“Before totality commenced, the colors in the sky and on the hills were magnificent beyond all description. The clear sky in the north assumed a deep indigo color, while in the west the horizon was first black like night. In the east the clear sky was very pale blue, with orange and red, like sunrise. On the shadow creeping across, the deep blue in the north changed, like magic, to pale, sunrise tints of orange and red, while the sunrise appearance in the east had changed to indigo. The darkness was great; the countenances of men were of a livid pink. The Spaniards lay down, and their children screamed with fear; fowls hastened to roost, ducks clustered together, pigeons dashed against the houses; flowers closed; many butterflies flew as if drunk, and at last disappeared. The air became very humid, so much so that the grass felt to one of the observers as if recently rained upon.” CHAPTER XIII. YET MORE ABOUT THE SUN. Having seen something of storms taking place on the sun’s photosphere, we must next give our attention to storms taking place at his edge. But it should be remembered that the said edge, far from being a mere rim to a flat surface, is a kind of horizon-line--is, in fact, just that part of the photosphere which is passing out of or coming under our sight. The surface there is, in kind, the same as the surface of the broad disk facing us. In watching outbursts at the edge of the sun, we have a side view instead of a bird’s-eye view. In the year 1871, Professor Charles A. Young, of Princeton, was looking at a large hydrogen cloud on the edge of the sun. When I speak of a “cloud,” it must not be supposed that anything like a damp, foggy, earthly cloud is meant. This solar cloud was a huge mass of red-hot gas, about one hundred thousand miles long, rising to a height of fifty thousand miles from the sun’s surface, and appearing to rest on glowing pillars of fire. The professor, while watching, was called away for half an hour. He came back, expecting to find things much as he had left them. Instead of this, a startling change had taken place. The whole mass of glowing fire seemed to have been actually “blown to shreds” by some tremendous outburst from below. In place of the motionless cloud were masses of scattered fire, each from about four thousand to fourteen thousand miles long, and a thousand miles wide. As the professor gazed, these “bits” of broken cloud rose rapidly upwards, away from the surface of the sun. When I say “rapidly,” I mean that the real movement, which the professor could calculate, was rapid. The seeming movements were of course slow, and over a small space. The actual motions were not tardy, for in ten minutes these huge, fiery cloud-pieces rushed upwards to a height of two hundred thousand miles from the edge of the sun, moving at a rate of at least one hundred and sixty-seven miles each second. Gradually they faded away.