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THE

MAN IN

THE MOON.

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cities, were there none whom Rob thought comparable with the unfettered-by-fashion Rose May? Was there none whose smile made his heart thrill with rapture. Was there not one whose voice was sweeter than an angel's to his ear, whose words were dearly remembered, and treasured long after they were uttered? Let us see.

and thoughtless preference, the other walked homeward with closed lips and aching heart, and in most unsocial mood.

Joseph Rancy had never dared to speak openly to Rose May of love. It was strange that one so stouthearted as he, with all the advantages of wealth, beside possessing much personal beauty, should falter as he tried to tell a simple mountain maid he loved her! But so it was. The words refused to obey his bidding when he tried to utter them. He had not lived even in those busy places where men and women congregate, yet he did know that "faint heart never won fair lady," and the very knowledge of that truth but increased his fears. Poor fellow! he doubted his own powers to please, and he knew that Rob Horn was a powerful and much to be feared rival. But Joseph was one who could not easily give up a thought he had cherished for so long. It was a hope it would have been hard for him to relinquish; he could never forget that he had loved Rose May, even though she turned a relentlessly deaf ear to his suit; his heart would never be satisfied with the affection of another woman. And I say but the truth, when I tell you he was worthy of her love-more worthy, if a less dashing lover than Rob Horn. There was less glitter in him, far more real

Sitting by the blazing fire in Grant May's kitchen during the long, pleasant winter evenings, and telling to the gathered family the strange fashions and habits of the people with whom he had occasionally mingled-describing to the wondering children modes of life which they in their simplicity had never dreamed of, and to the father the changes which had occurred in public affairs, and to the mother, of the women, whose acquaintance he had made, and of the friends she had known in her girlhood whom he had chanced to meet, it is not to be supposed that he neglected all this while, and thought not at all of the fair young listener, to please whom he would have talked on forever, had that been necessary-no, indeed, she was not forgotten, for during many years Rob had been incessantly at work, forming a telegraph route between his heart and her own; he was even then, during those winter evenings, busy in that great work of his life, and ere long he was determined to prove if the work was perfect-worth, less of admiration, and passion, than deep

but he delayed sending the first real dispatch he feared lest it should be uncomprehended and unanswered.

To Rose, Rob had always seemed kind, and noble, and honest-in short, all that man ought to be-all that Joseph Rancy was. And a keener insight than she possessed, or many mortals on earth possess, would have been requisite in this case to detect the true gold from the glittering dross. Even when the maiden's father discovered how all the inclination and affection of his child chose Rob instead of Joseph, he did not see any insurmountable objection lying in the way to the child's union with the former-and it was only with a sigh for the fortune which might have been his daughter's, that he gave up all idea of her ever wedding Joseph Rancy.

These two boys had always been the most intimate and best of friends. In earlier days the visits which they planned together to make their young friend, Rose, were unmarred by jealous thoughts, they were marked as the best of their weekly holydays. No matter how deep the snow might lie on their path toward Grant May's cot, these appointments, which they made between themselves, were ever regularly kept; for the thought of the bright faces which always gave them such a hearty welcome, and made for them a place by the warm fire with such ready zeal, was a sufficient inducement for them to brave the coldest weather, and the stormiest day.

But as the two grew older, and learned to distinguish between friendliness and love, they did, sorry am I to tell, grow jealous of one another, and at last, before they had concluded it were better to make these visits to Rose alone, each by himself, when Rose had unwittingly spoken in a tone more kindly to one of them, and evinced in any way an innocent

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and earnest love in his thoughts of Rose.

He had placed his hopes upon her returning affection; and it is not agreeable with the natural order of things, to suppose that he would for ever continue irresolute in a case momentous as this; and so, once again, with the express desire to hear his fate decided by her lips, he set out on a summer morning, determined that his resolution should hold out till he had heard his doom from her own voice.

The day was favorable; oh! if the event might only prove so, too! The time also seemed propitious, for before Joseph had half way reached her father's house, he met Rose May. She was gathering wildflowers, and when she saw him coming toward her, she gayly bade him assist her in the pleasant work. I know not if those simple people ever studied the "language of flowers;" perhaps, however, the science is a natural one, but this I know, that there was a great preponderance of mountain-roses, buds, and half-opened blossoms, in the flowers Joseph gathered for the little lady. Ah, what a lucky wight! the beautiful summer morning-the silent wood-the naturalness of the offer of his heart with the flowers he gave her! Surely Fate, for once, was propitious! But notwithstanding the chances were with him, and the hour was one of a thousand, Joseph still hesitated and delayed; and it was not till all the flowers were gathered, and Rose had actually set out on her homeward path, that Joseph nerved himself to the pitch requisite.

And, indeed, it was quite a point in his destiny he had reached; the next step you plainly see was an important, an all important one to him. It had been the hope of years that he might win, and one day wed, Rose May; he had lived in that hope; its working out had been one of the most blessed of his thoughts; and

now,

in five short minutes (perhaps less) he would | know if this dear dream were to have fruition, or was it to pass away like the morning dew, leaving him no possibility of ever indulging in it again, that is, with reason and Joseph was a reasonable youth.

As I have stated, he was an uneducated youth, that is, uneducated in the schools, and ignorant and innocent of polite learning, therefore he knew but one way of discovering a fact, and that was by asking a question point-blank. When Rose was about emerging from the wood, from whence a little path led down the ravine to her father's house, he paused in the walk, and said quite distinctly,

"Wait a moment, Rose May. I came to ask you a question I have thought to ask you this long time will you love me-will you be my wife?"

"Yours, Joseph," replied Rose, as honestly and unreservedly as the question had been put; "Yourshow can you think of such a thing?"

"I have thought of it for years, Rose. You have so many brothers and friends, like enough you have considered me as one of them; but I, I have no sister, Rose, no friend I hold half so dear as you. It does not strike me as such a very strange thing to ask you; if you will only think of it, I do not ask you to answer me to-day. Perhaps when you think it all over, the matter will not seem so strange; and I would not have you answer me in haste, dear Rose." Never, Joseph Rancy," answered Rose, speaking rapidly, but kindly, though so firm. "I have always thought of you as a dear friend, that is true, but I can never be any more than that."

"Will you not say any thing more, Rose? Think again; you call me your dear friend, oh, be my wife, my best and dearest friend. Your home is so happy, think of mine, lonely and dreary as it is now; what a paradise it might be were you there! Rose, dear Rose May, I pray you only to think again."

"I have thought, Joseph; do not speak to me so any more, it pains me; there are many others who might make your home as happy, far happier than I; forget that you have had such thoughts about me, my friend."

"How can I forget," said Joseph, sadly, while for a moment longer he retained her to hear his words, for she was hastening away. "Tell me, Rose," he said, falteringly, "is there any other-do you love any body better than me?"

"Yes, my father and mother."

"Not them-I don't mean them; the love I ask is not the kind you give to them—but is there another" "It is not right in you to ask me such questions, you know it is not. Don't make me think the less of you as a friend by going too far now."

"Forgive me dear, dear Rose-I'm going. Don't let what I've said trouble you; I'd let my tongue be burned with hot iron before speaking what I have to you to-day, if I thought 't would make you less happy."

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Good-by, Joseph, now you are what you always have been, generous and good; and if I don't love you as you could wish, I honor you from my heart-good-by."

There was a lingering sadness in the maiden's voice as she spoke, that convinced Joseph she was honest in her words, and that she did sincerely grieve to have been the cause of disappointment to him; yet that knowledge did not soothe nor allay the heart-wound she had given him; and he went back to his home, feeling, as I suppose many a poor mortal has felt before, disconsolate and unhappy. Still Joseph was a young man of sound mind, and he loved Rose May even better than ever he had before; her very firm. ness made him respect her for it, though that firmness was all directed against his suit.

Often as he thought over the unmeasurable distance there must forever be, even in thought, between them, so often came the soothing remembrance that it was not lack of worth on his part that made her reject him. Had she not said she honored him? And was not such respect and kindly feeling, indeed, the highest and the purest kind of love? Might he not some day convince her that it was also the best love, and the one most conducive to happiness in wedded life? But, alas! close upon this thought came the death-blow to all hope, for Joseph was convinced that she would wed another.

Yes, and there was one she had pro mised to wedone for whom she had more than respect-one whom she more than honored-and he none other than Rob Horn! He was the fortunate youth whose telegraph-dispatch was successful in receiving a speedy and satisfactory reply. Fortune favored him; does she favor only the good, and the deserving, and true?

The home of one of the most powerful of the spirits was in these mountains-a spirit loving justice and equity, who watched the scales wherein the good and evil were weighed with jealous eye. This being of power took much interest in the affairs of the shepherds; sometimes she had even deigned to speak with them in her quiet, unostentatious way; and when she taught them, it was generally on some subject of domestic good or household economy. Almost all her instructions had been of this nature, for they were a quiet, religious people among whom she lived, giving away very rarely to the templa tions of vice; but once or twice the spirit had spoken in rather strong and understandable language, to an offender who rarely in his sinful life had any "" compunctious visitings." No one had ever seen he bodily, and yet there was but one person who dared to disbelieve in the spirit's existence, but one who would not recognize her power; and who should this reckless one be but the wild youth, Rob Horn? He dared to say, and say openly, too, that there was never any such being in existence, and that from the very nature of things there never could be. Some people will never believe in any thing out of the ordinary range of facts, more especially if they be in a state of partial ignorance-and of this very class of persons was Rob; the spirit had never manifested herself in any shape to him, and he, poor mortal! fancied she never could.

It was the only point in her lover's nature that Rose May feared-this skepticism; for Rose was a

THE MAN IN THE MOON.

firm believer in all spiritual existences; and often, | but unavailingly, she had besought Rob to at least speak in a manner more respectful of the powerful agent, who would, she knew, work him wo if he continued obdurate in his unbelief. But there was nothing in the natural world the young man feared, there was no danger he dared not brave-why then tremble at the unseen, unknown, unheard? Why give heed to the superstitious fears of old women and maidens? Instead of being able in this case to convince her lover, Rose, after all, was herself almost persuaded by his jests and ridicule to doubt the existence of the power, which she also had never seen or heard. She began to give place in her mind to Rob's words, that it was the idlest thing in the world to believe in such romantic impossible existences. But as yet Rose had kept her growing infidelity to herself; she would not have dared to breathe to her mother even, who was firm in the faith, her strengthening doubts; perhaps it was well for her she did not dare.

It was night-the night previous to his bridal day and at a late hour Rob left the home of Rose, and bent his steps through the rough path that led to his own dwelling-place. The happy fellow, if we may judge from facts, was in a most delightful state of mind, well-pleased with hi.nself and his bride-to-be, and with all the world beside. "To-morrow" was his wedding-day, and ever thereafter Rose May, the brightest flower of the mountains, was his own! And well might he rejoice.

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he had come up directly in front of Rob, he was still unobserved; he paused then, and holding out his hand, said.

"I came out on purpose to meet you, Rob." Horn took the proffered hand in his own, and said, "I am glad to see you, truly, Rancy; we have not met of late."

"No; we haven't been the friends we once were, Rob. I have shunned you because-because you seemed to triumph over me, my old friend. You who have been so successful where I failed so bitterly."

"Was it my fault that I succeeded in winning Rose May, tell me that," replied Horn, sharply. "Where's the blame, then, if I did rejoice?"

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"No blame, none, none," said Joseph, mildly, you have been fortunate indeed, I wish you and yours much joy Rob, now and ever."

"Hold," cried Rob as Joseph turned away, "you will come to the church to-morrow, will you not. You will wish to see Rose married?"

"Rob!" exclaimed Joseph, in a tone of deep reproach, "no-I can bear to know you are going to marry her-I can hope for you, and pray for you both-but to see her married to another! You will not need me there."

When he finished speaking Joseph went off quickly on his way, and Rob Horn pursued his path home; the only answer he returned to Joseph's grief was a smothered laugh, which stifled as it was in the stillness of the night, the disappointed seeker of peace heard distinctly.

All that night Joseph Rancy sat on the opposite bank of the ravine where he might look on the dwelling-place of Rose May, and all that night he prayed for her happiness, and strove hard to banish all un

Grant May had yielded to the youth's solicitations with a good grace when he found his child's hope and love were directed toward Rob; and it was no difficult thing to win the consent of the mother, for he had always been in high favor with her, since he brought her from his wanderings in the valley, the inestimable gift of a few bright pieces of useful fur-friendly thoughts toward Rob Horn from his mind. niture, which occupied the most honorable places and positions in her household.

In a few days after the festivities following the great occasion were over, Rob, with his bride, were to make the journey to the nearest large town, which plan was of itself half enough to make young Rose wild with joy, for the greatest multitude she had ever seen gathered, was on the Sabbath days, when twenty or thirty of the mountain people met in the little church to worship.

It was a bright moonlit night, the soft light streamed over the path he was to tread, as Rob returned home. The parting kiss of Rose was warm on his forehead; he fancied she was beside him, walking in the same path, and nearly all the way he talked soft words of love as though she were by to hear. When the young man had nearly reached his home, he encountered Joseph Rancy. These two had been far from cordial in their greetings of late, and with good reason, for Rob's manner to Joseph had been that of triumph, and Joseph's that of a man heart-sore and jealous of the success of his rival.

This night, however, Joseph Rancy had come out with the express purpose of meeting his friend of other days, and to speak with him in the manner of by-gone time, as kindly and as generously. When

But when the morning came, long before the sun rose he wandered away among the mountains, that he might be far off from the place where she would be given to another.

Rob went on to his home-the cot was still as sleep, for his father and mother had hours before retired to their rest. He went to his chamber, and soon upon the easy couch he slept. And then Rob dreamed; of course there was but one he could dream of all that night, his young and beautiful bride, the girl he would be so proud to hear the old priest pronounce his wife. But though he could only dream of her, it does not follow that his night visions were pleasant -far enough from pleasant was the truth in this case.

He fancied that the spirit of the mountain, (the same in whose existence he had doubted for so long,) came to him with an angry frown on her spirit countenance. He trembled, yes he, the strong iron-willed youth trembled when he looked on her; he had never feared or quailed before. When she had come quite close to his bedside, and rested her hand upon his shoulder, where it lay like lead, and gazed so sternly upon him, Rob said to her:

"Why dost thou come here to disturb me, and trouble my dreams, thou terrible shape?" And the spirit answered:

"Tell me instead, what is it thou art about to do?" | "That is quickly told," said Horn, "to-morrow I shall marry Rose May, the loveliest maid the sun ever shone upon."

"Ah, Rob Horn, Rob Horn," said the spirit sternly, interrupting him, "bethink thee what it is thou wilt do! bethink thee what has become of thy betrothed in the distant village? does she wear thy ring? does she remember thy kiss, and thy love vows? what of her Rob Horn?"

When the spirit spoke thus Rob was amazed, and he could not hide his amazement; his face became suddenly very red-was the confusion of guilt? and for a moment he was completely abashed. But soon he rallied again, and said,

"I cannot marry two wives. I have loved Rose May all my life-I must marry her; the maiden in the village can find another bridegroom."

"Thou art not worthy to wed one like Rose May, but there is one worthy of her whom thou hast triumphed over many a time, and even this very night, because thou hast been more successful than he beware, thou may'st go too far."

"Too far! She will be mine to-morrow-what power in heaven or earth can separate us? She is mine-mine-mine!"

"Thou mayest deceive thyself. I ask thee, wilt thou not give up Rose May and betake thee to the pale and sorrowing maid who has awaited thy coming so long?"

who believed they were about to witness the consummation of their children's joy. And there also were all the young brothers of Rose, bright and smiling, as such little folks on such occasions invariably are. These were all gathered about the altar; the body of the church was nearly filled with the young friends of the to-be-married ones, and the sturdy old mountaineers with their wives.

It would not be strictly cleaving to truth to say that Rob Horn was wholly at ease that morning-far otherwise, for that strange dream of his tormented him. It was foremost in his mind, claiming even in that holy hour more of his thought than the gentle, excited girl who leaned in trusting fondness on his arm. Why should a merely ugly dream annoy him Was the young skeptic's disbelief in spirits shaken? Had he in reality a promised bride awaiting him in the far-off village? Have patience with me, by the dénoument you will know it all.

so?

They were kneeling before the altar. The consecrated hands of the old priest were raised in blessing above them, he was about pronouncing the uniting words, and Rob, the bridegroom, was thinking even then if there were in reality spirits he had overpowered his visitant, at least, by his boldness and firmness, when suddenly there came a shape of light floating through the open door of the church. It moved on noiselessly through the holy edifice above the heads of the astonished and alarmed congregation, until it came to the altar, and there it paused. And

"Give her up? My Rose! neverl Thou fool to then a voice soft and thrilling as the voice of the ask it of me!"

"And yet I do ask thee again, wilt thou not be just? Do that which thine honor and truth require of thee-the girl thou hast deserted will die."

"Be death her bridegroom then! Who art thou to take my Rose from me? She is mine, I will wed no other?"

"Why so sure? Did ever such wickedness as is in thee prosper? Thou hast a bad heart Rob Horn, and a thousand things may come between thee and her, even after the priest proclaims her thine. There is nothing sure or stable for one like thee! give her up now, or beware-a fate more terrible than thou canst think may be in store for thee."

"Begone thou prating fool! rather will I give my life up than my Rose, my bride, my beautiful!"

summer breeze, yet distinctly audible to every soul gathered there, said—

"Rise, Robert Horn, thou shalt not speak the mar riage vows!"

And pale as death, Rob, unable to resist these words, lifted up himself.

Then distinctly as before, the voice said

"Did I not tell thee to beware? Did I not forbid thee to wed this maid, thou, who hast another plighted to thee, one who waits and watches for thee, wondering at thy long delay? Did I not bid bewaredidst thou not laugh at my words? Answer me, Robert Horn?"

The bridegroom lifted up his eyes to the shape before him and said, but with a voice that trembled— "Thou didst bid me beware, but I am here notwith

Rose is here, she is mine, and thou, whatsoever thou art, canst not and shalt not part us."

So firmly was this third repetition of his determi-standing-here to take this woman for my wife, and nation spoken that Rob awoke, and as might be supposed he found himself alone, and the sunlight streaming brightly through his little window. Heartily congratulating himself that it was all a dream, the young man arose, and ere long had tastefully adorned himself with the new raiment prepared for the momentous occasion.

The morning was verging toward noon, when in the simple church the wedding party gathered before

the altar.

"Thou hast sealed thy fate," answered the Spirit of the Mountain, "for thy wickedness, thy falseness, and thy unbelief, thou shalt be banished away from the earth for ever! And it shall be a part of the misery of thy banishment, that once in every month from thy prison-house thou shalt look down upon this lower world. Thou shalt see, and know, and feel, all the pangs, and the bliss, and the glory of love, and yet hereafter never share it with any mortal! The

There was beautiful Rose May and her handsome bridegroom, and after the manner of things, of neces-water-brooks, the oceans, and the seas, shall reflect sity, the twain never in their lives looked so charmingly as then. And there were the parents of the bridegroom and the bride, happy as parents might be,

thy image, and thou shalt know the bitterness of seeing even these unconscious soulless things unknowing thee, uncaring for thee. Thou shalt live on for

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