But not only as to the importance of the earth in the universe, but on other matters connected with astronomy, we perceive the immensity of the change in our ideas--in that of distance, for instance. This celestial vault of the ancients was near enough for things to pass from it to us; it was in close connection with the earth, supported by it, and therefore of less diameter; but now, when our distance from the sun is expressed by numbers that we may write, indeed, but must totally fail to adequately appreciate, and the distance from the _next_ nearest star is such, that with the velocity of light--a velocity we are accustomed to regard as instantaneous--we should only reach it after a three years' journey, we are reminded of the pathetic lines of Thomas Hood: "I remember, I remember, the fir trees straight and high, And how I thought their slender tops were close against the sky; It was a childish fantasy, but now 'tis little joy, To know I'm further off from heaven than when I was a boy." The astronomer's answer to the last line would be that as far as the material heaven goes, we are just as much in it as the stars or as any other member of the universe; we cannot, therefore, be far off or near to it. It is probable that we are even yet but little awake to true cosmical ideas in other respects;--as to velocity, for instance. We know indeed, of light and electricity and the motions of the earth, but revelations are now being made to us of motions of material substances in the sun with such velocities that in comparison with them any motions on the earth appear infinitesimally small. Our progress to our present notions, and appreciations of the truth of nature in the heavens, will thus occupy much of our thoughts; but we must also recount the history of the acquirement of those facts which have ultimately become the basis for our changes of idea. Our rustic forefathers, whatever their nation, were not so enamoured of the "wonders of science"--that their astronomy was greatly a collection of theories, though theories, and wild ones, they had; it was a more practical matter, and was believed too by them to be more practical than we now find reason to believe to be the case. They noticed the various seasons, and they marked the changes in the appearances of the heavens that accompanied them; they connected the two together, and conceived the latter to be the cause of the former, and so, with other apparently uncertain events. The celestial phenomena thus acquired a fictitious importance which rendered their study of primary necessity, but gave no occasion for a theory.