learning of my peculiar request and of my unnatural formation, hastened
to the museum to see the monstrosity.
I knew from what I had previously learned that this gentleman was the
greatest living astronomer on Jupiter. He peered at me in the cage and
was dumfounded. He exchanged a few sentences with the professor and
again turned to me:
"At what time do you want the telescope?" he asked.
"Immediately."
"You shall have it, just to satisfy our curiosity," he said as he
hastened from the room.
I heard the professor caution him strictly to tell no one of my
presence, so as to avoid a rush from the student ranks.
In less than an hour I stood at the side of the largest telescope in our
Solar System, watching the deepening shadows of night as they fell upon
Jupiter.
[Illustration: Viewing Our Earth from Jupiter.]
I spent another hour examining the ponderous machinery that was
required to swing this mammoth instrument and to adjust it when scanning
the heavens.
By this time my four companions were convinced that I was not an idiot,
and I could see by their strange manner that they were regarding me as a
spirit.
I gave my directions to the astronomer, and beheld the cylinder,
two-hundred feet in length and twenty feet in diameter, swing around
until it pointed toward a little flickering light that shone like a
distant star.
I looked into the eye-piece, managed to get the tube pointed accurately,
and then requested the astronomer to focus the lenses so as to bear upon
the planetary light in range.
He knew at once the planet I had singled out. He called it Zo-ide. After
the focusing was completed, I looked and, behold, I could readily
discern many of the physical features of my own world.
"That is my homeland," I cried triumphantly. "I live on Zo-ide, or
Earth, as we call it."
Of course my listeners were incredulous, but I proceeded to explain to
them as I looked through the telescope:
"That dark ridge to the left is called 'the Rocky and Andes Mountain
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