of Ocean here, being twice as large as in any other part, gives occasion to some amusing discussions on the various theories of cosmogony, to which we can only refer the reader; wearied, however, by these and other discussions, Atterley slept for six hours, and on awaking, found the Brahmin busy in calculating their progress; after which the latter lay down and soon fell into a tranquil sleep, having previously requested that he might be awakened at the expiration of three hours, or sooner if any thing of moment should occur.  Atterley now looked down again through the telescope, and found the earth surprisingly diminished in its apparent dimensions, from the increased rapidity of their ascent; the eastern coasts of Asia were still full in view, as well as the whole figure of that extensive continent—­of New-Holland, of Ceylon and of Borneo; but the smaller islands were invisible.

“I strained my eye to no purpose, to follow the indentations of the coast, according to the map before me, the great bays and promontories could alone be perceived.  The Burman Empire, in one of the insignificant villages of which I had been confined for a few years, was now reduced to a speck.  The agreeable hours I had passed with the Brahmin, with the little daughter of Sing Fou, and my rambling over the neighbouring heights, all recurred to my mind, and I almost regretted the pleasures I had relinquished.  I tried with more success to beguile the time by making notes in my journal, and after having devoted about an hour to this object, I returned to the telescope, and now took occasion to examine the figure of the earth near the Poles, with a view of discovering whether its form favoured Captain Symmes’s theory of an aperture existing there, and I am convinced that that ingenious gentleman is mistaken.  Time passed so heavily during these solitary occupations, that I looked at my watch every five minutes, and could scarcely be persuaded it was not out of order.  I then took up my little Bible, (which had always been my travelling companion,) read a few chapters in St. Matthew, and found my feelings tranquillized, and my courage increased.  The desired hour at length arrived; when, on waking the old man, he alertly raised himself up, and at the first view of the diminished appearance of the earth, observed that our journey was a third over, as to time, but not as to distance.”

After having again composed himself to rest for about four hours, Atterley was awakened by the Brahmin, in whose arms he found himself, and, on looking around, discovered that he was lying on what had been the ceiling of the chamber, which still, however, felt like the bottom.  The reason of this phenomenon was thus explained to him by the Brahmin—­“we have, while you were asleep, passed the middle point between the earth’s and the moon’s attraction; and we now gravitate less towards our own planet than (to) her satellite.  I took the precaution to move you, before you fell by your own gravity, from what was lately the bottom, to that which is now so, and to keep you in this place until you were retained in it by the moon’s attraction; for though your fall would have been, at this point, like that of a feather, yet it would have given you some shock and alarm.  The machine, therefore, has undergone no change in its position or course;—­the change is altogether in our feelings.”