Anyone who chooses may prove for himself that the force exercised by gravitation between the multitudinous suns of our own galaxy, the Milky Way, and our earth must be quite infinitesimal, and totally unable to control the motions of our own solar system in a definite orbit through universal space. We know that the law which regulates the intensity of light at various distances is the same as the law of gravity,--that is to say, the proportion is directly as the mass and inversely as the square of the distance. We know also that the stars which compose the Milky Way are similarly constituted, generally considered, to our own sun, and that under similar circumstances the emission of light, roughly speaking, will vary according to the magnitude of these distant suns. Now, if any one will stand, at the darkest hour of the night, when the moon is absent and the sky perfectly cloudless, when the "Stars that oversprinkle all the heavens seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight," and sweep with his gaze all the concave hemisphere of the sky, and then compare the light which is radiated around him with the gorgeous effulgence of the noonday summer sun, he can pretty closely compare the relative attraction of gravity which all those distant suns together can exercise upon our earth with that of our own sun. Under control of the latter, the earth sweeps around in her orbit at the rate of about twenty miles per second; all these suns could not give our solar system even a minute fraction of that. Of this starlight Professor Ball says, "The sun certainly must receive some heat by the radiation from the stars; but this is quite infinitesimal in comparison with his own stupendous radiation." Any such attraction, of course, could not control the motions of our solar system, and much less that of many of the others. "The night has a thousand eyes, and the day but one, But the light of the whole world dies when the day is done."