hen we have been
in mid-Atlantic. We only hope that he imbibes nothing stronger,
though it is said that moonlight is but another name for smuggled
spirits. The lord of Cynthia must not be too hastily suspected, for, at
most, the moon fills her horn but once a month. Still, the earth itself
being so invariably sober, its satellite, like Caesar's wife, should be
above suspicion. We therefore hope that our lunar hero may yet take
a ribbon of sky-blue from the milky way, and become a staunch
abstainer; if only for example's sake.

Some old authors and artists have represented the

[Illustration: moon04]

BANKS' COLLECTION OF SHOP BILLS.

man in the moon as an inveterate smoker, which habit surprises us,
who supposed him to be

"Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot
Which men call Earth,"

as the magnificent Milton has it. His tobacco must be bird's-eye, as
he takes a bird's-eye view of things; and his pipe is presumably a
meer-sham, whence his "sable clouds turn forth their silver lining on
the night." Smoking, without doubt, is a bad practice, especially
when the clay is choked or the weed is worthless; but fuming
against smokers we take to be infinitely worse.

We are better pleased to learn that the man in the moon is a poet.
Possibly some uninspired groveller, who has never climbed
Parnassus, nor drunk of the Castalian spring, may murmur that this
is very likely, for that all poetry is "moonstruck madness." Alas if
such an antediluvian barbarian be permitted to "revisit thus the
glimpses of the moon, making night hideous" as he mutters his
horrid blasphemy! We, however, take a nobler view of the matter.
To us the music of the spheres is exalting as it is exalted; and the
music of earth is a "sphere-descended maid, friend of pleasure,
wisdom's aid." We are therefore disposed to hear the following
lines, which have been handed down for publication. Their title is
autobiographical, and, for that reason, they are slightly egotistical.

"A SHREWD OLD FELLOW'S THE MAN IN THE MOON."

"From my palace of light I look down upon earth,
When the tiny stars are twinkling round me;
Though centuries old, I am now as bright
As when at my birth Old Adam found me.
Oh! the strange sights that I have seen,
Since earth first wore her garment of green!
King after king has been toppled down,
And red-handed anarchy's worn the crown!
From the world that's beneath me