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Updated: October 27, 2024
"Oh, Barnaby Bright, Barnaby Bright, The moon's awake, and shines all night!" "Do you remember, Barnaby Bright, how I foretold we should meet again under an orbed moon? Was I not right? She's fair, Barnaby, and passing fair, and very proud, but all good, beautiful women are proud, and hard in the winning, oh, I know! Billy Button knows!
A bat, lured by the second twilight of the moon's rising, whirled down from above, with softly flapping wings, and almost brushed her face. She drew back quickly into the doorway. It was a very tragic night, she thought. She shut the door, and groped her way out beyond her cell to the corridor, dimly illuminated by a single light hanging from the vault by a running cord.
"Seem to think I don't know dawn when I see it," Dan added, full of scorn for the camp's want of observation; but before we had time to wither before his scorn, Jack turned the tables for us with his usual quiet finality. "That's the west you're looking at," he said. "The moon's just set"; and the curtain of Dan's net dropped instantly.
Meanwhile, bending over the garden from the warm night sky, the moon's kindly visage, though on the wane, was shining brightly; and when the woman emerged from the shadow of the trees I could discern the dark patches of her eyes, her rounded, half-parted lips, and the thick plait of hair which lay across her bosom.
"What a wonderful night it is! everything so still and silent; I do not even hear the nightingale now; she is sitting in the acacia-tree among the bunches of sweet blossoms. I can see the tops of the palm-trees in the Nile, and the moon's reflection between them, glistening like a white swan."
There, old Etna upreared his encumbered head, around which the smoke clung in dense majesty; and not contemptible rivals of the declining deity the moon's silvery crescent, and the evening star's quiet splendour, were bedecking the cloudless blue of the firmament. Acme gazed enraptured on the scene her long tresses hanging back on the chair, across which one hand was languidly thrown.
This highly satisfactory conclusion was an orthodox belief of celestial mechanics until 1853, when Professor Adams of Neptunian fame, with whom complex analyses were a pastime, reviewed Laplace's calculation, and discovered an error which, when corrected, left about half the moon's acceleration unaccounted for. This was a momentous discrepancy, which at first no one could explain.
It was a charming piece of what I simply cannot and will not call "elfish" writing. The word in me, foolishly, no doubt, produces physical nausea. If, however, someone with a stronger stomach in regard to words called it elfish I should understand what he meant, and agree. But, good as were these two essays, they were nothing compared to De La Mare's marvellous story, "The Moon's Miracle."
The moon's minions, as well as the monarch's, must have their state prisoners, and their state victims. "Well, Sir, I shall not detain you much longer. Last night, after your obliging confidence, I repaired to the meeting; Thornton was there, and very much out of humour.
With excited curiosity she asked what he had said so secretly, but he only answered hurriedly, "The name of the Man in the Moon's dog," kissed her cheek, and ran downstairs. At the foot he again turned to Eva and told her to send for him if her mother should grow worse, for these entertainments at the Vorchtels usually lasted a long time. "Will the Eysvogels be there too?" asked the girl.
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