It was a calm, still, moonless night, which closed in with raven wings a glorious sunset in the South Atlantic ocean. The gay clouds, in brilliant dress, that hung about the sun as he glowed to his evening rest, had gradually changed their garments for those of more sombre hues; and then, as gradually, had changed from mountain shapes to feathery forms, till softening night dissolved them into invisible vapour.

The stars came stealthily forth; a few bolder ones rushing first to the front, while the more modest stars feared to show themselves till the last sign of daylight fled.

First, second, third, fourth, and other magnitudes thus successively gleamed from the cloudless arch, above and around the boy.

After a time he said—

“Why were the Ram, Bull, Lion, Scorpion and others so called? I have often wondered at their odd names, and have tried to make out a bear in the Great Bear, or a dog about the stars near Sirius, but never could see any resemblance to the animals.

I don’t wonder at your surprise. Some learned astronomers of our day pretend that the ancients by the Nile and Euphrates had no meaning in the names they gave to the constellations. This is not likely, especially as we know that the signs of the Zodiac were pictured in their temples.

[Pg 42]But who gave the names to the other stars that are not signs of the Zodiac?

The ancients. But it is time now to sleep away all thought of the stars in the care of Him who cares for the stars.”

During the night our young friend had a disturbed rest. The constellations kept circling round him; while lions, bulls, fish and crabs were mingled, in strange confusion. They glared at him with their hollow eyes till the boy was quite frightened, and cried out in his sleep.

The morning sun awoke the boy, and put to flight the stars. When sweet evening came the twinkling lights stole forth again, and the astronomical dialogue was renewed by James.

“Please, father, I want to know the various constellations.

We will class them, my son, into North Polar, South Polar, and Equatorial.

The North Polar star, at the end of the Little Bear’s tail, is a capital guide for the north pole; but I don’t see any Little Bear southward, walking round his tail-tip, like a horse tethered in a paddock, so that I may discover the south pole.

No, we have not a South Polar star, and no bright stars at all near the south pole of the heavens.

Let us have a little more about the Zodiac first, father. I know the twelve signs are constellations[Pg 43] over the tropics; but I don’t know why you call them the Zodiac.

Zodiac is from a Greek word, meaning a small figure of an animal, as they are nearly all animal figures.

How many northern and southern constellations are there?

In the ancient celestial atlases we find twenty-one northern and fifteen southern, besides the Zodiac; then more were added of new ones named or old ones subdivided, till we have, including the Zodiac, sixty-two northern and fifty-five southern constellations.

Of course, the old astronomers of Egypt and Babylon could not have seen all the south polar stars?

We should hardly fancy it. Strange tricks have been played with the names of the constellations. Only think of English writers, sixty years ago, wanting to have your Orion called Nelson; and the University of Leipsic, to please the French emperor, proposed to steal the belt and sword from Orion, and call them the constellation of Napoleon.

I am glad they didn’t, though. But how is the line drawn to distinguish the spaces of the constellations?

Their sizes vary. Orion, for instance, takes up a great space in the heavens, while others occupy little room.

How many stars go to make up a constellation?

You mean those seen by the naked eye. These differ in number. I will run over some[Pg 44] of the Zodiac. Aries has 66, Taurus 141, Gemini 83, Cancer 85, Leo 95, Virgo 110, Libra 51, Scorpio 44, Sagittarius 69, Capricornus 51, Aquarius 108, Pisces 113.

But there must be a lot more seen in them by the telescope.

Yes. The six stars of the Pleiades turn out to be 188. In Orion there are 2000 stars easily distinguished. Your three in the belt are 80, and the star in the sword you find to be a dozen.

Will you kindly show me, dear father, how I can find the south pole of the heavens, as there is no bright star near it?

I will try and give you a rough chart. Look at the Southern Cross. Draw an imaginary line from the top star through the one at the foot; and four times that distance in the same line will bring you to the south pole of the heavens.

Yes; and if I had that point over my head I should be where no one else has been—at the south pole of the earth. Now I have my centre, I would like to describe a circle at the distance of the Cross and know the stars inside of it.

Begin, then. Look at the two bright ones pointing toward the Cross beside it. They are the Pointers to the Cross. A lot of bright stars together, on the other side of the Cross, are in the Ship, Argo. Follow on the circumference that way, and you arrive at a large star, a little north of our course, called Canopus. From the Cross to Canopus is one-quarter[Pg 45] of the circle round the pole, and it is filled up with the Ship.

What a ship!

It goes northward, too, to Sirius, the Dog-star. Canopus is half-way between Sirius and the south pole, and is in the line between the two.

That is a capital point, for I know them.

South of the Ship, between it and the pole, are the little Flying Fish. The Table Mountain and Chameleon, with feeble stars, are between the Fish, again, and the poles.

Now I have that quarter of the circle, well.

Keep on to the right, still away from the Cross and beyond Canopus, nearly as far again, and you see a bright star in our circle, which is called Achernar, at the bottom of the long River Po.

Not the Italian river, but the Celestial one.

That heavenly stream runs northward to Orion. Now, between Canopus and Achernar we see but few stars, although we pass the constellations of the Painter’s Easel, Rhomboidal Net, and Clock. Between Achernar and the Pole are the tiny stars of the Little Hydra. But between the Little Hydra and the Flying Fish, resting like on the Table Mountain, is the beautiful Nubecular Major, the great Magellanic Cloud.

Now I know where I am again. The Rhomboidal Net is on one side of the Cloud, and the Flying Fish on the other. The Table by the Pole is south of it. But what is north of it,[Pg 46] for Canopus is not quite in a line with the Cloud and the Pole?

The Sword Fish is on the Cloud. But go again to Achernar, and draw a line thence to the Pole.

Why, it goes right through the Little Magellanic Cloud.

That Cloud is between the Hydra and the Toucan. That bird’s head beyond Achernar is in our circumference of the Cross. A little further on that round line is the bright star in the Peacock’s head; though the Indian, with his arrows, stands between the Peacock and the Toucan.

The very place for a hunter. But go on, please, for you are fast completing the circle, by getting back to the Cross.

The end of the Peacock’s tail brings us three-fourths round; and above it, from the Pole, is the Southern Crown.

I see it; but it ought to hang over something better than a Peacock’s tail.

It so happens that the Telescope comes between them. Below the Peacock, and close round the south pole, is the constellation Octant. Now for the last quarter, between the Cross and the Peacock.

I know part of that—the Cross’s Pointers. But what are those three stars a little below the Pointers, toward the Peacock?

They are the Southern Triangle. Between the Cross and the Pole is the Fly; while between the Triangle and the Pole is the Bird of Paradise.

[Pg 47]What a cold place to put so delicate a bird! But to what constellation do the two Pointers to the Cross belong?

To the Centaur’s two fore feet. The last of my circumpolar stars are those of the Altar, lying north of the Triangle, a little to the left of the Pointers. You may see them on the edge of the Milky Way—two stars close together, and four others to the right further apart. The Compasses, hardly to be noticed, are between the Altar and the Pointers.”

This was a long lesson, requiring much study afterwards. When Mr. Marple thought the lad knew the southern stars near the pole, he was ready to advance with the constellations again, and proposed to take a fresh round.

“We will,” said he, “take another sweep round the heavens, embracing the space between our old circle of the Cross and that over the equator, though I will not take equatorial stars now.

May we begin at the Crown, father?

Between the Cross and Crown is the Altar. North of and near the Crown is Sagittarius the Archer, beside which is the Scorpion.

How can I tell that?

The Scorpion has a line of bright stars coming down south to the Altar, with a twist like a curl in its tail.

What is that bright red star at the upper end of it?

[Pg 48]Antare............