" Occasionally they meet
with disaster, of which we can easily call to mind instances, both
ancient and modern.
III.
Diggers do not often turn their eyes heavenwards; their treasure does
not lie in that direction. But one night I saw Bez star-gazing.
"Do you know the names of any of the stars in this part of the roof?"
I asked.
"I can't make out many of the Manchester stars," he replied. "I knew
a few when I was a boy, but there was a good deal of fog and smoke,
and latterly I have not looked up that way much; but I can spot a few
of them yet, I think."
Bez was a rather prosy poet, and his eye was not in a fine frenzy rolling.
"Let me see," he said; "that's the north; Charles' Wain and the North
Pole ought to be there, but they have gone down somewhere. There are
the Seven Stars--I never could make 'em seven; if there ever were
that number one of 'em has dropped out. And there's Orion; he has
somehow slipped up to the north, and is standing on his head, heels
uppermost. There are the two stars in his heels, two on his
shoulders, three in his belt, and three in his sword. There is the
Southern Cross; we could never see that in our part of England, nor
those two silvery clouds, nor the two black holes. They look
curious, don't they? I suppose the two clouds are the Gates of
Heaven, and the two black spots the Gates of Hell, the doors of
eternity.
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