The Columbiad is still to the good in Florida, as it will be for many a long day.

There are millions of men to day as curious as I am upon the subject.

Therefore it will be only a question of mere powder and bullets if a cargo of visitors is not sent to the Moon every time she passes our zenith.
"Marston would be one of the first of them," observed Brownson, lighting his cigar.
"Oh, he would have plenty of company!" cried the Midshipman.

"I should be delighted to go if he'd only take me." "No doubt you would, Mr.Midshipman," said Brownson, "the wise men, you know, are not all dead yet." "Nor the fools either, Lieutenant," growled old Frisby, the fourth officer, getting tired of the conversation.
"There is no question at all about it," observed another; "every time a Projectile started, it would take off as many as it could carry." "I wish it would only start often enough to improve the breed!" growled old Frisby.
"I have no doubt whatever," added the Chief Engineer, "that the thing would get so fashionable at last that half the inhabitants of the Earth would take a trip to the Moon." "I should limit that privilege strictly to some of our friends in Washington," said old Frisby, whose temper had been soured probably by a neglect to recognize his long services; "and most of them I should by all means insist on sending to the Moon.

Every month I would ram a whole raft of them into the Columbiad, with a charge under them strong enough to blow them all to the--But--Hey!--what in creation's that ?" [Illustration: FOR A SECOND ONLY DID THEY CATCH ITS FLASH.] Whilst the officer was speaking, his companions had suddenly caught a sound in the air which reminded them immediately of the whistling scream of a Lancaster shell.