“Why were the Ram, Bull, Lion, Scorpion and others so called? I have
often wondered at their odd names, and have tried to make out a bear in
the Great Bear, or a dog about the stars near Sirius, but never could
see any resemblance to the animals.
I don’t wonder at your surprise. Some learned astronomers of our day
pretend that the ancients by the Nile and Euphrates had no meaning
in the names they gave to the constellations. This is not likely,
especially as we know that the signs of the Zodiac were pictured in
their temples.
But who gave the names to the other stars that are not signs of the
Zodiac?
The ancients. But it is time now to sleep away all thought of the stars
in the care of Him who cares for the stars.”
* * * * *
During the night our young friend had a disturbed rest. The
constellations kept circling round him; while lions, bulls, fish and
crabs were mingled, in strange confusion. They glared at him with their
hollow eyes till the boy was quite frightened, and cried out in his
sleep.
The morning sun awoke the boy, and put to flight the stars. When
sweet evening came the twinkling lights stole forth again, and the
astronomical dialogue was renewed by James.
“Please, father, I want to know the various constellations.
We will class them, my son, into North Polar, South Polar, and
Equatorial.
The North Polar star, at the end of the Little Bear’s tail, is a
capital guide for the north pole; but I don’t see any Little Bear
southward, walking round his tail-tip, like a horse tethered in a
paddock, so that I may discover the south pole.
No, we have not a South Polar star, and no bright stars at all near the
south pole of the heavens.
Let us have a little more about the Zodiac first, father. I know the
twelve signs are constellations over the tropics; but I don’t know why
you call them the Zodiac.
Zodiac is from a Greek word, meaning a small figure of an animal, as
they are nearly all animal figures.
How many northern and southern constellations are there?
In the ancient celestial atlases we find twenty-one northern and
fifteen southern, besides the Zodiac; then more were added of new ones
named or old ones subdivided, till we have, including the Zodiac,
sixty-two northern and fifty-five southern constellations.
Of course, the old astronomers of Egypt and Babylon could not have seen
all the south polar stars?
We should hardly fancy it. Strange tricks have been played with the
names of the constellations. Only think of English writers, sixty years
ago, wanting to have your Orion called Nelson; and the University of
Leipsic, to please the French emperor, proposed to steal the belt and
sword from Orion, and call them the constellation of Napoleon.
I am glad they didn’t, though. But how is the line drawn to distinguish
the spaces of the constellations?
Their sizes vary. Orion, for instance, takes up a great space in the
heavens, while others occupy little room.
How many stars go to make up a constellation?
You mean those seen by the naked eye. These differ in number. I will
run over some of the Zodiac. Aries has 66, Taurus 141, Gemini 83,
Cancer 85, Leo 95, Virgo 110, Libra 51, Scorpio 44, Sagittarius 69,
Capricornus 51, Aquarius 108, Pisces 113.
But there must be a lot more seen in them by the telescope.
Yes. The six stars of the Pleiades turn out to be 188. In Orion there
are 2000 stars easily distinguished. Your three in the belt are 80, and
the star in the sword you find to be a dozen.
Will you kindly show me, dear father, how I can find the south pole of
the heavens, as there is no bright star near it?
I will try and give you a rough chart. Look at the Southern Cross. Draw
an imaginary line from the top star through the one at the foot; and
four times that distance in the same line will bring you to the south
pole of the heavens.
Yes; and if I had that point over my head I should be where no one else
has been--at the south pole of the earth. Now I have my centre, I would
like to describe a circle at the distance of the Cross and know the
stars inside of it.
Begin, then. Look at the two bright ones pointing toward the Cross
beside it. They are the Pointers to the Cross. A lot of bright stars
together, on the other side of the Cross, are in the Ship, Argo. Follow
on the circumference that way, and you arrive at a large star, a little
north of our course, called Canopus. From the Cross to Canopus is
one-quarter of the circle round the pole, and it is filled up with the
Ship.
What a ship!
It goes northward, too, to Sirius, the Dog-star. Canopus is half-way
between Sirius and the south pole, and is in the line between the two.
That is a capital point, for I know them.
South of the Ship, between it and the pole, are the little Flying Fish.
The Table Mountain and Chameleon, with feeble stars, are between the
Fish, again, and the poles.
Now I have that quarter of the circle, well.
Keep on to the right, still away from the Cross and beyond Canopus,
nearly as far again, and you see a bright star in our circle, which is
called Achernar, at the bottom of the long River Po.
Not the Italian river, but the Celestial one.
That heavenly stream runs northward to Orion. Now, between Canopus and
Achernar we see but few stars, although we pass the constellations of
the Painter’s Easel, Rhomboidal Net, and Clock. Between Achernar and
the Pole are the tiny stars of the Little Hydra. But between the Little
Hydra and the Flying Fish, resting like on the Table Mountain, is the
beautiful Nubecular Major, the great Magellanic Cloud.
Now I know where I am again. The Rhomboidal Net is on one side of the
Cloud, and the Flying Fish on the other. The Table by the Pole is south
of it. But what is north of it, for Canopus is not quite in a line with
the Cloud and the Pole?
The Sword Fish is on the Cloud. But go again to Achernar, and draw a
line thence to the Pole.
Why, it goes right through the Little Magellanic Cloud.
That Cloud is between the Hydra and the Toucan. That bird’s head beyond
Achernar is in our circumference of the Cross. A little further on that
round line is the bright star in the Peacock’s head; though the Indian,
with his arrows, stands between the Peacock and the Toucan.
The very place for a hunter. But go on, please, for you are fast
completing the circle, by getting back to the Cross.
The end of the Peacock’s tail brings us three-fourths round; and above
it, from the Pole, is the Southern Crown.
I see it; but it ought to hang over something better than a Peacock’s
tail.
It so happens that the Telescope comes between them. Below the Peacock,
and close round the south pole, is the constellation Octant. Now for
the last quarter, between the Cross and the Peacock.
I know part of that--the Cross’s Pointers. But what are those three
stars a little below the Pointers, toward the Peacock?
They are the Southern Triangle. Between the Cross and the Pole is the
Fly; while between the Triangle and the Pole is the Bird of Paradise.
What a cold place to put so delicate a bird! But to what constellation
do the two Pointers to the Cross belong?
To the Centaur’s two fore feet. The last of my circumpolar stars are
those of the Altar, lying north of the Triangle, a little to the left
of the Pointers. You may see them on the edge of the Milky Way--two
stars close together, and four others to the right further apart.
The Compasses, hardly to be noticed, are between the Altar and the
Pointers.”
* * * * *
This was a long lesson, requiring much study afterwards. When Mr.
Marple thought the lad knew the southern stars near the pole, he was
ready to advance with the constellations again, and proposed to take a
fresh round.
“We will,” said he, “take another sweep round the heavens, embracing
the space between our old circle of the Cross and that over the
equator, though I will not take equatorial stars now.
May we begin at the Crown, father?
Between the Cross and Crown is the Altar. North of and near the Crown
is Sagittarius the Archer, beside which is the Scorpion.
How can I tell that?
The Scorpion has a line of bright stars coming down south to the Altar,
with a twist like a curl in its tail.
What is that bright red star at the upper end of it?
Antares of the Scorpion. The bright star near it further north is in
the Libra or Scales. The fine star as far from the Pointers as they are
from the Pole is in the shoulder of the Centaur, half horse and half
man.
Is he fighting anything?
Yes; he is running his spear through the mouth of the Wolf, which is
stretched between Antares and the Pointers. The Centaur comes down to
the Cross, and goes up north to the great Hydra, on which the Crow is
perched.
What a beautiful star that is over Centaur, about twice as far from the
Cross as that from the Pole!
That is Spica in the Virgin, close to the Crow. That makes up one
quarter of our second circle. Looking still to the right, and north of
the Cross, do you see any good-sized stars?
No, father, there is nothing worth looking at for the next quarter
beyond the Cross and Ship till we get to Sirius.
Yet there are the Pneumatic Pump and the Mariner’s Compass. The great
Hydra stretches itself all from the Scorpion, under the Crow, the Cup,
and the Sextant, from near Antares to Canis Minor, the Little Dog.
Where is the Little Dog?
To understand that we must go on to our third quarter of the circle.
You know Sirius and the three starred belt of Orion. The Belt is
exactly over the equator. The three stars lead you down south to
Sirius, and a line at right angles brings you to Procyon of the Little
Dog, which thus forms a triangle with Sirius and the Belt. Get the
Pole, Canopus, and Sirius in a line, and a little further to the north,
on the one side you have the Belt, and on the other Procyon.
Though I see no stars of any consequence between the Great and Little
Dogs, is there any constellation there?
Monoceros, the Unicorn, keeps them apart. The Hare and Noah’s Dove are
on the other side of Canis Major. They are both south of Orion. In the
Dove, a little out of the line half-way from Canopus to Sirius, is the
pretty Phact. The five stars in a line between Canopus and Sirius are
in Canis Major, the Great Dog Constellation.
What a gay show of stars between the Pole and Orion! But what a blank
beyond to the right. I see one, however, opposite to Sirius, forming a
parallelogram with it, the Belt, and Phact.
That is Zaurack, in the River Po; and the great space beyond that, to
the right, far north of Achernar, is Cetus the Whale. The star Menkar
or Menhab, a little north of Zaurack, is in the Whale’s head, while
Diphda is in its tail. Achernar is about half-way from Diphda to the
Pole. Between the two are the Chemical Furnace, the Sculptor, and the
Phoenix.