XXV.)—the spectrum has not exhibited the usual bright band type,
but has instead shown merely a continuous ribbon of colour. From
these analyses certain facts emerge. First, that the gaseous
surroundings of comets consist mainly of hydrogen and carbon, and
that in all probability their luminosity is due, not to mere solar heat,
but to the effect of some electric process acting upon them during
their approach to the sun; and second, that, along with these
indications of the presence of luminous hydrocarbon compounds,
there is also evidence of the existence of solid particles, mainly in
the nucleus, but also to some extent in the rest of the comet, which
shine by reflected sunlight. It is further almost certain, from the
observation by Elkin and Finlay of the beginning of the transit of
Comet 1882 (iii.) across the sun's face, that this solid matter is not in
any sense a solid mass. The comet referred to disappeared
absolutely as soon as it began to pass the sun's edge. Had it been a
solid mass or even a closely compacted collection of small bodies it
would have appeared as a black spot upon the solar surface. The
conclusion, then, is obvious that the solid matter must be very thinly
and widely spread, while its individual particles may have any size
from that of grains of sand up to that of the large meteoric bodies
which sometimes reach our earth.

Thus the state of the case as regards the constitution of comets is,
roughly speaking, this: They consist of a nucleus of solid matter,
held together, but with a very slack bond, by the power of
gravitation. From this nucleus, as the comet approaches perihelion,
the electric action of the sun, working in a manner at present
unknown, drives off volumes of luminous gas, which form the tail;
and in some comets the waves of this vapour have been actually
seen rising slowly in successive pulses from the nucleus, and then
being driven backwards much as the smoke of a steamer is driven. It
has been found also by investigation of Comet Wells 1882 and the
Great Comet of 1882 that in some at least of these bodies sodium
and iron are present.

The question next arises, What becomes of comets in the end?

Kepler long ago asserted his belief that they perished, as silkworms
perish by spinning their own thread, exhausting themselves by the
very efforts of tail-production which render them sometimes so
brilliant to observation; and this seems to be pretty much the case.
Thus Halley's comet, which was once so brilliant and excited so
much attention, was at its last visit a very inconspicuous object
indeed. At its apparition in 1845-1846 Biela's comet was found to
have split into two separate bodies, which were found at their return
in 1852 to have parted company widely. Since that year it has never
been observed again in the form of a comet, though, as we shall
see, it has presented itself in a different guise. The same fate has
overtaken the comets of De Vico (1844), and Brorsen (1846). The
former should have returned in 1850, but failed to keep its
appointment; and the latter, after having established a character for
regularity by returning to observation on four occasions, failed to
appear in 1890, and has never since been seen.

The mystery of such disappearances has been at least partially

dispelled by the discovery, due to Schiaparelli and other workers in
the same field, that various prominent meteor-showers travel in
orbits precisely the same as those of certain comets. Thus the
shower of meteors which takes place with greater or less brilliancy
every year from a point in the constellation Perseus has been proved
to follow the orbit of the bright comet of 1862; while the great
periodic shower of the Leonids follows the track of the comet of
1866; the orbit of the star-shower of April 20—the Lyrids—
corresponds with that of a comet seen in 1861; and the
disappearance of Biela's comet appears to be accounted for by the
other November shower whose radiant point is in the constellation
Andromeda. In fact, the state of the matter is well summed up by
Kirkwood's question: 'May not our periodic meteors be the débris of
ancient but now disintegrated comets, whose matter has become
distributed round their orbits?' The loosely compacted mass which
forms the nucleus of the comet appears to gradually lose its
cohesion under the force of solar tidal action, and its fragments
come to revolve independently in their orbit, for a time in a loosely
gathered swarm, and then gradually, as the laggards drop behind, in
the form of a complete ring of meteoric bodies, which are distributed
over the whole orbit. The Leonid shower is in the first condition, or,
rather, was when it was last seen, for it seems to be now lost to us;
the Perseid shower is in the second. The shower of the Andromedes
has since confirmed its identity with the lost comet of Biela by
displays in 1872, 1885, and 1892, at the seasons when that comet
should have returned to the neighbourhood of the sun. It appears to
be experiencing the usual fate of such showers, and becoming more
widely distributed round its orbit, and the return in 1905 was very
disappointing, the reason apparently being that the dense group in
close attendance on the comet has suffered disturbance from Jupiter
and Saturn, and now passes more than a million miles outside the
earth's orbit.

In 1843 there appeared one of the most remarkable of recorded

comets. It was not only of conspicuous brilliancy and size, though its
tail at one stage reached the enormous length of 200,000,000 miles,
but was remarkable for the extraordinarily close approach which it
made to the sun. Its centre came as near to the sun as 78,000
miles, leaving no more than 32,000 miles between the surfaces of
the two bodies; it must, therefore, have passed clear through the
corona, and very probably through some of the prominences. Its
enormous tail was whirled, or rather appeared to be whirled, right
round the sun in a little over two hours, thus affording conclusive
proof that the tail of a comet cannot possibly be an appendage, but
must consist of perpetually renewed emanations from the nucleus.
But in addition to these wonders, the comet of 1843 proved the
precursor of a series of fine comets travelling in orbits which were
practically identical. The great southern comet of 1880 proved, when
its orbit had been computed, to follow a path almost exactly the
same as that of its predecessor of thirty-seven years before. It
seemed inconceivable that a body so remarkable as the 1843 comet
should have a period of only thirty-seven years, and yet never
previously have attracted attention. Before the question had been
fairly discussed, it was accentuated by the discovery, in 1881, of a
comet whose orbit was almost indistinguishable from that of the
comet of 1807. But the 1807 comet was not due to return till A.D.
3346. Further, the comet of 1881 proved to have a period, not of
seventy-four years, as would have been the case had it been a
return of that of 1807, but of 2,429 years. The only possible
conclusion was that here were two comets which were really
fragments of one great comet which had suffered disruption, as
Biela's comet visibly did, and that one fragment followed in the
other's wake with an interval of seventy-four years.

Meanwhile, the question of the 1843 and 1880 comets was still
unsettled, and it received a fresh complication by the appearance of
the remarkable comet of 1882, whose transit of the sun has been
already alluded to, for the orbit of this new body proved to be a
reproduction, almost, but not quite exact, of those of the previous
two. Astronomers were at a greater loss than ever, for if this were a
return of the 1880 comet, then the conclusion followed that
something was so influencing its orbit as to have shortened its
period from thirty-seven to two years. The idea of the existence of
some medium round the sun, capable of resisting bodies which
passed through it, and thus causing them to draw closer to their
centre of attraction and shortening their periods, was now revived,
and it seemed as though, at its next return, this wonderful visitant
must make the final plunge into the photosphere, with what
consequences none could foretell. These forebodings proved to be
quite baseless. The comet passed so close to the sun (within
300,000 miles of his surface), that it must have been sensibly
retarded at its passage by the resisting medium, had such a thing
existed; but not the slightest retardation was discernible. The comet
suffered no check in its plunge through the solar surroundings, and
consequently the theory of the resisting medium may be said to
have received its quietus.
Computation showed that the 1882 comet followed nearly the same
orbit as its predecessors; and thus we are faced by the fact of
families of comets, travelling in orbits that are practically identical,
and succeeding one another at longer or shorter intervals. The idea
that these families have each sprung from the disruption of some
much larger body seems to be most probable, and it appears to be
confirmed by the fact that in the 1882 comet the process of further
disruption was actually witnessed. Schmidt of Athens detected one
small offshoot of the great comet, which remained visible for several
days. Barnard a few days later saw at least six small nebulous bodies
close to their parent, and a little later Brooks observed another.
'Thus,' as Miss Agnes Clerke remarks, 'space appeared to be strewn
with the filmy débris of this beautiful but fragile structure all along
the track of its retreat from the sun.'

The state of our knowledge with regard to comets may be roughly

summed up. We have extreme tenuity in the whole body, even the
nucleus being apparently not solid, but a comparatively loose swarm
of solid particles. The nucleus, in all likelihood, shines by reflected
sunlight—in part, at all events. The nebulous surroundings and tail
are produced by solar action upon the matter of which the comet is
composed, this action being almost certainly electrical, though heat
may play some part in it. The nebulous matter appears to proceed in
waves from the nucleus, and to be swept backward along the
comet's track by some repellent force, probably electrical, exerted by
the sun. This part of the comet's structure consists mainly of self-
luminous gases, generally of the hydrocarbon type, though sodium
and iron have also been traced. Comets, certainly in many cases,
probably in all, suffer gradual degradation into swarms of meteors.
The existence of groups of comets, each group probably the
outcome of the disruption of a much larger body, is demonstrated by
the fact of successive comets travelling in almost identically similar
orbits. Finally, comets are all connected with the solar system, so far,
at least, that they accompany that system in its journey of
400,000,000 miles a year through space. Our system does not, as it
were, pick up the comets as it sweeps along upon its great journey;
it carries them along with it.

A few words may be added as to cometary observation. It is scarcely

likely that any very great number of amateur observers will ever be
attracted by the branch of comet-hunting. The work is somewhat
monotonous and laborious, and seems to require special aptitudes,
and, above all, an enormous endowment of patience. Probably the
true comet-hunter, like the poet, is born, not made; and it is not
likely that there are, nor desirable that there should be, many
individuals of the type of Messier, the 'comet-ferret.' 'Messier,' writes
a contemporary, 'is at all events a very good man, and simple as a
child. He lost his wife some years ago, and his attendance upon her
death-bed prevented his being the discoverer of a comet for which
he had been lying in wait, and which was snatched from him by
Montaigne de Limoges. This made him desperate. A visitor began to
offer him consolation for his recent bereavement, when Messier,
thinking only of the comet, answered, "I had discovered twelve;
alas! to be robbed of the thirteenth by that Montaigne!" and his eyes
filled with tears. Then, recollecting that it was necessary to deplore
his wife, he exclaimed, "Ah! cette pauvre femme!" and again wept
for his comet.' In addition to the fact that few have reached such a
degree of scientific detachment as to put a higher value upon a
comet than upon the nearest of relatives, there is the further fact
that the future of cometary discovery, and of the record of cometary
change seems to lie almost entirely with photography, which is
wonderfully adapted for the work (Plate XXVI.).
 PLATE XXVI.

1 2

Photographs of Swift's Comet. By Professor E.

E. Barnard.

1. Taken April 4, 1892; exposure 1 hour. 2.

Taken April 6, 1892; exposure 1 hour 5 minutes.

Anyone who desires to become a comet-hunter must, in addition to

the possession of the supreme requisites, patience and
perseverance, provide himself with an instrument of at least 4 inches
aperture, together with a good and comprehensive set of star-charts
and the New General Catalogue of nebulæ with the additions which
have been made to it. The reason for this latter item of equipment is
the fact that many telescopic comets are scarcely to be distinguished
from nebulæ, and that an accurate knowledge of the nebulous
objects in the regions to be searched for comets, or at least a means
of quickly identifying such objects, is therefore indispensable. The
portions of the heavens which afford the most likely fields for
discovery will naturally be those in the vicinity of where the sun has
set at evening, or where he is about to rise in the early morning, all
comets having of necessity to approach the sun more or less closely
at their perihelion passage. Other parts of the heavens should not be
neglected; but these are the most likely neighbourhoods.

Most of us, however, will be content to discover our comets in the

columns of the daily newspaper, or by means of a post-card from
some obliging friend. The intimation, in whatever way received, will
generally contain the position of the comet at a certain date, given
in right ascension and declination, and either a statement of its
apparent daily motion, or else a provisional set of places for several
days ahead. Having either of these, the comet's position must be
marked down on the star-map, and the course which it is likely to
pursue must be traced out in pencil by means of the data—a
perfectly simple matter of marking down the position for each day
by its celestial longitude and latitude as given. The observer will next
note carefully the alignment of the comet with the most conspicuous
stars in the neighbourhood of the particular position for the day of
his observation; and, guiding his telescope by means of these, will
point it as nearly as possible to that position. He may be lucky
enough to hit upon his object at once, especially if it be a
comparatively bright one. More probably, he will have to 'sweep' for
it. In this case the telescope must be pointed some little distance
below and to one side of the probable position of the comet, and
moved slowly and gently along, careful watch being kept upon the
objects which pass through the field, until a similar distance on the
opposite side of the position has been reached. Then raise the
instrument by not more than half a field's breadth, estimating this by
the stars in the field, and repeat the process in the opposite
direction, going on until the comet appears in the field, or until it is
obvious that it has been missed. A low power should be used at first,
which may be changed for a somewhat higher one when the object
has been found. But in no case will the use of really high magnifiers
be found advisable. It is, of course, simply impossible with the tail,
for which the naked eye is the best instrument, nor can the coma
bear any degree of magnification, though occasionally the nucleus
may be sufficiently sharply defined to bear moderate powers. The
structure of the latter should be carefully observed, with particular
attention to the question of whether any change can be seen in it, or
whether there seem any tendency to such a multiplication of nuclei
as characterized the great comet of 1882. It is possible that the
pulses of vapour sunwards from the nucleus may also be observed.

Appearance of motion, wavy or otherwise, in the tail, should also be

looked for, and carefully watched if seen. Beyond this there is not
very much that the ordinary observer can do; the determination of
positions requires more elaborate appliances, and the spectroscope
is necessary for any study of cometary constitution. It only remains
to express a wish for the speedy advent of a worthy subject for
operations.

We turn now to those bodies which, as has been pointed out, appear
to be the débris of comets which have exhausted their cometary
destiny, and ceased to have a corporate existence. Everyone is
familiar with the phenomenon known as a meteor, or shooting-star,
and there are few clear nights on which an observer who is much in
the open will not see one or more of these bodies. Generally they
become visible in the form of a bright point of light which traverses
in a straight line a longer or shorter path across the heavens, and
then vanishes, sometimes leaving behind it for a second or two a
faintly luminous train. The shooting-stars are of all degrees of
brightness, from the extremely faint streaks which sometimes flash
across the field of the telescope, up to brilliant objects, brighter than
any of the planets or fixed stars, and sometimes lighting up the
whole landscape with a light like that of the full moon.

The prevailing opinion, down to a comparatively late date, was that

shooting-stars were mere exhalations in the earth's atmosphere,
arising as one author expressed it, 'from the fermentation of acid
and alkaline bodies, which float in the atmosphere'; and it was also
suggested by eminent astronomers that they were the products of
terrestrial volcanoes, returning, after long wanderings, to their native
home.

The true study of meteoric astronomy may be said to date from the
year 1833, when a shower of most extraordinary splendour was
witnessed. The magnificence of this display was the means of
turning greater attention to the subject; and it was observed as a
fact, though the importance of the observation was scarcely realized,
that the meteors all appeared to come from nearly the one point in
the constellation Leo. The fact of there being a single radiant point
implied that the meteors were all moving in parallel lines, and had
entered our atmosphere from a vast distance. Humboldt, who had
witnessed a previous appearance of this shower in 1799, suggested
that it might be a periodic phenomenon; and his suggestion was
amply confirmed when in 1866 the shower made its appearance
again in scarcely diminished splendour. Gradually other showers
came to be recognised, and their radiant points fixed; and meteoric
astronomy began to be established upon a scientific basis.

In 1866 Schiaparelli announced that the shower which radiates in

August from the constellation Perseus follows the same track as that
of Swift's comet (1862 iii.); and in the following year the great
November shower from Leo, already alluded to, was proved to have
a similar connection with Tempel's comet (1866 i.). The shower
which comes from the constellation Lyra, about April 20, describes
the same orbit as that of Comet 1861 i.; while, as already
mentioned, the mysterious disappearance of Biela's comet received a
reasonable explanation by its association with the other great
November shower—that which radiates from the constellation
Andromeda. With regard to the last-named shower, it has not only
been shown that the meteors are associated with Biela's comet, but
also that they separated from it subsequent to 1841, in which year
the comet's orbit was modified by perturbations from Jupiter. The
Andromeda meteors follow the modified orbit, and hence must have
been in close association with the comet when the perturbation was
exercised.

The four outstanding meteor radiants are those named, but there
are very many others. Mr. Denning, to whom this branch of science
owes so much, estimates the number of distinct radiants known at
about 4,400; and it seems likely that every one of these showers,
some of them, of course very feeble, represents some comet
deceased. The history of a meteor shower would appear to be
something like this: When the comet, whose executor it is, has but
recently deceased, it will appear as a very brilliant periodic shower,
occurring on only one or two nights exactly at the point where the
comet in its journeying would have crossed the earth's track, and
appearing only at the time when the comet itself would have been
there. Gradually the meteors get more and more tailed out along the
orbit, as runners of unequal staying powers get strung out over a
track in a long race, until the displays may be repeated, with
somewhat diminished splendour, year after year for several years
before and after the time when the parent comet is due. At last they
get thinly spread out over the whole orbit, and the shower becomes
an annual one, happening each year when the earth crosses the
orbit of the comet. This has already happened to the Perseid
shower; at least 500,000,000 miles of the orbit of Biela's comet are
studded with representatives of the Andromedes; and the Leonid
shower had already begun to show symptoms of the same process
at its appearance in 1866. Readers will remember the
disappointment caused by the failure of the Leonid shower to come
up to time in 1899, and it seems probable that the action of some
perturbing cause has so altered the orbit of this shower that it now
passes almost clear of the earth's path, so that we shall not have the
opportunity of witnessing another great display of the Leonid
meteors.

So far as is known, no member of one of these great showers has

ever fallen to the earth. There are two possible exceptions to this
statement, as in 1095 a meteor fell to the ground during the
progress of a shower of Lyrids, and in 1885 another fell during a
display of the Andromedes. In neither case, however, was the
radiant point noted, and unless it was the same as that of the
shower the fall of the meteor was a mere coincidence. It seems
probable that this is the case, and the absence of any evidence that
a specimen from a cometary shower has reached the earth points to
the extreme smallness of the various members of the shower and
also to the fine division of the matter of the original comet.

In addition to the meteors originating from systematic showers,

there are also to be noted frequent and sometimes very brilliant
single meteors. Specimens of these have in many instances been
obtained. They fall into three classes—'Those in which iron is found
in considerable amount are termed siderites; those containing an
admixture of iron and stone, siderolites; and those consisting almost
entirely of stone are known as aerolites' (Denning). The mass of
some of these bodies is very considerable. Swords have been forged
out of their iron, one of which is in the possession of President Diaz
of Mexico, while diamonds have been found in meteoric irons which
fell in Arizona. It may be interesting to know that, according to a
grave decision of the American courts, a meteor is 'real estate,' and
belongs to the person on whose ground it has fallen; the alternative
—that it is 'wild game,' and the property of its captor—having been
rejected by the court. So far as I am aware, the legal status of these
interesting flying creatures has not yet been determined in Britain.

The department of meteoric astronomy is one in which useful work

can be done with the minimum of appliances. The chief requisites
are a good set of star-maps, a sound knowledge of the
constellations, a straight wand, and, above all, patience. The student
must make himself familiar with the constellations (a pleasant task,
which should be part of everyone's education), so that when a
meteor crosses his field of view he may be able to identify at once
with an approach to accuracy its points of appearance and
disappearance. It is here that the straight wand comes into play. Mr.
Denning advises the use of it as a means of guiding the eye. It is
held so as to coincide with the path of the meteor just seen, and will
thus help the eye to estimate the position and slope of the track
relatively to the stars of the constellations which it has crossed. This
track should be marked as quickly as possible on the charts. Mere
descriptions of the appearance of meteors, however beautiful, are
quite valueless. It is very interesting to be told that a meteor when
first seen was 'of the size and colour of an orange,' but later 'of the
apparent size of the full moon, and surrounded by a mass of glowing
vapour which further increased its size to that of the head of a flour-
barrel'; but the description is scarcely marked by sufficient precision
of statement for scientific purposes. The observer must note certain
definite points, of which the following is a summary: (1) Date, hour,
and minute of appearance. (2) Brightness, compared with some
well-known star, planet, or, if exceptionally bright, with the moon.
(3) Right ascension and declination of point of first appearance. (4)
The same of point of disappearance. (5) Length of track. (6)
Duration of visibility. (7) Colour, presence of streak or train, and any
other notable features. (8) Radiant point.

When these have been given with a reasonable approach to

accuracy, the observer has done his best to provide a real, though
small, contribution to the sum of human knowledge; nor is the
determination of these points so difficult as would at first appear
from their number. The fixing of the points of appearance and
disappearance and of the radiant will present a little difficulty to start
with; but in this, as in all other matters, practice will bring efficiency.
It may be mentioned that the efforts of those who take up this
subject would be greatly increased in usefulness by their establishing
a connection with the Meteor Section of the British Astronomical
Association.

One curious anomaly has been established by Mr. Denning's patient

labour—the existence, namely, of what are termed 'stationary
radiants.' It is obvious that if meteors have the cometary connection
already indicated, their radiant point should never remain fixed; as
the showers move onwards in their orbit they should leave the
original radiant behind. Mr. Denning has conclusively proved,
however, that there are showers which do not follow the rule in this
respect, but proceed from a radiant which remains the same night
after night, some feeble showers maintaining the same radiant for
several months. It is not easy to see how this fact is to be reconciled
with the theory of cometary origin; but the fact itself is undeniable.
 CHAPTER XIV
THE STARRY HEAVENS

We now leave the bounds of our own system, and pass outwards
towards the almost infinite spaces and multitudes of the fixed stars.
In doing so we are at once confronted with a wealth and profusion
of beauty and a vastness of scale which are almost overwhelming.
Hitherto we have been dealing almost exclusively with bodies which,
though sometimes considerably larger than our world, were yet, with
the exception of the sun, of the same class and comparable with it;
and with distances which, though very great indeed, were still not
absolutely beyond the power of apprehension. But now all former
scales and standards have to be left behind, for even the vast orbit
of Neptune, 5,600,000,000 of miles in diameter, shrinks into a point
when compared with the smallest of the stellar distances. Even our
unit of measurement has to be changed, for miles, though counted
in hundreds of millions, are inadequate; and, accordingly, the unit in
which our distance from the stars is expressed is the 'light year,' or
the distance travelled by a ray of light in a year.

Light travels at the rate of about 186,000 miles a second, and

therefore leaps the great gulf between our earth and the sun in
about eight minutes. But even the nearest of the fixed stars—Alpha
Centauri, a star of the first magnitude in the Southern Hemisphere—
is so incredibly distant that light takes four years and four months to
travel to us from it; while the next nearest, a small star in Ursa
Major, is about seven light-years distant, and the star 61 of the
constellation Cygnus, the first northern star whose distance was
measured, is separated from us by two years more still.

At present the distances of about 100 stars are known

approximately; but it must be remembered that the approximation is
a somewhat rough one. The late Mr. Cowper Ranyard once remarked
of measures of star-distances that they would be considered rough
by a cook who was in the habit of measuring her salt by the cupful
and her pepper by the pinch. And the remark has some truth—not
because of any carelessness in the measurements, for they are the
results of the most minute and scrupulous work with the most
refined instrumental means that modern skill can devise and
construct—but because the quantities to be measured are almost
infinitely small.

It is at present considered that the average distance from the earth

of stars of the first magnitude is thirty-three light years, that of stars
of the second fifty-two, and of the third eighty-two. In other words,
when we look at such stars on any particular evening, we are seeing
them, not as they are at the moment of observation, but as they
were thirty-three, fifty-two, or eighty-two years ago, when the rays
of light which render them visible to us started on their almost
inconceivable journey. The fact of the average distance of first-
magnitude stars being less than that of second, and that of second
in turn less than that of third, is not to be held as implying that there
are not comparatively small stars nearer to us than some very bright
ones. Several insignificant stars are considerably nearer to us than
some of the most brilliant objects in the heavens—e.g., 61 Cygni,
which is of magnitude 4·8, is almost infinitely nearer to us than the
very brilliant first magnitude star Rigel in Orion. The rule holds only
on the average.

The number of the stars is not less amazing than their distance. It is
true that the number visible to the unaided eye is not by any means
so great as might be imagined on a casual survey. On a clear night
the eye receives the impression that the multitude of stars is so
great as to be utterly beyond counting; but this is not the case. The
naked-eye, or 'lucid,' stars have frequently been counted, and it has
been found that the number visible to a good average eye in both
hemispheres together is about 6,000. This would give for each
hemisphere 3,000, and making allowance for those lost to sight in
the denser air near the horizon, or invisible by reason of restricted
horizon, it is probable that the number of stars visible at any one
time to any single observer in either hemisphere does not exceed
2,500. In fact Pickering estimates the total number visible, down to
and including the sixth magnitude, to be only 2,509 for the Northern
Hemisphere, and on that basis it may safely be assumed that 2,000
would be the extreme limit for the average eye.

PLATE XXVII.
 Region of the Milky Way in Sagittarius.
Photographed by Professor E. E. Barnard.

But this somewhat disappointing result is more than atoned for

when the telescope is called in and the true richness of the heavenly
host begins to appear. Let us take for illustration a familiar group of
stars—the Pleiades. The number of stars visible to an ordinary eye in
this little group is six; keen-sighted people see eleven, or even
fourteen. A small telescope converts the Pleiades into a brilliant
array of luminous points to be counted not by units but by scores,
while the plates taken with a modern photographic telescope of 13
inches aperture show 2,326 stars. The Pleiades, of course, are a
somewhat notable group; but those who have seen any of the
beautiful photographs of the heavens, now so common, will know
that in many parts of the sky even this great increase in number is
considerably exceeded; and that for every star the eye sees in such
regions a moderate telescope will show 1,000, and a great
instrument perhaps 10,000. It is extremely probable that the number
of stars visible with the largest telescopes at present in use would
not be overstated at 100,000,000 (Plate XXVII.).

It is evident, on the most casual glance at the sky, that in the words
of Scripture, 'One star differeth from another star in glory.' There are
stars of every degree of brilliancy, from the sparkling white lustre of
Sirius or Vega, down to the dim glimmer of those stars which are
just on the edge of visibility, and are blotted out by the faintest wisp
of haze. Accordingly, the stars have been divided into 'magnitudes' in
terms of scales which, though arbitrary, are yet found to be of
general convenience. Stars of the first six magnitudes come under
the title of 'lucid' stars; below the sixth we come to the telescopic
stars, none of which are visible to the naked eye, and which range
down to the very last degree of faintness. Of stars of the first
magnitude there are recognised about twenty, more or less. By far
the brightest star visible to us in the Northern Hemisphere, though it
is really below the Equator, is Sirius, whose brightness exceeds by no
fewer than fourteen and a half times that of Regulus, the twentieth
star on the list. The next brightest stars, Canopus and Alpha
Centauri, are also Southern stars, and are not visible to us in middle
latitudes. The three brightest of our truly Northern stars, Vega,
Capella, and Arcturus, come immediately after Alpha Centauri, and
opinions are much divided as to their relative brightness, their
diversity in colour and in situation rendering a comparison somewhat
difficult. The other conspicuous stars of the first magnitude visible in
our latitudes are, in order of brightness, Rigel, Procyon, Altair,
Betelgeux, Aldebaran, Pollux, Spica Virginis, Antares, Fomalhaut,
Arided (Alpha Cygni), and Regulus, the well-known double star
Castor following not far behind Regulus. The second magnitude
embraces, according to Argelander, 65 stars; the third, 190; fourth,
425; fifth, 1,100; sixth, 3,200; while for the ninth magnitude the
number leaps up to 142,000. It is thus seen that the number of stars
increases with enormous rapidity as the smaller magnitudes come
into question, and, according to Newcomb, there is no evidence of
any falling off in the ratio of increase up to the tenth magnitude. In
the smaller magnitudes, however, the ratio of increase does not
maintain itself. The number of the stars, though very great, is not
infinite.

A further fact which quickly becomes apparent to the naked eye is

that the stars are not all of the same colour. Sirius, for example, is of
a brilliant white, with a steely glitter; Betelgeux, comparatively near
to it in the sky, is of a beautiful topaz tint, perhaps on the whole the
most exquisite single star in the sky, so far as regards colour;
Aldebaran is orange-yellow, while Vega is white with a bluish cast, as
is also Rigel. These diversities become much more apparent when
the telescope is employed. At the same time the observer may be
warned against expecting too much in the way of colour, for, as a
matter of fact, the colours of the stars, while perfectly manifest, are
yet of great delicacy, and it is difficult to describe them in ordinary
terms without some suspicion of exaggeration. Stars of a reddish
tone, which ranges from the merest shade of orange-yellow up to a
fairly deep orange, are not uncommon; several first-magnitude stars,
as already noted, have distinct orange tones. For anything
approaching to real blues and greens, we must go to the smaller
stars, and the finest examples of blue or green stars are found in the
smaller members of some of the double systems. Thus in the case of
the double Beta Cygni (Albireo), one of the most beautiful and easy
telescopic objects in the northern sky, the larger star is orange-
yellow, and the smaller blue; in that of Gamma Andromedæ the
larger is yellow, and the smaller bluish-green; while Gamma Leonis
has a large yellow star, and a small greenish-yellow one in
connection. The student who desires to pursue the subject of star
colours should possess himself of the catalogue published in the
Memoirs of the British Astronomical Association, which gives the
colours of the lucid stars determined from the mean of a very large
number of observations made by different observers.

In this connection it may be noticed that there is some suspicion

that the colours of certain stars have changed within historic times,
or at least that they have not the same colour now which they are
said to have had in former days. The evidence is not in any instance
strong enough to warrant the assertion that actual change has taken
place; but it is perfectly natural to suppose that it does, and indeed
must gradually progress. As the stars are intensely hot bodies, there
must have been periods when their heat was gradually rising to its
maximum, and there must be periods when they will gradually cool
off to extinction, and these stages must be represented by changes
in the colour of the particular star in question. In all probability,
then, the colour of a star gives some indication of the stage to which
it has advanced in its life-history; and as a matter of fact, this proves
to be so, the colour of a star being found to be generally a fair
indication of what its constitution, as revealed by the spectroscope,
will be.

Another feature of the stars which cannot fail to be noticed is the

fact that they are not evenly distributed over the heavens, but are
grouped into a variety of configurations or constellations. In the very
dawn of human history these configurations woke the imaginations
of the earliest star-gazers, and fanciful shapes and titles were
attached to the star-groups, which have been handed down to the
present time, and are still in use. It must be confessed that in some
cases it takes a very lively imagination to find any resemblance
between the constellation and the figure which has been associated
with it. The anatomy of Pegasus, for example, would scarcely
commend itself to a horse-breeder, while the student will look in vain
for any resemblance to a human figure, heroic or unheroic, in the
straggling group of stars which bears the name of Hercules. At the
same time a few of the constellations do more or less resemble the
objects from which their titles are derived. Thus the figure of a man
may without any great difficulty be traced among the brilliant stars
which form the beautiful constellation Orion; while Delphinus
presents at least an approximation to a fish-like form, and Corona
Borealis gives the half of a diadem of sparkling jewels.

A knowledge of the constellations, and, if possible, of the curious old

myths and legends attaching to them, should form part of the
equipment of every educated person; yet very few people can tell
one group from another, much less say what constellations are
visible at a given hour at any particular season of the year. People
who are content merely to gape at the heavens in 'a wonderful clear
night of stars' little know how much interest they are losing. When
the constellations and the chief stars are learned and kept in
memory, the face of the sky becomes instinct with interest, and each
successive season brings with it the return of some familiar group
which is hailed as one hails an old friend. Nor is the task of
becoming familiar with the constellations one of any difficulty.
Indeed, there are few pleasanter tasks than to trace out the figures
of the old heroes and heroines of mythology by the help of a simple
star-map, and once learned, they need never be forgotten. In this
branch of the subject there are many easily accessible helps. For a
simple guide, Peck's 'Constellations and how to Find Them' is both
cheap and useful, while Newcomb's 'Astronomy for Everybody' and
Maunder's 'Astronomy without a Telescope' also give careful and
simple directions. Maunder's volume is particularly useful for a
beginner, combining, as it does, most careful instructions as to the
tracing of the constellations with a set of clear and simple star-
charts, and a most interesting discussion of the origin of these
ancient star-groups. A list of the northern constellations with a few
of the most notable objects of interest in each will be found in
Appendix II.

Winding among the constellations, and forming a gigantic belt round

the whole star-sphere, lies that most wonderful feature of the
heavens familiar to all under the name of the Milky Way. This great
luminous girdle of the sky may be seen in some portion of its extent,
and at some hour of the night, at all seasons of the year, though in
May it is somewhat inconveniently placed for observation. Roughly
speaking, it presents the appearance of a broad arch or pathway of
misty light, 'whose groundwork is of stars'; but the slightest
attention will reveal the fact that in reality its structure is of great
complexity. It throws out streamers on either side and at all angles,
condenses at various points into cloudy masses of much greater
brilliancy than the average, strangely pierced sometimes by dark
gaps through which we seem to look into infinite and almost
tenantless space (Plate XXVII.), while in other quarters it spreads
away in considerable width, and to such a degree of faintness that
the eye can scarcely tell where it ends. At a point in the constellation
Cygnus, well seen during autumn and the early months of winter, it
splits up into two great branches which run separate to the Southern
horizon with a well-marked dark gap dividing them.

When examined with any telescopic power, the Milky Way reveals
itself as a wonderful collection of stars and star-clusters; and it will
also be found that there is a very remarkable tendency among the
stars to gather in the neighbourhood of this great starry belt. So
much is this case that, in the words of Professor Newcomb, 'Were
the cloud-forms which make up the Milky Way invisible to us, we
should still be able to mark out its course by the crowding of the
lucid stars towards it.' Not less remarkable is the fact that the
distribution of the nebulæ with regard to the Galaxy is precisely the
opposite of that of the stars. There are, of course, many nebulæ in
the Galaxy; but, at the same time, they are comparatively less
numerous along its course, and grow more and more numerous in
proportion as we depart from it. It seems impossible to avoid the
conclusion that these twin facts are intimately related to one
another, though the explanation of them is not yet forthcoming.

In the year 1665 the famous astronomer Hooke wrote concerning

the small star Gamma Arietis: 'I took notice that it consisted of two
small stars very near together; a like instance of which I have not
else met with in all the heavens.' This is the first English record of
the observation of a double star, though Riccioli detected the
duplicity of Zeta Ursæ Majoris (Mizar), in 1650, and Huygens saw
three stars in Theta Orionis in 1656. These were the earliest
beginnings of double-star observation, which has since grown to
such proportions that double stars are now numbered in the heavens
by thousands. Of course, certain stars appear to be double even
when viewed with the unaided eye. Thus Mizar, a bright star in the
handle of the Plough, referred to above, has not far from it a fainter
companion known as Alcor, which the Arabs used to consider a test
of vision. Either it has brightened in modern times, or else the Arabs
have received too much credit for keenness of sight, for Mizar and
Alcor now make a pair that is quite easy to very ordinary sight even
in our turbid atmosphere. Alpha Capricorni, and Zeta Ceti, with Iota
Orionis are also instances of naked-eye doubles, while exceptionally
keen sight will detect that the star Epsilon Lyræ, which forms a little
triangle with the brilliant Vega and Zeta Lyræ, is double, or at least
that it is not single, but slightly elongated in form. Astronomers,
however, would not call such objects as these 'double stars' at all;
they reserve that title for stars which are very much closer together
than the components of a naked-eye double can ever be. The last-
mentioned star, Epsilon Lyræ, affords a very good example of the
distinction. To the naked eye it is, generally speaking, not to be
distinguished from a single star. Keen sight elongates it;
exceptionally keen sight divides it into two stars extremely close to
one another. But on using even a very moderate telescope, say a
2½-inch with a power of 100 or upwards, the two stars which the
keenest sight could barely separate are seen widely apart in the
field, while each of them has in its turn split up into two little dots of
light. Thus, to the telescope, Epsilon Lyræ is really a quadruple star,
while in addition there is a faint star forming a triangle with the two
pairs, and a large instrument will reveal two very faint stars, the
'debilissima,' one on either side of the line joining the larger stars.
These I have seen with 3⅞-inch.

What the telescope does with Epsilon Lyræ, it does with a great
multitude of other stars. There are thousands of doubles of all
degrees of easiness and difficulty—doubles wide apart, and doubles
so close that only the finest telescopes in the world can separate
them; doubles of every degree of likeness or of disparity in their
components, from Alpha Geminorum (Castor), with its two beautiful
stars of almost equal lustre, to Sirius, where the chief star is the
brightest in all the heavens, and the companion so small, or rather
so faint, that it takes a very fine glass to pick it out in the glare of its
great primary. The student will find in these double stars an
extremely good series of tests for the quality of his telescope. They
are, further, generally objects of great beauty, being often
characterized, as already mentioned, by diversity of colour in the two
components. Thus, in addition to the examples given above, Eta
Cassiopeiæ presents the beautiful picture of a yellow star in
conjunction with a red one, while Epsilon Boötis has been described
as 'most beautiful yellow and superb blue,' and Alpha Herculis
consists of an orange star close to one which is emerald green. It
has been suggested that the colours in such instances are merely
complementary, the impression of orange or yellow in the one star
producing a purely subjective impression of blue or green when the
other is viewed; but it has been conclusively proved that the colours
of very many of the smaller stars in such cases are actual and
inherent.

Not only are there thousands of double stars in the heavens, but
there are also many multiple stars, where the telescope splits an
apparently single star up into three, four, or sometimes six or seven
separate stars. Of these multiples, one of the best known is Theta
Orionis. It is the middle star of the sword which hangs from the belt
of Orion, and is, of course, notable from its connection with the
Great Nebula; but it is also a very beautiful multiple star. A 2½-inch
telescope will show that it consists of four stars in the form of a
trapezium; large instruments show two excessively faint stars in
addition. Again, in the same constellation lies Sigma Orionis,
immediately below the lowermost star of the giant's belt. In a 3-inch
telescope this star splits up into a beautiful multiple of six
components, their differences in size and tint making the little group
a charming object.

Looking at the multitude of double and multiple stars, the question

can scarcely fail to suggest itself: Is there any real connection
between the stars which thus appear so close to one another? It can
be readily understood that the mere fact of their appearing close
together in the field of the telescope does not necessarily imply real
closeness. Two gas-lamps, for instance, may appear quite close
together to an observer who is at some distance from them, when in
reality they may be widely separated one from the other—the
apparent closeness being due to the fact that they are almost in the
same line of sight. No doubt many of the stars which appear double
in the telescope are of this class—'optical doubles,' as they are
called, and are in reality separated by vast distances from one
another. But the great majority have not only an apparent, but also a
real closeness; and in a number of cases this is proved by the fact
that observation shows the stars in question to be physically
connected, and to revolve around a common centre of gravity.
Double stars which are thus physically connected are known as
'binaries.' The discovery of the existence of this real connection
between some double stars is due, like so many of the most
interesting astronomical discoveries, to Sir William Herschel. At
present the number of stars known to be binary is somewhat under
one thousand; but in the case of most of these, the revolution round
a common centre which proves their physical connection is
extremely slow, and consequently the majority of binary stars have
as yet been followed only through a small portion of their orbits, and
the change of position sufficient to enable a satisfactory orbit to be
computed has occurred in only a small proportion of the total
number. The first binary star to have its orbit computed was Xi Ursæ
Majoris, whose revolution of about sixty years has been twice
completed since, in 1780, Sir William Herschel discovered it to be
double.

The star which has the shortest period at present known is the
fourth magnitude Delta Equulei, which has a fifth magnitude
companion. The pair complete their revolution, according to Hussey,
in 5·7 years. Kappa Pegasi comes next in speed of revolution, with a
period of eleven and a half years, while the star 85 of the same
constellation takes rather more than twice as long to complete its
orbit. From such swiftly circling pairs as these, the periods range up
to hundreds of years. Thus, for example, the well-known double star
Castor, probably the most beautiful double in the northern heavens,
and certainly the best object of its class for a small telescope, is held
to have a period of 347 years, which, though long enough, is a
considerable reduction upon the 1,000 once attributed to it.

But the number of binary stars known is not confined to those which
have been discovered and measured by means of the telescope and
micrometer. One of the most wonderful results of modern
astronomical research has been the discovery of the fact that many
stars have revolving round them invisible companions, which are
either dark bodies, or else are so close to their primaries as for ever
to defy the separating powers of our telescopes. The discovery of
these dark, or at least invisible, companions is one of the most
remarkable triumphs of the spectroscope. It was in 1888 that Vogel
first applied the spectroscopic method to the well-known variable
star, Beta Persei—known as Algol, 'the Demon,' from its 'slowly-
winking eye.' The variation in the light of Algol is very large, from
second to fourth magnitude; Vogel therefore reasoned that if this
variation were caused by a dark companion partially eclipsing the
bright star, the companion must be sufficiently large to cause motion
in Algol—that is, to cause both stars to revolve round a common
centre of gravity. Should this be the case, then at one point of its
orbit Algol must be approaching, and at the opposite point receding
from the earth; and therefore the shift of the lines of its spectrum
towards the violet in the one instance and towards the red in the
other would settle the question of whether it had or had not an
invisible companion. The spectroscopic evidence proved quite
conclusive. It was found that before its eclipses, Algol was receding
from the sun at the rate of 26⅓ miles per second, while after eclipse
there was a similar motion of approach; and therefore the
hypothesis of an invisible companion was proved to be fact. Vogel
carried his researches further, his inquiry into the questions of the
size and distance apart of the two bodies leading him to the
conclusion that the bright star is rather more, and its companion
rather less than 1,000,000 miles in diameter; while the distance
which divides them is somewhat more than 3,000,000 miles. Though
larger, both bodies prove to be less massive than our sun, Algol
being estimated at four-ninths and its companion at two-ninths of
the solar mass.

The class of double star disclosed in this manner is known as the

'spectroscopic binary,' and has various other types differing from the
Algol type. Thus the type of which Xi Ursæ Majoris was the first
detected instance has two component bodies not differing greatly in
brightness from one another. In such a case the fact of the star
being binary is revealed through the consideration that in any binary
system the two components must necessarily always be moving in
opposite directions. Hence the shift of the lines of their spectrum will
be in opposite directions also, and when one of the stars (A) is
moving towards us, and the other (B) away from us, all the lines of
the spectrum which are common to the two will appear double,
those of A being displaced towards the violet and those of B towards
the red. After a quarter of a revolution, when the stars are
momentarily in a straight line with us, the lines will all appear single;
but after half a revolution they will again be displaced, those of A
this time towards the red and those of B towards the violet.

There has thus been opened up an entirely new field of research,

and the idea, long cherished, that the stars might prove to have
dark, or, at all events, invisible, companions attendant on them,
somewhat as our own sun has its planets, has been proved to be
perfectly sound. So far, in the case of dark companions, only bodies
of such vast size have been detected as to render any comparison
with the planets of our system difficult; but the principle is
established, and the probability of great numbers of the stars having
real planetary systems attendant on them is so great as to become
practically a certainty. 'We naturally infer,' says Professor Newcomb,
'that ... innumerable stars may have satellites, planets, or companion
stars so close or so faint as to elude our powers of observation.'

From the consideration of spectroscopic binaries we naturally turn to

that of variable stars, the two classes being, to some extent at least,
coincident, as is evidenced by the case of Algol. While the discovery
of spectroscopic binaries is one of the latest results of research, that
of variability among stars dates from comparatively far back in the
history of astronomy. As early as the year 1596 David Fabricius
noted the star now known as Omicron Ceti, or Mira, 'the Wonderful,'
as being of the third magnitude, while in the following year he found
that it had vanished. A succession of appearances and
disappearances was witnessed in the middle of the next century by
Holwarda, and from that time the star has been kept under careful
observation, and its variations have been determined with some
exactness, though there are anomalies as yet unexplained. 'Once in
eleven months,' writes Miss Clerke, 'the star mounts up in about 125
days from below the ninth to near the third, or even to the second
magnitude; then, after a pause of two or three weeks, drops again
to its former low level in once and a half times, on an average, the
duration of its rise.' This most extraordinary fluctuation means that
at a bright maximum Mira emits 1,500 times as much light as at a
low minimum. The star thus subject to such remarkable outbursts is,
like most variables, of a reddish colour, and at maximum its
spectrum shows the presence of glowing hydrogen. Its average
period is about 331 days; but this period is subject to various
irregularities, and the maximum has sometimes been as much as
two months away from the predicted time. Mira Ceti may be taken
as the type of the numerous class of stars known as 'long-period
variables.'

Not less interesting are those stars whose variations cover only short
periods, extending from less than thirty days down to a few hours.
Of these, perhaps the most easily observed, as it is also one of the
most remarkable, is Beta Lyræ. This star is one of the two bright
stars of nearly equal magnitude which form an obtuse-angled
triangle with the brilliant first-magnitude star Vega. The other star of
the pair is Gamma Lyræ, and between them lies the famous Ring
Nebula, to be referred to later. Ordinarily Beta Lyræ is of magnitude
3·4, but from this it passes, in a period of rather less than thirteen
days, through two minima, in one of which it descends to magnitude
3·9 and in the other to 4·5. This fluctuation seems trifling. It really
means, however, that at maximum the star is two and three-quarter
times brighter than when it sinks to magnitude 4·5; and the
variation can be easily recognised by the naked eye, owing to the
fact of the nearness of so convenient a comparison star as Gamma
Lyræ. Beta Lyræ is a member of the class of spectroscopic binaries,
and belongs to that type of the class in which the mutually eclipsing
bodies are both bright. In such cases the variation in brilliancy is
caused by the fact that when the two bodies are, so to speak, side
by side, light is received from both of them, and a maximum is
observed; while, when they are end on, both in line with ourselves,
one cuts off more or less of the other's light from us, thus causing a
minimum.

A third class, distinct from either of the preceding, is that of the

Algol Variables, so-called from the bright star Beta Persei, which has
already been mentioned as a spectroscopic binary. Than this star
there is no more notable variable in the heavens, and its situation
fortunately renders it peculiarly easy of observation to northern
students. Algol shines for about fifty-nine hours as a star of small
second magnitude, then suddenly begins to lose light, and in four
and a half hours has fallen to magnitude three and a half, losing in
so short a space two-thirds of its normal brilliancy. It remains in this
degraded condition for only fifteen minutes, and then begins to
recover, reaching its normal lustre in about five hours more. These
remarkable changes, due, as before mentioned, to the presence of
an invisible eclipsing companion, are gone through with the utmost
regularity, so much so that, as Gore says, the minima of Algol 'can
be predicted with as much certainty as an eclipse of the sun.' The
features of the type-star are more or less closely reproduced in the
other Algol Variables—a comparatively long period of steady light
emission, followed by a rapid fall to one or more minima, and a rapid
recovery of light. The class as yet is a small one, but new members
are gradually being added to it, the majority of them white, like the
type-star.

The study of variable stars is one which should seem to be specially

reserved for the amateur observer. In general, it requires but little
instrumental equipment. Many variables can be seen at maximum,
some even at minimum, with the unaided eye; in other cases a good
opera or field glass is all that is required, and a 2½ or 3-inch
telescope will enable the observer to command quite an extensive
field of work. Here, again, the beginner may be referred to the
Memoirs of the British Astronomical Association for help and
guidance, and may be advised to connect himself with the Variable
Star Section.

With the exception of such variations in the lustre of certain stars as

have been described, the aspect of the heavens is, in general, fixed
and unchanging. There are, as we shall see, real changes of the
vastest importance continually going on; but the distances
separating us from the fixed stars are so enormous that these
changes shrink into nothingness, and the astronomers of forty
centuries before our era would find comparatively little change today
in the aspect of the constellations with which they were familiar. But
occasionally a very remarkable change does take place, in the
apparition of a new or temporary star. The accounts of the
appearance of such objects are not very numerous, but are of great
interest. We pass over those recorded, in more or less casual
fashion, by the ancients, for the reason that the descriptions given
are in general more picturesque than illuminative. It does not add
much to one's knowledge, though it may excite wonder, to find the
Chinese annals recording the appearance, in A.D. 173, of a new star
'resembling a large bamboo mat!'

The first Nova, of which we have a really scientific record, was the
star which suddenly blazed out, in November, 1572, in the familiar W
of Cassiopeia. It was carefully observed by the great astronomer,
Tycho Brahé, and, according to him, was brighter than Sirius, Alpha
Lyræ, or Jupiter. Tycho followed it till March, 1574, by which time it
had sunk to the limit of unaided vision, and further observation
became impossible. There is at present a star of the eleventh
magnitude close to the place fixed for the Nova from Tycho's
observations. In 1604 and 1670, new stars were observed, the first
by Kepler and his assistants, the second by the monk Anthelme; but
from 1670 there was a long break in the list of discoveries, which
was ended by Hind's observation of a new star in Ophiuchus (April,
1848). This was never a very conspicuous object, rising only to
somewhat less than fourth magnitude, and soon fading to tenth or
eleventh. We can only mention the 'Blaze Star' of Corona Borealis,
discovered by Birmingham in 1866, the Nova discovered in 1876 by
Schmidt of Athens, near Rho Cygni—an object which seems to have
faded out into a planetary nebula, a fate apparently characteristic of
this class of star—and the star which appeared in 1885, close to the
nucleus of the Great Nebula in Andromeda.

In 1892, Dr. Anderson of Edinburgh discovered in the constellation

Auriga a star which he estimated as of fifth magnitude. The
discovery was made on January 31, and the new star was found to
have been photographed at Harvard on plates taken from December
16, 1891, to January 31, 1892. Apparently this Nova differed from
other temporary stars in the fact that it attained its full brightness
only gradually. By February 3 it rose to magnitude 3·5, then faded
by April 1 to fifteenth, but in August brightened up again to about
ninth magnitude. It is now visible as a small star. The great
development of spectroscopic resources brought this object,
otherwise not a very conspicuous one, under the closest scrutiny. Its
spectrum showed many bright lines, which were accompanied by
dark ones on the side next the blue. The idea was thus suggested
that the outburst of brilliancy was due to a collision between two
bodies, one of which, that causing the dark lines, was approaching
the earth, while the other was receding from it. Lockyer considered
the conflagration to be due to a collision between two swarms of
meteorites, Huggins that it was caused by the near approach to one
another of two gaseous bodies, while others suggested that the rush
of a star or of a swarm of meteorites through a nebula would explain
the facts observed. Subsequent observations of the spectrum of
Nova Aurigæ have revealed the fact that it has obeyed the destiny
which seems to wait on temporary stars, having become a planetary
nebula.

Dr. Anderson followed up his first achievement by the discovery of a

brilliant Nova in the constellation Perseus. The discovery was made
on the night of February 21-22, 1901, the star being then of
magnitude 2·7. Within two days it became about the third brightest
star in the sky, being a little more brilliant than Capella; but before
the middle of April it had sunk to fifth magnitude. The rapidity of its
rise must have been phenomenal! A plate exposed at Harvard on
February 19, and showing stars to the eleventh magnitude, bore no
trace of the Nova. 'It must therefore,' says Newcomb, 'have risen
from some magnitude below the eleventh to the first within about
three days. This difference corresponds to an increase of the light
ten thousandfold!' Such a statement leaves the mind simply appalled
before the spectacle of a cataclysm so infinitely transcending the
very wildest dreams of fancy. Subsequent observations have shown
the usual tendency towards development into a nebula, and in