Extraordinary fluctuations were also observed in the case of the church-bells heard in the morning; in a few seconds they would sink from a loudly-ringing peal into utter silence, from which they would rapidly return to loud-tongued audibility. The intermittent drifting of fog over the sun's disk, by which his light is at times obscured, at times revealed, is the optical analogue of these effects. As regards such changes, the acoustic deportment of the atmosphere is a true transcript of its optical deportment.
At 9 p. m. three strokes only of the Westminster clock were heard; the others were inaudible. The air had relapsed in part into its condition at 7 p. m., when all the strokes were heard.
The quiet of the park this evening, as contrasted with the resonant roar which filled the air on the two preceding days, was very remarkable. The sound, in fact, was stifled in the optically clear but acoustically flocculent atmosphere.
On the 13th the fog being displaced by thin haze, I went again to the Serpentine. The carriage-sounds were damped to an extraordinary degree. The roar of the Knightsbridge and Bayswater roads had subsided, the tread of troops which passed us a little way off was unheard, while at 11 a. m. both the chimes and the hour-bell of the Westminster clock were stifled. Subjectively considered, all was favorable to auditory impressions; but the very cause that damped the local noises extinguished our experimental sounds. The voice across the Serpentine to-day, with my assistant plainly visible in front of me, was distinctly feebler than it had been when each of us was hidden from the other in the densest fog.
Placing the source of sound at the eastern end of the Serpentine, I walked along its edge from the bridge toward the end. The distance between these two points is about 1,000 paces. After five hundred of them had been stepped, the sound was not so distinct as it had been at the bridge on the day of densest fog; hence, by the law of inverse squares, the optical cleansing of the air through the melting away of the fog had so darkened it acoustically, that a sound generated at the eastern end of the Serpentine was lowered to one-fourth of its intensity at a point midway between the end and the bridge.
To these demonstrative observations one or two subsequent ones may be added. On several of the moist and warm days at the beginning of this year I stood at noon beside the railing of St. James's Park, near Buckingham Palace, three-quarters of a mile from the clock-tower, which was clearly visible. Not a single stroke of "Big Ben" was heard. On January 19th, fog and drizzling rain obscured the tower; still from the same position I not only heard the strokes of the great bell, but also the chimes of the quarter-bells.
During the exceedingly dense and "dripping" fog of January 22d, from the same railings, I heard every stroke of the bell. At the end of the Serpentine, when the fog was densest, the Westminster bell
