On the thirty-ninth morning of my voyage, so far as I could calculate by the respective direction and size of the Sun and of Mars, I was within about 1,900,000 miles from the latter.  I proceeded without hesitation to direct the whole force of the current permitted to emerge from the apergion directly against the centre of the planet.  His diameter increased with great rapidity, till at the end of the first day I found myself within one million of miles of his surface.  His diameter subtended about 15’, and his disc appeared about one-fourth the size of the Moon.  Examined through the telescope, it presented a very different appearance from that either of the Earth or of her satellite.  It resembled the former in having unmistakably air and water.  But, unlike the Earth, the greater portion of its surface seemed to be land; and, instead of continents surrounded by water, it presented a number of separate seas, nearly all of them land-locked.  Around the snow-cap of each pole was a belt of water; around this, again, a broader belt of continuous land; and outside this, forming the northern and southern boundary between the arctic and temperate zones, was another broader band of water, connected apparently in one or two places with the central, or, if one may so call it, equatorial sea.  South of the latter is the one great Martial ocean.  The most striking feature of this new world, as seen from this point, was the existence of three enormous gulfs, from three to five thousand miles in length, and apparently varying in breadth from one hundred to seven hundred miles.  In the midst of the principal ocean, but somewhat to the southward, is an island of unique appearance.  It is roughly circular, and, as I perceived in descending, stands very high, its table-like summit being some 4000 feet, as I subsequently ascertained, above the sea-level.  Its surface, however, was perfectly white—­scarcely less brilliant, consequently, than an equal area of the polar icefields.  The globe, of course, revolved in some 4-1/ hours of earthly time, and, as I descended, presented successively every part of its surface to my view.  I speak of descent, but, of course, I was as yet ascending just as truly as ever, the Sun being visible through the lens in the floor, and reflected upon the mirror of the discometer, while Mars was now seen through the upper lens, and his image received in the mirror of the metacompass.  A noteworthy feature in the meteorology of the planet became apparent during the second day of the descent.  As magnified by the telescope adjusted to the upper lens, the distinctions of sea and land disappeared from the eastern and western limbs of the planet; indeed, within 15 deg. or an hour of time from either.  It was plain, therefore, that those regions in which it was late evening or early morning were hidden from view; and, independently of the whitish light reflected from them, there could be little doubt that the obscuration was due to clouds or mists.  Had the whitish light