THE “SOCIETY” LEARNS WHY ORION NEEDS A CLUB TO KEEP FRISKY TAURUS IN ORDER—AND WHY WE SAY “BY JIMINI!” WHEN WE GET EXCITED Uncle Henry came, as he had promised, to spend his Christmas holidays with “Sister,” “the Children’s Father,” Peter, Paul and Betty, in their city apartment. The children’s hope for fair weather in Christmas week was not disappointed either. The days were snowy and sunny and the nights frosty and clear. Only one thing had worried the “Society of Star-Gazers”—what was to take the place of the smooth sand of the beach when Uncle Henry should begin to point out the sky people that were visible in the winter sky? There were pebbles, it was true, on the flat roof of the apartment house, but there was no sand. The children were certain, however, that Uncle Henry would find a way, as he always did, and sure enough, when he arrived he brought, as one of his Christmas gifts to the children, a wonderful blackboard, an easel to stand it upon, and plenty of white chalk. After dinner on the first night of Uncle Henry’s visit, the Society of Star-Gazers was bundled up in warm coats and mufflers and he led the way to the Far above the lights of the city arched the great, blue-black bowl of the sky, filled with the sparkling patterns of stars that the children had learned to know as steadfast, unchanging friends. “Uncle Henry,” said Betty, “you’ve told us about enough animals to really fill a Noah’s ark, but we’ve never heard anything about Noah himself. Isn’t there any Mr. Noah in the sky?” “Well, Betty,” said Uncle Henry, “There isn’t any constellation that’s named for Noah, but he was a great hunter, and since there is a great hunter in the sky, we can call him Noah if we want to, even if his last name is Orion.” “Noah O’Ryan!” laughed Paul. “I know a boy named Michael O’Ryan.” “It’s not the same spelling,” said Uncle Henry, as he turned the flashlight on the blackboard while he wrote the word upon it, and underneath, made three large chalk dots, like this: Orion “Find those three stars,” said Uncle Henry, “and you will have the belt of Orion. It ought not to be hard to find them, for there are no other stars like The children soon found Orion’s belt about a third of the way up the southeastern sky. “Now,” said Uncle Henry, “see who can find his shoulders first. Here is a piece of chalk for each of you. Put the shoulders in as soon as you see them.” Orion’s shoulders Paul found Orion’s right shoulder, and Betty his left, and made large chalk dots to show how bright and beautiful the stars that mark the shoulders are. “Oh, I see his feet!” exclaimed Betty delightedly. “Put them in then,” said Uncle Henry. Then Orion looked like this on the blackboard: “I’ll tell you this much more,” said Uncle Henry, “and then you must finish Orion by yourselves. He has a great club, raised, ready to strike, in his right hand, and he holds a lion’s skin on his left arm, as a shield.” “What’s he going to hit at?” inquired Peter, with his boy’s joy in battle uppermost. “At Taurus, the wild bull,” said Uncle Henry. “You can see that Taurus is very fierce, and would enjoy nothing better than to chase the twin star boys round and round the sky. He might not really want to hurt the boys, whose names are Castor and Pollux, but Taurus’ horns are very sharp and he doesn’t know how to play gently, so it keeps Orion pretty busy getting between him and Gemini and threatening the bull with his club.” “What’s ‘jimini,’ Uncle Hen?” said Paul. “Sounds like our swear word.” “It is the origin of it,” said Uncle Henry. “The ancient Romans used to swear ‘by Gemini,’ and it has slowly been changed into your ‘jimini.’ Gemini is the Latin word that means ‘twins.’ We’ll find them after we finish up Orion and Taurus, and then you’ll see just how Orion keeps protecting them from the bull.” “Hurry up, Uncle Hen!” urged Peter. “I’m dreadful excited!” Uncle Henry did, and as a result Orion looked like this: Orion looked like this “Ooh! he’s got a sword, too!” cried Paul, as Uncle Henry added the three tiny stars below Orion’s belt, and drew the outline around them. “Why didn’t he use the sword on Taurus?” asked Peter. “Because he knew Taurus was only playing in his rough way,” Uncle Henry replied. “Well, we’ve heard a lot about that bull,” said Betty. “Let’s find him right away.” Uncle Henry said nothing, but took the chalk from Betty and drew a light line from Orion’s right foot to his left shoulder, and continued it upward about the same distance. (20) “There,” he said, “that point is just between the bull’s horns and over his right eye. The right eye of Taurus is a very bright star called Aldebaran. Anybody see it?” “Oh, I do!” said Paul. “What, hasn’t Taurus any left eye, Uncle Hen?” “He has,” said Uncle Henry, “but he has it closed just now. He’s winking it at Orion as much as to say, ‘Oh, I act fierce, but I wouldn’t hurt those twins after all. I’m just playing.’ Go ahead and put in the stars for the bull’s head and horns as fast as you find them, youngsters.” The children did, and when Uncle Henry had showed them the fore legs and shoulder, which contains the beautiful little group of faint stars called the Pleiades, Taurus looked like this: Taurus “Now we want the twins!” cried Betty. “All right,” said Uncle Henry, “follow a line straight up the bull’s left horn and a little more than the length of the horn beyond its tip and you will reach Castor, the head of the fainter twin.” (21) Peter and Paul began to show great interest, because they were twins themselves. They demanded that each be allowed to select one of the sky children and finish him completely, without Uncle Henry’s assistance. Castor and Pollux Paul, having first choice because he was twenty minutes younger than Peter, selected Pollux, and Peter had to be contented with the less bright Castor. It was not a difficult task for either of the boys, after finding the twin star Castor, for the head of Pollux is quite close beside it and the bodies of both star children stand side by side, with the feet just above Orion’s uplifted club. When Gemini, the twins, were finished, the blackboard looked like this, and since the children’s fingers were so stiff with the cold that they could hardly hold the chalk, Uncle Henry moved that the Society of Star-Gazers adjourn until the next evening. |