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Updated: June 3, 2025
At half past two in the morning of December 6th, the travellers crossed the 30th northern parallel, at a distance from the lunar surface of 625 miles, reduced to about 6 by their spy-glasses. Barbican could not yet see the least probability of their landing at any point of the disc. The velocity of the Projectile was decidedly slow, but for that reason extremely puzzling.
Having been for many years Proctor at the great universities of Point-street and Blue-town, as well as member of Barbican and North Corner, he was perfectly qualified, in point of classical dialect, to maintain the honour of his profession. Nor was the lady by any means deficient.
"If we die," said Barbican calmly, but with a kind of suppressed enthusiasm, "it will be only to remove to a more extended sphere of our investigations. In the other world, we can pursue our inquiries under far more favorable auspices. There the wonders of our great Creator, clothed in brighter light, shall be brought within a shorter range.
"Yes," chimed in the Captain, "it is for this point, you see, that the velocity had to be calculated, because we know already that the initial velocity is exactly the three halves of the velocity when the Projectile quits the atmosphere." "That I don't comprehend," cried the Frenchman, energetically. "It's simple enough, however," said Barbican.
Besides I am by no means certain that we are still followed by the objects that we flung out of the Projectile." "Why not?" asked M'Nicholl; "we saw them all outside not long ago." "But we can't see them outside now," answered Barbican; "that may be accounted for, I know, by the darkness, but it may be also by the fact of their not being there at all.
Striking a light, he consulted the thermometer and cried out: "Seventeen degrees below zero, centigrade! that is certainly low enough to make an old fellow like me feel rather chilly!" "Just one degree and a half above zero, Fahrenheit!" observed Barbican; "I really had no idea that it was so cold."
"Your cool, clear head has not yet quite recovered from the shock, my dear Captain;" replied Barbican, with a smile.
At these details, Ardan's imagination became unusually excited and of course it was not without some result. It even happened that he hit on an idea that had already suggested itself to Schmidt of Athens. "Why not consider them," he asked, "to be the simple phenomena of vegetation?" "What do you mean?" asked Barbican. "Rows of sugar cane?" suggested M'Nicholl with a snicker.
The Captain and myself could have readily solved the problem, only the reply from the University saved us the trouble." "Well, Barbican, dear boy," observed Ardan, "all I've got to say is, you might chop the head off my body, beginning with my feet, before you could make me go through such a calculation." "Simply because you don't understand Algebra," replied Barbican, quietly.
"But don't you think, Barbican," asked the Captain, "that every force, internal or external, that might modify the Moon's shape, has ceased long ago?" "I am rather inclined to that opinion," said Barbican; "it is not, however, a new one. Descartes maintained that as the Earth is an extinct Sun, so is the Moon an extinct Earth.
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