SINGULAR PHENOMENON OF THE SUN AND MOON.

To the Editors of the Northern Star.

AT those periods when the sun and moon are both above the horizon, there is a singular phenomenon which I have no where seen noticed or explained. My acquaintance with astronomical works is indeed very partial, but I feel more confident that this appearance has escaped notice, because it was a very intelligent and well-informed acquaintance who first directed my attention to it, as a phenomenon he had never seen mentioned in any work upon the subject. A circular opaque body, illuminated by reflection from some luminous body, will clearly show the line of direction in which the rays proceed. Thus if A be the illuminated object, and B the source of its light, the line a, b, will be exactly perpendicular to the line c, d, drawn from the two extremities of the illuminated part, and the rays of light will fall in the same direction upon the dark surface, whether they proceed from a point or a larger mass of light. Let A be the moon, and B the sun, both seen above the horizon together; and whenever the moon is of such an age as to present any appearance but that of an illuminated full orb, it should be expected, by the extremities of its enlightened portion, to show exactly the part in the heavens where its bountiful illuminator is stationed. On the contrary, it will invariably be found by those who will take the trouble of making the observation, that the sun appears to be in a very different part of the heavens to that which the line of direction seems to require: and while we know that the rays must proceed in the line a, b, or in linės parallel to it, and perpendicular to c, d, the sun will always be seen in some line g, h, situated considerably out of, and always below the direct line of illumination.

The explanation of this optical deception, I imagine, is to be found in the fact, that, while the real distance of the moon from the earth is only two hundred and forty thousand miles, and that of the sun is ninety-six millions of miles, the apparent distance of the two heavenly bodies is the same, The following figure will at a glance explain how this deception occurs.

The moon is really enlightened by rays proceeding from the sun in the line a, b, and parallel lines; and has therefore its extreme illuminated points

in c, d, perpendicular to a, b. But the sun appears to us seen from the earth at no greater distance than the moon. It will therefore seem situated at m, in the line k, n, because k, m, is the same distance as i, k, and the line of illumination will appear as if it proceeded in the direction g, h, requiring the dotted line e, f, or the boundary of its illuminated portion.

It thus that, while the sun is in reality in the line a, b, darting its direct fays upon the illuminated hemisphere of the moon c, a, d, the sun appears to a spectator at the earth as if it were situated much lower in the line g, h. If any of your readers will point out a better explanation of this phenomenon, or inform me where the appearance is noticed by any astronomical writer, he will oblige

EXAMINATION OF THE COMMON PREJUDICE IN FAVOUR OF THE ANCIENTS.

THERE is perhaps, no circumstance more calculated to fill with surprise the mind of him who attends to the ever-varying opinions and, feelings of mankind, than the tendency which he will almost universally observe of desponding fears and anxious forebodings. When men compare their own state with the information they derive from history respecting that of their ancestors, and endeavour to form a comparative estimate of the progress in knowledge, in virtue, and in happiness, which mankind have made in different ages of the world, we should naturally be led to expect that they would look on their own acquisitions with the eye of partiality; and that the disposition which every man feels to think as well of himself as possible, would lead him to estimate too highly the talents and discoveries of his own age, and to shut his eyes against the errors and vices by which the character of his own times is disfigured. The contemplation of ignorance, of folly, and of wickedness is at all times an ungrateful employment, more especially when ourselves or our connections are implicated in the charge; one would suppose therefore, that the mind would be desirous to shake off such unpleasing melancholy thoughts, to indulge in reflections more calculated to gratify its naturally self-complacent spirit, and would be still less willing to deepen the shades in its own picture, and throw a gloom over the light which naturally

adorned it.

Scarce a sin

Yet such we find to have been almost universally the case. gle writer in any age has attempted to draw a parallel between his own times and those which preceded him, without indulging this gloomy and dissatisfied spirit. They have always dwelt on the unfavourable features which disgraced the character of their contemporaries, and have passed slightly over their more praise-worthy qualities; while, on the other hand, their ima ginations have been dazzled with a splendid picture of the fancied pre-eminence of antiquity, in which the bright parts are insisted on, and the shades palliated, if not altogether suppressed. By heightening every thing favourable on one side, and by exaggerating every thing unfavourable on the other, they have drawn a comparison, often indeed humiliating, but not necessarily on that account either reasonable or just.

As I cannot help conceiving this tendency to exalt the ancients at the expense of the moderns, and to extol the virtues of all preceding ages in preference to those of the period in which we live, to be not only unnatural and unpleasing, but erroneous and unfounded, I propose to dedicate a few of the following pages to an examination of the causes which have given rise to it, and to an attempt to show that a more accurate enquiry and a more impartial comparison would lead to a decision much less discouraging and unsatisfactory.

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One of the circumstances to which this disposition is to be ascribed, may perhaps be found in that very self-love with which at first sight it appears so inconsistent. Those who complain of the present times, and who delight in drawing invidious comparisons between their own age and the days of other years, are perhaps for the most part men whose unbounded self-love and inordinate conceit of their own qualifications have inspired them with very high and unreasonable expectations of admiration and applause. These expectations being of course disappointed, and their contemporaries not thinking so highly of their merits as they fancy they ought to think, they are filled with disgust at the folly and blindness of the world. Their conceited confidence, which, before, was arrogant and assuming, now becoming discontented and splenetic, they rail without ceasing at this perverse generation, and vent the workings of their disappointed ambition on those who have been so unfortunately dull as not to see and admire their transcendent accomplishments. "In former times," they will be apt to say, "it was only necessary to display talents in order to acquire that reputation which was their due ;- in those happy periods every man was qualified to discern, and every community willing to reward distinguished abilities; then the honour and respect which every-where attended merit afforded a constant stimulus to exertion, and excited the successful adventurer to still more noble attempts: but now, alas, times are lamentably altered; these honours, this respect are vanished; now the ingenious improver of the elegant and useful arts, the successful labourer in the fields of science, the active disinterested patriot who devotes his talents to the good of his country, instead of being hailed with the applauses of admiring multitudes, is overwhelmed with every species of invective and abuse; instead of basking in the sunshine of royal or popular favour, he is left to languish in the cold and chilling damps of neglect and obscurity." Such is the querulous tone in which many an unsuccessful candidate for fame consoles himself for his disappointment, by laying the blame on the unworthy period in which his evil stars have cast his lot; and such I apprehend will be found to be the origin of much of that predilection for antiquity, and that unfavourable estimate of more modern times, which has so much prevailed in almost all ages and nations.

This propensity may, perhaps, be likewise in some degree ascribable to the early associations produced by the nature of their education on the minds of those who lead, and who justly lead, the public opinion in favour of particular characters and particular periods in the history of the human race. Accustomed from their earliest youth to look up to Greece and Rome for models of every kind of excellence, the examples contained in the histories of these countries, and in the writings of the great men whom they produced, acquire, in addition to their positive merit, a relative excellence

in the mind of the young student, arising from their having been the first objects of his studies, prepossessing his imagination before he had any other models with which to compare them. Thus he learns to trace every gener ous and noble sentiment which enters his mind to some Greek or Latin clas sic; every idea of excellence, whether moral or intellectual, which he forms is strongly associated with these studies; and it is no wonder if, by degrees, this association becomes so intimate, that every thing connected with such high-sounding names as Plato, Xenophon, Demosthenes, Cicero, Virgil, &c. appears the ultimate point of perfection. As soon, therefore, as he comes to mix in the world, and compares modern manners and characters with the ideas he has derived from his books, and with the associations thus formed and matured, it is obvious that he will meet with a great va, riety of circumstances which do not accord with the model of perfection his imagination presents to him. These will appear in his eyes as so many po sitive defects; and thus he will be led to form an opinion of the living world as much too low, as his estimate of the mighty dead had been too high.

These appear to me to be among the causes of this singular phenomenon in the human mind. I do not mean, however, to assert that they are of themselves sufficient to account for it, or that every one whose education has been conducted in the manner above described will infallibly contract such a propensity. Still less would I affirm that every one who appears to view in too sombre a light the character of his own age, is influenced by disappointed ambition or an overweening self-conceit; but I certainly do think that they have, to a considerable degree, contributed to deepen the shades of a picture which we all know is of itself quite sufficiently gloomy. I shall now attempt to show that these views are in a great degree erroneous and unfounded; and that if we would come fairly to the comparison, and, with minds unprejudiced and unbiassed, bring every thing to be estimated according to a just and impartial standard, the result would not only be more correct, but much more enlivening and agreeable.

In the first place, I should think that a strong presumption of the injus tice may be derived from the permanence and universality of the complaint. If every writer in every age who has indulged in this melancholy train of thought had had just grounds for his lamentations,-if every generation from the beginning of the world, instead of improving, had been constantly grow. ing worse and worse,-things must surely by this time have arrived at a dreadful state indeed. Mankind cannot possibly have been always in a state of deterioration; there is unquestionably a principle, not only in individuals but in communities, which compels them onwards in a course of inprove ment, and which, though various circumstances may for a time retard its progress, or even totally suspend its operations, is seldom, if ever, entirely eradicated. This suspension in almost every instance has been temporary, and has been universal perhaps in none. In almost every period there have been, there doubtless are at present, nations, in which the principle of im provement has been almost entirely destroyed, nay in which every thing seems for ages to have gone backwards; but I apprehend it will be difficult to fix upon any period when all mankind could be considered as placed in this

lamentable condition. Some nations may have declined, but others have risen in their stead; in some countries, at every period of history knowledge has been extending, liberty has been making a gradual though perhaps often imperceptible progress, virtuous principles have been more firmly established, comfort and happiness have been more and more generally diffused; so that, though other portions of the globe may at the same point of time present the mournful picture of tyranny and oppression, of ignorance and vice, of continually increasing misery and distress, we shall perhaps find upon the whole that the world in general is in a state of advancement; and that, whatever period we assume, if we examine matters with accurate and impartial eyes, allow the respective advantages and defects to be properly set against each other on all hands, and then strike the balance, fairly and candidly, we shall always find a positive result on the favourable side of the question. Thus, for example, Greece, Asia Minor, and Egypt are not in so flourishing a condition at the present day as they were two thousand years ago; Italy, too, is perhaps a little decayed; but how vastly have many countries during the same period been improved; how greatly have the blessings been extended of knowledge, of national and individual prosperity, to a degree before unheard-of in the history of the world, of a portion of civil liberty, when compared with which, however imperfect it may be, the condition of the freest and most enlightened states of antiquity is but little to be envied. How extensively have these sources of happiness been spread, with what amazing rapidity are they at this moment diffusing themselves over regions then immersed in the profoundest ignorance and barbarism, over vast continents, of which, to the enlightened nations of ancient Greece and Italy, the very existence was utterly unknown.

The foregoing general observations may perhaps be sufficient to render it probable that the unfavourable comparative estimate of the present times, when contrasted with those which have preceded, is in a great measure to be ascribed to misconception or prejudice. A more detailed examination of those particular points of this comparison which are most commonly insisted on, would, I conceive, materially add to this probability; I shall confine myself however at present to a single case on which those who seek to disparage their contemporaries, by comparing them with the mighty dead, are accustomed to lay the greatest stress.

The period to which modern writers seem most inclined to turn their eyes when seeking for a state of society, when compared with which the present system of things may be viewed in an unfavourable light, is the portion of antiquity commonly styled the classical ages of Greece and Rome. It is hither, therefore, that our principal attention is most naturally directed, in order to discover whether this unfavourable comparison be really well founded. But before we proceed to this discussion, it may be proper to guard against a misconception, of which, though we may be aware of its want of foundation, we cannot altogether escape the influence. We are apt, when contemplating the history of ancient times, to view all the ages of antiquity as if they were one period, and to forget that the great men who flourished in these different ages were not contemporaries. That general but indefinite impres