Such are the fruits of the unceasing labors of twenty generations of astronomers. Such the result of the genius and of the patient perseverance of men who have devoted themselves for two thousand years to the study of the phenomena of the heavens. The Chaldean shepherds were, they say, the first astronomers. We can well believe it. Dwelling in the midst of vast plains, where the mildness of the seasons permitted them to pass the night in the open air, where the clear sky unfolded before them perpetually the most glorious scenes, they ought to have been, and they were, contemplative astronomers. And all of us would be what they were did not the rigor of our climate and our variable atmosphere so often prevent us observing the heavens; and did not, moreover, the turmoil and cares of civilized life deprive us of the necessary leisure. Nothing is more fitted to elevate the mind toward the infinite than the pensive contemplation of the starry vault in the silent calm of night. A thousand fires sparkle in all parts of the sombre azure of the sky. Varied in color and brilliancy, some shine with a vivid light, perpetually changing and twinkling; others, again, with a more constant one—more tranquil and soft; while very many only send us their rays intermittently, as if they could scarce pierce the profundity of space. To enjoy this spectacle in all its magnificence, a night must be chosen when the atmosphere is perfectly pure and transparent—one neither illuminated by the moon, nor by the glimmer of twilight or of dawn. The heavens then resemble an immense sea, the broad expanse of which glitters with gold dust or diamonds. In presence of such splendor, the senses, mind and imagination are alike inthralled. The impression gathered is an emotion at once profound and religious, an indefinable mixture of admiration, and of calm and tender melancholy. It seems as if these distant worlds, in shining earthward, put themselves in close communication with our thoughts. At a first glance at the starry firmament the stars seem pretty regularly distributed; nevertheless, look at that whitish, undecided, vapory glimmer which girdles the heavens as with a belt. It is the Milky Way.[1] As we approach the borders of this star-cloud in our inspection, the stars appear more and more crowded together, and most of them so small that the eye can scarcely distinguish them. The accumulation of stars in the direction of the Milky Way is more especially visible when we examine the heavens with the aid of a powerful telescope. The Milky Way itself is nothing more than an immensely extended zone of stars, that is, of suns, since each star, from the most brilliant to the faintest, is a sun.