ought not to presume to meddle with matters pertaining to astronomy at all, in such a presence as this, I who have made it the business of my life to delve only among the riches of the extinct languages and unearth the opulence of their ancient lore; but still, as unacquainted as I am with the noble science of astronomy, I beg with deference and humility to suggest that inasmuch as the last of these wonderful apparitions proceeded in exactly the opposite direction from that pursued by the first, which you decide to be the Vernal Equinox, and greatly resembled it in all particulars, is it not possible, nay certain, that this last is the Autumnal Equi—­”

“O-o-o!” “O-o-o! go to bed! go to bed!” with annoyed derision from everybody.  So the poor old Woodlouse retreated out of sight, consumed with shame.

Further discussion followed, and then the united voice of the commission begged Lord Longlegs to speak.  He said: 

“Fellow-scientists, it is my belief that we have witnessed a thing which has occurred in perfection but once before in the knowledge of created beings.  It is a phenomenon of inconceivable importance and interest, view it as one may, but its interest to us is vastly heightened by an added knowledge of its nature which no scholar has heretofore possessed or even suspected.  This great marvel which we have just witnessed, fellow-savants (it almost takes my breath away), is nothing less than the transit of Venus!”

Every scholar sprang to his feet pale with astonishment.  Then ensued tears, handshakings, frenzied embraces, and the most extravagant jubilations of every sort.  But by and by, as emotion began to retire within bounds, and reflection to return to the front, the accomplished Chief Inspector Lizard observed: 

“But how is this?  Venus should traverse the sun’s surface, not the earth’s.”

The arrow went home.  It earned sorrow to the breast of every apostle of learning there, for none could deny that this was a formidable criticism.  But tranquilly the venerable Duke crossed his limbs behind his ears and said: 

“My friend has touched the marrow of our mighty discovery.  Yes—­all that have lived before us thought a transit of Venus consisted of a flight across the sun’s face; they thought it, they maintained it, they honestly believed it, simple hearts, and were justified in it by the limitations of their knowledge; but to us has been granted the inestimable boon of proving that the transit occurs across the earth’s face, for we have seen it!”

The assembled wisdom sat in speechless adoration of this imperial intellect.  All doubts had instantly departed, like night before the lightning.

The Tumble-Bug had just intruded, unnoticed.  He now came reeling forward among the scholars, familiarly slapping first one and then another on the shoulder, saying “Nice (’ic) nice old boy!” and smiling a smile of elaborate content.  Arrived at a good position for speaking, he put his left arm akimbo with his knuckles planted in his hip just under the edge of his cut-away coat, bent his right leg, placing his toe on the ground and resting his heel with easy grace against his left shin, puffed out his aldermanic stomach, opened his lips, leaned his right elbow on Inspector Lizard’s shoulder, and—­