If there had come a herald from Dearbornville and told me that the man of
the moon had stepped out of his old home, and down on to our earth, at
Dearborn, and that he had a great horn, twenty feet long, in his hand,
and that it was him, I had heard, tooting on his horn to let us know, and
the inhabitants of his own country, that he had arrived safe on the
earth, I might not have believed what he said in regard to the arrival of
the supernatural being and his visit to us; but I could have believed
almost anything wonderful in regard to the horn for I had heard its
thrilling blast myself.
Father, mother and, in fact, none of us were able to think or imagine
what it could be. It came through the woods as swift as lightning and its
shrill and piercing voice was more startling than thunder. It echoed and
re-echoed across our clearing, from woods to woods and died swiftly away
in the distance. What on earth could it be? Could it be the voice of a
wild animal? That seemed impossible, it was too loud. I thought such an
animal would need lungs as large as a blacksmith's bellows, and a voice
as strong as a steamboat, to have raised such an unearthly yell.
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