WHEN THE SKIES are clear and the Moon is not too bright, the Reverend Robert Evans, aquiet and cheerful man, lugs a bulky telescope onto the back deck of his home in the BlueMountains of Australia, about fifty miles west of Sydney, and does an extraordinary thing. Helooks deep into the past and finds dying stars.

Looking into the past is of course the easy part. Glance at the night sky and what you see ishistory and lots of it—the stars not as they are now but as they were when their light leftthem. For all we know, the North Star, our faithful companion, might actually have burnedout last January or in 1854 or at any time since the early fourteenth century and news of it justhasn’t reached us yet. The best we can say—can ever say—is that it was still burning on thisdate 680 years ago. Stars die all the time. What Bob Evans does better than anyone else whohas ever tried is spot these moments of celestial farewell.

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