 | This, that and the other |  |
THE MAN IN THE MOON.
I have just been putting the rose-hued drapery away from the
window of my little sanctum,
How the light broke forth so gloriously.”
The moon is smiling down on her earth-worn daughter, as
peacefully as an angel's blessing. Over the blue sky glide white,
fleecy clouds, all tremulous with silvery light, and here and
there a golden star floats out into the clear azure, pacing a
stately minuet; for the wild star-dance of December is over.
But, even to-night, my heart is beating a mournful cadence to
olden memories, that came stealing over me as I sat at the
pleasant window. O, what a soft hand was laid upon my tresses;
but cold and still in death is that fair hand now! Still,
down from Paradise gleam her brown eyes, and her voice floats
out from the corridors of the past, like a spirit-whisper.
And then, there are memories, such as every one has who
feels that the earth-stain has fallen on his spirit, never so lightly;
— memories, half mournful, of childhood's innocent visions and
trusting faith. Among these, gently to my heart there steals the
shadowing of my first love-dream.
I was always a strange, wild dreamer; and I fancied that all
above the earth must be the abode of the good, and true, and
was the river of Phlegethon, and the sleepless hell. So upward I
gazed ever, like the children in the Pilgrim's Progress; and when
they told me there was a “Man in the Moon,” my childish heart
soon learned to regard him as the impersonation of all beauty,
light and loveliness. And then, in time, I grew to fancy he
looked lovingly from his lofty throne on my simple worship;
and that he wore a smile for me, invisible to other eyes. Night
after night I watched him; and when they thought I was soundly
sleeping, I would rise, and draw the curtain from before the foot
of my white bed, that he might look on me in my sleep, and
watch over my dreams. And when they said my eyes were dull
and dreamy, and mourned that the “Great All-Father” had not
gifted me with beauty, he seemed to bend and whisper, “Ah,
loved one, 't is but to keep the spirit bright, and its beauty will
tremble through, — thou art my heart's bride still!”
The months and years passed on, and purer and paler grew
my brow; for I was weary — restless with ever striving to keep
my heart bright for my spirit-bridegroom. O! how I lingered
for his voice, — how I watched and waited for his coming!
Wild, stormy nights, such as witches run riot in, my heart was
glad, for I thought the moon shone not, because his face was gone;
and that he was roaming through the air in search of me, coming
to bear me home. O! what dreams I had of that beautiful
country, of the lakes that were sleeping in the silver light, and
the low chimes ringing through the folded lily-bells! With
every disappointment, my pure faith seemed to brighten, and I
hoped on.
At last, my gentle mother, with tears in her prayerful eyes,
off to school. School — ah me! it is a weary place to send a
young child, with a heart brimful of spirit-fancies. I believe
the scholars all laughed at my strange dream; and I think they
told the teacher, for she gave me a lesson in astronomy to learn
next day. She was a kind, noble woman, and yet I never dared
to love her. There was a world of straight-forward, genuine
kindness in her words and tone, and then she was wise, too; we
children trembled as we thought how wise; but there was no
romance stored away beneath her broad brow and raven hair,
and I knew (for everywhere children have a God-given talisman
to read the hearts of men) she would laugh mockingly at the
sweet whispers of my spirit-love; so I only stole away and looked
at him from the window in the broad, steep landing of the old-fashioned
stairs. But they brought the lights, and took me
away from my Eden, and set me down to learn my long, long
lesson in astronomy! And then, for the first time, I read, with
tear-dimmed eyes, how far the moon is from our little world!
Perhaps older children have dreamed dreams a little like my
own. Perhaps others than I may have looked too many weary
miles above them, and read their fate in eyes that gave back no
answering light into their own. But scarcely more bitter can
have been their agony than mine, when, in my innocent, trusting
childhood, with my white robe still floating like a cloud about
me, and the heavenly sunshine still sleeping in my hair, I read
this terrible sentence, that seemed the death-knell of all human
hopes and joys, “The distance of the moon from the earth is
two hundred and forty thousand miles!” It crushed all my
beautiful star-hopes in a moment. I knew he had not learned to
he could never journey earth-ward. O! how bitterly I wept
that night, with the curtains closely drawn at my bed's foot, that
he might not look at my misery! But at last I sobbed myself
to sleep; and then there came to me the beautiful Virgin mother,
with her smiling eyes; my bed grew soft and light, like the little
bed at home, and she lifted my head on her bosom, and whispered,
“Be good, dear child, and look upward still; there is love for
thee in heaven!” But she could not take me with her, for I
must linger on the green earth, ever striving to keep my heart
bright, and my white robe pure. And still I strive, and still I
linger; and the memory of that early love, and the gentle whisper
of the Virgin mother, go ever with me as a talisman.
But others than I have dreamed thus! Others than I have
been woke to tears and suffering, — and God grant that to all
such summoning whispers from the Eden-land may come; and
to the heart that earthly love has left desolate the love-light
may still glow and brighten around the Saviour upon the cross!
Truly, for such the reward is great in heaven!
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