familiar through the medium of a thousand photographs and sketches.
At first it had been an almost telescopic speck; it had brightened
to the dimensions of the greatest star in the heavens; it had
still grown, hour by hour, in its incredibly swift, its noiseless
and inevitable rush upon our earth, until it had equaled and surpassed
the moon. Now it was the most splendid thing this sky of earth has
ever held. I have never seen a photograph that gave a proper idea
of it. Never at any time did it assume the conventional tailed
outline, comets are supposed to have. Astronomers talked of its
double tail, one preceding it and one trailing behind it, but these
were foreshortened to nothing, so that it had rather the form of a
bellying puff of luminous smoke with an intenser, brighter heart.
It rose a hot yellow color, and only began to show its distinctive
greenness when it was clear of the mists of the evening.

It compelled attention for a space. For all my earthly concentration of
mind, I could but stare at it for a moment with a vague anticipation
that, after all, in some way so strange and glorious an object
must have significance, could not possibly be a matter of absolute
indifference to the scheme and values of my life.

But how?

I thought of Parload. I thought of the panic and uneasiness that
was spreading in this very matter, and the assurances of scientific
men that the thing weighed so little--at the utmost a few hundred
tons of thinly diffused gas and dust--that even were it to smite
this earth fully, nothing could possibly ensue. And, after all,
said I, what earthly significance has any one found in the stars?