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sprang to inarm her with, "Evelyn! Eternal Bliss! Mine to eternity! Mine!" and she sprang away. Music was added and she sang, "Oh Ford! oh Ford, among all these Worters, I am coming through you to my Kingdom. Oh Ford, my lover while I was
woman, I will never forget you, never, as long as I have branches to shade you from the sun," and, singing, crossed the stream.
Why he followed her so passionately, I do not know. It was play, she was in his own domain which a fence surrounds, and she could not possibly escape him. But he dashed round by the bridge as if all their love was at stake, and pursued her with fierceness up the hill. She ran well, but the end was a foregone conclusion, and we only speculated whether he would catch her outside or inside the copse. "I think inside," said old Mrs. Worters, who had been but little moved by the whole proceeding. "No-outside; no-inside: well in any case I consider Evelyn a queer girl." He gained on her inch by inch; now they were in the shadow of the trees; he had grasped her, he had missed; she had disappeared into the trees themselves, he following.
"Harcourt is in high spirits," said Mrs. Osgood, Anna, and Ruth.
"Evelyn!" we heard him shouting within.
We proceeded up the asphalt path. "Evelyn! Evelyn!"
"He's not caught her yet, evidently." "Where are you, Evelyn?"
"Miss Beaumont must have hidden herself rather cleverly."
"Look here," cried Harcourt, emerging, "have you seen Evelyn?"
"Oh, no, she's certainly inside." "So I thought."
"Evelyn must be dodging round one of the trunks. You go this way, I that. We'll soon find her." We searched, gaily at first, and al
ways with the feeling that Miss Beaumont was close by, that the delicate limbs were just behind this bole, the hair and the drapery quivering among those leaves. She was beside us, above us; here was her footstep on the purple-brown earth-her bosom, her neck-she was everywhere and nowhere. Gaiety turned to irritation, irritation, to anger and fear. Miss Beaumont was apparently lost. "Evelyn! Evelyn!" we continued to cry. "Oh, really, it is beyond a joke. It's nearly tea-time."
Then the wind arose, the more violent for its lull, and we were driven into the house by a terrific storm. We said, "At all events she will come back now." But she did not come, and the rain hissed and rose up from the dry meadows like incense smoke, and smote the quivering leaves to applause. Then it lightened. Ladies screamed, and we saw Other Kingdom as one who claps the hands, and heard it as one who roars with laughter in the thunder. Not even the Archdeacon can remember such a storm. All Harcourt's seedlings were ruined, and the tiles flew off his gables right and left. He came to me presently with a white, drawn face, saying: "Inskip, can I trust you?"
"You can, indeed."
"I have thought of it; she has eloped with Ford."
"But how- I gasped.
"The carriage is ready-we'll talk as we drive." Then, against the rain he shouted: "No gate in the fence, I know, but what about a ladder? While I blunder, she's over the fence, and he--"
"But you were so close. There was not the time."
"There is time for anything," he said venomously, "where a treacherous woman is concerned. I found her no better than a savage, I trained her, I educated her. But I'll break them
both. I can do that; I'll break them soul and body."
No one can break Ford now. The task is impossible. But I trembled for Miss Beaumont.
We missed the train. Young couples had gone by it, several young couples, and we heard of more young couples in London, as if all the world was mocking Harcourt's solitude. In desperation we sought the squalid suburb that is now Ford's home. We swept past the dirty maid and the terrified aunt, swept upstairs, to catch him if we could red-handed. He was seated at the table, reading the Edipus Coloneus of Sophocles.
"That won't take in me!" shouted Harcourt. "You've got Miss Beaumont with you, and I know it."
"No such luck," said Ford.
He stammered with rage. "Inskip-you hear that? 'No such luck'! Quote the The English Review.
By the death of Prof. Simon Newcomb science has sustained one of the most severe blows of recent years. America has lost her most eminent man of science, and not since the death of Adams has the world been deprived of so illustrious an investigator in theoretical astronomy. Newcomb's career up to 1899 was described by Loewy in the article on "Scientific Worthies" in Nature, vol. lx., p. 1, and his activity and marvellous powers of work continued up to the date of the illness that has just terminated fatally. Since 1899 he has given us his interesting book entitled "The Reminiscences of an Astronomer" (1903), in which he described the early incidents of his life and related the extraordinary circumstances by which his steps were guided into the career which led him to such eminence.
LIVING AGE. VOL. XLIV. 2320.
evidence against him. I can't speak." So I quoted her song. ""Oh Ford! Oh Ford, among all these Worters, I am coming through you to my Kingdom! Oh Ford, my lover while I was a woman, I will never forget you, never, as long as I have branches to shade you from the sun.' Soon after that, we lost her."
"And-and on another occasion she sent a message of similar effect. Inskip, bear witness. He was to 'guess' something."
PROFESSOR SIMON NEWCOMB.
"I have guessed it," said Ford. "So you practically—"
"Oh, no, Mr. Worters, you mistake me. I have not practically guessed; I have guessed. I could tell you if I chose, but it would be no good, for she has not practically escaped you. She has escaped you absolutely, for ever and ever, as long as there are branches to shade men from the sun." E. M. Forster.
Newcomb commenced his reminiscences with the words:-"I date my birth into the world of sweetness and light on one frosty morning in January, 1857, when I took my seat between two well-known mathematicians (Winlock and Runkle) before a blazing fire in the office of the 'Nautical Almanac' at Cambridge, Mass."
Though born at Wallace, in Nova Scotia, March 12, 1835, Simon Newcomb was of almost pure New England descent. His father was, he tells us, the most rational and the most dispassionate of men, who, when he had reached the age of twenty-five, set forth to search for a wife who possessed the qualities most suitable in a helpmeet. His search had extended nearly a hundred miles before, in the village of Moncton, he found in Emily Prince what he desired, and his son
says the marriage was "in all respects a happy one, so far as congeniality of nature and mutual regard could go."
. . "My mother was the most profoundly and sincerely religious woman with whom I was ever intimately acquainted, and my father always entertained and expressed the highest admiration for her mental gifts, to which he attributed whatever talents his children might have possessed. The unfitness of her environment to her constitution is the saddest memory of my childhood. More I do not trust myself to say to the public, nor will the reader expect more of me."
How Newcomb's early years were passed may perhaps be conjectured from the fact that the auto-biographical chapter in which he records them bears the title of "The World of Cold and Darkness." He had, however, from his earliest years a keen desire for knowledge, and read whatever books were available. His first introduction to the intellectual career he desired was not promising. In those days there was a so-called physician, Dr. Foshay, living near Moncton, who was reputed to have effected cures of sick persons given up by other doctors. As Newcomb says, "Diomeds of the medical profession before whose shafts all forms of disease had to fall were then very generally supposed to be realities." By the intervention of an aunt, young Newcomb agreed to live with the doctor, rendering him all assistance in preparing medicines, while the doctor, on his part, undertook to supply Newcomb's bodily needs and teach him "the botanic system of medicine." After a little experience it began to dawn upon Newcomb that Dr. notwithstanding Foshay, boasted medical skill, was than an ignorant pretender, and that the time of his assistant would be utterly wasted instead of being, as he expected, expended on studying bot
So on any and scientific medicine. September 13, 1853, Newcomb determined to run away after leaving a letter for the doctor, in which he explained that, as the doctor had shown no indication of fulfilling his promises, his assistant felt that the arrangement was annulled. Newcomb was on the road before daybreak, and walked until late at night, ever fearing pursuit from the doctor. It appears that the doctor did actually attempt a pursuit, but, by good fortune, Newcomb eluded recapture, and at last reached a house where he was hospitably entertained. "Thus ended," he says, "a day which I have always looked back to as the most memorable in my life."
After a week of hardship, which Newcomb says he will not harrow the feelings of the reader by describing, he arrived at Calais, where he found a boat bound for Salem. The little money that he had in his pocket was less than the price of the passage, but he undertook to supplement the deficiency by working his way. A few months later we find him engaged as a teacher in a school at a place called Massey's Cross Roads, in Kent County, and devoting every spare hour to reading whatever mathematical books he could obtain. His first appearance as an author was in refutation of a Mr. Eveleth, who doubted the Copernican system, and Newcomb published in the National Intelligencer an exposition of the fallacies in the paradoxer's essay. In 1856 he was teaching in the family of a planter, near Washington, and on a visit to the library of the Smithsonian Institution he was delighted to see among the mathematical books the greatest treasure that his imagination had ever pictured, a work that he had thought of almost as belonging to fairyland-Laplace's "Mécanique Céleste." Shortly afterwards he summoned up enough cour
age to seek for an interview with Prof. Henry, who suggested that he should look for some position in the Coast Survey, and his reception by Mr. Hilgard was such that Newcomb writes: -"I found from my first interview with him that the denizens of the world of light were up to the most sanguine conceptions I ever could have formed." Mr. Hilgard introduced him to Prof. Winlock, of Cambridge, Mass., and thus in 1857 he entered "the world of sweetness and light" by becoming one of the computers in "The American Ephemeris and Nautical Almanac."
From this time the progress of Newcomb to the height of astronomical fame was unchecked. Dr. Gould, the well-known astronomer, wrote to tell him that there was a vacancy in the Corps of Professors of Mathematics attached to the Naval Observatory at Washington, and suggested that he might like the post. Newcomb at first was disinclined to consider the proposition. Cambridge seemed to him the focus of the science and learning of his country. He also rather shrank from what he called the drudgery of night work in the observatory, for he considered that it would interfere with the mathematical investigations which he was specially interested; but he finally decided to apply, and a month later, September, 1861, was much gratified in receiving the appointment duly signed by Abraham Lincoln. Newcomb accordingly settled in Washington, where he married, in 1863, Mary Caroline, daughter of Dr. C. A. Hassler, U. S. Navy, and three daughters were the issue of the marriage.
In the winter of 1870 Mr. Cyrus Field, of Atlantic cable fame, had a small dinner-party at the Arlington Hotel, Washington. A young son of Mr. Field's was present, who had spent the day in seeing the sights of Washington. The youth described his visit to the observatory, and expressed
his surprise in not finding any large telescope. The guests were at first incredulous, but, finding that the statement was true, a senator who was present declared that this must be rectified, and in due course Alvan Clark and Sons were entrusted with the manufacture of a great objective of 26inches aperture.
Newcomb was specially interested in this enterprise, because, as he says, "the work of reconstructing the tables of the planets, which I had long before mapped out as the greatest one in which I should engage, required as exact a knowledge as could be obtained of the masses of all the planets. In the case of Uranus and Neptune, the two other planets, this knowledge could best be obtained by observations on their satellites. To the latter my attention was therefore directed." In 1875 the instrument was given over to Prof. Asaph Hall, and of course it has become forever famous as the means by which Hall made his beautiful discovery of the two satellites of Mars.
In Newcomb's "Reminiscences" we find, in a chapter on "The Author's Scientific Work," a most interesting sketch of the great problems to the solution of which his life's work was devoted. It appears that the first important investigation on which he entered in his early years at Cambridge, Mass., related to the orbits of the asteroids. This particular investigation discussed the theory that these bodies originated as fragments of a large planet broken up by some cataclysm. It involved an extended examination of the secular perturbations of the orbits of the asteroids to determine whether at any epoch even hundreds of thousands of years ago all the orbits passed through one point, though by the influence of perturbations they have now ceased to do so. The investigation seems to show that no such
cataclysm as that looked for ever occurred, and that each of the asteroids has been a separate body since the solar system came into existence.
Another problem which shows the lines of thought habitually present to Newcomb may be thus stated. Do the mutual attractions of the sun, planets, and satellites completely explain all the motions in the solar system? or, as he expressed it, "Does any world move otherwise than as it is attracted by other worlds?" This opens up two great researches: first, in bringing the labors of astronomers together so as to determine with the utmost accuracy the actual movements of the heavenly bodies, and, second, in securing all attainable perfection in the mathematical methods employed in their examination. A very important branch of this inquiry is presented by the movements of the moon. Such an investigation as Newcomb sketched out had a stimulating effect on the discussion of old and valuable observations of the positions of the moon deduced from ancient eclipses, and much of Newcomb's best work was done in connection with the lunar theory.
In 1875 Newcomb was offered the position in Harvard University which is now filled with such distinction by Prof. Pickering, but he declined this offer after careful consideration. On September 15, 1877, he was appointed editor of "The American Ephemeris and Nautical Almanac." He tells us that "the change was one of the happiest of my life. I was now in a position of recognized responsibility where my recommendations met with the respect due to that responsibility, where I could make plans with the assurance of being able to carry them out." He approached the duties of this office in the loftiest spirit, and devoted his energies to the task of improving the fundamental constants employed. With this object in view, ex
tensive investigations in various parts of dynamical astronomy had to be undertaken. His efforts were unremitting to improve at every point the processes of calculation, as well as the materials on which the calculations were based. Among the greatest of Newcomb's labors, measured by their value to science, are, undoubtedly, those done in connection with this office. Astronomers all over the world recognize "The Astronomical Papers of the American Ephemeris" brought out under Newcomb's guidance as works of classical value. In this great task he had the good fortune to obtain the assistance of many eminent men, among whom was Mr. George W. Hill, who, in Newcomb's generous words, "will easily rank as the greatest master of mathematical astronomy during the last quarter of the nineteenth century." Newcomb's important "Compendium of Spherical Astronomy," published in 1906, should also be mentioned in connection with the "Astronomical Papers." After his term of service in the office of the American Ephemeris had expired in 1883 by the age-limit, Newcomb became professor of mathematics and astronomy in Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, and this post he held until 1893.
As in the case of other men who have risen to a foremost position in science, Newcomb was wonderfully versatile. He was, as we have seen, a leader among mathematical astronomers, he did good work on various occasions in practical observation, and that he was a skilful experimenter when occasion required is shown by his beautiful investigations of the velocity of light; but Newcomb also wrote a number of books intended more for the general public than for technical astronomers. His "Popular Astronomy" is universally recognized as an admirable work full of lofty thought