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books are among my favourite works on Arctic 

 exploration. So many cultured Americans have, I 

 think, the literary gift. I have among my own corre- 

 spondents from across the Atlantic one who favours 

 me with occasional literary contributions. He is Mr. 

 Charles Nevers Holmes, of Boston. Recently, he sent 

 me a description of a night-sky in his district, and 

 thus concluded it : " Seasons wax and wane, centuries 

 pass, countless hosts of men and women are born and 

 die, nations arise and fall, even terrestrial life becomes 

 a mausoleum ; but these suns, other suns of the 

 universe, blaze on ; their satellites still revolve around 

 them ; Time eternity itself still flows, like some 

 endless, everlasting river, and he who stands beneath 

 the star-lighted dome of night and gazes upon its 

 sparkling and scintillating suns and constellations, 

 will view the same firmament that his ancestors saw, 

 the same firmament that his descendants shall see 

 centuries and centuries in the silent future." 



From the American Magazine Popular Astronomy 

 I cull these lines of verse from Mr. Holmes' eloquent 

 pen : 



When royal Rigel glitters like a gem 

 Where gleams Orion's glory in the sky 



And Queen Capella like a diadem 



Reigns o'er Auriga with a watchful eye ; 



When winter's thraldom rests on vale and hill, 

 And skies are clear, and stars shine coldly bright, 



Ere most men dream or city's voice is still, 

 King Sirius again adorns the night. 



Rigel, as I write this page, " glitters like a gem " and 

 " Orion's glory " is in the southern sky, while " King 

 Sirius again adorns the night." Though I do not at 

 the moment see his piercing light, I know that it darts 



