CHAPTER IV.

"Nor shall blank silence whelm the harassed houseOf Cepheus; the high heavens know their name,For Zeus is in their line at few removes.Cepheus himself by She-bear Cynosure,Iasid king stands with uplifted arms.From his belt thou castest not a glanceTo see the first spire of the mighty Dragon."Eastward from him, heaven-troubled queen, with scanty starsBut lustrous in the full-mooned night, sits Cassiopeia.Not numerous nor double-rowedThe gems that deck her form,But like a key which through an inward-fastenedFolding-door men thrust to knock aside the bolts,They shine in single zigzag row.She, too, o'er narrow shoulders stretchingUplifted hands, seems wailing for her child."For there, a woful statue-form, is seenAndromeda, parted from her mother's side. Long I trowThou wilt not seek her in the nightly sky,So bright her head, so brightHer shoulders, feet, and girdle.Yet even there she has her arms extended,And shackled even in heaven; uplifted,Outspread eternally are those fair hands."Her feet point to her bridegroomPerseus, on whose shoulder they rest.He in the north-wind stands gigantic,His right hand stretched toward the throneWhere sits the mother of his bride. As one bent on some high deed,Dust-stained he strides over the floor of heaven."

The makers of old star-maps seem to have vied in the effort to represent with effect the figures of Andromeda, Perseus, and Cassiopeia among the stars, and it must be admitted that some of them succeeded in giving no small degree of life and spirit to their sketches.

The starry riches of these constellations are well matched with their high mythological repute. Lying in and near the Milky-Way, they are particularly interesting to the observer with an opera-glass. Besides, they include several of the most celebrated wonders of the firmament.

In consulting Map No. 17, the observer is supposed to face the east and northeast. We will begin our survey with Andromeda. The three chief stars of this constellation are of the second magnitude, and lie in a long, bending row, beginning with Alpha (α), or Alpheratz, in the head, which, as we have seen, marks one corner of the great Square of Pegasus. Beta (β), or Mirach, with the smaller stars Mu (μ) and Nu (ν), form the girdle. The third of the chief stars is Gamma (γ), or Almaach, situated in the left foot. The little group of stars designated Lambda (λ), Kappa (κ), and Iota (ι), mark the extended right hand chained to the rock, and Zeta (ζ) and some smaller stars southwest of it show the left arm and hand, also stretched forth and shackled.

In searching for picturesque objects in Andromeda, begin with Alpheratz and the groups forming the hands. Below the girdle will be seen a rather remarkable arrangement of small stars in the mouth of the Northern Fish. Now follow up the line of the girdle to the star Nu (ν). If your glass has a pretty wide field, your eye will immediately catch the glimmer of the Great Nebula of Andromeda in the same fieldwith the star. This is the oldest or earliest discovered of the nebulæ, and, with the exception of that in Orion, is the grandest visible in this hemisphere. Of course, not much can be expected of an opera-glass in viewing such an object; and yet a good glass, in clear weather and the absence of the moon, makes a very attractive spectacle of it.

The Great Andromeda Nebula.The Great Andromeda Nebula.

By turning the eyes aside, the nebula can be seen, extended as a faint, wispy light, much elongated on either side of the brighter nucleus. The cut here given shows, approximately, the appearance of the nebula, together with some of the small stars in its neighborhood, as seen with a field-glass. With large telescopes it appears both larger and broader, expanding to a truly enormous extent, and in Bond's celebrated picture of it we behold gigantic rifts running lengthwise, while the whole field of sky in which it is contained appears sprinkled over with minute stars apparently between us and the nebula. It was in, or, probably more properly speaking, in line with, this nebula that a new star suddenly shone out in 1885, and, after flickering and fading for a few months, disappeared. That the outburst of light in this star had any real connection with the nebula is exceedingly improbable. Although it appeared to be close beside the bright nucleus of the nebula, it is likely that it was really hundreds or thousands of millions of miles either this side or the other side of it. Why it should suddenly have blazed into visibility, and then in so short a time have disappeared, is a question as difficult as it is interesting. The easiest way to account for it, if not the most satisfactory, is to assume that it is a variable star of long period, and possessing a very wide range of variability. One significant fact that would seem to point to some connection between star and the nebula, after all, is that a similar occurrence was noticed in the constellation Scorpio in 1860, and to which I have previously referred (see Chapter II). In that case a faint star projected against the background of a nebula, suddenly flamed into comparatively great brilliance, and then faded again. The chances against the accidental superposition of a variable star of such extreme variability upon a known nebula occurring twice are so great that, for that reason alone, we might be justified in thinking some mysterious causal relation must in each case exist between the nebula and the star. The temptation to indulge in speculation is very great here, but it is better to wait for more light, and confess that for the present these things are inexplicable.

It will be found very interesting to sweep with the glass slowly from side to side over Andromeda, gradually approaching toward Cassiopeia or Perseus. The increase in the richness of the stratum of faint stars that apparently forms the background of the sky will be clearly discernible as you approach the Milky-Way, which passes directly through Cassiopeia and Perseus. It may be remarked that the Milky-Way itself, in that splendidly rich region about Sagittarius (described in the "Stars of Summer"), is not nearly so effective an object with an opera-glass as it is above Cygnus and in the region with which we are now dealing. This seems to be owing to the smaller magnitude of its component stars in the southern part of the stream. There the background appears more truly "milky," while in the northern region the littlestars shine distinct, like diamond-specks, on a black background.

The star Nu, which serves as a pointer to the Great Nebula, is itself worth some attention with a pretty strong glass on account of a pair of small stars near it.

The star Gamma (γ) is interesting, not only as one of the most beautiful triples in the heavens (an opera-glass is far too feeble an instrument to reveal its companions), but because it serves to indicate the radiant point of the Biela meteors. There was once a comet well known to astronomers by the name of its discoverer, Biela. It repeated its visits to the neighborhood of the sun once in every six or seven years. In 1846 this comet astonished all observers by splitting into two comets, which continued to run side by side, like two equal racers, in their course around the sun. Each developed a tail of its own. In 1852, when the twin comets were due again, the astronomical world was on thequi vive, and they did not disappoint expectation, for back they came out of the depths of space, still racing, but much farther apart than they had been before, alternating in brightness as if the long struggle had nearly exhausted them, and finally, like spent runners, growing faint and disappearing. They have never been seen since.

In 1872, when the comets should have been visible, if they still existed, a very startling thing happened. Out of the northern heavens, along the track of the missing comets, where the earth crossed it, on the night of the 27th of November came glistening and dashing the fiery spray of a storm of meteors. It was the dust and fragments of the lost comet of Biela, which, after being split in two in 1852, had evidently continued the process of disintegration until its cometary character was completely lost. It seems to have made a truly ghostly exit, for right after the meteor swarm of 1872 a mysterious cometary body was seen, which was supposed at the time to be the missing comet itself, and which, it is not altogether improbable, may have been a fragment of it. Three days after the meteors burst over Europe, it occurred to Professor Klinkerfues, of Berlin, that if they came from Biela's comet the comet itself ought to be seen in the southern hemisphere retreating from its encounter with the earth. On November 30th he sent his now historical telegram to Mr. Pogson, an astronomer at Madras; "Biela touched earth November 27th. Search near Theta Centauri." For thirty-six hours after the receipt of this extraordinary request Mr. Pogson was prevented by clouds from scanning the heavens with his telescope. When the sky cleared at last, behold there was a comet in the place indicated in the telegram! It was glimpsed again the next night, and then clouds intervened, and not a trace of it was ever seen afterward.

But every year, on the 27th of November, when the earth crosses the orbit of the lost comet, meteoric fragments come plunging into our atmosphere, burning as they fly. Ordinarily their number is small, but when, as in 1872, a swarm of the meteors is in that part of their orbit which the earth crosses, there is a brilliant spectacle. In 1885 this occurred, and the world was treated to one of the most splendid meteoric displays on record.

The Attendants of Alpha Persei.The Attendants of Alpha Persei.

Next let us turn to Perseus. The bending row of stars marking the center of this constellation is very striking and brilliant. The brightest star in the constellation is Alpha, or Algenib, in the center of the row. The head of Perseus is toward Cassiopeia, and in his left hand he grasps the head of Medusa, which hangs down in such a way that its principal star Beta, or Algol, forms a right angle with Algenib and Almaach in Andromeda. This star Algol, or the Demon, as the Arabs call it, is in some respects the most wonderful and interesting in all the heavens. It is as famous for the variability of its light as Mira, but it differs widely from that star both in its period, which is very short, and in the extent of the changes it undergoes. During about two days and ahalf, Algol is equal in brilliance to Algenib, which is a second-magnitude star; then it begins to fade, and in the course of about four and a half hours it sinks to the fourth magnitude, being then about equal to the faint stars near it. It remains thus obscured for only a few minutes, and then begins to brighten again, and in about four and a half hours more resumes its former brilliance. This phenomenon is very easily observed, for, as will be seen by consulting our little map, Algol can be readily found, and its changes are so rapid that under favorable circumstances it can be seen in the course of a single night to run through the whole gamut.Of course, no optical instrument whatever is needed to enable one to see these changes of Algol, for it is plainly visible to the naked eye throughout, but it will be found interesting to watch the star with an opera-glass. Its periodic time from minimum to minimum is two days, twenty hours, and forty-nine minutes, lacking a few seconds. Any one can calculate future minima for himself by adding the periodic time above given to the time of any observed minimum.

While spots upon its surface may be the cause of the variations in the light of Mira, it is believed that the more rapid changes of Algol may be due to another cause; namely, the existence of a huge, dark body revolving swiftly around it at close quarters in an orbit whose plane is directed edgewise toward the earth, so that at regular intervals this dark body causes a partial eclipse of Algol. Notwithstanding the attacks that have been made upon this theory, it seems to hold its ground, and it will probably continue to find favor as a working hypothesis until some fresh light is cast upon the problem. It hardly needs to be said that the dark body in question, if it exists, must be of enormous size, bearing no such insignificant proportion to the size of Algol as the earth does to the sun, but being rather the rival in bulk of its shining brother—a blind companion, an extinguished sun.

There was certainly great fitness in the selection of the little group of stars of which this mysterious Algol forms the most conspicuous member, to represent the awful head of the Gorgon carried by the victorious Perseus for the confusion of his enemies. In a darker age than ours the winking of this demon-star must have seemed a prodigy of sinister import.

Turn now to the bright star Algenib, or Alpha Persei. You will find with the glass an exceedingly attractive spectacle there. In my note-book I find this entry, made while sweeping over Perseus for materials for this chapter: "The field about Alpha is one of the finest in the sky for an opera-glass. Stars conspicuously ranged in curving lines andstreams. A host follows Alpha from the east and south." The picture on page 84 will give the reader some notion of the exceeding beauty of this field of stars, and of the singular manner in which they are grouped, as it were, behind their leader. A field-glass increases the beauty of the scene.

The reader will find a starry cluster marked on Map 17 as the "Great Cluster." This object can be easily detected by the naked eye, resembling a wisp of luminous cloud. It marks the hand in which Perseus clasps his diamond sword, and, with a telescope of medium power, it is one of the most marvelously beautiful objects in the sky—a double swarm of stars, bright enough to be clearly distinguished from one another, and yet so numerous as to dazzle the eye with their lively beams. An opera-glass does not possess sufficient power to "resolve" this cluster, but it gives a startling suggestion of its half-hidden magnificence, and the observer will be likely to turn to it again and again with increasing admiration. Sweep from this to Alpha Persei and beyond to get an idea of the procession of suns in the Milky-Way. The nebulous-looking cluster marked 34 M appears with an opera-glass like a faint comet.

About a thousand years ago the theologians undertook to reconstruct the constellation figures, and to give them a religious significance. They divided the zodiac up among the twelve apostles, St. Peter taking the place of Aries, with the Triangles for his mitre. In this reconstruction Perseus was transmogrified into St. Paul, armed with a sword in one hand and a book in the other; Cassiopeia became Mary Magdalene; while poor Andromeda, stripped of all her beauty and romance, was turned into a sepulchre!

Next look at Cassiopeia, which is distinctly marked out by the zigzag row of stars so well described by Aratus. Here the Milky-Way is so rich that the observer hardly needs any guidance; he is sure to stumble upon interesting sights for himself. The five brightest stars are generally represented asindicating the outlines of the chair or throne in which the queen sits, the star Zeta (ζ) being in her head. Look at Zeta with a good field-glass, and you will see a singular and brilliant array of stars near it in a broken half-circle, which may suggest the notion of a crown. Near the little star Kappa (κ) in the map will be seen a small circle and the figures 1572. This shows the spot where the famous temporary star, which has of late been frequently referred to as the "Star of Bethlehem," appeared. It was seen in 1572, and carefully observed by the famous astronomer Tycho Brahe. It seems to have suddenly burst forth with a brilliance that outshone every other star in the heavens, not excepting Sirius itself. But its supremacy was short-lived. In a few months it had sunk to the second magnitude. It continued to grow fainter, exhibiting some remarkable changes of color in the mean time, and in less than a year and a half it disappeared. It has never been seen since. But in 1264, and again in 945, a star is said to have suddenly blazed out near that point in the heavens. There is no certainty about these earlier apparitions, but, assuming that they are not apocryphal, they might possibly indicate that the star seen by Tycho was a periodical one, its period considerably exceeding three hundred years. Carrying this supposed period back, it was found that an apparition of this star might have occurred about the time of the birth of Christ. It did not require a very prolific imagination to suggest its identity with the so-called star of the Magi, and hence the legend of the Star of Bethlehem and its impending reappearance, of which we have heard so much of late. It will be observed, from the dates given above, that, even supposing them to be correct, no definite period is indicated for the reappearance of the star. In one case the interval is three hundred and eight years, and in the other three hundred and nineteen years. In short, there are too many suppositions and assumptions involved to allow of any credence being given to the theory of the periodicityof Tycho's wonderful star. At the same time, nobody can say it is impossible that the star should appear again, and so it may be interesting for the reader to know where to look for it.

Many of the most beautiful sights of this splendid constellation are beyond the reach of an opera-glass, and reserved for the grander powers of the telescope.

We will pause but briefly with Cepheus, for the old king's constellation is comparatively dim in the heavens, as his part in the dramatic story of Andromeda was contemptible, and he seems to have got among the stars only by virtue of his relationship to more interesting persons. He does possess one gem of singular beauty—the star Mu, which may be found about two and a half degrees south of the star Nu (ν). It is the so-called "Garnet Star," thus named by William Herschel, who advises the observer, in order to appreciate its color, to glance from it to Alpha Cephei, which is a white star. Mu is variable, changing from the fourth to the sixth magnitude in a long period of five or six years. Its color is changeable, like its light. Sometimes it is of a deep garnet hue, and at other times it is orange-colored. Upon the whole, it appears of a deeper red than any other star visible to the naked eye.

If you have a good field-glass, try its powers upon the star Delta (δ) Cephei. This is a double star, the components being about forty-one seconds of arc apart, the larger of four and one half magnitude, and the smaller of the seventh magnitude. The latter is of a beautiful blue color, while the larger star is yellow or orange. With a good eye, a steady hand, and a clear glass, magnifying not less than six diameters, you can separate them, and catch the contrasted tints of their light. Besides being a double star, Delta is variable.

I have never beheld the first indications of the rising of Orion without a peculiar feeling of awakened expectation, like that of one who sees the curtain rise upon a drama of absorbing interest. And certainly the magnificent company of the winter constellations, of which Orion is the chief, make their entrance upon the scene in a manner that may be described as almost dramatic. First in the east come the world-renowned Pleiades. At about the same time Capella, one of the most beautiful of stars, is seen flashing above the northeastern horizon. These are the sparkling ushers to the coming spectacle. In an hour the fiery gleam of Aldebaran appears at the edge of the dome below the Pleiades, a star noticeable among a thousand for its color alone, besides being one of the brightest of the heavenly host. The observer familiar with the constellations knows, when he sees this red star which marks the eye of the angry bull, Taurus, that just behind the horizon stands Orion with starry shield and upraised club to meet the charge of his gigantic enemy. With Aldebaran rises the beautiful V-shaped group of the Hyades. Presently the star-streams of Eridanus begin to appear in the east and southeast, the immediate precursors of the rising of Orion:

"And now the river-flood's first winding reachThe becalmed mariner may see in heaven,As he watches for Orion to espy if he hath aught to sayOf the night's measure or the slumbering winds."

The first glimpse we get of the hero of the sky is the long bending row of little stars that glitter in the lion's skin which, according to mythology, serves him for a shield. The great constellation then advances majestically into sight. First of its principal stars appears Bellatrix in the left shoulder; then the little group forming the head, followed closely by the splendid Betelgeuse, "the martial star," flashing like a decoration upon the hero's right shoulder. Then come into view the equally beautiful Rigel in the left foot, and the striking row of three bright stars forming the Belt. Below these hangs another starry pendant marking the famous sword of Orion, and last of all appears Saiph in the right knee. There is no other constellation containing so many bright stars. It has two of the first magnitude, Betelgeuse and Rigel; the three stars in the Belt, and Bellatrix in the left shoulder, are all of the second magnitude; and besides these there are three stars of the third magnitude, more than a dozen of the fourth, and innumerable twinklers of smaller magnitudes, whose commingled scintillations form a celestial illumination of singular splendor.

"Thus graced and armed he leads the starry host."

By the time Orion has chased the Bull half-way up the eastern slope of the firmament, the peerless Dog-Star, Sirius, is flaming at the edge of the horizon, while farther north glitters Procyon, the little Dog-Star, and still higher are seen the twin stars in Gemini. When these constellations have advanced well toward the meridian, as shown in our circular map, their united radiance forms a scene never to be forgotten. Counting one of the stars in Gemini as of the first rank, there are no less than seven first-magnitude stars ranged around one another in a way that can not fail to attract the attention and the admiration of the most careless observer. Aldebaran, Capella, the Twins, Procyon, Sirius, and Rigel mark the angles of a huge hexagon, while Betelgeuse shineswith ruddy beauty not far from the center of the figure. The heavens contain no other naked-eye view comparable with this great array, not even the glorious celestial region where the Southern Cross shines supreme, being equal to it in splendor.

As an offset to the discomforts of winter observations of the stars, the observer finds that the softer skies of summer have no such marvelous brilliants to dazzle his eyes as those that illumine the hyemal heavens. To comprehend the real glories of the celestial sphere in the depth of winter one should spend a few clear nights in the rural districts of New York or New England, when the hills, clad with sparkling blankets of crusted snow, reflect the glitter of the living sky. In the pure frosty air the stars seem splintered and multiplied indefinitely, and the brighter ones shine with a splendor of light and color unknown to the denizen of the smoky city, whose eyes are dulled and blinded by the glare of streetlights. There one may detect the delicate shade of green that lurks in the imperial blaze of Sirius, the beautiful rose-red light of Aldebaran, the rich orange hue of Betelgeuse, the blue-white radiance of Rigel, and the pearly luster of Capella. If you have never seen the starry heavens except as they appear from city streets and squares, then, I had almost said, you have never seen them at all, and especially in the winter is this true. I wish I could describe to you the impression that they can make upon the opening mind of a country boy, who, knowing as yet nothing of the little great world around him, stands in the yawning silence of night and beholds the illimitably great world above him, looking deeper than thought can go into the shining vistas of the universe, and overwhelmed with the wonder of those marshaled suns.

Looking now at Map 18, we see the heavens as they appear at midnight on the 1st of December, at 10 o'clock P. M. on the 1st of January, and at 8 o'clock P. M. on the 1st of

Map. 18.Map. 18.

February. In the western half of the sky we recognize Andromeda, Pegasus, Pisces, Cetus, Aries, Cassiopeia, and other constellations that we studied in the "Stars of Autumn." Far over in the east we see rising Leo, Cancer, and Hydra, which we included among the "Stars of Spring." Occupying most of the southern and eastern heavens are the constellations which we are now to describe under the name of the

Map 19.Map 19.

"Stars of Winter," because in that season they are seen under the most favorable circumstances. I have already referred to the admirable way in which the principal stars of some of these constellations are ranged round one another. By the aid of the map the observer can perceive the relative position of the different constellations, and, havingfixed this in his mind, he will be prepared to study them in detail.

Let us now begin with Map No. 19, which shows us the constellations of Eridanus, Lepus, Orion, and Taurus. Eridanus is a large though not very conspicuous constellation, which is generally supposed to represent the celebrated river now known as the Po. It has had different names among different peoples, but the idea of a river, suggested by its long, winding streams of stars, has always been preserved. According to fable, it is the river into which Phaeton fell after his disastrous attempt to drive the chariot of the sun for his father Phœbus, and in which hare-brained adventure he narrowly missed burning the world up. The imaginary river starts from the brilliant star Rigel, in the left foot of Orion, and flows in a broad upward bend toward the west; then it turns in a southerly direction until it reaches the bright star Gamma (γ), where it bends sharply to the north, and then quickly sweeps off to the west once more, until it meets the group of stars marking the head of Cetus. Thence it runs south, gradually turning eastward, until it flows back more than half-way to Orion. Finally it curves south again and disappears beneath the horizon. Throughout the whole distance of more than 100° the course of the stream is marked by rows of stars, and can be recognized without difficulty by the amateur observer.

The first thing to do with your opera-glass, after you have fixed the general outlines of the constellation in your mind by naked-eye observations, is to sweep slowly over the whole course of the stream, beginning at Rigel, and following its various wanderings. Eridanus ends in the southern hemisphere near a first-magnitude star called Achernar, which is situated in the stream, but can not be seen from our latitudes. Along the stream you will find many interesting groupings of the stars. In the map see the pair of stars below and to the right of Nu (ν). These are the two Omicrons, the upper one beingο¹ and the lower one ο². The latter is of an orange hue, and is remarkable for the speed with which it is flying through space. There are only one or two stars whose proper motion, as it is called, is more rapid than that of ο² in Eridanus. It changes its place nearly seven minutes of arc in a century. The records of the earliest observations we possess show that near the beginning of the Christian era it was about half-way between ο¹ and ν. Its companion ο¹, on the contrary, seems to be almost stationary, so that ο² will gradually draw away from it, passing on toward the southwest until, in the course of centuries, it will become invisible from our latitudes. This flying star is accompanied by two minute companions, which in themselves form a close and very delicate double star. These two little stars, of only 9.5 and 10.5 magnitude, respectively, are, of course beyond the ken of the observer with an opera-glass. The system of which they form a part, however, is intensely interesting, since the appearances indicate that they belong, in the manner of satellites, to ο², and are fellow-voyagers of that wonderful star.

The "golden Horns" of Taurus.The "golden Horns" of Taurus.

Having admired the star-groups of Eridanus, one of the prettiest of which is to be seen around Beta (β), let us turn next to Taurus, just above or north of Eridanus. Two remarkable clusters at once attract the eye, the Hyades, which are shaped somewhat like the letter V, with Aldebaran in the upper end of the left-hand branch, and the Pleiades, whose silvery glittering has made them celebrated in all ages. The Pleiades are in the shoulder and the Hyades in the face of Taurus, Aldebaran most appropriately representing one of his blazing eyes as he hurls himself against Orion. The constellation-makers did not trouble themselves to make a complete Bull, and only the head and fore-quarters of the animal are represented. If Taurus had been completed on the scale on which he was begun, there would have been no room in the sky for Aries; one of the Fishes would have had to abandon his celestial swimming-place, and even the fair Andromedawould have found herself uncomfortably situated. But, as if to make amends for neglecting to furnish their heavenly Bull with hind-quarters, the ancients gave him a most prodigious and beautiful pair of horns, which make the beholder feel alarm for the safety of Orion. Starting out of the head above the Hyades, as illustrated in our cut, the horns curve upward and to the east, each being tipped by a bright star. Along and between the horns runs a scattered and broken stream of minute stars which seem to be gathered into knots just beyond the end of the horns, where they dip into the edge of the Milky-Way. Many of these stars can be seen, on a dark night, with an ordinary opera-glass, but, to see them well, one should use as large a field-glass as he can obtain. With such a glass their appearance almost makes one suspect that Virgil had a poetic prevision of the wonders yet to be revealed by the telescope when he wrote, as rendered by Dryden, of the season—

"When with hisgolden hornsin full careerThe Bull beats down the barriers of the year."

The Crab Nebula.The Crab Nebula.

Below the tips of the horns, and over Orion's head, there are also rich clusters of stars, as if the Bull were flaunting shreds of sparkling raiment torn from some celestial victim of his fury. With an ordinary glass, however, the observer will not find this star-sprinkled region around the horns of Taurus as brilliant a spectacle as that presented by the Hyades and the group of stars just above them in the Bull's ear. The two stars in the tips of the horns are both interesting, each in a different way. The upper and brighter one of the two, marked Beta (β) in Map No. 19, is called El Nath. It is common to the left horn of Taurus and the right foot of Auriga, who is represented standing just above. It is a singularly white star. This quality of its light becomes conspicuous when it is looked at with a glass. The most inexperienced observer will hardly fail to be impressed by the pure whiteness of El Nath, in comparison with which he will find that many of the stars he had supposed to be white show a decided tinge of color. The star in the tip of the right or southern horn, Zeta (ζ), is remarkable, not on its own account, but because it serves as a pointer to a famous nebula, the discovery of which led Messier to form his catalogue of nebulæ. This is sometimes called the "Crab Nebula," from the long sprays of nebulous matter which were seen surrounding it with Lord Rosse's great telescope. Our little sketch is simply intended to enable the observer to locate this strange object. If he wishes to study its appearance, he must use a powerful telescope. But with a first-rate field-glass he can see it as a speck of light in the position shown in the cut, where the large star is Zeta and the smaller ones are faint stars, the relative position of which will enable the observer to find the nebula, if he keeps in mind that the top of the cut is toward the north. It is noteworthy that this nebula for a time deceived several of the watchers who were on the lookout for the predicted return of Halley's comet in 1835.

And now let us look at the Hyades, an assemblage of stars not less beautiful than their more celebrated sisters the Pleiades. The leader of the Hyades is Aldebaran, or Alpha Tauri, and his followers are worthy of their leader. The inexperienced observer is certain to be surprised by the display of stars which an opera-glass brings to view in the Hyades. Our illustration will give some notion of their appearance with a large field-glass. The "brackish poet," of whose rhymes Admiral Smyth was so fond, thus describes the Hyades:

"In lustrous dignity aloft see Alpha Tauri shine,The splendid zone he decorates attests the Power divine:For mark around what glitt'ring orbs attract the wandering eye,You'll soon confess no other star has such attendants nigh."

The redness of the light of Aldebaran is a very interesting phenomenon. Careful observation detects a decided difference between its color and that of Betelgeuse, or Alpha Orionis, which is also a red star. It differs, too, from the brilliant red star of summer, Antares. Aldebaran has a trace of rose-color in its light, while Betelgeuse is of a very deep orange, and Antares may be described as fire-red. These shades of color can easily be detected by the naked eye after a little practice. First compare Aldebaran and Betelgeuse, and glance from each to the brilliant white, or bluish-white, star Rigel in Orion's foot. Upon turning the eye back from Rigel to Aldebaran the peculiar color of the latter is readily perceived. Spectroscopic analysis has revealed the presence in Aldebaran of hydrogen, sodium, magnesium, calcium, iron, bismuth, tellurium, antimony, and mercury. And so modern discoveries, while they have pushed back the stars to distances of which the ancients could not conceive, have, atthe same time, and equally, widened the recognized boundaries of the physical universe and abolished forever the ancient distinction between the heavens and the earth. It is a plain road from the earth to the stars, though mortal feet can not tread it.

The Hyades.The Hyades.

Keeping in mind that in our little picture of the Hyades the top is north, the right hand west, and the left hand east, the reader will be able to identify the principal stars in the group. Aldebaran is readily recognized, because it is the largest of all. The bright star near the upper edge of the picture is Epsilon Tauri, and its sister star, forming the point of the V, is Gamma Tauri. The three brightest stars between Epsilon and Gamma, forming a little group, are the Deltas, while the pair of stars surrounded by many smaller ones, half-way between Aldebaran and Gamma, are the Thetas. These stars present a very pretty appearance, viewed with a good glass, the effect being heightened by a contrast of color in the two Thetas. The little pair southeast of Aldebaran, called the Sigmas, is also a beautiful object. The distance apart of these stars is about seven minutes of arc, while the distance between the two Thetas is about five and a half minutes of arc. These measures may be useful to the reader in estimating the distances between other stars that hemay observe. It will also be found an interesting test of the eye-sight to endeavor to see these stars as doubles without the aid of a glass. Persons having keen eyes will be able to accomplish this.

North of the star Epsilon will be seen a little group in the ear of the Bull (see cut, "The Golden Horns of Taurus"), which presents a brilliant appearance with a small glass. The southernmost pair in the group are the Kappas, whose distance apart is very nearly the same as that of the Thetas, described above; but I think it improbable that anybody could separate them with the naked eye, as there is a full magnitude between them in brightness, and the smaller star is only of magnitude 6.5, while sixth-magnitude stars are generally reckoned as the smallest that can be seen by the naked eye. Above the Kappas, and in the same group in the ear, are the two Upsilons, forming a wider pair.

Next we come to the Pleiades:

"Though small their size and pale their light, wide is their fame."

In every age and in every country the Pleiades have been watched, admired, and wondered at, for they are visible from every inhabited land on the globe. To many they are popularly known as the Seven Stars, although few persons can see more than six stars in the group with the unaided eye. It is a singular fact that many of the earliest writers declare that only six Pleiades can be seen, although they all assert that they are seven in number. These seven were the fabled daughters of Atlas, or the Atlantides, whose names were Merope, Alcyone, Celæno, Electra, Taygeta, Asterope, and Maia. One of the stories connected with them is that Merope married a mortal, whereupon her star grew dim among her sisters. Another fable assures us that Electra, unable to endure the sight of the burning of Troy, hid her face in her hands, and so blotted her star from the sky. While we may smile at these stories, we can not entirely disregard them, forthey are intermingled with some of the richest literary treasures of the world, and they come to us, like some old keepsake, perfumed with the memory of a past age. The mythological history of the Pleiades is intensely interesting, too, because it is world-wide. They have impressed their mark, in one way or another, upon the habits, customs, traditions, language, and history of probably every nation. This is true of savage tribes as well as of great empires. The Pleiades furnish one of the principal links that appear to connect the beginnings of human history with that wonderful prehistoric past, where, as through a gulf of mist, we seem to perceive faintly the glow of a golden age beyond. The connection of the Pleiades with traditions of the Flood is most remarkable. In almost every part of the world, and in various ages, the celebration of a feast or festival of the dead, dimly connected by traditions with some great calamity to the human race in the past, has been found to be directly related to the Pleiades. This festival or rite, which has been discovered in various forms among the ancient Hindoos, Egyptians, Persians, Peruvians, Mexicans, Druids, etc., occurs always in the month of November, and is regulated by the culmination of the Pleiades. The Egyptians directly connected this celebration with a deluge, and the Mexicans, at the time of the Spanish conquest, had a tradition that the world had once been destroyed at the time of the midnight culmination of the Pleiades. Among the savages inhabiting Australia and the Pacific island groups a similar rite has been discovered. It has also been suggested that the Japanese feast of lanterns is not improbably related to this world-wide observance of the Pleiades, as commemorating some calamitous event in the far past which involved the whole race of man in its effects.

The Pleiades also have a supposed connection with that mystery of mysteries, the great Pyramid of Cheops. It has been found that about the year 2170 B. C., when the beginning of spring coincided with the culmination of the Pleiadesat midnight, that wonderful group of stars was visible, just at midnight, through the mysterious southward-pointing passage of the Pyramid. At the same date the then pole-star, Alpha Draconis, was visible through the northward-pointing passage of the Pyramid.

Another curious myth involving the Pleiades as a part of the constellation Taurus is that which represents this constellation as the Bull into which Jupiter changed himself when he carried the fair Europa away from Phœnicia to the continent that now bears her name. In this story the fact that only the head and fore-quarters of the Bull are visible in the sky is accounted for on the ground that the remainder of his body is beneath the water through which he is swimming. Here, then, is another apparent link with the legends of the Flood, with which the Pleiades have been so strangely connected, as by common consent among many nations, and in the most widely separated parts of the earth.

With the most powerful field-glass you may be able to see all of the stars represented in our picture of the Pleiades. With an ordinary opera-glass the fainter ones will not be visible; yet even with such a glass the scene is a remarkable one. Not only all of the "Seven Sisters," but many other stars, can be seen twinkling among them. The superiority of Alcyone to the others, which is not so clear to the naked eye, becomes very apparent. Alcyone is the large star below the middle of the picture with a triangle of little stars beside it. To the left or east of Alcyone the two most conspicuous stars are Atlas and Pleione. The latter—which is the uppermost one—is represented too large in the picture. It requires a sharp eye to see Pleione without a glass, while Atlas is plainly visible to the unaided vision, and is always counted among the naked-eye Pleiades, although it does not bear the name of one of the mythological sisters, but that of their father. The bright star below and to the right of Alcyone is Merope; the one near the right-hand edge of the picture, about on alevel with Alcyone, is Electra. Above, or to the north of Electra, are two bright stars lying in a line pointing toward Alcyone; the upper one of these, or the one farthest from Alcyone, is Taygeta, and the other is Maia. Above Taygeta and Maia, and forming a little triangle with them, is a pair of stars which bears the name of Asterope. About half-way between Taygeta and Electra, and directly above the latter, is Celæno.

The Pleiades.The Pleiades.

The naked-eye observer will probably find it difficult to decide which he can detect the more easily, Celæno or Pleione, while he will discover that Asterope, although composed of two stars, as seen with a glass, is so faint as to be much more difficult than either Celæno or Pleione. Unless, as is not improbable, the names have become interchanged in the course of centuries, the brightness of these stars would seem to have undergone remarkable changes. The star of Merope, it will be remembered, was said to have become indistinct, or disappeared, because she married a mortal. At present Merope is one of those that can be plainly seen with the naked-eye, while the star of Asterope, who was said to have had the god Mars for her spouse, has faded away until only a glass can show it. It would appear, then, that notwithstanding an occasional temporary eclipse, it is, in the long run, better to marry a plain mortal than a god. Electra, too, who hid her eyes at the sight of burning Troy, seems tohave recovered from her fright, and is at present, next to Alcyone, the brightest star in the cluster. But, however we may regard those changes in the brightness of the Pleiades which are based upon tradition, there is no doubt that well-attested changes have taken place in the comparative brilliancy of stars in this cluster since astronomy became an exact science.

Observations of the proper motions of the Pleiades have shown that there is an actual physical connection between them; that they are, literally speaking, a flight of suns. Their common motion is toward the southwest, under the impulse of forces that remain as yet beyond the grasp of human knowledge. Alcyone was selected by Mädler as the central sun around which the whole starry system revolved, but later investigations have shown that his speculation was not well founded, and that, so far as we can determine, the proper motions of the stars are not such as to indicate the existence of any common center. They appear to be flying with different velocities in every direction, although—as in the case of the Pleiades—we often find groups of them associated together in a common direction of flight.

Still another curious fact about the Pleiades is the existence of some rather mysterious nebulous masses in the cluster. In 1859 Temple discovered an extensive nebula, of a broad oval form, with the star Merope immersed in one end of it. Subsequent observations showed that this strange phenomenon was variable. Sometimes it could not be seen; at other times it was very plain and large. In Jeaurat's chart of the Pleiades, made in 1779, a vast nebulous mass is represented near the stars Atlas and Pleione. This has since been identified by Goldschmidt as part of a huge, ill-defined nebula, which he thought he could perceive enveloping the whole group of the Pleiades. Many observers, however, could never see these nebulous masses, and were inclined to doubt their actual existence. Within the pastfew years astronomical photography, having made astonishing progress, has thrown new light upon this mysterious subject. The sensitized plate of the camera, when applied at the focus of a properly constructed telescope, has proved more effective than the human retina, and has, so to speak, enabled us to see beyond the reach of vision by means of the pictures it makes of objects which escape the eye. In November, 1885, Paul and Prosper Henry turned their great photographing telescope upon the Pleiades, and with it discovered a nebula apparently attached to the star Maia. The most powerful telescopes in the world had never revealed this to the eye. Yet of its actual existence there can be no question. Their photograph also showed the Merope nebula, although much smaller, and of a different form from that represented by its discoverer and others. There evidently yet remains much to be discovered in this singular group, and the mingling of nebulous matter with its stars makes Tennyson's picturesque description of the Pleiades appear all the more life-like:

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