ing of the
nature of the fixed stars can be accomplished. It is only since the
improvement in large telescopes that this kind of work has become
possible, and so it is but recently men have begun to study the stars
intimately, and even now they are baffled by indescribable difficulties.
One of these is our inability to tell the distance of a thing by merely
looking at it unless we also know its size. On earth we are used to
seeing things appear smaller the further they are from us, and by long
habit can generally tell the real size; but when we turn to the stars,
which appear so much alike, how are we to judge how far off they are?
Two stars apparently the same size and close together in the sky may
really be as far one from another as the earth is from the nearest; for
if the further one were very much larger than the nearer, they would
then appear the same size.

At first it was natural enough to suppose that the big bright stars of
what we call the first magnitude were the nearest to us, and the less
bright the next nearest, and so on down to the tiny ones, only revealed
by the telescope, which would be the furthest away of all; but research
has shown that this is not correct. Some of the brightest stars may be
comparatively near, and some of the smallest may be near also. The size
is no test of distance. So far as we have been able to discover, the
star which seems nearest _is_ a first magnitude one, but some of the
others which outshine it must be among the infinitely distant ones. Thus
we lie in the centre of a jewelled universe, and cannot tell even the
size of the jewels which cover its radiant robe.

I say 'lie,' but that is really not the correct word. So far as we have
been able to find out, there is no such thing as absolute rest in the
universe--in fact, it is impossible; for even supposing any body could
be motionless at first, it would be drawn by the attraction of its
nearest neighbours in space, and gradually gain a greater and greater
velocity as it fell toward them. Even the stars we call 'fixed' are all
hurrying along at a great pace, and though their distance prevents us
from seeing any change in their positions, it can be measured by
suitable instruments. Our sun is no exception to this universal rule.
Like all his compeers, he is hurrying busily along somewhere in
obedience to some impulse of which we do not know the nature; and as he
goes he carries with him his whole cortege of planets and thei