light, not through the immediate absorption or extinction of the light, but through repeated internal reflection.
Humboldt, in his observations at the Falls of the Orinoco, is known to have applied these principles to sound. He found the noise of the falls far louder by night than by day, though in that region the night is far noisier than the day. The plain between him and the falls consisted of spaces of grass and rock intermingled. In the heat of the day he found the temperature of the rock to be considerably higher than that of the grass. Over every heated rock, he concluded, rose a column of air rarefied by the heat; its place being supplied by the descent of heavier air. He ascribed the deadening of the sound to the reflections which it endured at the limiting surfaces of the rarer and denser air. This philosophical explanation made it generally known that a non-homogeneous atmosphere is unfavorable to the transmission of sound.
But what, on July 3d, not with the variously-heated plain of Antures, but with a calm sea as a basis for the atmosphere, could so destroy its homogeneity as to enable it to quench in so short a distance so vast a body of sound? My course of thought at the time was thus determined. As I stood upon the deck of the Irene, pondering the question, I became conscious of the exceeding power of the sun beating against my back and heating the objects near me. Beams of equal power were falling on the sea, and must have produced copious evaporation. That the vapor generated should so rise and mingle with the air as to form an absolutely homogeneous medium was in the highest degree improbable. It would be sure, I thought, to rise in invisible streams, breaking through the superincumbent air, now at one point, now at another, thus rendering the air flocculent with wreaths and striæ, charged in different degrees with the buoyant vapor. At the limiting surfaces of these spaces, though invisible, we should have the conditions necessary to the production of partial echoes and the consequent waste of sound. Ascending and descending air-currents, of different temperatures, as far as they existed, would also contribute to the effect.
Curiously enough, the conditions necessary for the testing of this explanation immediately set in. At 3.15 p. m., a solitary cloud threw itself athwart the sun, and shaded the entire space between us and the South Foreland. The heating of the water, and the production of vapor, were suddenly checked by the interposition of this screen; hence the probability of suddenly-improved transmission. To test this inference, the steamer was immediately turned and urged back to our last position of inaudibility. The sounds, as I expected, were distinctly though faintly heard. This was at 3 miles' distance. At 33⁄4 miles the guns were fired, both point-blank and elevated. The faintest pop was all that we heard; but we did hear a pop, whereas we had previously heard nothing, either here or three-quarters of a
