| "A COMET, GENTLEMEN—A BLAZING COMET!" |
"Not Biela's, not Newton's, not Encke's—not a bit like any of them," said he; "all my own, gentlemen—entirely my own!"
Then he took up his slate, and went to figuring upon it. Several of the crowd, who were now jammed close together around him in the little octagonal room, made generous offers of assistance.
"I was always good at the multiplication-table," said one of them.
"I have a fine, clear eye," said another; "can't I help yez aim the pipe?"
This excited a laugh of derision from another, who inquired whether the man with the fine, clear eye "didn't know a pipe from a chube?"
Another rolled up his sleeves, and said he was ready to take his turn at the crank for the cause of science; while still another expressed his willingness to blow the bellows all night, if Professor Adams would show him where the handle was.
They all insisted on having a peep at the comet through the telescope, and with some jostling took turns about.
One man, after taking a look, murmured solemnly:
"That thing bodes no good to this city; I'm going home to make my will," and elbowed his way out of the room.