the Lucretian model, out of modern science. 

The theme has been in my mind for a good many years; and the first
volume, dealing with the "Watchers of the Sky," began to take definite
shape during what was to me an unforgettable experience--the night I
was privileged to spend on a summit of the Sierra Madre Mountains,
when the first trial was made of the new 100-inch telescope.  The
prologue to this volume attempts to give a picture of that night, and
to elucidate my own purpose. 

The first tale in this volume plunges into the middle of things, with
the revolution brought about by Copernicus; but, within the tale,
partly by means of an incidental lyric, there is an attempt to give a
bird's-eye view of what had gone before.  The torch then passes to
Tycho Brahe, who, driven into exile with his tables of the stars, at
the very point of death hands them over to a young man named Kepler.
Kepler, with their help, arrives at his own great laws, and
corresponds with Galileo--the intensely human drama of whose life I
have endeavoured to depict with more historical accuracy than can be
attributed to much of the poetic literature that has gathered around