IN WHICH THE “SOCIETY” MEETS THE LAST OF THE STAR PEOPLE AND THE BEGINNING OF ASTRONOMY—AND BETTY PROPOSES A “NOTE” OF THANKS

The Society of Star-Gazers assembled upon the roof the next night with an eagerness that was tempered a little by regret that it was the last.

Uncle Henry saw this, and before starting to find the evening’s constellations with the children, told them a few of the many wonderful things to be seen among the stars with the aid of a small telescope.

He reminded them of the “little cloud” in Andromeda, called the Great Nebula, and said that there were not only many more of these wonderful clouds of star dust, but numbers of beautiful double stars, some of them lovely with tints of red, green or orange, and some that can be seen with an ordinary opera-glass.

Then he told them of the curious variable, or “winking” stars, which turn bright and faint alternately on a regular schedule, so many hours bright, and so many hours faint. Also he described the beauty of the planet Jupiter, surrounded by its four little moons, all of which could be seen with a small telescope.

Then the children began to feel more cheerful, for they saw that being introduced to the creatures and people of Skyland was only the beginning of the study of astronomy.

“So,” finished Uncle Henry, “we don’t need to feel that there is no more fun coming, for there are lots more faint constellations which are all beautiful, even though not plain enough for us to find easily in the beginning. Besides, if you ever journey to the South, beyond the earth’s equator, you will find a whole new sky full of marvelous people, and creatures, and objects—all pictured in the flashing southern heavens.”

“Well,” said Peter briskly, “what do we find to-night, Uncle Hen?”

“We’ll begin,” replied Uncle Henry, “with a person you may have heard of—Perseus, who killed the terrible Gorgon Medusa.”

“Oh, I know him,” cried Paul, “we read all ’bout him last year.”

“Quite right,” said Uncle Henry, “then you remember that when he had killed Medusa, and cut off her head with his sword, he had to hold the head with the terrible face away from him, because everybody who looked at that face was instantly turned to stone.”

“Yes, yes, we know!” chorused the Society.

“Well, now we’ll find Perseus, his sword, and the head of Medusa,” promised Uncle Henry. “All you have to do is to extend the line of Andromeda’s left leg and prolong it from her foot, straight out for about her whole length. (30) There you will find Algenib, the brightest star in Perseus. It is right in his neck, between his shoulders. From Algenib you can trace a row of stars downward, almost to the Pleiades in the bull’s shoulder. This row of stars is Perseus’ body and legs. Then find two stars above Algenib, one over the other, and you have his head and helmet.

“After that it is easy to start at Algenib and trace out his right arm, with the sword. A line drawn toward Perseus through the stars in Andromeda’s head and left hip points out the star Algol, which is the head of Medusa, held in Perseus’ left hand. (31) Algol is a famous variable star, which the ancients named ‘the dragon of the slowly winking eye.’”

The children soon found all of Perseus, and all took part in drawing his skeleton on the blackboard. Then they watched Algol in the sky, and expected to see it wink, until Uncle Henry told them that the wink is so slow that it takes seven hours for Algol to become faint and bright again, and that then two and three-quarter days pass before Algol winks again. This being the case the Society decided not to wait, and finished Perseus up so that he looked this way:

Uncle Henry added the lines with arrows to show how Algenib and Algol are found, with the help of Andromeda.

After Perseus was finished, Betty kept gazing at the sky. She seemed fascinated, and finally asked,

“Uncle Henry, there’s a perfectly lovely star just a little way in front of Perseus, and three little ones near it. If I could name stars I would call them ‘the hen and chickens,’ wouldn’t you?”

All the children looked, and easily found the beautiful star. They couldn’t have missed it, and neither can you, for it is one of the most brilliant in the sky and there are no others like it nearby.

“Yes,” said Uncle Henry, “the big star and the three little ones do look like a hen and her chickens. I would call them that, too, Betty, but hundreds of years ago somebody named the bright star Capella, which means ‘the goat,’ and called the three little stars ‘the kids,’ so you see that they are named already.”

“A kid is the baby of a goat, isn’t it, Uncle Hen?” inquired Peter.

“Yes, that’s the idea,” said Uncle Henry, and went on, “Betty happens to have picked out the brightest star in the last constellation we are going to find. It is called Auriga, or the Charioteer. He hasn’t his chariot with him.”

“How do we find Auriga?” inquired Paul.

“He is very plain, almost as plain as Orion himself,” said Uncle Henry. “Capella is at one corner of a five-sided figure, called a ‘pentagon.’ (32) It is also in the left shoulder of Auriga. Find the tip of the left horn of Taurus, the Bull, and you will have another corner of the pentagon, and at the same time the right foot of Auriga. When you have those points it is easy to find the other three corners, which are the right shoulder, left foot, and the right hand of Auriga. He holds his whip in that hand. Even though he had to leave his chariot when he went into the sky, he insisted on taking his whip along. It comes in very handy, too, sometimes, when the two lions up there become fretful and uneasy. When you have found Auriga’s shoulder stars, just draw two lines upward to a star above and between them and you finish the charioteer’s skeleton. The star at the point where the lines cross is in his head. See him, everybody?”

The children had no trouble in putting in the stars and drawing the skeleton. Neither will you, for Auriga is very conspicuous, and almost straight overhead in the evening about Christmas time.

This is the way Auriga looked on the blackboard:

When the children had finished looking at Auriga, and Capella the Goat and her three babies, Betty drew herself up very straight and said, trying to look very dignified,

“Mr. Chairman, I move that The Society of Star-Gazers give Uncle Henry a note of thanks for giving us such an instructive, and—and—oh, we’ve liked your Christmas present an awful lot, Uncle Henry!”

Peter was going to say that it was a vote of thanks that people got from societies, but Betty was so earnest and dignified that he didn’t really want to take her down just then, so he joined Paul in seconding the motion and was appointed by Betty as a committee of one to write the “note” and deliver it to Uncle Henry later.

Uncle Henry looked quite serious, for him, and said that he had made up a little poem that they might like to hear while standing under the Christmas stars.

The Society voted unanimously in the affirmative, so Uncle Henry recited,

Then, in a moment more, Uncle Henry and the children were gone, and the sleepless, faithful stars were alone, brooding lovingly over their tiny baby brother, which we call the great world.

The author desires to express his indebtedness to the following books, which have given him many hours of enlightening pleasure while riding the star-gazing hobby:

He also wishes to add his appreciation of the monthly pleasure given by “The Evening Sky Map,” published by Leon Barritt.

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