lations would remain. It would be like going mad and yet remaining conscious of the fact. Instead of following the Sun we should now in whole or part, according to the direction of its approach, obey the stranger. For nineteen more days this frightful chaos would continue; as like some comet glorified a thousand fold the tramp dropped silently upon the Sun. Toward the close of the nineteenth day the catastrophe would occur, and almost in merciful deliverance from the already chaotic cataclysm and the yet greater horror of its contemplation, we should know no more.
Unless the universe is otherwise articulated than we have reason to suppose, such a catastrophe sometime seems certain. But we may bear ourselves with equanimity in its prospect for two mitigating details. One is that there is no sign whatever at the moment that any such stranger is near. The unaccounted-for errors in the planetary theories are not such as point to the advent of any tramp. Another is, that judged by any scale of time we know, the chance of such occurrence is immeasurably remote. Not only may each of us rest content in the thought that he will die from causes of his own choosing or neglect, but the Earth herself will cease to be a possible abode of life, and even the Sun will have become cold and dark and dead so long before that day arrives that when the final shock shall come, it will be quite ready for another resurrection.
