The Moon was therefore strictly up to time, arriving at the instant rigidly determined by the Cambridge Observatory.

She occupied the exact point, to a mathematical nicety, where our 28th parallel crossed the perigee.

An observer posted in the bottom of the Columbiad at Stony Hill, would have found himself at this moment precisely under the Moon.

The axis of the enormous gun, continued upwards vertically, would have struck the orb of night exactly in her centre.
It is hardly necessary to tell our readers that, during this memorable night of the 5th and 6th of December, the travellers had no desire to close their eyes.

Could they do so, even if they had desired?
No! All their faculties, thoughts, and desires, were concentrated in one single word: "Look!" Representatives of the Earth, and of all humanity past and present, they felt that it was with their eyes that the race of man contemplated the lunar regions and penetrated the secrets of our satellite! A certain indescribable emotion therefore, combined with an undefined sense of responsibility, held possession of their hearts, as they moved silently from window to window.
Their observations, recorded by Barbican, were vigorously remade, revised, and re-determined, by the others.