A Trip to Venus | Page 3

the great refracting telescope in the direction of Mars,
and peered attentively through its mighty tube for several minutes.
"Is there any light?" I inquired.
"None," he replied, shaking his head. "Look for yourself."
I took his place at the eye-piece, and was almost startled to find the little coppery star,
which I had seen half-an-hour before, apparently quite near, and transformed into a large
globe. It resembled a gibbous moon, for a considerable part of its disc was illuminated by
the sun.
A dazzling spot marked one of its poles, and the rest of its visible surface was mottled
with ruddy and greenish tints which faded into white at the rim. Fascinated by the
spectacle of that living world, seen at a glance, and pursuing its appointed course through
the illimitable ether, I forgot my quest, and a religious awe came over me akin to that felt
under the dome of a vast cathedral.
"Well, what do you make of it?"

The voice recalled me to myself, and I began to scrutinise the dim and shadowy border of
the terminator for the feeblest ray of light, but all in vain.
"I can't see any 'luminous projection'; but what a magnificent object in the telescope!"
"It is indeed," rejoined the professor, "and though we have not many opportunities of
seeing it, we know it better than the other planets, and almost as well as the moon. Its
features have been carefully mapped like those of the moon, and christened after
celebrated astronomers."
"Yourself included, I hope."
"No, sir; I have not that honour. It is true that a man I know, an enthusiastic amateur in
astronomy, dubbed a lot of holes and corners in the moon after his private friends and
acquaintances, myself amongst them: 'Snook's Crater,' 'Smith's Bottom,' 'Tiddler's Cove,'
and so on; but I regret to say the authorities declined to sanction his nomenclature."
"I presume that bright spot on the Southern limb is one of the polar ice-caps," said I, still
keeping my eye on the planet.
"Yes," replied the professor, "and they are seen to wax and wane in winter and summer.
The reddish-yellow tracts are doubtless continents of an ochrey soil; and not, as some
think, of a ruddy vegetation. The greenish-grey patches are probably seas and lakes. The
land and water are better mixed on Mars than on the earth--a fact which tends to equalise
the climate. There is a belt of continents round the equator: 'Copernicus,' 'Galileo,'
'Dawes,' and others, having long winding lakes and inlets. These are separated by narrow
seas from other islands on the north or south, such as: 'Haze Land, 'Storm Land,' and so
forth, which occupy what we should call the temperate zones, beneath the poles; but I
suspect they are frigid enough. If you look closely you will see some narrow streaks
crossing the continents like fractures. These are the famous 'Canals' of Schiaparelli, who
discovered (and I wish I had his eyes) that many of them were 'doubled,' that is, had
another canal alongside. Some of these are nearly 2,000 miles long, by fifty miles broad,
and 300 miles apart."
"That beats the Suez Canal."
"I am afraid they are not artificial. The doubling is chiefly observed at the vernal equinox,
our month of May, and is perhaps due to spring floods, or vegetation in valleys of the like
trend, as we find in Siberia. The massing of clouds or mists will account for the peculiar
whiteness at the edge of the limb, and an occasional veiling of the landscape."
While he spoke, my attention was suddenly arrested by a vivid point of light which
appeared on the dark side of the terminator, and south of the equator.
"Hallo!" I exclaimed, involuntarily. "There's a light!"
"Really!" responded Gazen, in a tone of surprise, not unmingled with doubt. "Are you
sure?"
"Quite. There is a distinct light on one of the continents."
"Let me see it, will you?" he rejoined, hastily; and I yielded up my place to him.
"Why, so there is," he declared, after a pause. "I suspect it has been hidden under a cloud
till now."
We turned and looked at each other in silence.
"It can't be the light Javelle saw," ejaculated Gazen at length. "That was on Hellas Land."
"Should the Martians be signalling they would probably use a system of lights. I daresay
they possess an electric telegraph to work it."
The professor put his eye to the glass again, and I awaited the result of his observation

with eager interest.
"It's as steady as possible," said he.
"The steadiness puzzles me," I replied. "If it would only flash I should call it a signal."
"Not necessarily to us," said Gazen, with mock gravity. "You see, it might be a
lighthouse flashing on