THROUGH A TELESCOPE1 The tube was mounted on a three-legged stand, and a three-legged stool stood beside it, ready for use. "Now, Ikon," said the professor, "are you ready for a little journey toward the stars?" Ikon clapped his hands, almost too happy for speech. "Mind, I only say toward the stars not to them. You and I can go in imagination just so far as this telescope has power to carry us." "But of course it will make the stars look ever so much nearer and bigger," said Ikon, joyously. “I do want to see what they are really and truly like." The professor silently arranged the telescope and made no reply. "Are you going to let me look at that splendid bright star up there?” asked Ikon, extending his arm in the same direction as the tube. "Oh, isn't it a beauty? Bigger than any other star in the sky." "There is no brighter star in all the heavens than Sirius," said the professor. "Sirius! Is that the name of it?" "Yes, that is its true name; but it is more commonly called the Dog-star. I am not going to show you Sirius first. See that bright star only a little way from Sirius. Take a good look at it with your own eyes and then come to the telescope." 1 1 By Agnes Giberne, an English writer on scientific subjects. Ikon obeyed. He gazed hard for a few moments at the star which the professor had pointed out, and then ran joyfully to the stool by the telescope. He put his eye to the tube, and sat silent for some time, seeming greatly disappointed. "Well?" inquired the professor. "It isn't one bit bigger or nearer," said Ikon, sadly. "No?" said the professor. "Look again at the star with your naked eyes, and then again through the telescope." Ikon did so, and said, "It has gone away." The professor put his eye to the tube and adjusted the telescope anew. Then Ikon looked again. "Well?" said the professor. "It isn't bigger- much," said Ikon. "I don't see that it's any bigger. It is only just a little more shiny." "Very well! Now let us try Sirius. Sirius is a magnificent sun, - much larger than our own sun." Ikon looked at the beautiful star, which to the naked eye appeared like a brilliant, twinkling point of light; then he peered anxiously through the telescope. But the result was the same. "It's brighter," he said. "It's a good deal brighter, but no bigger. I thought I could see what the stars are like." "Then our journey toward the stars is a failure," said the professor in the same tone of disappointment. "We cannot reach them even with a telescope. Shall we give it up, and think no more of studying the stars?" "Oh, no!" cried Ikon, springing up. "I want to learn more about them." "But people cannot learn when they feel cross," said the professor; "they cannot think clearly, their brains are stupid." “Oh, but I won't be cross," said Ikon, cheerfully. "Perhaps a larger telescope would show the stars better." "Not much better. The most powerful telescope ever yet made can do little more than increase their brightness." "Why is that?" "Because the stars are so very, very distant." "I thought telescopes were meant for that." "Were meant to magnify distant objects? Certainly. But the power of a telescope is limited. So enormous are the distances of the stars, that telescopes can help us but little." "I don't see that the stars are much like the sun," said Ikon. "No, my boy; you do not," answered the professor. "Many things are true which you and I cannot see." "But you know," said Ikon. "Yes, I know some facts which you do not yet know, and which, as a little boy, you cannot possibly understand. There are further depths of knowledge beyond me also, where I find myself ignorant as a child. You and I have to learn the same lesson that often we must believe where we cannot see or understand." "But you do know that the star Sirius is bigger than the sun," said Ikon. "We know about how far distant Sirius is. We know that our sun, removed to the distance of Sirius, would not shine as Sirius does, but would be one of the fainter stars. We conclude, therefore, that Sirius, giving out more light than our sun gives out, must probably be larger than our sun." "If our sun were as far off as Sirius, wouldn't a telescope make it look bigger than a common star?" asked Ikon. "No; not at all, Ikon." The professor sat down again on the stool, and moved the telescope. Ikon, following this movement with his eyes, and searching over the sky, suddenly exclaimed: "Oh! I see another star, and it's brighter and bigger than Sirius but it doesn't twinkle at all. Why do some stars twinkle while others don't." "The twinkling is merely in appearance," said the professor. "It is caused by the layers of air through which the rays of light have to pass. In parts of the earth, where the air is clearer, the twinkling is much lessened. In our country, however, you may generally know a planet from a star by the fact that stars twinkle and planets, as a rule, do not." |