My listeners were indeed amazed and were about to pour upon me a volley of interrogations.  I assured them that I would answer no more questions until I knew whether my request would be granted.

This necessitated a consultation with the chief astronomer who, upon learning of my peculiar request and of my unnatural formation, hastened to the museum to see the monstrosity.

I knew from what I had previously learned that this gentleman was the greatest living astronomer on Jupiter.  He peered at me in the cage and was dumfounded.  He exchanged a few sentences with the professor and again turned to me: 

“At what time do you want the telescope?” he asked.

“Immediately.”

“You shall have it, just to satisfy our curiosity,” he said as he hastened from the room.

I heard the professor caution him strictly to tell no one of my presence, so as to avoid a rush from the student ranks.

In less than an hour I stood at the side of the largest telescope in our Solar System, watching the deepening shadows of night as they fell upon Jupiter.

[Illustration:  Viewing Our Earth from Jupiter.]

I spent another hour examining the ponderous machinery that was required to swing this mammoth instrument and to adjust it when scanning the heavens.

By this time my four companions were convinced that I was not an idiot, and I could see by their strange manner that they were regarding me as a spirit.

I gave my directions to the astronomer, and beheld the cylinder, two-hundred feet in length and twenty feet in diameter, swing around until it pointed toward a little flickering light that shone like a distant star.

I looked into the eye-piece, managed to get the tube pointed accurately, and then requested the astronomer to focus the lenses so as to bear upon the planetary light in range.

He knew at once the planet I had singled out.  He called it Zo-ide.  After the focusing was completed, I looked and, behold, I could readily discern many of the physical features of my own world.

“That is my homeland,” I cried triumphantly.  “I live on Zo-ide, or Earth, as we call it.”

Of course my listeners were incredulous, but I proceeded to explain to them as I looked through the telescope: 

“That dark ridge to the left is called ’the Rocky and Andes Mountain Systems’.  The shining belt on the central portion is the ’Mississippi River’.  The rough ridge to the right is ‘the Allegheny System’ of mountains.”  Then I indicated the location of our larger cities.  As I pointed to New York, I saw a mere speck moving.  I was convinced that it was one of our large steamships, and as I so explained the astronomer looked at me with absorbing interest.

He informed me that he had often seen the moving of the spots, and thought they were some cloud formations peculiar to our world.  But I insisted on the steamship explanation and proceeded to describe an ocean liner, for these Jupiterites are not familiar with oceans of cold water on which float numerous craft.