have an opportunity of
coming off with some credit. "He is the famous Scotch engineer who
invented the steam hammer, the steam ram, and discovered the 'willow
leaves' in the Sun's disc."

"Better and better," said Ardan--"but, powers of Vulcan! What makes it
so hot? I'm actually roasting!"

This observation was hardly necessary to make his companions conscious
that by this time they felt extremely uncomfortable. The heat had become
quite oppressive. Between the natural caloric of the Sun and the
reflected caloric of the Moon, the Projectile was fast turning into a
regular bake oven. This transition from intense cold to intense heat was
already about quite as much as they could bear.

"What shall we do, Barbican?" asked Ardan, seeing that for some time no
one else appeared inclined to say a word.

"Nothing, at least yet awhile, friend Ardan," replied Barbican, "I have
been watching the thermometer carefully for the last few minutes, and,
though we are at present at 38 deg. centigrade, or 100 deg. Fahrenheit, I have
noticed that the mercury is slowly falling. You can also easily remark
for yourself that the floor of the Projectile is turning away more and
more from the lunar surface. From this I conclude quite confidently, and
I see that the Captain agrees with me, that all danger of death from
intense heat, though decidedly alarming ten minutes ago, is over for the
present and, for some time at least, it may be dismissed from further
consideration."

"I'm not very sorry for it," said Ardan cheerfully; "neither to be
baked like a pie in an oven nor roasted like a fat goose before a fire
is the kind of death I should like to die of."

"Yet from such a death you would suffer no more than your friends the
Selenites are exposed to every day of their lives," said the Captain,
evidently determined on getting up an argument.

"I understand the full bearing of your allusion, my dear Captain,"
replied Ardan quickly, but not at all in a tone showing that he was
disposed to second M'Nicholl's expectations.

He was, in fact, fast losing all his old habits of positivism. Latterly
he had seen much, but he had reflected more. The deeper he had
reflected, the more inclined he had become to accept the conclusion that
the less he knew. Hence he had decided that if M'Nicholl wanted an
argument it should not be with him. All speculative disputes he should
henceforth avoid; he would listen with pleasure to all that could be
urged o