midnight
` There 's no more moonlight for poor Uncle J. , For he 's gone whar de snubbed niggers go . ' '' `` I was just going to propose singing , '' said his mother ; `` but before we begin , suppose we do honor to this good moon , that has treated us so well . Let every one give a quotation in her honor . I will begin : '' ` That orbèd maiden with white fire laden , Whom mortals call the moon , Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor , By the midnight breezes strewn . ' Shelley . I am a cloud , be it understood ! '' `` I should hardly have guessed it , '' said Mr. Merryweather .