As the twilight faded, I looked with my naked eyes toward the east, and my other world was showing its red light near the horizon like a rising sun in miniature. At midnight it would reach its culmination, when viewing it through the least possible thickness of our atmosphere in its vertical position, I would see it as no human being could see it again for over half a century. The oppressive silence and tranquility remained unbroken, and as I seated myself in my observatory and adjusted the telescope, I felt myself not quite in my accustomed vigor of health. The temperature had perceptibly raised, when it had usually fallen as the night advanced. The air was sultry. A sensation of qualmishness came over me. It came to my mind now that I had abused myself by a long neglect of sleep and regular meals. But no sooner had I brought my instrument to a focus than I was myself again. Our beautiful neighbor was mounting the heavens, reflecting the sun’s light in a delicate crimson tint, and in size of outline beyond my expectation. I could plainly mark its rotation upon its axis by noting the slow movements of spots upon its disc, and their sudden disappearance over its limb. The hours seemed minutes to me. My fatigue and illness were forgotten. In my rapture of enjoyment the lingering wish increased that some fellow creature might share it with me. My telescope, in tracing the planet’s course had very nearly obtained a vertical position, when I was astonished to see the distant world suddenly disappear, and begin to vibrate back and forth over the aperture of my instrument. A moment’s reflection explained the matter. The Earth had shaken. So trifling, however, was the disturbance about me that it had not been felt. But I had lost my focus, and Mars was already on its backward journey. My grand holiday was over. I immediately lowered the telescope and replaced its protecting dome. Gathering the few hasty notes I had prepared during my observation, for future reference and elaboration, I made my way to an apartment of my cabin which serves me for a library and bed chamber. A number of shelves filled with books occupy one of its sides. My bed rests in a corner. An easy chair stands besides a table in the center, and under a window, proportionately large, fronting the south, is placed a cushioned lounge of some pretentions to comfort and luxury. I threw myself upon this, after laying away my papers, and the lower panes of my window being on a level with my head, I looked out into the night.