CHAPTER I.


Of all the sciences, none would seem to yield a purer intellectual
gratification than that of Astronomy. Man cannot but feel a sense of
pleasure, and even of power, when, through the instruments constructed
by his ingenuity, he finds himself brought within reach, as it were, of
the innumerable orbs that roll through the domains of space. He cannot
but feel a sense of pleasure, and even of power, when the telescope
reveals to his gaze not only the worlds that constitute his own
so-called Solar System, but the suns that light up the borders of the
Universe, system upon system, sun upon sun, covering the unbounded area
almost as thickly as the daisies cover a meadow in spring. He cannot
but feel a sense of pleasure, and even, of power, when he tracks the
course of the flashing comet, examines into the physical characteristics
of the Sun and Moon, and records the various phases of the distant
planets. But if such be his feeling, it is certainly tempered with awe
and wonder as he contemplates the phenomena of the heavens,--the beauty
of the stars, the immensity of their orbits, the regularity with which
each bright world performs its appointed course, the simplicity of the
laws which govern its motions, and the mystery which attends its far-off
existence. It has been, said that "an undevout astronomer is mad;" and
if Astronomy, of all the sciences, be the one most calculated to gratify
the intellect, surely it is the one which should most vividly awaken the
religious sentiment. Is it possible to look upon all those worlds within
worlds, all those endless groups of mighty suns, all those strange and