I jest pays six bits for my supper at the Galt House, an' lights a ten cent seegyar--Oh! I has the bridle off all right!--an' I'm romancin' leesurly along the street, when I encounters a party who's ridin' herd on one of these yere telescopes, the same bein' p'inted at the effulgent moon.

Gents, she's shorely a giant spy-glass, that instrooment is; bigger an' longer than the smokestack of any steamboat between Looeyville an' Noo Orleans.

She's swung on a pa'r of shears; each stick a cl'ar ninety foot of Norway pine.

As I goes pirootin' by, this gent with the telescope pipes briskly up.
"'"Take a look at the moon ?" "'"No," I replies, wavin' him off some haughty, for that bag of doubloons has done puffed me up.

"No, I don't take no interest in the moon." "'As I'm comin' back, mebby it's a hour later, this astronomer is still swingin' an' rattlin' with the queen of night.