vials and descends to the earth, where, to
his astonishment, there is every appearance of
noon-day; although, according to his own
computation, it ought to be midnight. The
enigma is solved by the discovery that he is
in Canada, the earth having accomplished a
partial revolution beneath his feet, while he
was suspended in mid-air. Here he is brought
before the viceroy, who gives him a hospitable
reception, and enters into a discussion on
the solar system, in which Cyrano maintains
the modern theory, which places the sun in the
centre.

The argument is carried on, not in an
abstruse manner, but by a constant appeal to
common sense, and by allusions of the most
popular kind. To suppose that the great
luminary turned round such an insignificant
point as the earth, is as absurd as to believe
that a grate revolves to roast a lark; and,
as for the hypothesis, that the sun merely
exists for the use of terrestrial man, we
ought rather to think that we catch rays
destined for higher purposes, just as a low
fellow in the street may accidentally be
lighted by the king's torch.

The notion of visiting the moon is not
abandoned, and Cyrano now constructs a
machine, which he does not closely describe,
but in which a spring seems to be the most
important element. His first essay proves
unfortunate; he gets a severe tumble, which
obliges him to return to his lodging and rub
himself over with beef-marrow, as a remedy
for his bruises; and what is still worse, the
machine is picked up by some soldiers, who
conceive that by surrounding it with fusees
they may use it as a gigantic rocket, which
will have all the appearance of a
flying-dragon. Just as a soldier is lighting one of
the fusees in the principal square of Quebec,
the outraged machine is discovered by its
lawful master, who jumps into it, with the
intention of tearing off the combustibles.
Too late! The fireworks at once take him up
into the clouds, and he has all the horror of
ascending in the midst of a general
combustion.

Strange to say, after the fusees have
burned out, and the machine has fallen from
him, he still continues rising.  It is the moon
that now attracts him, by her action on the
beef-marrow; and, after another violent fall,
he finds himself under one of the lunar trees,
not materially injured by his voyage.

The landscape which meets his gaze, fills
him with admiration, and affords him an
opportunity of dilating upon the picturesque
objects that do not differ from those of
the earth, save by their superior beauty.
The first person he meets, is a young man,
who is, like himself, a traveller from the sublunar
region, but who has accomplished his
voyage by means far more ingenious than
either of those devised by Cyrano. Having
first taken a loadstone—two feet square—he
extracted its essence, and formed of it a
moderately sized ball. Then seating himself in
a machine of iron, he threw the ball as high
as he could, and at once it drew up the
machine, till it was again in his hands. A
series of throws bringing him nearer and
nearer to the moon, he at last reached its
surface, having taken extra precautions to
break his fall at the last stage. Through all
the author's extravagancies the notion of
attraction seems ever uppermost in his
mind.

The episode of the young traveller comes
to an abrupt conclusion, and Cyrano next
meets two inhabitants of the moon, who
differ from sublunar men by their colossal
stature (twelve cubits is their average height)
and the custom of walking on all-fours.
Being taken to the nearest town, he is confided
to the care of a citizen, who is accustomed to
keep rare animals, and who, delighted with
the possession of so extraordinary a dwarf,
makes him perform all sorts of tricks, and
exhibits him to the public for a pecuniary
consideration. From this degrading situation
poor Cyrano is delivered by a singular
personage, who accosts him in Greek, and is no
other than the ci-devant Genius of Socrates,
who, being a native of the sun,
visits the moon and earth at pleasure.
Instructed by the king, who wishes to see
the dwarf at court, the demon dons the
form of an athletic young man, who has just
died in a hospital, and, adopting the normal
fashion of walking upon all-fours, carries
Cyrano on his back to an inn, where he is to
await the royal pleasure. Here he is surprised
with a sort of Barmecide repast. Seated at a
table, on which no sort of comestible is
apparent, he asks for some soup, when the
room is at once filled with a most savoury
odour. The request of the courteous demon
that he will finish his soup, and take something
else, ruffles his temper, and  " Where
the d—- is the soup? " is his not unnatural
ejaculation. He is now informed that the
inhabitants of the moon live exclusively on
steam, and that the whole art of cooking
consists in the collection of a variety of delicious
exhalations within large vessels, which are
opened in accordance with the varying taste
of the lunar bon-vivants. In spite of this
explanation, Cyrano desires more substantial
fare, and a dozen of larks are accordingly shot
with a composition that kills and roasts
them at the same moment. The currency
of the country is as light as the food,
consisting of copies of verses submitted to the
judgment of the Mint, and valued according
to a tariff of merit. Hence, a poet is always
rich, and blockheads alone die of starvation.
A sonnet covers the expenses of two persons
at a respectable hotel for an entire week.

By order of the king, Cyrano is no sooner
presented at court, than he is given as a
companion to a Spanish gentleman, who has come
to the moon to escape from the Inquisition in
his own country, and is kept by the queen as