IN THE MOON.

Daily Telegraph (Napier), Issue 3007, 14 February 1881, Page 4

IN THE MOON.

My Uncle Liebeg had a telescope. Many another man has one, you will say; but my TJricle Liebeg's was unusually large, and it was mounted on the top of a little edifice which he had built in his garden, and which he called a tower.

He bad taken to astronomy after he retired from Wall-street, and his principal occupation was looking at the moon. He was always making calculations, and always hinting that there were other people in the world besides Herschel capable of discovering stars "as they would:" He had a reputation for science amongst the better people of our village, which was really enough to upset any man's modesty, and he was generally known by the lower orders of society as the knowledgeable gentleman in the Tower House. It was up in the tower that gave the house its name that I first fell in love with Abbey Dill. She couldn't have been prettier and she couldn't have been brighter, and there were sixty steps to tho tower, and she wore pink stockings and low ties fastened with blue ribbon, and blue ancl pink bows in her hair, and a great bunch of roses at her waist, and we looked at the moon together, and she thought it was "lovely," and my uncle was delighted with her animation. In fact, we were both a couplo of fools, he an old ono, I a young one. "Don't fall in love with Abbey Dill, Alfred," said my mother. "Sho's nasty little flirt, like her mother before her. She tries to make every man she knows fall in love with her, and withal she is a mercenary creature. She'll never marry a poor man. She has no heart."

My mother received as much gratitude for this warning fts people generally do for good advice.

"It is so natural for elderly women to

think ill of pretty young ones," I paid to myself. " I thought mother above it." But I did not tell her that I had fallen in love with Abbey already. Neither did I say anything to my uncle about it. I did not want to offend him, for very good reasons, and I supposed that he might ex- j poet me to devoto myself to astronomy, ancl j remain a bachelor. I called on Abbey very often. I made love to her, and I was very kindly received. So were my protestations. In fact,*though, as I afterwards remembered, she had made no promises, I considered her engaged to me. Our liking for each other was to be a solemn secret; thai she made mo vow ; ancl really, under the circumstances, it seemed the best plan for all reasons. But we had the nicest little times together ; meetings here, there, everywhere, all with, the delightful charm of nobody knowing anything about them. My uncle generally kept a good lookout over me, but in those days he seemed to forget his duties. I afterwards ! found out why he was so very neglectful of j his usually adored nephew. | "Perhaps," I began to think,""ho I wouldn't mind so much if I did marry Abbey Dill." So matters Btood on the—Well, I've forgotten the-date, but if you remember on what day of August, 1869, the moon was at its full, you'll get it for yourself. On that 'day two things happened to me. I met Abbey Dill afc nine in the morning, as I took the train for the city, and she whispered to me behind her handkerchief : " Promise me to stay in the tower all the evening ? If I can get away, I'll come over to look at the moon. Maybe I can't you know, but wait for me." I swore I would. Uncle would be hard at work that night, of course; still the tower was a mysterious sort of place, With good shadows in it; and with an eye at the glass, how could he tell where my arm was ? However, fortune seemed to favor me that day. As I entered the car, I found my uncle there. He was going to the city. "My boy," he said in a very agitated voice, "my boy, I want you to promise, roe not to leave tho house to-night. I can tbe there, and Heaven knows what I may lose by it You'll take observations and all that, won't you? Fill my place until th© morning ?" " I swear it, uncle," said I. # " Good boy," said he. " Whioh do you j think the handsomest ring, a large solitaire i or a cluster?" . . " A cluster," said I ; thinking to myself \ that I was to be rewarded for my vigil with ! the moon. ' After that uncle spoke but little until we parted. I returned to tea, and told my mother of my uncle's desire,, and that I .should fulfil

"That's a good boy,<" said my motuer. " It is a great deal better/ to' Be scientific and astronomical than to go running after a parcel of selfish, flirty girls. I always knew you were talented, Alfred." I got away to the tower as soon as I could,and by the time the moon arose I had made sure that I heard Abbey coming through tho garden path at least fifty times, and was crushed by repeated disappointments. However, I must make a report of the moon to my uncle, and I applied my eye to the glass. "Large, round, dazzling she appeared. I saw her spots, her—yes, here a phenomenon occurred which I presume my readers would take the liberty of doubting. I saw the man in the moon! I gazed, at him actually horror-stricken. Ho was sitting on a chair, dressed in a brown cost, with , bright buttons. He wore a white tie and a : neat collar; his hair was pepper and salt j his watchchain heavy—he was the image o£ my Uncle Liebeg. My knee 3 shook under me ; here was a report to make, indeed. As j I gazed, to him entered the lady of the ' moon, dressed in rose pink and white ; her brown hair braided and fastened with a silver arrow. She looked like Abbey Dill, exactly like Abbey Dill. The man in the moon kfesed her. She sat on his knee; he put his arm about her waist, and took from his pocket a little box; from it he took a ring, pure starlight, or a diamond; he p-ut it on her finger. She kissed him again, and he expressed his ecstacy in dumb show. Was I mad ? I stumbled back from the telescope. I understood all now.

You know how easily a touoh will change the direction of a telescope. I had given it that touch and brought it to bear upon, the window of the back parlor of old Mr Dill's house. On this July evening it was wide open. What I had seen was this: My rich old TJncle Liebeg putting his engagement ring on Abbey Dill's finger. I understood it all now. Her anxiety that I should stay in the tower, and his question about the diamonds. I was tricked, jilted, made a fool of.

I gave the telescope a kick that injured it internally and prevented me from taking another observation, and I went down out of the tower to my mother. " How is the moon, dear ?" said she. " 'Bout as usual," I growled. Then I added: " Mother, you're a most sensible woman."

" Do you think so, dear ?" said she. " Yes," said I, " you understand human nature. Abbey Dill, now, is just the creature you believe her." " You think so at last ?" said she.

" Yes," said I. " She's setting her snares for Uncle Liebig. I think he's gone there to-night. In fact, I know it." " G-ood gracious, Alfred!" cried my mother. " I must warn him."

She did ; but it was too late. Abbey Dill had promised to be my aunt, as I well knew already, and my uncle was so horrified at what he called "my carelessness with the telescope," that I have lost his favor altogether. We never meet now, and my mother passes my Aunt Abbey with a freezing bow.