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A TALE OF A COMET.

rience has since but too often and too clearly proved that an event of the kind may be equally “awkward” for the train as for the cow; and we, who are much wiser in our generation, have really no notion of tempting the chances of a collision that might prove equally fatal to the two bodies.

I may here briefly observe, that the material of which we are composed is not luminous in itself, but is illuminated by the sun of this, or, in the case of those of us who soar into the immensity of space, some other solar system.

We are most capricious and mutable in the forms which we assume, though, as a general rule, our heads mostly affect the globular or spheroidal shape. The magnificent luminous appendages or tails which many of is proudly display, are sometimes straight, and sometimes curved like a scimitar. With some of us this vapoury train of light attains an immense apparent length. Thus, for instance, my brother comet of 1811—which, by-the-bye, when first seen, possessed no visible tail—speedily threw out a luminous appendage covering some 25 degrees of heaven, or some 130,000,000 of miles. My own tail stretches some 11 degrees beyond this; that of my brother of 371 B.C., Aristotle tells you, occupied some 60 degrees of the heavens; that of the Comet of 1680 covered between 70 and 90 degrees; and that of the Comet of 1618 is stated to have extended to 104 degrees in length!

Some of us exhibit more than one tail. My