That is correct. You now see why the Australian summer is at the time of the English winter. Yes, father; because they are on opposite sides of the equator. But you know that the sun does not really move about like this. I want to know what does move. The earth, to be sure. I understand that; but neither the rotundity nor motion seems to explain this mystery of the Zodiac. But let me see. When the world swings round the master light, is it obliged to keep bolt upright--north pole up and south pole down? How would your equator then be, James? Right opposite the sun. But that will not do, for it is not always opposite to the sun. Perhaps the world goes waddling along like a duck, first on one side a little bit, and then on the other. This would bring the sun opposite to either place. It would be a very regular waddle. We will try your scheme. Pick up that round wooden ball there. Carry it round the capstan, and see whether by twisting it from one side to the other you can keep the south pole shone upon for six months, and the north pole shone upon for the other six months.” James now makes a trial. But after all sorts of turns he failed in producing the English winter and summer in the proper time and for the proper length of time. “I must give it up, father. Just slant your ball a little out of the perpendicular, and carry it round your sun without moving it from its position. Capital! It explains the whole. When it was in front of the capstan, the south pole was toward it; that was the Australian summer. When I went to the right side, neither end was inclined toward it; this was the sun over the equator. When I came to the back of it, the north pole was toward it; this was the English summer. When I reached the left side, my equator was opposite to it; this was the sun’s second crossing of the Line. When I got to the front again, there was my south pole pointing to the capstan again. Then you really understand the seasons. Of course the spring in England is the autumn of Australia. But I have something else to recall to your recollection. Have you forgotten the old church on the hill at home? No, father, and never shall. How pretty it looked when the sun rose over it upon a fine spring morning, with the birds all alive with their song, and the bees down upon the flowers! Did the sun rise over the church at hay harvest? No; I remember then it came up from behind the squire’s house to the left of it. Where was the sun first seen upon a cold winter’s morning? Aye, I fancy I see his red face looking lazily over the parsonage to the right of the church, and that when we had done breakfast, too. How came the sun to jump about in that manner?