“I am not going to let you peep simply in order to astonish you.  I abominate what are called popular lectures for that very reason.  If you can be made to understand the apparent revolution of the heavens, that is better than all speculation.  To understand is the great thing, not to gape.  Now I assume you know that the earth goes round on its axis, and that consequently the stars seem to revolve round the earth.  But the great difficulty is to realise how they go round, because the axis is not upright, nor yet horizontal, but inclined, and points to that star up there, the pole-star.  Consequently the stars describe circles which are not at right angles with the horizon, nor yet parallel to it.  That is my first lesson.”

Mr. Farrow comprehended without the slightest difficulty, but Miriam could not.  She had noticed that some of the stars appear in the east and disappear in the west, but beyond that she had not gone.  Mr. Armstrong continued—­

“The next thing you have to bear in mind is that the planets move about amongst the stars.  Just think!  They go round the sun, and so do we.  The times of their revolution are not coincident with ours, and their path is sometimes forwards and sometimes backwards.  Suppose we were in the centre of the planetary system, all these irregularities would disappear; but we are outside, and therefore it looks so complicated.”

Again Mr. Farrow comprehended, but to Miriam it was all dark.

“Now,” continued Mr. Armstrong, “these are the two great truths which I wish you not simply to acknowledge, but to feel.  If you can once from your own observation realise the way the stars revolve—­why some near the pole never set—­why some never rise, and why Venus is seen both before the sun and after it—­you will have done yourselves more real good than if you were to dream for years of immeasurable distances, and what is beyond and beyond and beyond, and all that nonsense.  The great beauty of astronomy is not what is incomprehensible in it, but its comprehensibility—­its geometrical exactitude.  Now you may look.”

Miriam looked first.  Jupiter was in the field.  She could not suppress a momentary exclamation of astonished ecstasy at the spectacle.  While she watched, Mr. Armstrong told her something about the mighty orb.  He pointed out the satellites, contrasted the size of Jupiter with that of the earth, and explained to her the distances at which parts of the planet are from each other as compared with those of New Zealand and America from London.  But what affected her most was to see Jupiter’s solemn, still movement, and she gazed and gazed, utterly absorbed, until at last he had disappeared.  The stars had passed thus before her eyes ever since she had been born, but what was so familiar had never before been emphasised or put in a frame, and consequently had never produced its due effect.