Westward from Cassiopeia, directly over the pole, and lying athwart the meridian, is the constellation of Cepheus, the King, less conspicuous than that of his queen, Cassiopeia, but equally ancient. Its leading star, Alpha (α), also called Alderamin, the “Right Arm,” is a candidate for the great office of Pole-star, which it will occupy in about 5500 years. Beta (β), the second in rank, is named Alfirk, the “Flock” or “Herd.” If you are sweeping here with an opera-glass you will perceive, about half-way between Alpha (α) and Zeta (ζ), a small star which will at once arrest your attention by its color. It is the celebrated “Garnet Star” of Sir William Herschel, who was greatly impressed by its brilliant hue, declaring it to be the most deeply colored star that the naked eye can find in the sky. But its color is not so striking unless a glass be used.
Low down in the north-northwest we see the Great Dipper, above it the coiling form and diamond head of Draco, and then, still higher, the Northern Cross and Vega, bright as a jewel. Hercules and the Northern Crown are near setting in the northwest.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The reader who is curious concerning such matters is advised to consult a paper by Dr. Louis Bell on “Star Colors,” in the Astrophysical Journal (vol. xxi, No. 3, April, 1910). Dr. Bell’s experiments with artificial stars seem to show that physiological effects play a great part in producing the pronounced colors of the small stars in many telescopic doubles. The paper is very interesting, especially in its description of a startling imitation of the singular cluster, Kappa (κ) Crucis, which Sir John Herschel described as resembling a gorgeous piece of colored jewelry. But, whatever part physiological optics may play in the phenomena of colored doubles, it is certain that many single stars, including some of great magnitude, possess distinctive tints. Compare, for instance, Castor and Pollux or Rigel and Betelgeuse. Aldebaran and Betelgeuse are both reddish, yet the color tones that they exhibit are clearly different.
IV
THE EVENING SKY AT THE WINTER SOLSTICE
The magic of the starry heavens does not fail with the decline of the sun in winter, but, on the contrary, increases in power when the curtains of the night begin to close so early that by six o’clock the twilight is gone and the firmament has become a dome of jet ablaze with clusters of living gems. And when the snows arrive, mantling the hills with glistening ermine, the coruscating splendor of the sky seems to be redoubled. If I were to choose a time most suitable for interesting a novice in the beauties and wonders of uranography, I would select the winter, and I would lead my acolyte, on a clear, frosty night, when the landscape was glittering with crusted snow, upon some eminence where the curve of the horizon was broken only by the leafless tops of a few trees, through which the rising stars would flash like electric lamps. The accord between the stars and the seasons is never more evident than at such a time and in such a place, and the psychology of the stars is then most strongly felt. When the earth is locked fast in the bonds of winter the sparkling heavens seem most alive. I would have, if it were possible, a clump of dark pines or hemlocks near the place of observation, throwing their shadows on the snow, while Sirius in all its wild beauty blazed above them, and Aldebaran, Rigel, and Betelgeuse filled the vibrant air about them with jewelled lances of prismatic light. Then the sound of sleigh-bells in the resonant atmosphere would seem an aerial music shaken from the scintillant sky, and a lurking fox, stealing from his den in the edge of the shadows, would appear timorously conscious of the splendor over his head. The nocturnal animals know a day more glorious than ours, but it is never so glorious as when its multi-colored rays splinter upon crystalled hills at the winter solstice.
Now the greatest of the constellations reign in the sky. Orion is high up in the southeast, and around him are arrayed his brilliant attendants and companions—toward the west Taurus, with Aldebaran and the glittering Pleiades; above, Auriga and Gemini dipping their feet in the Milky Way; in the east, Canis Minor, with great, steady Procyon, and Canis Major proclaiming his precedence with flaming Sirius, the King of the Stars. We cannot do better than begin with this starry monarch and his constellation.
CHART IV—THE WINTER EVENING SKY
To me Sirius will always remain associated with the memory of Christmas sleigh-bells and the thrilling creak of runners on crisp, hard snow, for it was during a drive home from a “Christmas-tree” in a country church that I first made the acquaintance of that imperial star. It seemed to me more brilliantly beautiful than any of the dazzling gifts that had hung so magically on the illuminated tree. Its splendor is unearthly, putting diamonds and sapphires to shame. How people can live and be happy without ever gazing at such an object surpasses the understanding of any one who has once beheld and yielded to its charm. The splendors of Aladdin’s Cave are for children, and fade in the light of advancing life, but these glories of the universe are for men and women, and grow brighter with the years.