announced what he had seen, promptly proceeded to disbelieve him. Schiaparelli had the misfortune to be ahead of his times, and the yet greater misfortune to remain so; for not only did no one else see the lines at that opposition, but no one else succeeded in doing so at subsequent ones. For many years fate allowed Schiaparelli to have them all to himself, a confidence he amply repaid. While other's doubted, he went from discovery to discovery. What he had seen in 1877 was not so very startling in view of what he afterward saw. His first observations might well have been of simple estuaries, long natural creeks running up into the continents, and even cutting them in two. His later observations were too peculiar to be explained, even by so improbable a configuration of the Martian surface. In 1879 the canali, as he called them (channels, or canals, the word may be translated, and it is in the latter sense that he now regards them), showed straighter and narrower than they had in 1877: this not in consequence of any change in them, but from his own improved faculty of detection; for what the eye has once seen it can always see better a second time. As he gazed they appeared straighter, and he made out more. Lastly, toward the end of the year, he observed one evening what struck even him as a most startling phenomenon,-- the twinning of one of the canals: two parallel canals suddenly showed where but a single one had showed before. The paralleling was so perfect that he suspected optical illusion. He could, however, discover none by changing his telescopes or eye-pieces. The phenomenon, apparently, was real.

At the next opposition he looked to see if by chance he should mark a repetition of the strange event, and went, as he tells us, from surprise to surprise; for one after another of his canals proceeded startlingly to become two, until some twenty of them had thus doubled. This capped the climax to his own wonderment, and, it is needless to add, to other people's incredulity; for nobody else had yet succeeded in seeing the canals at all, let alone seeing them double. Undeterred by the general skepticism, he confirmed at each fresh opposition his previous discoveries, which, in view of the fact that no one else did, tended in astronomical circles to an opposite result.

For nine years he labored thus alone, having his visions all to himself. It was not till 1886 that any one but he saw the canals. In April of that year Perrotin, at Nice, first did so. The occasion was the setting up of the great Nice glass of twenty-nine inches aperture. In spite of the great size of the glass, however, a first attempt resulted in nothing but failure. So, later, did a second, and Perrotin was on the point of abandoning the search for good, when, on the 15th of the month, he suddenly detected one of the canals, the Phison. His assistant, M. Thollon, saw it immediately afterward. After this they managed to make out several others, some single, some double, substantially as Schiaparelli had drawn them; the slight discrepancies between their observations and his being in point of fact the best of confirmations.

Since then, other observers have contrived to detect the canals, the list of the successful increasing at each opposition, although even now their number might almost be told on one's hands and feet.

The reason that so few astronomers have as yet succeeded in seeing these lines is to be found in our own atmosphere. That in ordinary atmosphere the lines are not easy objects is certain. A moderately good air is essential to their detection; and unfortunately the locations of most of our observatories preclude this prerequisite. Size of aperture of the telescope used is a very secondary matter. That Schiaparelli discovered the canals with an 8 1/3-inch glass, and that the 26-inch glass at Washington has refused to show them to this day, are facts that speak emphatically on the point.

The importance of atmosphere in the study of planetary detail is far from being appreciated. It is not simply question of a clear air, but of a steady one. To detect fine detail, the atmospheric strata must be as evenly disposed as possible.

Next in importance to a steady air comes attentive perception on the part of the observer. The steadiest air we can find is in a state of almost constant fluctuation. In consequence, revelations of detail come only to those who patiently watch for the few good moments among the many poor. Nor do I believe even average air to be entirely without such happy exceptions to a general blur. In these brief moments perseverance will show the canals as faint streaks. To see them as they are, however, an atmosphere