“You observe now,” I continued, “how the rotundity of the lunar globe begins to manifest itself as the sunlight sweeps farther eastward. The crescent shape is gone and the line between day and night begins to be bowed outward, convexly. The _Mare Crisium_ is particularly well defined, and also the diamond-shaped region called the _Palus Somnii_. With the sun so nearly vertical above it, the remarkable peak of Proclus, between the _Palus Somnii_ and the _Mare Crisium_, has become very brilliant. In a telescope you would see it glowing almost like a star. You observe also that several long, straight, bright rays proceed from it in several directions.” “All the more reason, it seems to me,” said my friend, “why your unimaginative astronomer, Riccioli, should have named it for some brilliant gem instead of attaching to so dazzling an object the prosaic designation of ‘Proclus.’” “After all,” I replied, “what’s in a name?” Now that you are familiar with the appearance of Proclus, its name will henceforth call up to your mind an image as brilliant as if it had been named ‘Mount Diamond’ or ‘Mount Amethyst.’” [Illustration: NO. 7. JULY 2, 1903; MOON’S AGE 7.24 DAYS. ] “Pardon me,” said my friend, “but it was not of names like those that I was thinking. Observe how he who named the neighboring _Palus Somnii_, ‘Marsh of a Dream,’ exhibited an exquisite delicacy of fancy. It suggests something indefinitely strange, romantic, imaginative. That unknown astronomer, unknown at least to me, put a little of himself, a little of his inmost mind, into the name, and I thank him for it. I shall never forget the ‘Marsh of a Dream’ in the moon. It will haunt my own dreams. I shall be all my life seeking and never finding its meaning.” “Since you are in so poetic a mood,” I responded, “I rejoice that besides its bald facts, its fireless volcanoes, and its dried-up plains, the moon possesses many things that can stir the imagination of the most sentimental observer. But, in order that we may not wander too far from the paths of science, let me recall your attention to the photograph. We have been going over ground already trodden by returning to the neighborhood of the _Mare Crisium_. I shall now lead you back to the terminator, where we shall find a little that is new. Still nearly hidden in night we perceive many great rings on which the sun is beginning to rise, and four of the most important ranges of mountains are coming into view. One of these, on the southern border of the _Mare Serenitatis_, is visible throughout its entire extent. It forms a portion of the coquettish ornaments with which the Moon Maiden has decorated her hair, as we shall see clearly in the next photograph. This range is named the Hæmus mountains. Near its center, quite at the edge of the ‘sea,’ is a bright crater ring, one of the most conspicuous on the moon. It is called Menelaus.”