“That is a suggestion which has often been made, but one great objection to it is that we have reason for believing that snow, at least in such a situation, cannot exist on the moon. Another objection is that only a few of the lunar mountains are comparable in brightness with Proclus, and they are not the loftiest ones. Upon the whole it is much more probable that the reflecting power of Proclus is due to the composition of its rocks, perhaps to broad crystalline surfaces exposed in the sunshine.” “It is a surprise to me, then, that that ‘earthly godfather’ of lunar wonders, who had a sufficiently vivid fancy to invent the ‘Marsh of a Dream’ close by, did not name this mountain for some jewel, real or imaginary.” “It would have been more poetic, indeed, but as I have already told you, the mountains and volcanoes of the moon nearly all bear very prosaic designations, while a wealth of fancy has been lavished in naming the ‘seas’ and plains. The astronomer Riccioli is responsible for most of the commonplace nomenclature that we find in lunar charts. If you will now glance at the northern (lower) ‘horn’ of the moon in the photograph you will notice, near the terminator, about two thirds of the way from the _Mare Crisium_ to the end of the horn, a pair of ring plains, or crater rings, apparently almost touching one another. They are Atlas and Hercules, the latter being the smaller one on the right. A darker oval below them near the bright edge of the moon is Endymion.” “That, at least,” exclaimed my companion, delighted, “is a romantic and appropriate name! I am enchanted to think that Endymion has not been separated by your cold-hearted science from her who loved him so well.”