63. These men have now got hold of the idea that the sun will always rise and set at the same places, that in fact his daily journey is always the same, and that he performs it in the same time. But in the course of six months they suspect they are mistaken. Discredit is thrown upon the sagacity of our astronomer, and he broods over his disgrace for six months longer. At the end of this time, on turning his eyes towards the sun, what is his surprise and delight to find that luminary doing the very thing that he had all along predicted, returning once more to his old points of rising and setting,—places, we may presume, which could be easily remembered on account of some peculiarity of landscape. He is not yet prepared however for a higher generalisation, but again calls for his fellows, and while he suspects a certain amount of irregularity in the sun, yet succeeds in convincing them that his guess was after all not far from the truth. Once again he is reinstated in their good opinion. 64. However, six months after, precisely the same thing recurs once more; the rising and setting points are now considerably different from those predicted. Our astronomer again loses credit, and regains it only partially six months afterwards, when the points are once more right. But he has now learned a lesson. He perceives a method in all this, and ultimately rises, by means of the difficulty, to a higher generalisation. He sees that the rising and setting points of the sun go through the complete series of their changes of position in about 365 days; and he has thus learned, in a rude way, that the sun has two motions, one of which he accomplishes in 24 hours, or one day, while the other has a period of 365 days, or one year. 65. While these things are in progress, a portentous and wholly unexpected event takes place: the sun for four minutes is totally extinguished. Our astronomer meditates much on this strange phenomenon, and is inclined to regard it as a triumph of the powers of Darkness, in personal conflict with those of Light. Nevertheless he does not neglect to keep a record of the precise day on which it took place. 66. Years pass away, and our astronomer has passed away with them—he and all his generation; but a regular record is now kept of celestial occurrences, and especially of eclipses. At length it comes to be perceived that there is a periodicity even in such untoward phenomena, and an attempt is ultimately made, by means of this knowledge, to predict when the next eclipse will take place. It is perfectly successful, and the event loses from thenceforth much of its portentous significance.