“Mr. Bones, people are finding fault because you light up on moonlight nights and don’t light the lamps when it is dark.  I’d like you to manage the thing a little better.”

“It struck me as being singular, too, but I can’t help it.  I’ve got instructions to follow the almanac, and I’m going to follow it.”

“Did the almanac say there’d be no moon last night?”

“Yes, it did.”

“Well, the moon was shining, though, and at its full.”

“I know,” said Mr. Bones, “and that’s what gits me.  How in the thunder the moon kin shine when the almanac says it won’t beats me out.  Perhaps there’s something the matter with the moon; got shoved off her course may be.”

“I guess not.”

“Well, it’s changed off somehow, and I’ve got to have something regular to go by.  I’m going by what the almanac says; and if the moon’s going to shuffle around kinder loose and not foller the almanac, that’s its lookout.  If the almanac says no moon, then I’m bound to light the lamps if there’s millions of moons shining in the sky.  Them’s my orders, and I’ll mind ’em.”

“How d’you know the almanac is not wrong?”

“Because I know it ain’t.  It was always right before.”

“Let’s look at it.”

“There it is.  Look there, now.  Don’t it say full moon on the 20th? and this yer’s only the 9th, and yet it’s full moon now.”

“That’s so; and—­Er—­er—­Less—­see Er-er—­Mr. Bones, do you know what year this almanac is for?”

“Why, 1876, of course.”

“No, it isn’t; it’s for 1866.  It’s ten years old.”

“Oh no! 1866!  Well, now, it is.  I declare! 1866!  Why, merciful Moses!  I got the wrong one off the shelf, and I’ve been depending on it for three months!  No wonder the lamps was wrong.  Well, that beats everything.”

Then Mr. Bones tore up the almanac and got one for 1876, and ever since that time the lamp-lighting department has given tolerable satisfaction.

But it is as a night-watchman that Mr. Bones shines with surpassing splendor.  When he first entered the service, he was very anxious to make a good impression on Colonel Coffin, the burgess and head of the village government; and the first night upon which he went on duty Colonel Coffin was awakened about half-past twelve by a furious ring at his door-bell.  He looked out of the window and perceived the watchman, who said,

“She’s all right.  Nobody’s broke in.  I’ve got my eye on things.  You kin depend on me.”

The colonel thought he was one of the most faithful watchmen he ever saw, and he returned serenely to bed.  On the following night, just after twelve, there was another energetic ring at the bell; and when the burgess raised the window, the watchman said,

“Your girls ain’t left the window-shutters open and the house is not afire.  All right as a trivet while I’m around, you bet!”

“Louisa,” said the colonel to his wife as he returned to his couch, “that is a splendid watchman, but I think he’s just the least bit too enthusiastic.”