Signals from the Brick Moon
- Written
- December 1869 (the third part of a serial that ran October–December 1869)
- Place
- Boston
- Language
- English
- Kind of source
- literature
- Reading time
- 10 minutes
- Difficulty
- Moderate
- Intensity
- Low
Thirty-seven people line up on the edge of a tiny world and jump together, high and low, to spell out a message in Morse code. Far away on the earth, a man at a telescope writes it down.
Edward Everett Hale (1822–1909) was a Unitarian minister in Boston and a writer of stories. “The Brick Moon” ran in three parts in The Atlantic Monthly in October, November, and December 1869. It is told by Frederic Ingham, a narrator Hale used in many stories. Ingham and his friends plan a brick sphere two hundred feet across, to be flung into orbit by two huge spinning flywheels. Ships at sea could then take their longitude from it. They build it in the backwoods of Maine. Just before the planned launch, it slides onto the wheels by accident and shoots into the sky, with the builders and their families living inside. More than a year later, reports of a strange new “asteroid” help Ingham find it again. He takes a job as caretaker of an unused observatory so that he can use its large telescope. The passage, from the third part, begins on his first night there.
Hale knew the science of his day: gravity, orbits, eclipses, the telegraph. No one could yet go and see what lay beyond the air. He gives his settlers air, rain, and a tropical climate on a ball of brick, and his narrator admits he “could not then conjecture” how.
This is fiction written as a memoir, with times, numbers, and a record book to make it seem real. Hale wrote with humor: the names of the babies born on the Moon, for example, play on the names astronomers gave the “asteroid.” A sequel, “Life in the Brick Moon,” followed in The Atlantic in February 1870, and in 1873 Hale joined the two into one story for a book, His Level Best and Other Stories.
Watch what the settlers do first, and how much Hale works out about life on a small world: the light gravity, the short walk from equator to pole, crowding, food, and water.
The edited translation, in simplified modern English. Bracketed words were added for clarity; [...] marks a cut. Tap a note number to read the note.
Night came. I was “sole alone!” B. M.1 came, more than filled the field of vision, of course; but for that I was ready. Heavens! how changed. Red no longer, but green as a meadow in the spring. Still I could see — black on the green — the large twenty-foot circles which I remembered so well, which broke the concave of the dome; and, on the upper edge — were these palm trees? They were. No, they were hemlocks by their shape, and among them were moving to and fro — — — — — flies? Of course, I cannot see flies! But something is moving — coming, going. One, two, three, ten; there are more than thirty in all! They are men and women and their children!
Could it be possible? It was possible! Orcutt and Brannan and the rest of them had survived that giddy flight through the ether,2 and were going and coming on the surface of their own little world, bound to it by its own attraction and living by its own laws!
As I watched, I saw one of them leap from that surface. He passed wholly out of my field of vision, but in a minute, more or less, returned. Why not! Of course, the attraction of his world must be very small, while he retained the same power of muscle he had when he was here. They must be horribly crowded, I thought. No. They had three acres of surface, and there were but thirty-seven of them. Not so much crowded as people are in Roxbury, not nearly so much as in Boston; and besides, these people are living underground, and have the whole of their surface for their exercise.
I watched their every movement as they approached the edge and as they left it. Often they passed beyond it, so that I could see them no more. Often they sheltered themselves from that tropical sun beneath the trees. Think of living on a world where from the vertical heat of the hottest noon of the equator to the twilight of the poles is a walk of only fifty paces! What atmosphere they had, to temper and diffuse those rays, I could not then conjecture.
I knew that at half past ten they would pass into the inevitable eclipse3 which struck them every night at this period of their orbit, and must, I thought, be a luxury to them, as recalling old memories of night when they were on this world. As they approached the line of shadow, some fifteen minutes before it was due, I counted on the edge thirty-seven specks arranged evidently in order. And, at one moment, as by one signal, all thirty-seven jumped into the air — high jumps. Again they did it, and again. Then a low jump; then a high one. I caught the idea in a moment. They were telegraphing to our world, in the hope of an observer. Long leaps and short leaps — the long and short of Morse’s Telegraph Alphabet4 — were communicating ideas. My paper and pencil had been of course before me. I jotted down the despatch, whose language I knew perfectly:
“Show ‘I understand’ on the Saw-Mill Flat.”5
“Show ‘I understand’ on the Saw-Mill Flat.”
“Show ‘I understand’ on the Saw-Mill Flat.”
By “I understand” they meant the responsive signal given, in all telegraphy, by an operator who has received and understood a message.
As soon as this exercise had been three times repeated, they proceeded in a solid body — much the most apparent object I had had until now — to Circle No. 3, and then evidently descended into the Moon.
The eclipse soon began, but I knew the Moon’s path now, and followed the dusky, coppery spot without difficulty. At 1:33 it emerged, and in a very few moments I saw the solid column pass from Circle No. 3, again, deploy on the edge again, and repeat three times the signal:
“Show ‘I understand’ on the Saw-Mill Flat.”
“Show ‘I understand’ on the Saw-Mill Flat.”
“Show ‘I understand’ on the Saw-Mill Flat.”
It was clear that Orcutt had known that the edge of his little world would be most easy of observation, and that he had guessed that the moments of obscuration and of emersion were the moments when observers would be most careful. After this signal they broke up again, and I could not follow them. With daylight I sent off a despatch to Haliburton, and, grateful and happy in comparison, sank into the first sleep, not haunted by horrid dreams, which I had known for years.
Haliburton knew that George Orcutt had taken with him a good Dolland’s refractor,6 which he had bought in London, of a two-inch glass. He knew that this would give Orcutt a very considerable power, if he could only adjust it accurately enough to find No. 9 in the 3rd Range. Orcutt had chosen well in selecting the “Saw-Mill Flat,” a large meadow, easily distinguished by the peculiar shape of the millpond which we had made. Eager though Haliburton was to join me, he loyally took moneys, caught the first train to Skowhegan, and, traveling thence, in thirty-six hours more was again descending Spoonwood Hill, for the first time since our futile observations. The snow lay white upon the Flat. With Rob. Shea’s help, he rapidly unrolled a piece of black cambric twenty yards long, and pinned it to the crust upon the snow; another by its side, and another. Much cambric had he left. They had carried down with them enough for the funerals of two Presidents. Haliburton showed the symbols for “I understand,” but he could not resist also displaying · · — · —, which are the dots and lines to represent O.K.,7 which, he says, is the shortest message of comfort. And, not having exhausted the space on the Flat, he and Robert, before night closed in, made a gigantic O.K., fifteen yards from top to bottom, and in marks that were fifteen feet through.
I had telegraphed my great news to Haliburton on Monday night. Tuesday night he was at Skowhegan. Thursday night he was at No. 9. Friday he and Rob. stretched their cambric. Meanwhile, every day I slept. Every night I was glued to the eyepiece. Fifteen minutes before the eclipse every night this weird dance of leaps two hundred feet high, followed by hops of twenty feet high, mingled always in the steady order I have described, spelt out the ghastly message:
“Show ‘I understand’ on the Saw-Mill Flat.”
And every morning, as the eclipse ended, I saw the column creep along to the horizon, and again, as the duty of opening day, spell out the same:
“Show ‘I understand’ on the Saw-Mill Flat.”
They had done this twice in every twenty-four hours for nearly two years. For three nights steadily, I read these signals twice each night; only these, and nothing more.
But Friday night all was changed. After “Attention,” that dreadful “Show” did not come, but this cheerful signal:
“Hurrah. All well. Air, food, and friends! what more can man require? Hurrah.”
How like George! How like Ben Brannan! How like George’s wife! How like them all! And they were all well! Yet poor I could not answer. Nay, I could only guess what Haliburton had done. But I have never, I believe, been so grateful since I was born!
After a pause, the united line of leapers resumed their jumps and hops. Long and short spelled out:
“Your O.K. is twice as large as it need be.”
Of the meaning of this, lonely I had, of course, no idea.
“I have a power of seven hundred,” continued George. How did he get that? He has never told us. But this I can see, that all our analogies deceive us — of views of the sea from Mt. Washington, or of the Boston State House from Wachusett.8 For in these views we look through forty or eighty miles of dense terrestrial atmosphere. But Orcutt was looking nearly vertically through an atmosphere which was, most of it, rare indeed, and pure indeed, compared with its lowest stratum.
In the record book of my observations these despatches are entered as 12 and 13. Of course it was impossible for me to reply. All I could do was to telegraph these in the morning to Skowhegan, sending them to the care of the Moores, that they might forward them. But the next night showed that this had not been necessary.
Friday night George and the others went on for a quarter of an hour. Then they would rest, saying, “two,” “three,” or whatever their next signal time would be. Before morning I had these despatches:
14. “Write to all hands that we are doing well. Langdon’s baby is named Io, and Leonard’s is named Phebe.”
How queer that was! What a coincidence!9 And they had some humor there.
15 was: “Our atmosphere stuck to us. It weighs three tenths of an inch10 — our weight.”
16. “Our rainfall is regular as the clock. We have made a cistern of Kilpatrick.”
This meant the spherical chamber of that name.11
17. “Write to Darwin that he is all right.12 We began with lichens and have come as far as palms and hemlocks.”
These were the first night’s messages. I had scarcely covered the eye-glasses, and adjusted the equatorial13 for the day, when the bell announced the carriage in which Polly and the children came from the station to relieve me in my solitary service as janitor. I had the joy of showing her the good news. This night’s work seemed to fill our cup. For all the day before, when I was awake, I had been haunted by the fear of famine for them. True, I knew that they had stored away in chambers H, I, and J the pork and flour which we had sent up for the workmen through the summer, and the corn and oats for the horses. But this could not last forever.
Now, however, that it proved that in a tropical climate they were forming their own soil, developing their own palms, and eventually even their breadfruit and bananas, planting their own oats and maize, and developing rice, wheat, and all other cereals, harvesting these six, eight, or ten times — for aught I could see — in one of our years, why then, there was no danger of famine for them. If, as I thought, they carried up with them heavy drifts of ice and snow in the two chambers which were not covered in when they started, why, they had waters in their firmament14 quite sufficient for all purposes of thirst and of ablution. And what I had seen of their exercise showed that they were in strength sufficient for the proper development of their little world.
Notes
- The Brick Moon. It had left the earth as bare red brick. back
- The thin, invisible substance that most scientists of the time believed filled all of space and carried light. back
- At this point in its orbit, the satellite passed through the earth’s shadow every night. In the first part, the planners expect a moon four thousand miles up to be eclipsed about three hours of every night. back
- The telegraph code of dots and dashes. Here a long leap stands for a dash and a short hop for a dot. back
- A meadow by the millpond at No. 9, the backwoods township where the Moon was built. Large black marks laid out there could be seen from the Moon. back
- Hale’s spelling of Dollond, a family firm of London telescope and instrument makers in business since the 1750s. A two-inch glass is a lens two inches across. back
- All right. OK first appeared in a Boston newspaper in 1839, as a joke abbreviation of “oll korrect” (all correct). back
- Mount Washington, in New Hampshire, is the highest peak in the northeastern United States. Wachusett is a mountain in central Massachusetts from which Boston can be seen on clear days. back
- When astronomers first spotted the Brick Moon, two of them took it for a new asteroid and proposed the names Phoebe and Io for it. back
- Air pressure was measured by the height of the column of mercury it holds up in a barometer. At sea level on the earth it is about thirty inches. back
- Inside its outer shell, the Moon was built as thirteen hollow brick spheres, or chambers. Each had a letter, and many were also given names. back
- Charles Darwin, whose On the Origin of Species (1859) set out the theory of evolution by natural selection. back
- The observatory’s large telescope, on a mounting with one axis parallel to the earth’s, so that it can follow the sky as the earth turns. This one had a fifteen-inch lens. back
- The sky. The phrase echoes Genesis 1:7, where God divides “the waters which were under the firmament from the waters which were above the firmament.” back
Night came. I was “sole alone!” B. M. came, more than filled the field of vision, of course; but for that I was ready. Heavens! how changed. Red no longer, but green as a meadow in the spring. Still I could see — black on the green — the large twenty-foot circles which I remembered so well, which broke the concave of the dome; and, on the upper edge — were these palm-trees? They were. No, they were hemlocks by their shape, and among them were moving to and fro — — — — — flies? Of course, I cannot see flies! But something is moving, — coming, going. One, two, three, ten; there are more than thirty in all! They are men and women and their children!
Could it be possible? It was possible! Orcutt and Brannan and the rest of them had survived that giddy flight through the ether, and were going and coming on the surface of their own little world, bound to it by its own attraction and living by its own laws!
Night came. I was “sole alone!” B. M. came, more than filled the field of vision, of course; but for that I was ready. Heavens! how changed. Red no longer, but green as a meadow in the spring. Still I could see — black on the green — the large twenty-foot circles which I remembered so well, which broke the concave of the dome; and, on the upper edge — were these palm trees? They were. No, they were hemlocks by their shape, and among them were moving to and fro — — — — — flies? Of course, I cannot see flies! But something is moving — coming, going. One, two, three, ten; there are more than thirty in all! They are men and women and their children! Could it be possible? It was possible! Orcutt and Brannan and the rest of them had survived that giddy flight through the ether, and were going and coming on the surface of their own little world, bound to it by its own attraction and living by its own laws!
- The Brick Moon. It had left the earth as bare red brick.
- The thin, invisible substance that most scientists of the time believed filled all of space and carried light.
As I watched, I saw one of them leap from that surface. He passed wholly out of my field of vision, but in a minute, more or less, returned. Why not! Of course, the attraction of his world must be very small, while he retained the same power of muscle he had when he was here. They must be horribly crowded, I thought. No. They had three acres of surface, and there were but thirty-seven of them. Not so much crowded as people are in Roxbury, not nearly so much as in Boston; and besides, these people are living underground, and have the whole of their surface for their exercise.
As I watched, I saw one of them leap from that surface. He passed wholly out of my field of vision, but in a minute, more or less, returned. Why not! Of course, the attraction of his world must be very small, while he retained the same power of muscle he had when he was here. They must be horribly crowded, I thought. No. They had three acres of surface, and there were but thirty-seven of them. Not so much crowded as people are in Roxbury, not nearly so much as in Boston; and besides, these people are living underground, and have the whole of their surface for their exercise.
I watched their every movement as they approached the edge and as they left it. Often they passed beyond it, so that I could see them no more. Often they sheltered themselves from that tropical sun beneath the trees. Think of living on a world where from the vertical heat of the hottest noon of the equator to the twilight of the poles is a walk of only fifty paces! What atmosphere they had, to temper and diffuse those rays, I could not then conjecture.
I watched their every movement as they approached the edge and as they left it. Often they passed beyond it, so that I could see them no more. Often they sheltered themselves from that tropical sun beneath the trees. Think of living on a world where from the vertical heat of the hottest noon of the equator to the twilight of the poles is a walk of only fifty paces! What atmosphere they had, to temper and diffuse those rays, I could not then conjecture.
I knew that at half past ten they would pass into the inevitable eclipse which struck them every night at this period of their orbit, and must, I thought, be a luxury to them, as recalling old memories of night when they were on this world. As they approached the line of shadow, some fifteen minutes before it was due, I counted on the edge thirty-seven specks arranged evidently in order; and, at one moment, as by one signal, all thirty-seven jumped into the air, — high jumps. Again they did it, and again. Then a low jump; then a high one. I caught the idea in a moment. They were telegraphing to our world, in the hope of an observer. Long leaps and short leaps, — the long and short of Morse’s Telegraph Alphabet, — were communicating ideas. My paper and pencil had been of course before me. I jotted down the despatch, whose language I knew perfectly: —
“Show ‘I understand’ on the Saw-Mill Flat.”
“Show ‘I understand’ on the Saw-Mill Flat.”
“Show ‘I understand’ on the Saw-Mill Flat.”
I knew that at half past ten they would pass into the inevitable eclipse which struck them every night at this period of their orbit, and must, I thought, be a luxury to them, as recalling old memories of night when they were on this world. As they approached the line of shadow, some fifteen minutes before it was due, I counted on the edge thirty-seven specks arranged evidently in order. And, at one moment, as by one signal, all thirty-seven jumped into the air — high jumps. Again they did it, and again. Then a low jump; then a high one. I caught the idea in a moment. They were telegraphing to our world, in the hope of an observer. Long leaps and short leaps — the long and short of Morse’s Telegraph Alphabet — were communicating ideas. My paper and pencil had been of course before me. I jotted down the despatch, whose language I knew perfectly: “Show ‘I understand’ on the Saw-Mill Flat.” “Show ‘I understand’ on the Saw-Mill Flat.” “Show ‘I understand’ on the Saw-Mill Flat.”
- At this point in its orbit, the satellite passed through the earth’s shadow every night. In the first part, the planners expect a moon four thousand miles up to be eclipsed about three hours of every night.
- The telegraph code of dots and dashes. Here a long leap stands for a dash and a short hop for a dot.
- A meadow by the millpond at No. 9, the backwoods township where the Moon was built. Large black marks laid out there could be seen from the Moon.
By “I understand” they meant the responsive signal given, in all telegraphy, by an operator who has received and understood a message.
As soon as this exercise had been three times repeated, they proceeded in a solid body — much the most apparent object I had had until now — to Circle No. 3, and then evidently descended into the Moon.
By “I understand” they meant the responsive signal given, in all telegraphy, by an operator who has received and understood a message. As soon as this exercise had been three times repeated, they proceeded in a solid body — much the most apparent object I had had until now — to Circle No. 3, and then evidently descended into the Moon.
The eclipse soon began, but I knew the Moon’s path now, and followed the dusky, coppery spot without difficulty. At 1.33 it emerged, and in a very few moments I saw the solid column pass from Circle No. 3, again, deploy on the edge again, and repeat three times the signal: —
“Show ‘I understand’ on the Saw-Mill Flat.”
“Show ‘I understand’ on the Saw-Mill Flat.”
“Show ‘I understand’ on the Saw-Mill Flat.”
The eclipse soon began, but I knew the Moon’s path now, and followed the dusky, coppery spot without difficulty. At 1:33 it emerged, and in a very few moments I saw the solid column pass from Circle No. 3, again, deploy on the edge again, and repeat three times the signal: “Show ‘I understand’ on the Saw-Mill Flat.” “Show ‘I understand’ on the Saw-Mill Flat.” “Show ‘I understand’ on the Saw-Mill Flat.”
It was clear that Orcutt had known that the edge of his little world would be most easy of observation, and that he had guessed that the moments of obscuration and of emersion were the moments when observers would be most careful. After this signal they broke up again, and I could not follow them. With daylight I sent off a despatch to Haliburton, and, grateful and happy in comparison, sank into the first sleep, not haunted by horrid dreams, which I had known for years.
It was clear that Orcutt had known that the edge of his little world would be most easy of observation, and that he had guessed that the moments of obscuration and of emersion were the moments when observers would be most careful. After this signal they broke up again, and I could not follow them. With daylight I sent off a despatch to Haliburton, and, grateful and happy in comparison, sank into the first sleep, not haunted by horrid dreams, which I had known for years.
Haliburton knew that George Orcutt had taken with him a good Dolland’s refractor, which he had bought in London, of a two-inch glass. He knew that this would give Orcutt a very considerable power, if he could only adjust it accurately enough to find No. 9 in the 3d Range. Orcutt had chosen well in selecting the “Saw-Mill Flat,” a large meadow, easily distinguished by the peculiar shape of the mill-pond which we had made. Eager though Haliburton was, to join me, he loyally took moneys, caught the first train to Skowhegan, and, travelling thence, in thirty-six hours more was again descending Spoonwood Hill, for the first time since our futile observations. The snow lay white upon the Flat. With Rob. Shea’s help, he rapidly unrolled a piece of black cambric twenty yards long, and pinned it to the crust upon the snow; another by its side, and another. Much cambric had he left. They had carried down with them enough for the funerals of two Presidents. Haliburton showed the symbols for “I understand,” but he could not resist also displaying · · — · —, which are the dots and lines to represent O. K., which, he says, is the shortest message of comfort. And, not having exhausted the space on the Flat, he and Robert, before night closed in, made a gigantic O. K., fifteen yards from top to bottom, and in marks that were fifteen feet through.
Haliburton knew that George Orcutt had taken with him a good Dolland’s refractor, which he had bought in London, of a two-inch glass. He knew that this would give Orcutt a very considerable power, if he could only adjust it accurately enough to find No. 9 in the 3rd Range. Orcutt had chosen well in selecting the “Saw-Mill Flat,” a large meadow, easily distinguished by the peculiar shape of the millpond which we had made. Eager though Haliburton was to join me, he loyally took moneys, caught the first train to Skowhegan, and, traveling thence, in thirty-six hours more was again descending Spoonwood Hill, for the first time since our futile observations. The snow lay white upon the Flat. With Rob. Shea’s help, he rapidly unrolled a piece of black cambric twenty yards long, and pinned it to the crust upon the snow; another by its side, and another. Much cambric had he left. They had carried down with them enough for the funerals of two Presidents. Haliburton showed the symbols for “I understand,” but he could not resist also displaying · · — · —, which are the dots and lines to represent O.K., which, he says, is the shortest message of comfort. And, not having exhausted the space on the Flat, he and Robert, before night closed in, made a gigantic O.K., fifteen yards from top to bottom, and in marks that were fifteen feet through.
- Hale’s spelling of Dollond, a family firm of London telescope and instrument makers in business since the 1750s. A two-inch glass is a lens two inches across.
- All right. OK first appeared in a Boston newspaper in 1839, as a joke abbreviation of “oll korrect” (all correct).
I had telegraphed my great news to Haliburton on Monday night. Tuesday night he was at Skowhegan. Thursday night he was at No 9. Friday he and Rob. stretched their cambric. Meanwhile, every day I slept. Every night I was glued to the eye-piece. Fifteen minutes before the eclipse every night this weird dance of leaps two hundred feet high, followed by hops of twenty feet high, mingled always in the steady order I have described, spelt out the ghastly message: —
“Show ‘I understand’ on the Saw-Mill Flat.”
I had telegraphed my great news to Haliburton on Monday night. Tuesday night he was at Skowhegan. Thursday night he was at No. 9. Friday he and Rob. stretched their cambric. Meanwhile, every day I slept. Every night I was glued to the eyepiece. Fifteen minutes before the eclipse every night this weird dance of leaps two hundred feet high, followed by hops of twenty feet high, mingled always in the steady order I have described, spelt out the ghastly message: “Show ‘I understand’ on the Saw-Mill Flat.”
And every morning, as the eclipse ended, I saw the column creep along to the horizon, and again, as the duty of opening day, spell out the same: —
“Show ‘I understand’ on the Saw-Mill Flat.”
And every morning, as the eclipse ended, I saw the column creep along to the horizon, and again, as the duty of opening day, spell out the same: “Show ‘I understand’ on the Saw-Mill Flat.”
They had done this twice in every twenty-four hours for nearly two years. For three nights steadily, I read these signals twice each night; only these, and nothing more.
They had done this twice in every twenty-four hours for nearly two years. For three nights steadily, I read these signals twice each night; only these, and nothing more.
But Friday night all was changed. After “Attention,” that dreadful “Show” did not come, but this cheerful signal: —
“Hurrah. All well. Air, food, and friends! what more can man require? Hurrah.”
But Friday night all was changed. After “Attention,” that dreadful “Show” did not come, but this cheerful signal: “Hurrah. All well. Air, food, and friends! what more can man require? Hurrah.”
How like George! How like Ben Brannan! How like George’s wife! How like them all! And they were all well! Yet poor I could not answer. Nay, I could only guess what Haliburton had done. But I have never, I believe, been so grateful since I was born!
How like George! How like Ben Brannan! How like George’s wife! How like them all! And they were all well! Yet poor I could not answer. Nay, I could only guess what Haliburton had done. But I have never, I believe, been so grateful since I was born!
After a pause, the united line of leapers resumed their jumps and hops. Long and short spelled out: —
“Your O. K. is twice as large as it need be.”
Of the meaning of this, lonely I had, of course, no idea.
After a pause, the united line of leapers resumed their jumps and hops. Long and short spelled out: “Your O.K. is twice as large as it need be.” Of the meaning of this, lonely I had, of course, no idea.
“I have a power of seven hundred,” continued George. How did he get that? He has never told us. But this I can see, that all our analogies deceive us, — of views of the sea from Mt. Washington, or of the Boston State-House from Wachusett. For in these views we look through forty or eighty miles of dense terrestrial atmosphere. But Orcutt was looking nearly vertically through an atmosphere which was, most of it, rare indeed, and pure indeed, compared with its lowest stratum.
“I have a power of seven hundred,” continued George. How did he get that? He has never told us. But this I can see, that all our analogies deceive us — of views of the sea from Mt. Washington, or of the Boston State House from Wachusett. For in these views we look through forty or eighty miles of dense terrestrial atmosphere. But Orcutt was looking nearly vertically through an atmosphere which was, most of it, rare indeed, and pure indeed, compared with its lowest stratum.
- Mount Washington, in New Hampshire, is the highest peak in the northeastern United States. Wachusett is a mountain in central Massachusetts from which Boston can be seen on clear days.
In the record-book of my observations these despatches are entered as 12 and 13. Of course it was impossible for me to reply. All I could do was to telegraph these in the morning to Skowhegan, sending them to the care of the Moores, that they might forward them. But the next night showed that this had not been necessary.
Friday night George and the others went on for a quarter of an hour. Then they would rest, saying, “two,” “three,” or whatever their next signal time would be. Before morning I had these despatches: —
In the record book of my observations these despatches are entered as 12 and 13. Of course it was impossible for me to reply. All I could do was to telegraph these in the morning to Skowhegan, sending them to the care of the Moores, that they might forward them. But the next night showed that this had not been necessary. Friday night George and the others went on for a quarter of an hour. Then they would rest, saying, “two,” “three,” or whatever their next signal time would be. Before morning I had these despatches:
14. “Write to all hands that we are doing well. Langdon’s baby is named Io, and Leonard’s is named Phebe.”
How queer that was! What a coincidence! And they had some humor there.
15 was: “Our atmosphere stuck to us. It weighs three tenths of an inch — our weight.”
16. “Our rain-fall is regular as the clock. We have made a cistern of Kilpatrick.”
This meant the spherical chamber of that name.
17. “Write to Darwin that he is all right. We began with lichens and have come as far as palms and hemlocks.”
14. “Write to all hands that we are doing well. Langdon’s baby is named Io, and Leonard’s is named Phebe.” How queer that was! What a coincidence! And they had some humor there. 15 was: “Our atmosphere stuck to us. It weighs three tenths of an inch — our weight.” 16. “Our rainfall is regular as the clock. We have made a cistern of Kilpatrick.” This meant the spherical chamber of that name. 17. “Write to Darwin that he is all right. We began with lichens and have come as far as palms and hemlocks.”
- When astronomers first spotted the Brick Moon, two of them took it for a new asteroid and proposed the names Phoebe and Io for it.
- Air pressure was measured by the height of the column of mercury it holds up in a barometer. At sea level on the earth it is about thirty inches.
- Inside its outer shell, the Moon was built as thirteen hollow brick spheres, or chambers. Each had a letter, and many were also given names.
- Charles Darwin, whose On the Origin of Species (1859) set out the theory of evolution by natural selection.
These were the first night’s messages. I had scarcely covered the eye-glasses, and adjusted the equatorial for the day, when the bell announced the carriage in which Polly and the children came from the station to relieve me in my solitary service as janitor. I had the joy of showing her the good news. This night’s work seemed to fill our cup. For all the day before, when I was awake, I had been haunted by the fear of famine for them. True, I knew that they had stored away in chambers H, I, and J the pork and flour which we had sent up for the workmen through the summer, and the corn and oats for the horses. But this could not last forever.
These were the first night’s messages. I had scarcely covered the eye-glasses, and adjusted the equatorial for the day, when the bell announced the carriage in which Polly and the children came from the station to relieve me in my solitary service as janitor. I had the joy of showing her the good news. This night’s work seemed to fill our cup. For all the day before, when I was awake, I had been haunted by the fear of famine for them. True, I knew that they had stored away in chambers H, I, and J the pork and flour which we had sent up for the workmen through the summer, and the corn and oats for the horses. But this could not last forever.
- The observatory’s large telescope, on a mounting with one axis parallel to the earth’s, so that it can follow the sky as the earth turns. This one had a fifteen-inch lens.
Now, however, that it proved that in a tropical climate they were forming their own soil, developing their own palms, and eventually even their bread-fruit and bananas, planting their own oats and maize, and developing rice, wheat, and all other cereals, harvesting these six, eight, or ten times — for aught I could see — in one of our years, — why then, there was no danger of famine for them. If, as I thought, they carried up with them heavy drifts of ice and snow in the two chambers which were not covered in when they started, why, they had waters in their firmament quite sufficient for all purposes of thirst and of ablution. And what I had seen of their exercise showed that they were in strength sufficient for the proper development of their little world.
Now, however, that it proved that in a tropical climate they were forming their own soil, developing their own palms, and eventually even their breadfruit and bananas, planting their own oats and maize, and developing rice, wheat, and all other cereals, harvesting these six, eight, or ten times — for aught I could see — in one of our years, why then, there was no danger of famine for them. If, as I thought, they carried up with them heavy drifts of ice and snow in the two chambers which were not covered in when they started, why, they had waters in their firmament quite sufficient for all purposes of thirst and of ablution. And what I had seen of their exercise showed that they were in strength sufficient for the proper development of their little world.
- The sky. The phrase echoes Genesis 1:7, where God divides “the waters which were under the firmament from the waters which were above the firmament.”
Page images of the original object or of the printed edition, from the libraries and archives that hold them. The pages shown are copied here where the holder marks them public domain; titles link to the holder's own viewer. Click a page to see it full size.
The Atlantic Monthly, vol. 24 (July–December 1869), Boston
Boston Public Library, via Internet Archive. pp. 682–685 (image leaves n783–n786). No rights statement on the record; published 1869, public domain in the United States.
The printing our text follows.
Hale wrote in English. Our text follows the first printing, in The Atlantic Monthly for December 1869, with spelling and punctuation modernized: hyphens dropped from compounds (eye-piece to eyepiece, mill-pond to millpond, rain-fall to rainfall), travelling to traveling, 3d to 3rd, 1.33 to 1:33, and O. K. to O.K. Hale’s despatch, spelt, and moneys are kept, as is the place name Saw-Mill Flat. A few long sentences are divided, some dashes after commas are dropped, the colon-and-dash before each signal (“: —”) becomes a colon, and No 9 (so printed once) becomes No. 9. No words are changed. The two italic *I*s are Hale’s.
Pages 682–685 of part III, about 1,800 words of the roughly 7,000 in that part: from Ingham’s first night at the observatory to the end of the settlers’ first messages.
- Original
- Text as printed in the named edition or on the object, read from page images. Edition: Edward Everett Hale, “The Brick Moon. [From the Papers of Colonel Frederic Ingham.] III. Fulfilment,” The Atlantic Monthly 24, no. 146 (Boston: Fields, Osgood, and Co., December 1869), pp. 679–688. Digital text: Internet Archive item atlanticmonthly2418unse (Boston Public Library copy of vol. 24), OCR text extracted by code and read against the page images. Running heads and page numbers are not copied.
- Editor’s review
- Not yet.
- Specialist review
- Not yet. Readings a specialist should confirm are listed for later review.
- Rights
- Original: public domain. Edition: public domain.
Sources for the notes
- Hale, Edward Everett. “The Brick Moon.” Parts I–III. The Atlantic Monthly 24 (October–December 1869): 451–60, 603–11, 679–88. Read in the Boston Public Library copy, Internet Archive item atlanticmonthly2418unse: part III in full; parts I and II for the plan, the building, and the launch. https://archive.org/details/atlanticmonthly2418unse
- Hale, Edward Everett. “Life in the Brick Moon.” The Atlantic Monthly 25, no. 148 (February 1870). Title and issue checked in Internet Archive item sim_atlantic_1870-02_25_148. https://archive.org/details/sim_atlantic_1870-02_25_148
- “Hale, Edward Everett.” In The Encyclopedia of Science Fiction, edited by John Clute, David Langford, and Graham Sleight. Online edition. On the serial, the sequel, and the 1873 book. https://sf-encyclopedia.com/entry/hale_edward_everett
- Seaburg, Alan. “Edward Everett Hale.” Dictionary of Unitarian and Universalist Biography, 2014. On his life and his ministry at South Congregational Church, Boston. https://www.uudb.org/hale-edward-everett/
- “November 1887: Michelson and Morley Report Their Failure to Detect the Luminiferous Ether.” APS News 16, no. 10 (November 2007). On the ether as physicists understood it in the nineteenth century. https://www.aps.org/publications/apsnews/200711/physicshistory.cfm
- “OK / okay / A-OK.” Wordorigins.org. Summarizing Allen Walker Read’s articles in American Speech (1963–64) on the origin of OK in the Boston Morning Post, 1839. https://wordorigins.org/big-list-entries/ok-okay
- “Peter Dollond, 1731–1820.” Science Museum Group Collection. On the Dollond firm of London instrument makers. https://collection.sciencemuseumgroup.org.uk/people/cp38680/peter-dollond
- “Charles Darwin.” Scientist of the Day, Linda Hall Library, November 24, 2015. On the publication of On the Origin of Species. https://www.lindahall.org/about/news/scientist-of-the-day/charles-darwin/
- ATM OCN 100 homework answers. Department of Atmospheric and Oceanic Sciences, University of Wisconsin–Madison. Standard sea-level pressure in inches of mercury. https://www.aos.wisc.edu/~hopkins/100hold/2-97/97hmk01a.htm
- “The Mount Washington Observatory: New England’s Weather Station.” Yankee Magazine (NewEngland.com). On Mount Washington as the highest peak in the northeastern United States. https://newengland.com/travel/new-hampshire/the-mount-washington-observatory/
- “Wachusett Mountain State Reservation.” Town of Princeton, Massachusetts. On the summit and its view of Boston. https://princetonma.gov/wachusett-mountain-state-reservation/
- “Equatorial.” Merriam-Webster Dictionary, sense 2a. https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/equatorial