rtain bright rays, as yet unidentified, had
imprinted themselves. Otherwise the spectrum was strongly continuous,
uninterrupted even by the Fraunhofer lines detected in the spectrum of
Tebbutt's comet. Hence it was concluded that a smaller proportion of
reflected light was mingled with the native emissions of the later
arrival.

All that is certainly known about the _extent_ of the orbit traversed by
the first comet of 1882 is that it came from, and is now retreating
towards, vastly remote depths of space. An American computer[1312] found
a period indicated for it of no less than 400,000 years; A. Thraen of
Dingelstaedt arrived at one of 3617.[1313] Both are perhaps equally
insecure.

We have now to give some brief account of one of the most remarkable
cometary apparitions on record, and--with the single exception of that
identified with the name of Halley--the most instructive to astronomers.
The lessons learned from it were as varied and significant as its aspect
was splendid; although from the circumstance of its being visible in
general only before sunrise, the spectators of its splendour were
comparatively few.

The discovery of a great comet at Rio Janeiro, September 11, 1882,
became known in Europe through a telegram from M. Cruls, director of the
observatory at that place. It had, however (as appeared subsequently),
been already seen on the 8th by Mr. Finlay of the Cape Observatory, and
at Auckland as early as September 3. A later, but very singularly
conditioned detection, quite unconnected with any of the preceding, was
effected by Dr. Common at Ealing. Since the eclipse of May 17, when a
comet--named "Tewfik" in honour of the Khedive of Egypt--was caught on
Dr. Schuster's photographs, entangled, one might almost say, in the
outer rays of the corona, he had scrutinized the neighbourhood of the
sun on the infinitesimal chance of intercepting another such body on its
rapid journey thence or thither. We record with wonder that, after an
interval of exactly four months, that infinitesimal chance turned up in
his favour.

On the forenoon of Sunday, September 17, he saw a great comet close to,
and rapidly approaching the sun. It was, in fact, then within a few
hours of perihelion. Some measures of position were promptly taken; but
a cloud-veil covered the interesting spectacle before mid-day was long
past. Mr. Finlay at the Cape was more completely fortunate. Divided from
his fellow-observer by half the world,