48 We Never See the Stars. 



lustre, we note the colour of their light ; Betelguese is a topaz, 

 Bigel more of a sapphire, Antares is flushed, and flashes withblood 

 red; and when the telescope has separated the so-called " double 

 stars," we have contrasts of green, orange, blue, white, grey, 

 etc., as Mr. Webb's admirable papers tell ; but whether their 

 surfaces are rugged and mountainous, smooth, with plains or 

 seas, diversified in outline, or monotonous in uniformity, we can 

 only guess ; for, in spite of all our efforts, we never see the stars. 



Ordinary objects reveal to us their forms by the effects of 

 lio-ht, shade, and colour. They shine with borrowed, and often 

 with feebly reflected light, so that by walking away, we soon lose 

 sight of them altogether. Objects that are more luminous and 

 brighter, show their forms at greater distances, and we often 

 see things negatively that would be unnoticed by their positive 

 effect. Thus a thin rod against a clear sky is seen a long way off, 

 because we are conscious that the sky brightness is, as it were, 

 cut through by some dark thread. But we may pass from all 

 those cases in which light comes to us as a revealer of form, to 

 others, in which it says, " I am light," and nothing more. 



All " Intellectual Observers" know Longfellow's exquisite 

 poem beginning — 



" The day is done, and the darkness 



Falls from the wings of light, 



As a feather is wafted downward 



From an eagle in its flight :" 



and as they repeat the last two lines — 



" We see the lights of the village 

 Gleam through the rain and the mist," 



they will recall an experience common to all travellers, the 

 memory of which may bring with it either " a feeling of sadness 

 which the soul cannot resist," or pleasing associations to which 

 the affections cling. These "lights of the village" may help to 

 teach us why " we never see the stars." They come to us like 

 good angels across the moor, or fen, but their faces are hidden 

 from our distant gaze. We do not see the lamp or candle from 

 which they emanate until we are close to it, although we may 

 know what it is, and exclaim with Portia: 



11 How far that little cnndlo throws its beams ! 

 So shines a good deed in a naughty world." 



Unless we are tolerably near we do not even see the shape 

 of the flame, and as soon as we have lost that shape, it is, on a 

 small scale, an imitation ofthe distant stars. 



The distance at which objects become invisible, although 

 their light is still seen, varies with different eyes. Without light 

 no man sees; bnt Some men sec with less li glit and much fur- 

 ther than others, and long after the longest, sighted man has lost 

 all perception of bodily shape, the hawk tribe appear to see it 



