"Yes," replied Mary; "and if they could only talk, what a wonderful story
they would have to tell! A shooting star is very much smaller than a
meteor, and the largest does not weigh more than a quarter of an ounce.
You could easily hold one in your hand, for it is like a small stone,
only, unlike a stone, it is always on the move. It hurries along through
space ever so much faster than an express train, and all goes well as
long as it keeps above the blanket of air that surrounds the earth. If
it comes too near, however, it is sure to be destroyed. It dashes into
the air at the rate of twenty-five miles a second, rubbing against every
particle it meets on its way. This makes it intensely hot, until it
glows with brilliant light. We see it for a few moments as it flashes
out against the dark sky; but the light soon fades and all that remains
of the shooting star is its ashes. Sometimes they sift down upon the
earth and settle on the tops of high mountains, or sink into the ocean,
or float in through an open window and rest upon tables and books as
fine dust. But when our good housekeeper finds it there she carefully
removes it with her duster. She does not know nor does she care where
it came from; it certainly has no right there, and she treats it with
small ceremony."
"I wonder what she would say if she knew that the dust had come from
the sky," said Harry.
"I do not think it would make any difference," said Mary, laughing. "And
now I am going to tell you a little story about a shooting star, and
then I must say good-night.
"It is said that the evil genii--you remember reading about them in the
Arabian Nights, don't you, Harry?"
"Indeed I do," he replied.
"Well, at night they are said to fly up to the gates of heaven and listen
to the conversation of the angels. When the angels see their hidden foes,
they hurl fiery shooting stars at them and with so good an aim that for
every shooting star we may be sure there is one spirit of evil less in
the world."