GODS AND MORTALS.
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BY A. K. GARDNER, M. D., AUTHOR OF “OLD WINE IN NEW BOTTLES.”
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Monday 19th of March, 1849, was one of those beautiful days which make Spring so delightful. The smiles of nature never appear more charming than when they expel the frowns of winter. At the time above-mentioned, the world had just thrown off its fleecy mantle, preparatory to making a new toilet for the coming season. One would have imagined that the wardrobe of mother earth was very scantily provided, for the day previous her soiled coat of snow was sent to the washerwoman, who had employed the whole twenty-four hours in soaking the poor garment, scouring it with sand, and drenching it with continual showers of rain-water, so that when finally in a state to hang up to dry, scarcely a patch could be found, and those not apparently much benefited by its severe laundress. Mother Earth was surely in a most unfortunate state! Her old clothes not come home from the wash, and the new ones not ready to put on. She determined at first to lie a-bed till one or the other were ready for use. But Dame Luna was then mistress, and absolutely refused to harbor such an impoverished individual. “Credit, indeed!” she echoed. “To trust you I shall truly be a Luna-tic.” You should have seen this individual, as she stood with arms akimbo, in the fullness of her pride. Her face pale with anger, and her eyes losing their usual mildness, glared forth upon our unfortunate mother. None could account for this unwonted spirit. Some of the fixed stars, however, very different from our M. P.’s, who sometimes sleep on their posts, had noticed Mistress Luna walking in the Milky Way; and it was charitably supposed that she had been taking a little too much of the celebrated punch of that locality. These celestial M. P.’s had winked at the matter, and hence all the trouble.
Hinc illæ lachrymæ.
The irate Luna was inflexible. In spite of all that could be said, she persisted in turning our mother out of the house.
Think of the mortification of our common parent, standing on the threshold of night, without a rag to cover her nakedness. Just then came Aurora on her morning’s work to put out the gas. Her beautiful face and neck were covered with crimson blushes, as she discovered the situation of our poor mother Earth.
“Hide yourself quickly,” she cried, “for Phœbus is coming, riding in the chariot of day.”
Now our mother had for some time carried on a little flirtation with him. She called him Apollo in those happy days; but for some time there had been a coldness between them. He was of a warm and impetuous disposition, and fond of having every thing bright about him. He objected to her white dress, which he considered to reflect upon his taste. It is true that this colorless robe, with only a few green pine sprigs upon it, did give mother rather a frigid and puritanical air. If he should be so offended at this dress, she thought, though a gay youth, I fear me much he will be greatly scandalized at seeing me with none.