Rensselaer Republican, Volume 17, Number 21, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 January 1885 — A Moonlight Idyl. [ARTICLE]

A Moonlight Idyl.

*Twas beauteous moonlight, and the air was filled with a subdued, silvery splendor never the glare of day. It was a night that would make a poet trot out his lyre, and bring from it notes of the most enrapturing melody, if he didn’t break a string or get the contents of a slop-jar from an upper window. It was such a night as would make lovers delight to walk abroad and recline o» door steps, talking of love and the expense of matrimony, till the old man pops out his tUrbaned head and yells: “Young man, meander, and gal, you go to bed!” It was a good night for meditation and chicken roosts, and a poor one for the body-snatching branch of surgical knowledge. All nature, including the police,, was in peaceful repose, except reporters and the concert halls on State street. In a certain locality naught was heard save the braying of the faithful watchdog and the occasional yell of a streetcar driver, as he stirred up the mules, or whistled a belated huckster off the track, or, in plain, square-toed English, it was a beautiful moonlight night, and the dog in the front yard was howling as though the entire seven devils that left the woman were in him. The young wife tossed about nervously on her couch, but couldn’t get to sleep to save her. Of a sudden she would sit bolt upright in bed, rearrange her back-hair,* replace her night cap, give her elbows a twitch, like a soldier without armsf getting ready to double-quick it to quarters, and then she would flop back into a horizontal position, bury her nose in her pillow, and remain as motionless as a farm'er spelling out a hand-bill,for ah interval nearly as long as it would take the Pride of to get around the ring. Then she would flop over, give a kick, first with one foot, then the other; then with her elbow she would jab her husband in the ribs, and want to know if he was asleep. If he had been, the probability is that he was wide-awake at that instant. Then she would go back to the beginning and do it all over again, winding up by taking out her earrings an J putting them down on the floor, where she would be sure to step on them when she got up in the morning, giving diversity to the performance by changing the order, and now and then introducing a few variations with heels ahd elbows, and finally, away long in the small hours, when the early milkman was out cursing the cows and thawing out the pump, § she gave a flounder like a fish trying to swim on dryland, and put her tongue in motion, with words of honey and tones of vinegar. “Hubbj, dear,” with more elbow

jabbing. “What is it, love ?” replies tbe man of much patience. “I can’t get to sleep, dearest, to save my life;” and if the pas were lighted lie could see that her under lip is drooping. “Well, that’s too bad, lion. No more can I,” replies the man, with resignation in his voice. She remains silent for a couple of minutes. “I say, precious.” “What is it, darling?” “I’m, not asleep yet, love.” “There’s two of us awake, then, my dear,” says the man, with the veracity of exhortation. “I can’t think what makes that dreadful dog keqp up such a horrid howling, dear. I could go to sleep at once if he would only keep still and let me.” More drooping of the nether lip. “Did you feed him to-day, my pet ?” He—with newly awakened interest. “Yes, indeed, precious. He can’t be hungry; I gave him all he could eat.” She—with animation heightened by the joy of her thoughtfulness. ' “What did you give him, ('ailing?” “Why, dear, I gave him some of those boiled dumplings we had left from dinmer. But why do you jump out of bed so suddenly, Herbert, dear?” “Why, love, that’s what’s the matter with him, and we might as well get up and read, for we won’t get a wink of sleep to-night, unless they kill him before sun-up. You should have told me this, before, dear, and I would have went out and shot him, ended his misery, and got a good night’s rest. ” The endearing talk came to a sudden and unceremonious end. * The rest of it was hanging on a chair. t Without his gun. - I Maud 8. § Sarcasm for milking. —Chicago Ledger.