“Far from it,” replied his uncle; “are you going to hold up a twelve-foot tube to your eye, and direct it to a star? The next thing is of course to mount it upon trunnions, and arrange that it shall turn upon an axis, so that we can sweep in any direction.”
The longest tasks come to an end. By the help of the village carpenter, a strong rough stand was connected with the beam formerly used to bear the sails of the mill, the trunnions were fitted to a strong iron ring by the smith, and one evening the great telescope was hung in its place, and in spite of its weight, moved at the slightest touch, its centre of gravity having been so carefully calculated that it swung up and down and revolved with the greatest ease.
“There, Tom,” said Uncle Richard; “now I think we can sweep the heavens in every direction, and when once we have tried, the mirrors, so as to set them and the eye-piece exact, we can get to work.”
Tom looked at his uncle in dismay.
“Why, you don’t mean to say, uncle, that there is more to do after working at it like this?”
“Yes, a great deal. We have to get the glasses to work with one another to the most perfect correctness. That task may take us for days.”
It did, and though Tom finished off every evening worn-out and discouraged, he recommenced in the morning fresh and eager as ever, helping to alter the position of the big speculum, then of the small plane mirror. Then the eye-piece had to be unscrewed and replaced again and again, till at last Uncle Richard declared that he could do no more.
“Then now we may begin?” cried Tom.
“We might,” said his uncle, “for the moon will be just right to-night in the first quarter; but judging from appearances, we shall have a cloudy wet evening.”
And so it proved, the moon not even showing where she was in hiding behind the clouds.