Summary

N. S. Shaler The Red Sunsets — The Atlantic Monthly

There can be no doubt that the celestial spaces — at least within the region that the earth traverses — are crowded with angular bits of stony matter, ranging in weight from thousands of pounds down to particles as light as the finest dust. Every night millions of the smaller bits fall swiftly upon our earth’s atmosphere, sparkle for a moment as shooting stars, and are burnt into vapor by the heat engendered from their friction in the atmosphere.
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N. S. Shaler The Red Sunsets — The Atlantic Monthly

Even from a volcano like Vesuvius, the vast, straight column of steam, blackened with ashes, rises to the height of twenty or thirty thousand feet above the base. When the force of the ascending column is overcome by the friction of the air, the steam spreads out like the top of a great Italian pine, and sails away before the wind. Those who have seen a large cannon at the moment of discharge have doubtless noticed the cylinder of smoke that is projected for a hundred feet or so beyond the mouth, and is then broken into swift-circling clouds.
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N. S. Shaler The Red Sunsets — The Atlantic Monthly

But the strange heavens of the later autumn, the fiery glow of sunrise and sunset, the brownish haze that girdles the sun all day, are phenomena so out of the range of common experience that at first all the experts in meteorology were at sea in their explanations. At the outset, many of these students of the atmosphere turned naturally to the conjecture that some of the vagrant matter of space, such as we see in the comets or dust-like meteors, had been drawn down upon our atmosphere, and so enveloped the earth with a meteoric mist.
Source: Wikisource

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