zenith, or point overhead. The reader must now exercise his imagination a little, for it is impossible to represent the true appearance of the concave of the heavens on flat paper. Holding the map over your head, with the points marked East, West, North, and South in their proper places, conceive of it as shaped like the inside of an open umbrella, the edge all around extending clear down to the horizon. Suppose you are facing the south, then you will see, up near the zenith, the constellation of Leo, which can be readily recognized on the map by six stars that mark out the figure of a sickle standing upright on its handle. The large star in the bottom of the handle is Regulus. Having fixed the appearance and situation of this constellation in your mind, go out-of-doors, face the south, and try to find the constellation in the sky. With a little application you will be sure to succeed.

Using Leo as a basis of operations, your conquest of the sky will now proceed more rapidly. By reference to the map you will be able to recognize the twin stars of Gemini, southwest of the zenith and high up; the brilliant lone star, Procyon, south of Gemini; the dazzling Sirius, flashing low down in the southwest; Orion, with all his brilliants, blazing in the west; red Aldebaran and the Pleiades off to his right; and Capella, bright as a diamond, high up above Orion, toward the north. In the southeast you will recognize the quadrilateral of Corvus, with the remarkably white star Spica glittering east of it.

Next face the north. If you are not just sure where north is, try a pocket-compass. This advice is by no means unnecessary, for there are many intelligent persons who are unable to indicate true north within many degrees, though standing on their own doorstep. Having found the north point as near as you can, look upward about forty degrees from the horizon, and you will see the lone twinkler called the north or pole star. Forty degrees is a little less than half-way from the horizon to the zenith.

By the aid of the map, again, you will be able to find, high up in the northeast, near the zenith, the large dipper-shaped figure in Ursa Major, and, when you have once noticed that the two stars in the outer edge of the bowl of the Dipper point almost directly to the pole-star, you will have an unfailing means of picking out the latter star hereafter, when in doubt.[A] Continuing the curve of the Dipper-handle, in the northeast, your eye will be led to a bright reddish star, which is Arcturus, in the constellation Boötes.

In the same way you will be able to find the constellations Cassiopeia, Cepheus, Draco, and Perseus. Don't expect to accomplish it all in an hour. You may have to devote two or three evenings to such observation, and make many trips indoors to consult the map, before you have mastered the subject; but when you have done it you will feel amply repaid for your exertions, and you will have made for yourself silent friends in the heavens that will beam kindly upon you, like old neighbors, on whatever side of the world you may wander.

Having fixed the general outlines and location of the constellations in your mind, and learned to recognize the chief stars, take your opera-glass and begin with the constellation Leo and the star Regulus. Contrive to have some convenient rest for your arms in holding the glass, and thus obtain not only comfort but steadiness of vision. A lazy-back chair makes a capital observing-seat. Be very particular, too, to get a sharp focus. Remember that no two persons' eyes are alike, and that even the eyes of the same observer occasionally require a change. In looking for a difficult object, I have sometimes suddenly brought the sought-for phenomenon into view by a slight turn of the focusing-screw.

You will at once be gratified by the increased brilliancy of the star as seen by the glass. If the night is clear, it will glow like a diamond. Yet Regulus, although ranked as a first-magnitude star, and of great repute among the ancient astrologers, is far inferior in brilliancy to such stars as Capella and Arcturus, to say nothing of Sirius.

By consulting map No. 2 you will next be able to find the celebrated star bearing the name of the Greek letter Gamma (γ). If you had a telescope, you would see this star as a close and beautiful double, of contrasted colors. But it is optically double, even with an opera-glass. You can not fail to see a small star near it, looking quite close if the magnifying power of your glass is less than three times. You will be struck by the surprising change of color in turning from Regulus to Gamma—the former is white and the latter deep yellow. It will be well to look first at one and then at the other, several times, for this is a good instance of what you will meet with many times in your future surveys of the heavens—a striking contrast of color in neighboring stars. One can thus comprehend that there is more than one sense in which to understand the Scriptural declaration that "one star differeth from another in glory." The radiant point of the famous November meteors, which, in 1833 and 1866, filled the sky with fiery showers, is near Gamma. Turn next to the star in Leo marked Zeta (ζ). If your glass is a pretty large and good one, and your eye keen, you will easily see three minute companion stars keeping company with Zeta, two on the southeast, and one, much closer, toward the north. The nearest of the two on the south is faint, being only between the eighth and ninth magnitude, and will probably severely test your powers of vision. Next look at Epsilon (ε), and you will find near it two seventh-magnitude companions, making a beautiful little triangle.

Map 2.

Away at the eastern end of the constellation, in the tail of the imaginary Lion, upon whose breast shines Regulus, is the star Beta (β) Leonis, also called Denebola. It is almost as bright as its leader, Regulus, and you will probably be able to catch a tinge of blue in its rays. South of Denebola, at a distance of nineteen minutes of arc, or somewhat more than half the apparent diameter of the moon, you will see a little star of the sixth magnitude, which is one of the several "companions" for which Denebola is celebrated. There is another star of the eighth magnitude in the same direction from Denebola, but at a distance of less than five minutes, and this you may be able to glimpse with a powerful field-glass, under favorable conditions. I have seen it well with a field-glass of 1.6-inch aperture, and a magnifying power of seven times. But it requires an experienced eye and steady vision to catch this shy twinkler.

When looking for a faint and difficult object, the plan pursued by telescopists is to avert the eye from the precise point upon which the attention is fixed, in order to bring a more sensitive part of the retina into play than that usually employed. Look toward the edge of the field of view, while the object you are seeking is in the center, and then, if it can be seen at all with your glass, you will catch sight of it, as it were, out of the corner of your eye. The effect of seeing a faint star in this way, in the neighborhood of a large one, whose rays hide it from direct vision, is sometimes very amusing. The little star seems to dart out into view as through a curtain, perfectly distinct, though as immeasurably minute as the point of a needle. But the instant you direct your eyes straight at it, presto! it is gone. And so it will