ful reexamination of the planet's face. But quite recently one of the most eminent of our modern observers—Mr. Lassell, lately president of the Royal Astronomical Society—(having been led to observe the planet by the fact that certain phenomena of interest in connection with the satellite-system are now in progress), found his attention attracted by the marvellous beauty of the colors presented by Jupiter's belts. After describing the appearances he had intended to observe in the first instance, he proceeds: "But this was not the phenomenon which struck me most in this rare and exquisite view of Jupiter. I must acknowledge that I have hitherto been inclined to think that there might be some exaggeration in the colored views I have lately seen of the planet; but this property of the disk, in the view I am describing, was so unmistakable that my skepticism is at last beginning to yield." Nor will this statement be thought to express more than the truth, when we add that, in the picture accompanying his paper, Mr. Lassell presented the equatorial zone as brown-orange, and three neighboring dark zones as purple; one of the intermediate light belts being pictured as of a light olive-green.
Let us compare these observations made in our brumous latitudes with those effected by Father Secchi with the fine equatorial of the Roman Observatory. "During the fine evenings of this month," he wrote last February, "Jupiter has presented a wonderful aspect. The equatorial band, of a very pronounced rose-color, was strewn with a large number of yellowish clouds. Above and below this band, there were many very fine zones, with others strongly marked and narrow, which resembled stretched threads. The blue and yellow colors formed a remarkable contrast with the red zone, a contrast doubtless increased by a little illusion. The surface of the planet is actually so different from that which I have formerly seen, that there is room for the study of the planet's meteorology."
It appears to us that, when these remarkable changes are considered in combination with the circumstance that on a priori grounds we should expect the sun to have very little influence on the condition of the planet's atmosphere, the idea cannot but be suggested that the chief source of all this energy resides in the planet itself. The idea may seem startling at a first view, but, when once entertained, many arguments will be found to present themselves in its favor.
For instance, it does not seem to have been noticed, heretofore, as a very remarkable circumstance, if the Jovian belts are sun-raised, that they pass round to the nocturnal half of Jupiter and reappear again, with the same general features as before, and this often for weeks at a stretch. Even that remarkable feature whose changes led to the conclusion that mighty hurricanes were in progress, yet changed continuously and regularly during the Jovian nights as well as during the Jovian days, for one hundred such days in succession. This is perfectly intelligible if the seat of disturbance is in the planet itself, but it is per-
