markings kept an invariable longitudinal position upon the illuminated disk, showing that the planet turned always the same face to the Sun; but latitudinally a difference was noticeable between their place in October–November, 1896, and in February–March, 1897, the latter being 4° farther north. Now this is just what the orbital position should have caused, if the pole stood vertically to it. Thus a difference of 4° from perpendicularity should have been discernible, had it existed,—a very small amount in such a determination. We may, therefore, conclude that the axis stands plumb to the orbit, and this is what theory demands.
The state of things this introduces to us upon that other world is to our ideas exceeding strange. It is not so much the slowness of the diurnal spin, eighty-eight times as long as our own, which is surprising, as the fact that this makes its day infinite in length. Two antipodal hemispheres divide the planet, the one of which frizzles under eternal sun, the other freezes amid everlasting night. The Sun does not, indeed, stand stock-still in the sky, but nods like some huge pendulum to and fro along a parallel of latitude. In consequence of libration the two great domains of day and night are sundered by a strip of debatable ground 2312° in breadth on either side, upon which the Sun alternately rises and sets. Here there is a true
