When late autumn comes the Pleiades (Ply'-a-dees) appear in the evening sky to the eastward. These are the seven shots in the Bull's shoulder, the seven arrows from Orion's bow. The Guide can locate them by continuing the line of Orion's belt, eight times the length of the belt to the right, as one faces the Hunter, so Orion must have been very close indeed. At first they look like a faint light with a few bright pin-points scattered through. Tennyson described them as: Glittering like a swarm of fireflies Tangled in a silver braid. The best time to see them is some clear night about Christmas, when there is no moon, and the Pleiades are nearly overhead, above the mist and smoke of the horizon, and there are no electric lights near by. Study them attentively. Make a tube of your two hands and look through. Look on the ground, then look back again; look not straight at them, but a little to one side; and at last, mark down on paper how many you can clearly see, putting a big spot for the big one, and little spots for the little ones. Poor eyes see nothing but a haze; fairly good eyes see four of the pin-points; good eyes see five; the best of eyes see seven. I can see seven on a clear winter night when there are no clouds and no moon. This is as high as you need expect to get, although it is said that some men in clear air on a mountain top have seen ten, while the telescope shows that there are 2,000. In taking these eyesight tests you may use your spectacles if you usually wear them. TALE 53 The Twin Stars Two-Bright-Eyes went wandering out To chase the Whippoorwill; Two-Bright-Eyes got lost and left Our teepee--oh, so still! Two-Bright-Eyes was carried up To sparkle in the skies And look like stars--but we know well That that's our lost Bright-Eyes. She is looking for the camp, She would come back if she could; She still peeps thro' the tree-tops For the teepee in the wood. TALE 54 Stoutheart and His Black Cravat Do you know the bird that wears a black cravat, which he changes once a year? It is the English Sparrow, the commonest of all our birds. His hair is gray, but he must have been red-headed once, for just back of his ears there is still a band of red; and his collar, maybe, was white once, but it is very dingy now. His shirt and vest are gray; his coat is brown with black streaks--a sort of sporting tweed. The new cravat comes when the new feathers grow in late summer; and, at first, it is barred with gray as if in half mourning for his sins. As the gray tips wear off, it becomes solid black; that is, in March or April. In summer, it gets rusty and worn out; so every year he puts on a new one in late August. The hen sparrow is quite different and wears no cravat. She has a black-and-brown cape of the sporting pattern, but her dress is everywhere of brownish Quaker gray.