would not swallow the medicine so generously offered. They claimed
that, as they had bought the fish from the Russians, their
proceedings were quite lawful. As for being paid to throw the fish
overboard, they must have spot cash in advance or they would not
do it.

After further fruitless conferences, Father Hell determined to
escape the danger by transferring his party to the other vessel.
They had not more than got away from the wicked crew than Heaven
began to smile on their act--"factum comprobare Deus ipse
videtur"--the clouds cleared away, the storm ceased to rage, and
they made their voyage to Copenhagen under sunny skies. I regret
to say that the narrative is silent as to the measure of storm
subsequently awarded to the homines crassissimi of the forsaken
vessel.

For more than a century Father Hell had been a well-known figure
in astronomical history. His celebrity was not, however, of such a
kind as the Royal Astronomer of Austria that he was ought to
enjoy. A not unimportant element in his fame was a suspicion of
his being a black sheep in the astronomical flock. He got under
this cloud through engaging in a trying and worthy enterprise. On
June 3, 1769, an event occurred which had for generations been
anticipated with the greatest interest by the whole astronomical
world. This was a transit of Venus over the disk of the sun. Our
readers doubtless know that at that time such a transit afforded
the most accurate method known of determining the distance of the
earth from the sun. To attain this object, parties were sent to
the most widely separated parts of the globe, not only over wide
stretches of longitude, but as near as possible to the two poles