Pendray)
PART II: FIREBRANDS OF SCIENCE FICTION
Heroines
Three Go Back (1932), J. Leslie Mitchell
The Flying Legion (1920), George Allen England, illustrated
The Island of Captain Sparrow (1928), S. Fowler Wright
Under the Sea to the North Pole (1898), Pierre Mael, illustrated
Fugitive Anne (1904), Rose Praed, illustrated
Lentala of the South Seas (1908), W.C. Morrow
The Girl in the Golden Atom (1923), Ray Cummings
Maza of the Moon (1929), Otis Adelbert Kline
Bad Girls
Atlantida (1920), Pierre Benoit
Out of the Silence (1928), Erle Cox
Swordwomen
The Lost Continent (1900), C.J. Cutcliffe-Hyne
The Legend of Croquemitaine (1874), Ernest L'Epine, illustrated by Gustave Dore
Not Quite Human
The Beetle (1897). Richard Marsh, illustrated
Carmilla (1872), J. Sheridan LeFanu
The Lair of the White Worm (1911), Bram Stoker, illustrated
The Life and Adventures of Peter Wilkins (1751), Richard Paltock, illustrated
The Sea Lady (1902), H.G. Wells, illustrated
Angel Island (1914), Inez Haynes Gilmore
The Future Eve (1926), Villiers de L'Isle-Adam, illustrated
The Coming Race (1871), Edward Bulwer-Lytton
The End Of Books
“It was in London, about two years ago, that the question of “the end of books” and their transformation into something quite different was agitated in a group of book-lovers, artists, men of science and of learning, on a memorable evening, never to be forgotten by anyone then present.
We had met that evening, which happened to be one of the scientific Fridays of the Royal Society, at a lecture given by Sir William Thomson, the eminent English physicist, professor in the University of Glasgow, universally known for the part he took in the laying of the first transatlantic cable.
On this Friday evening Sir William had announced to his brilliant audience of savants and men of the world that the end of the terrestrial globe and of the human race was mathematically certain to occur in precisely ten million years.
Taking his stand on the theory of Helmholtz, that the sun is a vast sphere in process of cooling, and, by the law of gravity, of shrinking in proportion as it cools, and having estimated the energy of the solar heat as four hundred and seventy-six million horse-power to the superficial square foot of its photosphere, Sir William had demonstrated that the radius of the photosphere grows about one-hundredth part shorter every two thousand years, and that it is therefore quite possible to fix the precise hour when its warmth will be insufficient to maintain life on our planet.
The great philosopher had surprised us no less by his treatment of the antiquity of the earth, which he showed to be a question of pure mechanics. In the face of geologists and naturalists he gave it a past history of not more than a score of millions of years, and showed that life had awakened upon earth in the very hour of the sun’s birth-whatever may have been the origin of this fecundating star, whether the bursting of a pre-existing world or the concentration of nebulae formerly diffused.
We had left the Royal Institute deeply moved by the great problems which the learned Glasgow professor had taken such pains to resolve scientifically for the benefit of his audience. With minds in pain, almost crushed by the immensity of the figures with which he had been juggling, we were silently walking home, a group of eight different personalities-philologians, historians, journalists, statisticians, and merely interested men of the world-walking two and two, like creatures half awake, down Albemarle Street and Piccadilly.
Edward Lembroke dragged us all into the Junior Athenæum to supper; and the champagne had no sooner limbered our half-numbed brains than it was who should speak first about Sir William Thomson’s lecture and the future destiny of humanity-questions interesting above all others and usually as varied as the minds of those who discuss them.
James Whittemore discoursed at length upon the
PART II: FIREBRANDS OF SCIENCE FICTION
Heroines
Three Go Back (1932), J. Leslie Mitchell
The Flying Legion (1920), George Allen England, illustrated
The Island of Captain Sparrow (1928), S. Fowler Wright
Under the Sea to the North Pole (1898), Pierre Mael, illustrated
Fugitive Anne (1904), Rose Praed, illustrated
Lentala of the South Seas (1908), W.C. Morrow
The Girl in the Golden Atom (1923), Ray Cummings
Maza of the Moon (1929), Otis Adelbert Kline
Bad Girls
Atlantida (1920), Pierre Benoit
Out of the Silence (1928), Erle Cox
Swordwomen
The Lost Continent (1900), C.J. Cutcliffe-Hyne
The Legend of Croquemitaine (1874), Ernest L'Epine, illustrated by Gustave Dore
Not Quite Human
The Beetle (1897). Richard Marsh, illustrated
Carmilla (1872), J. Sheridan LeFanu
The Lair of the White Worm (1911), Bram Stoker, illustrated
The Life and Adventures of Peter Wilkins (1751), Richard Paltock, illustrated
The Sea Lady (1902), H.G. Wells, illustrated
Angel Island (1914), Inez Haynes Gilmore
The Future Eve (1926), Villiers de L'Isle-Adam, illustrated
The Coming Race (1871), Edward Bulwer-Lytton
The End Of Books
“It was in London, about two years ago, that the question of “the end of books” and their transformation into something quite different was agitated in a group of book-lovers, artists, men of science and of learning, on a memorable evening, never to be forgotten by anyone then present.
We had met that evening, which happened to be one of the scientific Fridays of the Royal Society, at a lecture given by Sir William Thomson, the eminent English physicist, professor in the University of Glasgow, universally known for the part he took in the laying of the first transatlantic cable.
On this Friday evening Sir William had announced to his brilliant audience of savants and men of the world that the end of the terrestrial globe and of the human race was mathematically certain to occur in precisely ten million years.
Taking his stand on the theory of Helmholtz, that the sun is a vast sphere in process of cooling, and, by the law of gravity, of shrinking in proportion as it cools, and having estimated the energy of the solar heat as four hundred and seventy-six million horse-power to the superficial square foot of its photosphere, Sir William had demonstrated that the radius of the photosphere grows about one-hundredth part shorter every two thousand years, and that it is therefore quite possible to fix the precise hour when its warmth will be insufficient to maintain life on our planet.
The great philosopher had surprised us no less by his treatment of the antiquity of the earth, which he showed to be a question of pure mechanics. In the face of geologists and naturalists he gave it a past history of not more than a score of millions of years, and showed that life had awakened upon earth in the very hour of the sun’s birth-whatever may have been the origin of this fecundating star, whether the bursting of a pre-existing world or the concentration of nebulae formerly diffused.
We had left the Royal Institute deeply moved by the great problems which the learned Glasgow professor had taken such pains to resolve scientifically for the benefit of his audience. With minds in pain, almost crushed by the immensity of the figures with which he had been juggling, we were silently walking home, a group of eight different personalities-philologians, historians, journalists, statisticians, and merely interested men of the world-walking two and two, like creatures half awake, down Albemarle Street and Piccadilly.
Edward Lembroke dragged us all into the Junior Athenæum to supper; and the champagne had no sooner limbered our half-numbed brains than it was who should speak first about Sir William Thomson’s lecture and the future destiny of humanity-questions interesting above all others and usually as varied as the minds of those who discuss them.
James Whittemore discoursed at length upon the
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