by Maud G. Pride.
Illustration by R. S. Ament.
VERY long time ago, when the Heavens were quite new and the Earth was still in the Golden Age, a strange event occurred—quite unheard of even in those early times.
The Sun, vigorous and lusty, had rubbed his blinking eyes and hurried away to the west. The boy-child, Twilight, his chubby hands still clutching after the last red rays left behind by the Sun, winked his sleepy eyes, as, protestingly, he was pushed along in his crimson cart by Old Sandman. Close behind came his three sisters, the Evening Shadows, in their long, trailing, gray robes. A hush fell upon the Heavens. From far below came the hum of the Crickets and the low murmur of the Katydids, having their final good-night gossip, but in the Sky all was still until the Moonlady came softly creeping along, her silver mantle enfolding her slight form, her long silken hair caught by the Evening Breeze, who followed close in her wake. At her appearance there arose from the Earth songs of gladness and hymns of praise. Lovers looked up at her enraptured, poets sang of her, and even the brute creation sent Heavenward their low murmur of joy at her being. Silently she smiled down upon them all as she passed on her way.
“The Moonlady stole softly across the sky.”
Then a strange thing happened. Black clouds skurried here and there across the Heavens, and low mutterings were heard. The Stars had revolted!
Venus, her cold beauty marred by a frown of discontent, was the center of a murmuring group, to whom she spoke in words of passion: