This resplendent luminary, like a youth on the Fourth of July, has its
first quarter; like a ruined spendthrift its last quarter, and like an
omnibus, is occasionally full and new. The evenings on which it appears
between these last stages are beautifully illumined by its clear, mellow
light.
The Moon revolves in an elliptical orbit about the Earth in twenty-nine
days twelve hours forty-four minutes and three seconds, the time which
elapses between one new Moon and another. It was supposed by the ancient
philosophers that the Moon was made of green cheese, an opinion still
entertained by the credulous and ignorant. Kepler and Tyco Brahe,
however, held to the opinion that it was composed of Charlotte Russe,
the dark portions of its surface being sponge cake, the light _blanc
mange_. Modern advances in science and the use of Lord Rosse's famous
telescope have demonstrated the absurdity of all these speculations by
proving conclusively that the Moon is mainly composed of the
_Ferro_--_sesqui_--_cyanuret, of the cyanide of potassium_! Up to the
latest dates from the Atlantic States, no one has succeeded in reaching
the Moon. Should anyone do so hereafter, it will probably be a woman, as
the sex will never cease making an exertion for that purpose as long as
there is a man in it.
Upon the whole, we may consider the Moon an excellent institution, among
the many we enjoy under a free, republican form of government, and it is
a blessed thing to reflect that the President of the United States can
not _veto_ it, no matter how strong an inclination he may feel, from
principle or habit, to do so.
It has been ascertained beyond a doubt that the Moon has no air.
Consequently, the common expressions, "the Moon was gazing down with an
air of benevolence," or with "an air of complacency," or with "an air of
calm superiority," are incorrect and objectionable, the fact being that
the Moon has no air at all.
The existence of the celebrated "Man in the Moon" has been frequently
questioned by modern philosophers. The whole subject is involved in
doubt and obscurity. The only authority we have for believing that such
an individual exists, and has been seen and spoken with, is a fragment
of an old poem composed by an ancient Astronomer of the name of Goose,
which has been handed down to us as follows:
"The man in the Moon came down too soon
To inquire the way to Norwich;
The man in the South, he burned his mouth,
Eating cold, hot porridge."
The evidence conveyed in this distich is, however, rejected by the
skeptical, among modern Astronomers, who consider the passage an
allegory. "The man in the South," being supposed typical of the late
John C. Calhoun, and the "cold, hot porridge," alluded to the project of
nullification.