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The Baldwin Library Flmdn / -/R 7 F W ? "/ CA iWAN AD I F- -- 7a.7- -. The Goose-Girl and the Pedlar Everything in its Right Place EVERYTHING IN ITS RIGHT PLACE. AND OTHER STORIES. BY HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN. TRANSLATED BY H. W. DULCKEN, PH.D. ILLUSTRATED WITH NINETEEN PICTURES. LONDON: GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, THE BROADWAY, LUDGATE. ___I I amn CONTENTS. PAGE EVERYTHING IN ITS RIGHT PLACE . I THE ANGEL 17 WHAT THE MOON SAW 23 IB AND CHRISTINE . 97 EVERYTHING IN ITS RIGHT PLACE. T is more than a hundred and fifty years ago. Behind the wood, by the great lake, stood the old baronial mansion. Round about it lay a deep moat, in which grew reeds and grass. Close by the bridge, near the entrance-gate, rose an old willow tree that bent over the reeds. "Up from the hollow lane sounded the clang of horns and the trampling of horses; therefore the little girl who kept the geese hastened to drive her charges away from the bridge, before the hunt- ing company should come gallopping up. They drew near with such speed that the girl was obliged to climb up in a hurry, and perch herself on the coping-stone of the bridge, lest she should be ridden down. She was still half a child, and had a pretty light figure, and a gentle expression in her face, with two clear blue eyes. The noble 8 B z Everything in its Right Place. baron took no note of this, but as he gallopped past the little goose-herd he reversed the whip he held in his hand, and in rough sport gave her such a push in the chest with the butt-end, that she fell backwards into the ditch. Everything in its place," he cried; "into the puddle with you " And he laughed aloud, for this was intended for wit, and the company joined in his mirth; the whole party shouted and clamoured, and the dogs barked their loudest. Fortunately for herself, the poor girl in falling seized one of the hanging branches of the willow tree, by means of which she kept herself sus- pended over the muddy water, and as soon as the baron and his company had disappeared through the castle gate, the girl tried to scramble up again; but the bough broke off at the top, and she would have fallen backward among the reeds, if a strong hand from above had not at that moment seized her. It was the hand of a pedler, who had seen from a short distance what had happened, and who now hurried up to give aid. "Everything in its right place," he said, mimick- ing the gracious baron; and he drew the little maiden up to the firm ground. He would have Everything in its Right Place. 3 restored the broken branch to the place from which it had been torn, but everything in its right place cannot always be managed, and there- fore he stuck the piece in the ground. "Grow and prosper till you can furnish a good . ."._.\ .\. . 5 - The Goose-girl on the Bridge. flute for them up yonder," he said; for he would have liked to play the "rogue's march" for my lord the baron and my lord's whole family. And then he betook himself to the castle, but not into the ancestral hall, he was too humble for that He went to the servants' quarters, and the men and maids turned over his stock of goods, and B2 4 Everything in its Right Place. bargained with him; and from above, where the guests were at table, came a sound of roaring and screaming that was intended for song, and indeed they did their best. Loud laughter, mingled with the barking and howling of dogs, sounded through the windows, for there was feasting and carousing up yonder. Wine and strong old ale foamed in the jugs and glasses, and the dogs sat with their masters and dined with them. They had the pedler sum- moned up stairs, but only to make fun of him. The wine had mounted into their heads, and the sense had flown out. They poured wine into a stock- ing, that the pedler might drink with them, but that he must drink quickly; that was considered a rare jest, and was a cause of fresh laughter. And then whole farms, with oxen and peasants too, were staked on a card, and lost and won. "Everything in its right place !" said the pedler, when he at last made his escape out of what he called the Sodom and Gomorrah up yonder." "The open high road is my right place," he said; "I did not feel at all happy there." And the little maiden who sat keeping the geese nodded at him in a friendly way, as he strode along beside the hedges. And days and weeks went by; and it became J'verything zn its Right Place. 5 manifest that the willow branch which the pedler had stuck into the ground beside the castle moat remained fresh and green, and even brought forth young twigs. The little goose-girl saw that the branch must have taken root, and rejoiced greatly at the circumstance; for this tree, she said, was now her tree. The tree certainly came forward well; but every- thing else belonging to the castle went very rapidly back, what with feasting and gambling-for these two things are like wheels, upon which no man can stand securely. Six years had not passed away before the noble lord passed out of the castle gate, a beggared man, and the mansion was bought by a rich dealer; and this purchaser was the very man who had once been made a jest of up there, for whom wine had been poured into a stocking; but honesty and in- dustry are good winds to speed a vessel; and now the dealer was possessor of the baronial estate. But from that hour no more card-playing was permitted there. "That is bad reading," said he: "when the Evil One saw a Bible for the first time, he wanted to put a bad book against it, and invented card- playing." i ' 6 Everything in its Right Place. The new proprietor took a wife; and who might that be but the goose-girl, who had always been faithful and good, and looked as beautiful and fine in her new clothes as if she had been born a great lady. And how did all this come about? That is too long a story for our busy time, but it really happened, and the most important part is to come. It was a good thing now to be in the old mansion. The mother managed the domestic affairs, and the father superintended the estate, and it seemed as if blessings were streaming down. When rectitude enters in, prosperity is sure to follow. The old house was cleaned and painted, the ditches were cleared and fruit trees planted. Everything wore a bright and cheerful look, and the floors were as polished as a draught-board. In the long winter evenings the lady sat at the spinning-wheel with her maids, and every Sunday evening there was a reading from the Bible by the Councillor of Justice himself-this title the dealer had gained, though it was only in his old age. The children grew up -for children had come-and they received the best education, though all had not equal abilities, as we find indeed in all families. In the meantime the willow branch at the castle Everything in its Right Place. 7 gate had grown to be a splendid tree, which stood there free and self-sustained. That is our genea- logical tree," the old people said, and the tree was to be honoured and respected- so they told all the children, even those who had not very good heads. And a hundred and fifty years rolled by. It was in our own time. The lake had been converted into moorland, and the old mansion had almost disappeared. A pool of water and the ruins of some walls, this was all that was left of the old baronial castle, with its deep moat; and here stood also a magnificent old willow, with pendent boughs, which seemed to show how beautiful a tree may be if left to itself. The main stem was certainly split from the root to the crown, and the storm had bowed the noble tree a little; but it stood firm, for all that, and from every cleft into which wind and weather had carried a portion of earth, grasses and flowers sprang forth: especially near the top, where the great branches parted, a sort of hanging garden had been formed of wild raspberry bush, and even a small quantity of mistletoe had taken root, and stood, slender and graceful, in the midst of the old willow which was mirrored in the dark water. A field-path led close by the old tree. 8 Everything in its Right Place. High by the forest hill, with a splendid prospect in every direction, stood the new baronial hall, large and magnificent, with panes of glass so clearly transparent, that it looked as if there were no panes there at all. The grand flight of steps that led to the entrance looked like a bower of roses and broad-leaved plants. The lawn was as freshly green as if each separate blade of grass were cleaned morning and evening. In the hall hung costly pictures; silken chairs and sofas stood there, so easy that they looked almost as if they could run by themselves; there were tables of great marble slabs, and books bound in morocco and gold. Yes, truly, wealthy people lived here, people of rank: the baron with his family. All things here corresponded with each other. The motto was still Everything in its right place;" and therefore all the pictures which had been put up in the old house for honour and glory, hung now in the passage that led to the servants' hall: they were considered as old lumber, and especially two old portraits, one representing a man in a pink coat and powdered wig, the other a lady with powdered hair and holding a rose in her hand, and each surrounded with a wreath of willow leaves. These two pictures were pierced with many Everything in its Right Place. 9 holes, because the little barons were in the habit of setting up the old people as a mark for their crossbows. The pictures represented the Councillor of Justice and his lady, the founders of the present family. But they did not properly belong to our family," said one of the little barons. He was a dealer, and she had kept the geese. They were not like papa and mamma." The pictures were pronounced to be worthless; and as the motto was "Everything in its right place," the great-grandmother and great-grand- father had been sent into the passage that led to the servants' hall. The young son of the neighboring clergyman was tutor in the great house, One day he was out walking with his pupils, the little barons and their eldest sister, who had just been confirmed; they came along the field-path, past the old willow, and as they walked on the young lady bound a wreath of field flowers, Everything in its right place," and the flowers formed a pretty whole. At the same time she heard every word that was spoken, and she liked to hear the clergyman's son talk of the power of nature and of the great men and women in history. She had a good hearty dis- Io Everything in its Right Place. position, with true nobility of thought and soul, and a heart full of love for everything that God had created. The party came to a halt at the old willow tree. The youngest baron insisted on having such a flute cut for him from it as he had had made of other willows. Accordingly the tutor broke off a branch. "Oh, don't do that !" cried the young baroness; but it was done already. "That is our famous old tree," she continued, "and I love it dearly. They laugh at me at home for this, but I don't mind. There is a story attached to this tree." And she told what we all know about the tree, about the old mansion, the pedler and the goose- girl, who had met for the first time in this spot, and had afterwards become the founders of the noble family to which the young barons belonged. "They would not be ennobled, the good old folks !" she said. "They kept to the motto 'Every- thing in its right place;' and accordingly they thought it would be out of place for them to pur- chase a title with money. My grandfather, the first baron, was their son: he is said to have been a very learned man, very popular with Princes and Princesses, and a frequent guest at the court fes- tivals. The others at home love him best; but, i_ -; The old Willom Tree. I don't know how, there seems to me something about that first pair that draws my heart towards them. How comfortable, how patriarchal it must have been in the old house, where the mistress sat 12 Everything in its Right Place. at the spinning-wheel among her maids, and the old master read aloud from the Bible !" "They were charming, sensible people," said the clergyman's son. And with this the conversation naturally fell upon nobles and citizens. The young man scarcely seemed to belong to the citizen class, so well did he speak concerning the purpose and meaning of nobility. He said, "It is a great thing to belong to a family that has distinguished itself, and thus to have, as it were, in one's blood, a spur that urges one on to make progress in all that is good. It is delightful to have a name that serves as a card of admission into the highest circles. Nobility means that which is great and noble: it is a coin that has received a stamp to indicate what it is worth. It is the fallacy of the time, and many poets have frequently main- tained this fallacy, that nobility of birth is accom- panied by foolishness, and that the lower you go among the poor, the more does everything around shine. But that is not my view, for I consider it entirely false. In the higher classes many beau- tiful and kindly traits are found. My mother told me one of this kind, and I could tell many more. My mother was on a visit to a great family in town. My grandmother, I think, had been house- Everything in its Right Place. 13 keeper to the count's mother. The great noble- man and my mother were alone in the room, when the former noticed that an old woman came limping on crutches into the courtyard. Indeed, she was accustomed to come every Sunday, and carry away a gift with her. Ah, there is the poor old lady,' said the nobleman: 'walking is a great toil to her;' and before my mother understood what he meant, he had gone out of the room and run down the stairs, to save the old woman the toilsome walk, by carrying to her the gift she had come to receive. Now, that was only a small circumstance, but, like the widow's two mites in the Scripture, it has a sound that finds an echo in the depths of the heart of human nature; and these are the things the poet should show and point out; especially in these times should he sing of it, for that does good, and pacifies and unites men. But where a bit of mor- tality, because it has a genealogical tree and a coat of arms, rears up like an Arabian horse, and prances in the street, and says in the room,' People out of the street have been here,' when a commoner has been-that is nobility in decay, and become a mere mask-a mask of the kind that Thespis created; and people are glad when such an one is turned into satire.' 14 Everything in its Right Place. This was the speech of the clergyman's son. It was certainly rather long, but then the flute was being finished while he made it. At the castle there was a great company. Many guests came from the neighbourhood and from the capital. Many ladies, some tastefully and others tastelessly dressed, were there, and the great hall was quite full of people. The clergymen from the neighbourhood stood respectfully congregated in a corner, which made it look almost as if there were to be a burial there. But it was not so, for this was a party of pleasure, only that the pleasure had not yet begun. A great concert was to be performed, and con- sequently the little baron had brought in his willow flute; but he could not get a note out of it, nor could his papa, and therefore the flute was worth nothing. There was instrumental music and song, both of the kind that delight the performers most -quite charming! "You are a performer?" said a cavalier-his father's son and nothing else-to the tutor. You play the flute and make it too -that's genius. That should command, and should have the place of honour !" "No, indeed," replied the young man, I only Everything in its Right Place. 15 advance with the times, as every one is obliged to do." Oh, you will enchant us with the little instru- ment, will you not?" And with these words he handed to the clergy- man's son the flute cut from the willow tree by the pool, and announced aloud that the tutor was about to perform a solo on that instrument. Now, they only wanted to make fun of him, that was easily seen; and therefore the tutor would not play, though indeed he could do so very well; but they crowded round him and importuned him so strongly, that at last he took the flute and put it to his lips. That was a wonderful flute A sound, as sus- tained as that which is emitted by the whistle of a steam engine, and much stronger, echoed far over courtyard, garden, and wood, miles away into the country; and simultaneously with the tone came a rushing wind that roared, "Everything in its right place And papa flew as if carried by the wind straight out of the hall and into the shepherd's cot; and the shepherd flew, not into the hall, for there he could not come-no, but into the room of the servants, among the smart lackeys who strutted about there in silk stockings; 16 Everything in its Right Place. and the proud servants were struck motionless with horror at the thought that such a personage dared to sit down to table with them. But in the hall the young baroness flew up to the place of honour at the top of the table, where she was worthy to sit; and the young clergyman's son had a seat next to her; and there the two sat as if they were a newly-married pair. An old count of one of the most ancient families in the country remained untouched in his place of honour; for the flute was just, as men ouglt to be. The witty cavalier, the son of his father and nothing else, who had been the cause of the flute-playing, flew head-over-heels into the poultry-house-but not alone. For a whole mile round about the sounds of the flute were heard, and singular events took place. A rich banker's family, driving along in a coach and four, was blown quite out of the carriage, and could not even find a place on the footboard at the back. Two rich peasants who in our times had grown too high for their corn-fields, were tumbled into the ditch. It was a dangerous flute, that: luckily, it burst at the first note, and that was a good thing, for then it was put back into the owner's pocket. "Everything in its right place." The Angel. 17 The day afterwards not a word was said about this marvellous event; and thence has come the expression pocketing the flute." Everything was in its usual order, only that the two old portraits of the dealer and the goose-girl hung on the wall in the banqueting-hall. They had been blown up yonder, and as one of the real connoisseurs said they had been painted by a master's hand, they remained where they were, and were restored. "Everything in its right place." And to that it will come; for hereafter is long -longer than this story. THE ANGEL. ? HENEVER a good child dies, an angel from -heaven comes down to earth and takes the dead child in his arms, spreads out his great white "wings, and flies away over all the places the child has loved, and picks quite a hand-full of flowers, which he carries up to the Almighty, that they 8 c 18 The Angel. may bloom in heaven more brightly than on earth. And the Father presses all the flowers to His heart, but He kisses the flower that pleases Him best, and the flower is then endowed with a voice, and can join in the great chorus of praise. See "-this is what an angel said as he carried a dead child up to heaven, and the child heard as if in a dream, and they went on over the regions of home, where the child had played, and they came through gardens full of beautiful flowers- " which of these shall we take with us to plant in heaven?" asked the angel. Now, there stood near them a beautiful slender rose bush; but some wicked hand had broken the stem, so that all the branches, covered with half- opened buds, were hanging around quite withered. "The poor rose bush!" said the child. "Take it, that it may bloom up yonder." And the angel took it, and kissed the child, and the little one half opened his eyes. They plucked some of the rich flowers, but also took with them the despised buttercup and the wild pansy. "Now we have flowers," said the child, and the angel nodded. But he did not yet fly upwards to heaven. It was night and quite silent: they remained in the The Angel. 19 great city, and floated about there in a small street, where lay whole heaps of straw, ashes, and sweep- ings, for it had been removal-day. There lay frag- ments of plates, bits of plaster, rags, and old hats, and all this did not look well. The angel pointed amid all this confusion to a few fragments of a flower-pot, and to a lump of earth which had fallen out, and which was kept together by the roots of a great dried field flower, which was of no use, and had therefore been thrown out into the street. "We will take that with us," said the angel. "I will tell you why as we fly onward. "Down yonder in the narrow lane, in the low cellar, lived a poor sick boy; from his childhood he had been bedridden. When he was at his best he could go up and down the room a few times, leaning on crutches; that was the utmost he could do. For a few days in summer the sunbeams would penetrate for a few hours to the ground of the cellar, and when the poor boy sat there, and the sun shone on him, and he looked at the red blood in his three fingers as he held them up before his face, he would say, 'Yes, to-day he has been out!' He knew the forest, with its beautiful vernal green, only from the fact that the neighbour's son brought him the first green branch of a beech tree, and he S2 20 The Angel. held that up over his head, and dreamed he was in the beech wood, where the sun shone and the birds sang. On a spring day the neighbour's boy also brought him field flowers, and among these was, by chance, one to which the root was hanging; and so it was planted in a flower-pot, and placed by the bed, close to the window. And the flower had been planted by a fortunate hand: it grew, threw out new shoots, and bore flowers every year. It be- came as a splendid flower garden to the sickly boy "-his little treasure here on earth. He watered it, and tended it, and took care that it had the benefit of every ray of sunlight, down to the last that struggled in through the narrow window; and the flower itself was woven into his dreams, for it grew for him, and gladdened his eyes, and spread its fragrance about him; and towards it he turned in death, when the Father called him. He has now been with the Almighty for a year; for a year the flower has stood forgotten in the window, and is withered; and thus, at the removal, it has been thrown out into the dust of the street. And this is the flower, the poor withered flower, which we have taken into our nosegay; for this flower has given more joy than the richest flower in a Queen's garden!" The sick Boy and the little Flower. But how do you know all this?" asked the child which the angel was carrying to heaven. "I know it," said the angel, "because I myself 22 The Angel. was that little boy who walked on crutches! I know my flower well !" And the child opened his eyes, and looked into the glorious, happy face of the angel; and at the same moment they entered the regions where there is peace and joy. And the Father pressed the dead child to His bosom, and then it received wings like the angel, and flew hand in hand with him. And the Almighty pressed all the flowers to His heart; but He kissed the dry, withered field flower, and it received a voice and sang with all the angels hover- ing around-some near, and some in wider circles, and some in infinite distance, but all equally happy. And they all sang, the little and great, the good happy child and the poor field flower that had lain there withered, thrown among the dust in the rub- bish of the removal-day, in the narrow, dark lane. WHAT THE MOON SAW. INTRODUCTION. T is a strange thing, that when I feel most fervently and most deeply, my hands and tongue seem alike tied, so that I cannot rightly describe or accurately portray the thoughts that are rising within me; and yet I am a painter: my eye tells me as much as that, and all my friends who have seen my sketches and fancies say the same. I am a poor lad, and live in one of the narrowest *of lanes; but I do not want for light, as my room is high up in the house, with an extensive prospect over the neighboring roofs. During the first few days I went to live in the town, I felt low-spirited and solitary enough. Instead of the forest and green hills of former days, I had here only a forest of chimney-pots to look out upon. And then I 24 What the Moon saw. had not a single friend; not one familiar face greeted me. So one evening I sat at the window, in a de- sponding mood; and presently I opened the case- ment and looked out. Oh, how my heart leaped "up with joy! Here was a well-known face at last--a round, friendly countenance, the face of a good friend I had known at home. In fact, it was the MOON that looked in upon me. He was quite unchanged, the dear old Moon, and had the same face exactly that he used to show when he peered down upon me through the willow trees on the moor. I kissed my hand to him over and over again, as he shone far into my little room; and he, for his part, promised me that every evening, when he came abroad, he would look in upon me for a few moments. This promise he has faithfully kept. It is a pity that he can only stay such a short time when he comes. Whenever he appears, he tells me of one thing or another that he has seen on the previous night, or on that same evening. Just paint the scenes I describe to you"- this is what he said to me-" and you will have a very pretty picture-book." I have followed his injunction for many even- ings. I could make up a new Thousand and One M. k1 MIIe 2ly post of observation. 26 ffW at the Moon saw. Nights," in my own way, out of these pictures, but the number might be too great, after all. The pic- tures I have here given have not been chosen at random, but follow on in proper order, just as they were described to me. Some great lifted painter, or some poet or musician, may make something more of them if he likes; what I have given here are only hasty sketches, hurriedly put upon the paper, with some of my own thoughts interspersed; for the Moon did not come to me every evening- a cloud sometimes hid his face from me. FIRST EVENING. "LAST night"-I am quoting the Moon's own words-" last night I was gliding silently through the cloudless Indian sky. My face was mirrored in the waters of the Ganges, and my beams strove to pierce through the thick intertwining boughs of the bananas, arching beneath me like the tortoise's shell. Forth from the thicket tripped a Hindoo maid, light as a gazelle, beautiful as Eve. Airy and ethereal as a vision, and yet sharply defined amid the surrounding shadows, stood this daughter of Hindostan: I could read on her delicate brow the thought that had brought her hither. The The Indian Girl. thorny creeping plants tore her sandals, but for all that she came rapidly forward. The deer that had come down to the river to quench their thirst, sprang by with a startled bound, for in her hand the maiden bore a lighted lamp. I could see the blood in her delicate finger-tips, as she spread them for a screen before the dancing flame. She came down to the stream, and set the lamp upon the water, and let it float away. The flame flickered to and fro, and seemed ready to expire; but still the lamp burned on, and the girl's black sparkling eyes, half veiled behind their long silken lashes, followed it with a gaze of earnest intensity. She knew that if the lamp continued to burn as 28 What the Moon saw. long as she could keep it in sight, her betrothed was still alive; but if the lamp was suddenly extinguished, he was dead. And the lamp burned bravely on, and she fell on her knees and prayed. Near her in the grass lay a speckled snake, but she heeded it not-she thought only of Bramah and of her betrothed. 'He lives!' she shouted joyfully, 'he lives !' And from the mountains the echo came back upon her, he lives !'" SECOND EVENING. "YESTERDAY," said the Moon to me, "I looked down upon a small courtyard surrounded on all sides by houses. In the courtyard sat a clucking hen with eleven chickens; and a pretty little girl was running and jumping around them. The hen was frightened, and screamed, and spread out her wings over the little brood. Then the girl's father came out and scolded her; and I glided away and thought no more of the matter. But this evening, only a few minutes ago, I looked down into the same courtyard. Everything was quite quiet. But presently the little girl came forth again, crept quietly to the hen-house, pushed back the bolts, and slipped into the apartment of, II The little Girl and tlhe chickens. the hen and chickens. They cried out loudly, and came fluttering down from their perches, and ran about in dismay, and the little girl ran after them. I saw it quite plainly, for I looked through a hole in the hen-house wall. I was angry with the wilful child, and felt glad when her father came out and scolded her more violently than yesterday, holding her roughly by the arm: she held down her head, and her blue eyes were full of large tears. 'What are you about here?' he asked. 30 What the iMoon saw. She wept and said, I wanted to kiss the hen and beg her pardon for frightening her yesterday; but I was afraid to tell you.' And the father kissed the innocent child's fore- head, and I kissed her on the mouth and eyes." THIRD EVENING. "IN the narrow street round the corner yonder -it is so narrow that my beams can only glide for a minute along the walls of the house, but in that minute I see enough to learn what the world is made of-in that narrow street I saw a woman. Sixteen years ago that woman was a child, playing in the garden of the old parsonage in the country. The hedges of rose bush were old, and the flowers were faded. They straggled wild over the paths, and the ragged branches climbed up among the boughs of the apple trees; here and there were a few roses still in bloom-not so fair as the queen of flowers generally appears, but still they had some colour and scent too. The clergyman's little daughter appeared to me a far lovelier rose, as she sat on her stool under the straggling hedge, hugging and caressing her doll with the battered pasteboard cheeks. What the Moon saw. 31 "Ten years afterwards I saw her again. I beheld her in a splendid ball-room: she was the beautiful bride of a rich merchant. I rejoiced at her happiness, and sought her out on calm quiet evenings-ah, nobody thinks of my clear eye and my silent glance! Alas! my rose ran wild, like the rose bushes in the garden of the parsonage. There are tragedies in every-day life, and to-night I saw the last act of one. She was lying in bed in a house in that narrow street: she was sick unto death, and the cruel landlord came up, and tore away the thin coverlet, her only protection against the cold. Get up ' said he; 'your face is enough to frighten one. Get up and dress yourself, give me money, or I'll turn you out into the street! Quick-get up !' She answered, Alas! death is gnawing at my heart. Let me rest.' But he forced her to get up and bathe her face and put a wreath of roses in her hair; and he placed her in a chair at the window, with a candle burning beside her, and went away. "I looked at her, and she was sitting motionless, with her hands in her lap. The wind caught the open window and shut it with a crash, so that a pane came clattering down in fragments; but still 32 W[hat the Mloon saw. she never moved. The curtain caught fire, and the flames played about her face; and I saw that she was dead. There at the open window sat the dead woman, preaching a sermon against sin-my poor faded rose out of the parsonage garden!" FOURTH EVENING. "THIS evening I saw a German play acted," said the Moon. "It was in a little town. A stable had been turned into a theatre; that is to say, the stable had been left standing, and had been turned into private boxes, and all the timber work had been covered with coloured paper. A little iron chandelier hung beneath the ceiling, and that it might be made to disappear into the ceiling, as it does in great theatres, when the ting-ting of the prompter's bell is heard, a great inverted tub had been placed just above it. "' Ting-ting!' and the little iron chandelier suddenly rose at least half a yard and disappeared into the tub, and that was the sign that the play was going to begin. A young nobleman and his lady, who happened to be passing through the little town, were present at the performance, and consequently the house was crowded. But under The Play in a Stable, 34 What the Moon saw. the chandelier was a vacant space like a little crater: not a single soul sat there, for the tallow was dropping, drip, drip! I saw everything, for it was so warm in there that every loophole had been opened. The male and female servants stood outside, peeping through the chinks, although a real policeman was inside, threatening them with a stick. Close by the orchestra could be seen the noble young couple in two old arm-chairs, which were usually occupied by his worship the mayor and his lady; but these latter were to-day obliged to content themselves with wooden forms, just as if they had been ordinary citizens; and the lady observed quietly to herself, 'One sees, now, that there is rank above rank;' and this incident gave an air of extra festivity to the whole proceedings. The chandelier gave little leaps, the crowd got their knuckles rapped, and I, the Moon, was pre- sent at the performance from the beginning to the end." FIFTH EVENING. "YESTERDAY," began the Moon, "I looked down upon the turmoil of Paris. My eye penetrated into an apartment of the Louvre, An old grand- [What the Moon saw. 35 mother, poorly clad-she belonged to the working class was following one of the under-servants into the great empty throne-room, for this was the apartment she wanted to see-that she was re- solved to see; it had cost her many a little sacri- fice, and many a coaxing word, to penetrate thus far. She folded her thin hands, and looked round with an air of reverence, as if she had been in a church. "'Here it was!' she said, 'here !' And she approached the throne, from which hung the rich velvet fringed with gold lace. 'There,' she ex- claimed, there!' and she knelt and kissed the purple carpet. I think she was actually weeping. "'But it was not this very velvet !' observed the footman, and a smile played about his mouth. 'True, but it was this very place,' replied the old woman, and it must have looked just like this.' 'It looked so, and yet it did not,' observed the man: 'the windows were beaten in, and the doors were off their hinges, and there was blood upon the floor.' 'But for all that you can say, my grandson died upon the throne of France. Died!' mournfully repeated the old woman. I do not think another word was spoken, and they soon quitted the hall. The evening twilight faded, and D2 36 What the Moon saw. my light shone doubly vivid upon the rich velvet that covered the throne of France. Now, who do you think this poor woman was? Listen, I will tell you a story. "It happened, in the Revolution of July, on the evening of the most brilliantly victorious day, when every house was a fortress, every window a breastwork. The people stormed the Tuileries. Even women and children were to be found among the combatants. They penetrated into the apart- ments and halls of the palace. A poor half- grown boy in a ragged blouse fought among the older insurgents. Mortally wounded with several bayonet thrusts, he sank down. This happened in the throne-room. They laid the bleeding youth ,.upon the throne of France, wrapped the velvet around his wounds, and his blood streamed forth upon the imperial purple. There was a picture ! the splendid hall, the fighting groups! A torn flag lay upon the ground, the tricolor was waving above the bayonets, and on the throne lay the poor lad with the pale glorified countenance, his eyes turned towards the sky, his limbs writhing in the death agony, his breast bare, and his poor tattered clothing half hidden by the rich velvet embroidered with silver lilies. At the boy's cradle What the Moon saw. 37 a prophecy had been spoken: He will die on the throne of France.' The mother's heart dreamed of a second Napoleon. "My beams have kissed the wreath of immor- telles on his grave, and this night they kissed the forehead of the old grandame, while in a dream the picture floated before her which thou mayest draw-the poor boy on the throne of France." SIXTH EVENING. "I HAVE been in Upsala," said the Moon: I looked down upon the great plain covered with coarse grass and the barren fields. I mirrored my face in the Tyris river, while the steamboat drove the fish into the tall rushes. Beneath me floated the waves, throwing long shadows on the so-called graves of Odin, Thor, and Friga. In the scanty turf that covers the hill-side names have been cut. There is no monument here, no me- morial on which the traveller can have his name "* Travellers on the Continent have frequent opportunities of seeing how universally this custom prevails among travel- lers. In some places on the Rhine, pots of paint and brushes are offered by the natives to the traveller desirous of "im- mortalizing" himself. 38 What the Moon saw. carved, no rocky wall on whose surface he can get it painted; so visitors have the turf cut away for that purpose. The naked earth peers through in the form of great letters and names; these form a network over the whole hill. Here is an immor- tality, which lasts till the fresh turf grows ! "Up on the hill stood a man, a poet. He emptied the mead horn with the broad silver rim, and murmured a name. He begged the winds not to betray him, but I heard the name. I knew it. A count's coronet sparkles above it, and therefore he did not speak it out. I smiled, for I knew that a poet's crown adorns his own name. The nobility of Eleanora d'Este is attached to the name of Tasso. And I also know where the Rose of Beauty blooms!" Thus spake the Moon, and a cloud came be- tween us. May no cloud separate the poet from the rose! SEVENTH EVENING. "ALONG the margin of the shore stretches a forest of firs and beeches, and fresh and fragrant is this wood; hundreds of nightingales visit it every spring. Close beside it is the sea, the ever-changing What the Moon saw. 39 sea, and between the two is placed the broad high road. One carriage after another rolls over it; but I did not follow them, for my eye loves best to rest upon one point. A Hun's Grave* lies there, and the sloe and blackthorn grow luxuri- antly among the stones. Here is true poetry in nature. And how do you think men appreciate this poetry? I will tell you what I heard there last evening and during the night. First, two rich landed proprietors came driving by. Those are glorious trees !' said the first. 'Certainly; there are ten loads of firewood in each,' said the other: 'it will be a hard winter, and last year we got fourteen dollars a load'- and they were gone. The road here is wretched,' observed another man who drove past. 'That's the fault of those horrible trees,' replied his neigh- bour; 'there is no free current of air; the wind can only come from the sea'-and they were gone. The stage coach went rattling past. All the pas- sengers were asleep at this beautiful spot. The postillion blew his horn, but he only thought, 'I "* Large mounds similar to the barrows" found in Britain, are thus designated in Germany and the North. 40 What the Moon saw. can play capitally. It sounds well here. I wonder if those in there like it ?'-and the stage coach vanished. Then two young fellows came gallopping up on horseback. There's youth and spirit in the blood here! thought I; and, indeed, they looked with a smile at the moss-grown hill and the thick forest. I should not dislike a walk here with the miller's Christine,' said one-and they flew past. "The flowers scented the air; every breath of air was hushed : it seemed as if the sea were a part of the sky that stretched above the deep valley. A carriage rolled by. Six people were sitting in it. Four of them were asleep; the fifth was thinking of his new summer coat, which would suit him admirably; the sixth turned to the coachman and asked him if there were any- thing remarkable connected with yonder heap of stones. 'No,' replied the coachman, 'it's only a heap of stones; but the trees are remarkable.' 'How so?' 'Why, I'll tell you how they are very remarkable. You see, in winter, when the snow lies very deep, and has hidden the whole road so that nothing is to be seen, those trees serve me for a landmark. I steer by them, so as not to drive into the sea; and so, you see, that is why the trees are remarkable.' T2he poor Girl rests on the HTe's Grave, "Now came a painter. He spoke not a word, but his eyes sparkled. He began to whistle. At this the nightingales sang louder than ever. 'Hold your tongues !' he cried testily; and he made accu- rate notes of all the colours and transitions-blue, and lilac, and dark brown. 'That will make a beautiful picture,' he said. He took it in just as a mirror takes in a view; and as he worked he whistled a march of Rossini. 42 What the Moon saw. And last of all came a poor girl. She laid aside the burden she carried, and sat down to rest upon the Hun's Grave. Her pale handsome face was bent in a listening attitude towards the forest. Her eyes brightened, she gazed earnestly at the sea and the sky, her hands were folded, and I think she prayed, 'Our Father.' She herself could not under- stand the feeling that swept through her, but I know that this minute, and the beautiful natural scene, will live within her memory for years, far more vividly and more truly than the painter could portray it with his colours on paper. My rays followed her till the morning dawn kissed her pen- sive brow." EIGHTH EVENING. HEAVY clouds obscured the sky, and the Moon did not make his appearance at all. I stood in my little room, more lonely than ever, and looked up at the sky where he ought to have shown him- self. My thoughts flew far away, up to my great friend, who every evening told me such pretty tales, and showed me pictures. Yes, he has had an experience indeed. He glided over the waters What the Moon saw. 43 of the Deluge, and smiled on Noah's ark just as he lately glanced down upon me, and brought comfort and promise of a new world that was to spring forth from the old. When the Children of Israel sat weeping by the waters of Babylon, he glanced mournfully upon the willows where hung the silent harps. When Romeo climbed the bal- cony, and the promise of true love fluttered like a cherub toward heaven, the round Moon hung, half hidden among the dark cypresses, in the lucid air. He saw the Captive Giant at St. Helena, looking from the lonely rock across the wide ocean, while great thoughts swept through his soul. Ah, what tales the Moon can tell! Human life is like a story to him. To-night I shall not see thee again, old friend. To-night I can draw no picture of the memories of thy visit. And, as I looked dreamily towards the clouds, the sky became bright. There was a glancing light, and a beam from the Moon fell upon me. It vanished again, and dark clouds flew past; but still it was a greeting, a friendly good night offered to me by the Moon. NINTH EVENING. THE air was clear again. Several evenings had 44 IWhat the loon saw. passed, and now the Moon was in the first quarter. Again he gave me an outline for a sketch. Listen to what he told me. "I have followed the polar bird and the swim- ming whale to the eastern coasts of Greenland. Gaunt ice-covered rocks and dark clouds hung over a valley, where dwarf willows and barberry bushes stood clothed in green, and the blooming lychnis exhaled sweet odours. My light was faint, my face pale as the water lily that, torn from its stem, has been drifting for weeks with the tide. The crown-shaped Northern Light burned fiercely in the sky. Its ring was broad, and from its cir- cumference the rays shot like whirling shafts of fire across the whole sky, flashing in changing radiance from green to red. The inhabitants of that icy region were assembling for dance and fes- tivity; but, accustomed to this glorious spectacle, they scarcely deigned to glance at it. Let us leave the souls of the dead to their ball-play with the heads of the walruses,' they thought in their superstition, and they turned their whole attention to the song and dance. In the midst of the circle, and divested of his furry cloak, stood a Green- lander, with a small pipe, and he played and sang a song about catching the seal, and the chorus What the Moon saw. 45 around chimed in with, Eia, Eia, Ah.' And in their white furs they danced about in the circle, till you might fancy it was a polar bear's ball. "And now a Court of Judgment was opened. Those Greenlanders who had quarrelled stepped forward, and the offended person chanted forth the faults of his adversary in an extempore song, turning them sharply into ridicule, to the sound of the pipe and the measure of the dance. The defendant. replied with satire as keen, while the audience laughed, and gave their verdict. The rocks heaved, the glaciers melted, and great masses of ice and snow came crashing down, shivering to fragments as they fell: it was a glorious Green- land summer night. A hundred paces away, under the open tent of hides, lay a sick man. Life still flowed through his warm blood, but still he was to die-he himself felt it, and all who stood round him knew it also; therefore his wife was already sewing round him the shroud of furs, that she might not afterwards be obliged to touch the dead body. And she asked, 'Wilt thou be buried on the rock, in the firm snow ? I will deck the spot with thy kayak, and thy arrows, and the angekokk shall dance over it. Or wouldst thou rather be buried in the sea?" 'In the sea,' he whispered, 46 2What the Moon saw. and nodded with a mournful smile. 'Yes, it is a pleasant summer tent, the sea,' observed the wife. 'Thousands of seals sport there; the walrus shall lie near thy feet, and the hunt will be safe and merry !' And the yelling children tore the out- spread hide from the window-hole, that the dead man might be carried to the ocean, the billowy ocean, that had given him food in life, and that now, in death, was to afford him a place of rest. For his monument, he had the floating, ever- changing icebergs, whereon the seal sleeps, while the storm bird flies round and round their gleam- ing summits !' TENTH EVENING. "I KNEW an old maid," said the Moon. Every winter she wore a wrapper of yellow satin, and it always remained new, and was the only fashion she followed. In summer she always wore the same straw hat, and I verily believe the very same grey-blue dress. "She never went out, except across the street to an old female friend; and in later years she did not even take this walk, for the old friend was dead. In her solitude my old maid was always The Old MIaid. busy at the window, which was adorned in sum- mer with pretty flowers, and in winter with cress, grown upon felt. During the last months I saw her no more at the window, but she was still alive, 48 What the Moon saw. I knew that, for I had not yet seen her begin the 'long journey,' of which she often spoke with her friend. Yes, yes,' she was in the habit of saying, 'when I come to die, I shall take a longer journey than I have made my whole life long. Our family vault is six miles from here. I shall be carried there, and shall sleep there among my family and relatives.' Last night a van stopped at the house. A coffin was carried out, and then I knew that she was dead. They placed straw round the coffin, and the van drove away. There slept the quiet old lady, who had not gone out of her house once for the last year. The van rolled out through the town gate as briskly as if it were going for a plea- sant excursion. On the high road the pace was quicker yet. The coachman looked nervously round every now and then-I fancy he half ex- pected to see her sitting up on the coffin in her yellow satin wrapper. And because he was startled, he foolishly lashed his horses, while he held the reins so tightly that the poor beasts were in a foam: they were young and fiery. A hare jumped across the road and startled them, and they fairly ran away. The old sober maiden, who had for years and years moved quietly round and round in a dull circle, was now, in death, rattled over What the Moon saw. 49 stocks and stones on the public highway. The coffin in its covering of straw tumbled out of the van, and was left on the high road, while horses, coachman, and carriage flew past in wild career. The lark rose up carolling from the field, twitter- ing her morning lay over the coffin, and presently perched upon it, pecking with her beak at the straw covering, as though she would tear it up. The lark rose up again, singing gaily, and I with- drew behind the red morning clouds." ELEVENTH EVENING. "I WILL give you a picture of Pompeii," said the Moon. "I was in the suburb, in the Street of Tombs, as they call it, where the fair monuments stand, in the spot where, ages ago, the merry youths, their temples bound with rosy wreaths, danced with the fair sisters of Lai's. Now the stillness of death reigned around. German mer- cenaries, in the Neapolitan service, kept guard, played cards, and diced; and a troop of strangers from beyond the mountains came into the town, accompanied by a sentry. They wanted to see the city that had risen from the grave illumined by my beams; and I showed them the wheel-ruts 8 50 JWhat the Moon saw. in the streets paved with broad lava slabs; I showed them the names on the doors, and the signs that hung there yet: they saw in the little courtyard the basins of the fountains, ornamented with shells; but no jet of water gushed upwards, no songs sounded forth from the richly-painted chambers, where the bronze dogs still kept the door. It was the City of the Dead; only Vesuvius thundered forth his everlasting hymn, each sepa- rate verse of which is called by men an eruption. We went to the temple of Venus, built of snow- white marble, with its high altar in front of the broad steps, and the weeping willows sprouting freshly forth among the pillars. The air was transparent and blue, and black Vesuvius formed the background, with fire ever shooting forth from it, like the stem of the pine tree. Above it stretched the smoky cloud in the silence of the night, like the crown of the pine, but in a blood- red illumination. Among the company was a lady singer, a real and great singer. I have witnessed the homage paid to her in the greatest cities of Europe. When they came to the tragic theatre, they all sat down on the amphitheatre steps, and thus a small part of the house was occupied bh an What the Moon saw. I audience, as it had been many centuries ago. The stage still stood unchanged, with its walled side- scenes, and the two arches in the background, through which the beholders saw the same scene that had been exhibited in the old times-a scene painted by nature herself, namely, the mountains between Sorrento and Amalfi. The singer gaily mounted the ancient stage, and sang. The place inspired her, and she reminded me of a wild Arab horse, that rushes headlong on with snorting nos- trils and flying mane-her song was so light and yet so firm. Anon I thought of the mourning mother beneath the cross at Golgotha, so deep was the expression of pain. And, just as it had done thousands of years ago, the sound of applause and delight now filled the theatre. 'Happy, gifted creature!' all the hearers exclaimed. Five mi- nutes more, and the stage was empty, the com- pany had vanished, and not a sound more was heard-all were gone. But the ruins stood un- changed, as they will stand when centuries shall have gone by, and when none shall know of the momentary applause, and of the triumph of the fair songstress; when all will be forgotten and gone, and even for me this hour will be but a dream of the past." E 2 52 /hat the Moon saw. TWELFTH EVENING. "I LOOKED through the windows of an editor's house," said the Moon. "It was somewhere in Germany. I saw handsome furniture, many books, and a chaos of newspapers. Several young men were present: the editor himself stood at his desk, and two little books, both by young authors, were to be noticed. 'This one has been sent to me,' said he. I have not read it yet: what think you of the contents ?' 'Oh,' said the person addressed -he was a poet himself-' it is good enough; a little broad, certainly; but, you see, the author is still young. The verses might be better, to be sure; the thoughts are sound, though there is, certainly, a good deal of commonplace among them. But what will you have? You can't be always getting something new. That he'll turn out anything great I don't believe, but you may safely praise him. He is well read, a remarkable Oriental scholar, and has a good judgment. It was he who wrote that nice review of my Reflec- tions on Domestic Life.' We must be lenient towards the young man." "'But he is a complete hack !' objected another What the Moon saw. 53 gentleman. 'Nothing is worse in poetry than me- diocrity, and he certainly does not go beyond this.' "' Poor fellow!' observed a third, and. his aunt is so happy about him. It was she, Mr. Editor, who got together so many subscribers for your last translation.' "'Ah, the good woman Well, I have noticed the book briefly. Undoubted talent-a welcome offering-a flower in the garden of poetry-pret- tily brought out-and so on. But this other book -I suppose the author expects me to purchase it ? I hear it is praised. He has genius, certainly: don't you think so?' Yes, all the world declares as much,' replied the poet, but it has turned out rather wildly. The punctuation of the book, in particular, is very eccentric.' "' It will be good for him if we pull him to pieces, and anger him a. little, otherwise he will get too good an opinion of himself.' "'But that would be unfair,' objected the fourth. 'Let us not carp at little faults, but re- joice over the real and abundant good that we find here: he surpasses all the rest.' Not so. If he be a true genius, he can bear the sharp voice of censure. There are plenty of 54 What the Moon saw. people to praise him. Don't let us quite turn his head.' Decided talent,' wrote the editor, with the usual carelessness. That he can write incorrect verses may be seen in page 25, where there are two false quantities. We recommend him to study the ancients, etc.' "I went away," continued the Moon, "and looked through the windows in the aunt's house. There sat the be-praised poet, the tame one; all the guests paid homage to him, and he was happy. "I sought the other poet out, the wild one; him also I found in a great assembly at his patron's, where the tame poet's book was being discussed. "' I shall read yours also,' said Maecenas; but to speak honestly -you know I never hide my opinion from you -I don't expect much from it, for you are much too wild, too fantastic. But it must be allowed that, as a man, you are highly respectable.' A young girl sat in a corner; and she read in a book these words: "'In the dust lies genius and glory, But ev'ry-day talent will pay. It's only the old, old story, But the piece is repeated each day.'" IThat the Moon sawo. 55 THIRTEENTH EVENING. THE Moon said, "Beside the woodland path there are two small farm-houses. The doors are low, and some of the windows are placed quite high, and others close to the ground, and white- thorn and barberry bushes grow around them. The roof of each house is overgrown with moss and with yellow flowers and houseleek. Cabbage and potatoes are the only plants cultivated in the gardens, but out of the hedge there grows a willow tree, and under this willow tree sat a little girl, and she sat with her eyes fixed upon the old oak tree between the two huts. "It was an old withered stem. It had been sawn off at the top, and a stork had built his nest upon it; and he stood in this nest clapping with his beak. A little boy came and stood by the girl's side: they were brother and sister. What are you looking at?' he asked. "'I'm watching the stork,' she replied: 'our neighbours told me that he would bring us a little brother or sister to-day; let us watch to see it come!' "'The stork brings no such things,' the boy declared, 'you may be sure of that. Our neigh- 13 ( watching the Stork. bour told me the same thing, but she laughed when she said it, and so I asked her if she could say On my honour," and she could not, and I know by that that the story about the storks is What the Moon saw. 57 not true, and that they only tell it to us children for fun.' "'But where do the babies come from, then?' asked the girl. "'Why, an angel from heaven brings them under his cloak, but no man can see him; and that's why we never know when he brings them.' At that moment there was a rustling in the branches of the willow tree, and the children folded their hands and looked at one another: it was certainly the angel coming with the baby. They took each other's hand, and at that moment the door of one of the houses opened, and the neighbour appeared. "' Come in, you two,' she said. 'See what the stork has brought. It is a little brother.' And the two children nodded gravely at one another, for they had felt quite sure already that the baby was come." FOURTEENTH EVENING. I WAs gliding over the Liineburg Heath," the Moon said. "A lonely hut stood by the way-side, a few scanty bushes grew near it, and a nightin- gale who had lost his way sang sweetly. He died 58 What the Mloon saw. in the coldness of the night: it was his farewell song that I heard. The morning dawn came glimmering red. I saw a caravan of emigrant peasant families who were bound to Hamburgh, there to take ship for America, where fancied prosperity would bloom for them. The mothers carried their little chil- dren at their backs, the elder ones tottered by their sides, and a poor starved horse tugged at a cart that bore their scanty effects. The cold wind whistled, and therefore the little girl nestled closer to the mother, who, looking up at my decreasing disc, thought of the bitter want at home, and spoke of the heavy taxes they had not been able to raise. The whole caravan thought of the same thing; therefore the rising dawn seemed to them a message from the sun, of fortune that was to gleam brightly upon them. They heard the dying nightingale sing: it was no false prophet, but a harbinger of fortune. The wind whistled, there- fore they did not understand that the nightingale sung, 'Fare away over the sea! Thou hast paid the long passage with all that was thine, and poor and helpless shalt thou enter Canaan. Thou must sell thyself, thy wife, and thy children. But your griefs shall not last long. Behind the broad fra- What the Moon saw. 59 grant leaves lurks the goddess of death, and her welcome kiss shall breathe fever into thy blood. Fare away, fare away, over the heaving billows.' And the caravan listened well pleased to the song of the nightingale, which seemed to promise good fortune. Day broke through the light clouds; the country people went across the heath to church: the black-gowned women with their white head- dresses looked like ghosts that had stepped forth from the church pictures. All around lay a wide dead plain, covered with faded brown heath, and black charred spaces between the white sand hills. The women carried hymn-books, and walked into the church. Oh, pray, pray for those who are wandering to find graves beyond the foaming billows !" FIFTEENTH EVENING. "I KNOW a Pulcinella," the Moon told me. "The public applaud vociferously directly they see him. Every one of his movements is comic, and is sure to throw the house into convulsions of "* The comic or grotesque character of the Italian ballet, from which the English "Punch" takes his origin. 60 What the Moon saw. laughter; and yet there is no art in it all--it is complete nature. When he was yet a little boy, playing about with other boys, he was already Punch. Nature had intended him for it, and had provided him with a hump on his back, and another on his breast; but his inward man, his mind, on the contrary, was richly furnished. No one could surpass him in depth of feeling or in readiness of intellect. The theatre was his ideal world. If he had possessed a slender well-shaped figure, he might have been the first tragedian on any stage: the heroic, the great, filled his soul; and yet he had to become a Pulcinella. His very sorrow and melancholy did but increase the comic dryness of his sharply-cut features, and increased the laughter of the audience, who showered plaudits on their favourite. The lovely Columbine was indeed kind and cordial to him; but she preferred to marry the Harlequin. It would have been too ridiculous if beauty and ugliness had in reality paired together. When Pulcinella was in very bad spirits, she was the only one who could force a hearty burst of laughter or even a smile from nim: first she would be melancholy with him, then quieter, and at last quite cheerful and happy. I know very ""- -- -- II -' Pulinezla 0on Columnbine's Grave. 62 What the Moon saw. well what is the matter with you,' she said; yes, you're in love !' And he could not help laughing. ' I and Love !' he cried, that would have a very absurd look. How the public would shout !' 'Cer- tainly, you are in love,' she continued; and added with a comic pathos, and I am the person you are in love with.' You see, such a thing may be said when it is quite out of the question and, indeed, Pulcinella burst out laughing, and gave a leap into the air, and his melancholy was forgotten. "And yet she had only spoken the truth. He did love her, love her adoringly, as he loved what was great and lofty in art. At her wedding he was the merriest among the guests, but in the stillness of night he wept: if the public had seen his distorted face then, they would have applauded rapturously. And a few days ago Columbine died. On the day of the funeral, Harlequin was not required to show himself on the boards, for he was a discon- solate widower. The director had to give a very merry piece, that the public might not too pain- fully miss the pretty Columbine and the agile Harlequin. Therefore Pulcinella had to be more boisterous and more extravagant than ever; and he danced and capered, with despair in his heart; What the Moon saw. 63 and the audience yelled, and shouted bravo, bra- vissimo!' Pulcinella was actually called before the curtain. He was pronounced inimitable. But last night the hideous little fellow went out of the town, quite alone, to the deserted churchyard. The wreath of flowers on Colum- bine's grave was already faded, and he sat down there. It was a study for a painter. As he sat with his chin on his hands, his eyes turned up to- wards me, he looked like a grotesque monument - a Punch on a grave peculiar and whimsical! If the people could have seen their favourite, they would have cried as usual, Bravo, Pulcinella! bravo, bravissimo " SIXTEENTH EVENING. HEAR what the Moon told me. I have seen the cadet who had just -been made an officer put on his handsome uniform for the first time; I have seen the young bride in her wedding dress, and the Princess girl-wife happy in her gorgeous robes; but never have I seen a felicity equal to that of a little girl of four years old, whom I watched this evening. She had received a new blue dress and a new pink hat, the splendid attire had just been 64 fVhat the Moon saw, put on, and all were calling out for a candle, for my rays, shining in through the windows of the room, were not bright enough for the occasion, and further illumination was required. There stood the little maid, stiff and upright as a doll, her arms stretched painfully straight out away from the dress, and her fingers apart; and oh, what happiness beamed from her eyes and from her whole countenance To-morrow you shall go out in your new clothes,' said her mother; and the little one looked up at her hat, and down at her frock, and smiled brightly. 'Mother,' she cried, 'what will the little dogs think, when they see me in these splendid new things ?' " SEVENTEENTH EVENING. "I HAVE spoken to you of Pompeii," said the Moon; "that corpse of a city, exposed in the view of living towns: I know another sight still more strange, and this is not the corpse, but the spectre of a city. Whenever the jetty fountains splash into the marble basins, they seem to me to be telling the story of the floating city. Yes, the spouting water may tell of her, the waves of the sea may sing of her fame I On the surface of the What the Moon saw. 65 ocean a mist often rests, and that is her widow's veil. The Bridegroom of the Sea is dead, his palace and his city are his mausoleum Dost thou know this city? She has never heard the rolling of wheels or the hoof-tread of horses in her streets, through which the fish swim, while the black gondola glides spectrally over the green water. I will show you the place," continued the Moon, "the largest square in it, and you will fancy yourself transported into the city of a fairy tale. The grass grows rank among the broad flag- stones, and in the morning twilight thousands of tame pigeons flutter around the solitary lofty tower. On three sides you find yourself sur- rounded by cloistered walks. In these the silent Turk sits smoking his long pipe, the handsome Greek leans against the pillar and gazes at the upraised trophies and lofty masts, memorials of power that is gone. The flags hang down like mourning scarves. A girl rests there: she has put down her heavy pails filled with water, the yoke with which she has carried them rests on one of her shoulders, and she leans against the mast of victory. That is not a fairy palace which you see before you yonder, but a church: the gilded domes and shining orbs flash back my beams; the 8 66 WFhat the Moon saw. glorious bronze horses up yonder have performed journeys, like the bronze horse in the fairy tale: they have come hither, and gone hence, and have returned again. Do you notice the variegated splendour of the walls and windows ? It looks as if Genius had followed the caprices of a child in the adornment of these singular temples. Do you see the winged lion on the high pillar ? The gold glitters still, but his wings are tied-the lion is dead, for the King of the Sea is dead; the great halls stand desolate, and where gorgeous paintings hung of yore, the naked wall now peers through. The lazzarone sleeps under the arcade, whose pave- ment in old times was to be trodden only by the feet of high nobility. From the deep wells, and perhaps from the prisons by the Bridge of Sighs, rise the accents of woe, as at the time when the tambourine was heard in the gay gondolas, and the golden ring was cast from the Bucentaur to Adria, the Queen of the Seas. Adria! shroud thyself in mists: let the veil of thy widowhood shroud thy form, and clothe in the weeds of woe the mausoleum of thy bridegroom--the marble, spectral Venice." What the Moon saw. 67 EIGHTEENTH EVENING. "I LOOKED down upon a great theatre," said the Moon. "The house was crowded, for a new actor was to make his first appearance that night. My ray glided over a little window in the wall, and I saw a painted face with the forehead pressed close against the panes. It was the hero of the evening. The knightly beard curled crisply about the chin; but there were tears in the man's eyes, for he had been hissed off, and indeed with reason. The poor Incapable! But Incapables cannot be admitted into the empire of Art. He* had deep feeling, and loved his art enthusiastically, but the art loved not him. The prompter's bell sounded; 'the hero enters with a determined air,' so ran the stage direction in his part, and he had to appear before an audience who turned him into ridicule. When the piece was over, I saw a form wrapped in a mantle, creeping down the steps: it was the vanquished knight of the evening. The scene- shifters whispered to one another, and I followed the poor fellow home to his room. To hang one- self is to die but a mean death, and poison is not always at hand, I know; but he thought of both. F2 68 What the Moon saw. I saw how he looked at his pale face in the glass, with eyes half closed, to see if he should look well as a corpse. A man may be very unhappy, and yet exceedingly affected. He thought of death, of suicide. I believe he pitied himself, for he wept bitterly, and when a man has had his cry out he doesn't kill himself. Since that time a year had rolled by. Again a play was to be acted, but in a little theatre, and by a poor strolling company. Again I saw the well-remembered face, with the painted cheeks and the crisp beard. He looked up at me and smiled; and yet he had been hissed off only a minute be- fore-hissed off from a wretched theatre by a mi- serable audience. And to-night a shabby hearse rolled out of the town gate. It was a suicide- our painted, despised hero. The driver of the hearse was the only person present, for no one followed except my beams. In a corner of the churchyard the corpse of the suicide was shovelled into the earth, and nettles will soon be growing rankly over his grave, and the sexton will throw earth and thorns and weeds from the other grave, upon it." What the Moon saw. 69 NINETEENTH EVENING. I COME from Rome," said the Moon. "In the midst of the city, upon one of the seven hills, lie the ruins of the imperial palace. The wild fig tree grows in the clefts of the wall, and covers the nakedness thereof with its broad greyish-green leaves; trampling among heaps of rubbish, the ass treads upon green laurels, and rejoices over the rank thistles. From this spot, whence the eagles of Rome once flew abroad, whence they 'came, saw, and conquered,' one door leads into a little mean house, built of clay between two pillars; the wild vine hangs like a mourning garland over the crooked window. An old woman and her little granddaughter live there: they rule now in the palace of the Coesars, and show to strangers the remains of its past glories. Of the splendid throne-hall only a naked wall now stands, and a black cypress throws its dark shadows on the spot where the throne once stood. The dust lies several feet deep on the broken pavement; and the little maiden, now the daughter of the imperial palace, often sits there on her stool when the evening bells ring. The keyhole of the door close by she calls 70 What the Moon saw. her turret window; through this she can see half Rome, as far as the mighty cupola of St. Peter's. "On this evening, as usual, stillness reigned around; and in the full beam of my light came the little granddaughter. On her head she carried an earthen pitcher of antique shape filled with water. Her feet were bare, her short frock and her white sleeves were torn. I kissed her pretty round shoulders, her dark eyes, and black shining hair. She mounted the stairs; they were steep, having been made up of rough blocks of broken marble and the capital of a fallen pillar. The coloured lizards slipped away, startled, from before her feet, but she was not frightened at them. Already she lifted her hand to pull the door-bell- a hare's foot fastened to a string formed the bell- handle of the imperial palace. She paused for a moment-of what might the girl be thinking ? Perhaps of the beautiful Christ-child, dressed in gold and silver, which stood down below in the chapel, where the silver candlesticks gleamed so bright, and where her little friends sung the hymns in which she could join? I know not. Presently she moved again-she stumbled; the earthen vessel fell from her head, and broke on the marble steps. She burst into tears. The beautiful daughter of lWhat the Moon saw. 71 the imperial palace wept over the worthless broken pitcher; with her bare feet she stood there weep- ing, and dared not pull the string-the bell-rope of the imperial palace !" TWENTIETH EVENING. IT was more than a fortnight since the Moon had shone. Now he stood once more, round and bright, above the clouds, moving slowly onward. Hear what the Moon told me. From a town in Fezzan I followed a caravan. On the margin of the sandy desert, in a salt plain, that shone like a frozen lake, and was only covered in spots with light drifting sand, a halt was made. The eldest of the company-the water gourd hung at his girdle, and on his head was a little bag of unleavened bread drew a square in the sand with his staff, and wrote in it a few words out of the Koran, and then the whole caravan passed over the consecrated spot. A young merchant, a child of the East, as I could tell by his eyes and his figure, rode pensively forward on his white snorting steed. Was he thinking, perchance, of his fair young wife? It was only two days ago that the camel, adorned with furs and with costly 72 What the Moon saw. shawls, had carried her, the beauteous bride, round the walls of the city, while drums and cymbals had sounded, the women sang, and festive shots, of which the bridegroom fired the greatest number, resounded round the camel; and now he was journeying with the caravan across the desert. "For many nights I followed the train. I saw them rest by the well-side among the stunted palms; they thrust the knife into the breast of the camel that had fallen, and roasted its flesh by the fire. My beams cooled the glowing sands, and showed them the black rocks, like dead islands in the immense ocean of sand. No hostile tribes met them in their pathless route, no storms arose, no columns of sand whirled destruction over the journeying caravan. At home the beautiful wife prayed for her husband and her father. 'Are they dead?' she asked of my golden crescent; 'Are they dead?' she cried to my full disc. Now the sandy desert lies behind them. This evening they sit beneath the lofty palm trees, where the crane flutters round them with its long wings, and the Pelican watches them from the branches of the mimosa. The luxuriant herbage is trampled down, crushed by the feet of the elephants. A troop of negroes are returning from a market in the interior lWhat the Moon saw. 73 of the land: the women, with copper buttons in their black hair, and decked out in clothes dyed with indigo, drive the heavy-laden oxen, on whose backs slumber the naked black children. A negro leads a young lion which he has bought, by a thin string. They approach the caravan: the young merchant sits pensive and motionless, thinking of his beautiful wife, dreaming, in the land of the blacks, of his white fragrant lily beyond the desert. He raises his head, and- " But at this moment a cloud passed before the Moon, and then another. I heard nothing more from him this evening. TWENTY-FIRST EVENING. I SAw a little girl weeping," said the Moon; " she was weeping over the depravity of the world. She had received a most beautiful doll as a present. Oh, that was a glorious doll, so fair and delicate! She did not seem created for the sorrows of this world. But the brothers of the little girl, those great naughty boys, had set the doll high up in the branches of a tree, and had run away. "The little girl could not reach up to the doll, and could not help her down, and that is why she T2w little Girl's trouble. was crying. The doll must certainly have been crying too, for she stretched out her arms among the green branches, and looked quite mournful. Yes, these are the troubles of life of which the What the Moon saw. little girl had often heard tell. Alas, poor doll! it began to grow dark already; and suppose night were to come on completely Was she to be left sitting there alone on the bough all night long? No, the little maid could not make up her mind to that. 'I '11 stay with you,' she said, although she felt anything but happy in her mind. She could almost fancy she distinctly saw little gnomes, with their high-crowned hats, sitting in the bushes; and farther back in the long walk, tall spectres appeared to be dancing. They came nearer and nearer, and stretched out their hands towards the tree on which the doll sat; they laughed scorn- fully, and pointed at her with their fingers. Oh, how frightened the little maid was! 'But it one has not done anything wrong,' she thought, 'no- thing evil can harm one. I wonder if I have done anything wrong ?' And she stood to consider about it. 'Oh, yes I laughed at the poor duck with the red rag on her leg; she limped along so funnily, I could not help laughing; but it's a sin to laugh at animals.' And she looked up at the doll. 'Did you laugh at the duck too?' she asked; and it seemed as if the doll shook her head." 76 What the Moon saw. TWENTY-SECOND EVENING. "I LOOKED down upon Tyrol," said the Moon, " and my beams caused the dark pines to throw long shadows upon the rocks. I looked at the pictures of St. Christopher carrying the Infant Jesus that are painted there upon the walls of the houses, colossal figures reaching from the ground to the roof. St. Florian was represented pouring water on the burning house, and the Lord hung bleeding on the great cross by the way-side. To the present generation these are old pictures, but I saw when they were put up, and marked how one followed the other. On the brow of the lofty mountain yonder is perched, like a swallow's nest, a lonely convent of nuns. Two of the sisters stood up in the tower tolling the bells; they were both young, and therefore their glances flew over the mountain out into the world. A travelling coach passed by below, the postillion wound his horn, and the poor nuns looked after the carriage for a moment with a mournful glance, and a tear gleamed in the eyes of the younger one. And the horn sounded faint and more faintly, and the con- vent bell drowned its expiring echoes." What the Moon saw. 77 TWENTY-THIRD EVENING. HEAR what the Moon told me. Some years ago, here in Copenhagen, I looked through the window of a mean little room. The father and mother slept, but the little son was not asleep. I saw the flowered cotton curtains of the bed move, and the child peep forth. At first I thought he was looking at the great clock, which was gaily painted in red and green. At the top sat a cuckoo, below hung the heavy leaden weights, and the pendulum with the polished disc of metal went to and fro, and said 'tick! tick But no, he was not looking at the clock, but at his mother's spinning- wheel, that stood just underneath it. That was the boy's favourite piece of furniture, but he dared not touch it, for if he meddled with it he got a rap on the knuckles. For hours together, when his mother was spinning, he would sit quietly by her side, watching the murmuring spindle and the revolving wheel, and as he sat he thought of many things. Oh, if he might only turn the wheel him- self! Father and mother were asleep; he looked at them, and looked at the spinning-wheel, and presently a little naked foot peered out of the bed, 78 What the Moon saw. and then a second foot, and then two little white legs. There he stood. He looked round once more, to see if father and mother were still asleep -yes, they slept; and now he crept softly, softly, in his short little nightgown, to the spinning-wheel, and began to spin. The thread flew from the wheel, and the wheel whirled faster and faster. I kissed his fair hair and his blue eyes, it was such a pretty picture. "At that moment the mother awoke. The curtain shook, she looked forth, and fancier she saw a gnome or some other kind of little spectre. 'In Heaven's name!' she cried, and aroused her husband in a frightened way. He opened his eyes, rubbed them with his hands, and looked at the brisk little lad. 'Why, that is Bertel,' said he. And my eyes quitted the poor room, for I have so much to see. At the same moment I looked at the halls of the Vatican, where the marble gods are enthroned. I shone upon the group of the Laocoon; the stone seemed to sigh. I pressed a silent kiss upon the lips of the Muses, and they seemed to stir and move. But my rays lingered longest about the Nile group with the colossal god. Leaning against the Sphinx, he lies there thought- ful and meditative, as if he were thinking on the ,, i i *1 V ^ "III t I t -, Ar Little Bertel's ambition. rolling centuries; and little love-gods sport with him and with the long crocodiles. In the horn of plenty sits with folded arms a little tiny love-god, contemplating the great solemn river-god, a true 80 What the Moon saw. picture of the pretty boy at the spinning-wheel- the features were exactly the same. Charming and lifelike stood the little marble form, and yet the wheel of the year has turned more than a thousand times since the time when it sprang forth from the stone. Just as often as the boy in the little room turned the spinning.-wheel had the great wheel murmured, before the age could again call forth marble gods equal to those he afterwards formed. "Years have passed since all this happened," the Moon went on to say. Yesterday I looked down on a bay on the eastern coast of Denmark. Glorious woods are there, and high trees, an old knightly castle with red walls, swans floating in the ponds, and in the background appears, among the orchards, a little town with a church. Many boats, the crews all furnished with torches, glided over the silent expanse-but these fires had not been kindled for catching fish, for everything had a festive look. Music sounded, a song was sung, and in one of the boats a man stood erect, to whom homage was paid by the rest, a tall sturdy man, wrapped in a cloak. He had blue eyes and long white hair. I knew him, and thought of the Vatican, and of the group of the Nile, and the old marble gods. I thought of the simple little What the Moon saw. 8I room where little Bertel sat in his nightshirt by the spinning-wheel. The wheel of time has turned, and new gods have come forth from the stone. From the boats there arose a shout: 'Hurrah! hurrah for Bertel Thorwaldsen " TWENTY-FOURTH EVENING. "I WILL now give you a picture from Frankfort," said the Moon. I especially noticed one build- ing there. It was not the house in which Goethe was born, nor the old council-house, through whose grated windows peered the horns of the oxen that were roasted and given to the people when the Emperors were crowned. No, it was a private house, plain in appearance, and painted green. It stood near the old Jews' Street. It was Roths- child's house. "I looked through the open door. The stair- case was brilliantly lighted : servants carrying wax candles in massive silver candlesticks stood there, and bowed low before an aged woman, who was being brought down stairs in a litter. The pro- prietor of the house stood bare-headed, and re- spectfully imprinted a kiss on the hand of the old woman. She was his mother. She nodded in a 8 G 82 F that the Moon saw. friendly manner to him and to the servants, and they carried her into the dark narrow street, into a little house, that was her dwelling. Here her children had been born, from hence the fortune of the family had arisen. If she deserted the despised street and the little house, fortune would also desert her children. That was her firm belief." The Moon told me no more; his visit this even- ing was far too short. But I thought of the old woman in the narrow despised street. It would have cost her but a word, and a brilliant house would have arisen for her on the banks of the Thames-a word, and a villa would have been pre- pared in the Bay of Naples. "If I deserted the lowly house, where the for- tunes of my sons first began to bloom, fortune would desert them !" It was a superstition, but a superstition of such a class, that he who knows the story and has seen this picture, need have only two words placed under the picture to make him understand it; and these two words are: "A mother." What the Moon saw. 83 TWENTY-FIFTH EVENING. IT was yesterday, in the morning twilight"- these are the words the Moon told me-" in the great city no chimney was yet smoking, andit was just at the chimneys that I was looking. Suddenly The little Chimney-Swneeper. a little head emerged from one of them, and then half a body, the arms resting on the rim of the chimney-pot. 'Ya-hip! ya-hip!' cried a voice. It was the little chimney-sweeper, who had for the G2 84 What the Moon saw. first time in his life crept through a chimney, and stuck out his head at the top. Ya..hip ya-hip !' Yes, certainly that was a very different thing from creeping about in the dark narrow chimneys the air blew so fresh, and he could look over the whole city towards the green wood. The sun was just rising. It shone round and great, just in his face, that beamed with triumph, although it was very prettily blacked with soot. "'The whole town can see me now,' he ex- claimed, and the moon can see me now, and the sun too. Ya-hip! ya-hip!' And he flourished his broom in triumph." TWENTY-SIXTH EVENING. "LAST night I looked down upon a town in China," said the Moon. My beams irradiated the naked walls that form the streets there. Now and then, certainly, a door is seen; but it is locked, for what does the Chinaman care about the outer world? Close wooden shutters covered the win- dows behind the walls of the houses; but through the windows of the temple a faint light glimmered. I looked in and saw the quaint decorations within. From the floor to the ceiling pictures are painted What the Moon saw. 85 in the most glaring colours and richly gilt-pic- tures representing the deeds of the gods here on earth. In each niche statues are placed, but they are almost entirely hidden by the coloured drapery and the banners that hang down. Before each 1MII .1 ,,1 -4 . _ - Pretty Pu. idol (and they are all made of tin) stood a little altar of holy water, with flowers and burning wax lights on it. Above all the rest stood Fo, the chief deity, clad in a garment of yellow silk, for yellow is here the sacred colour. At the foot of the altar sat a living being, a young priest. He appeared 86' What the Moon saw. to be praying, but in the midst of his prayer he seemed to fall into deep thought, and this must have been wrong, for his cheeks glowed and he held down his head. Poor Soui-hong Was he, perhaps, dreaming of working in the little flower garden behind the high street wall? And did that occupation seem more agreeable to him than watch- ing the wax lights in the temple? Or did he wish to sit at the rich feast, wiping his mouth with silver paper between each course? Or was his sin so great that, if he dared utter it, the Celestial Empire would punish it with death? Had his thoughts ventured to fly with the ships of the bar- barians, to their homes in far distant England ? No, his thoughts did not fly so far, and yet they were sinful, sinful as thoughts born of young hearts, sinful here in the temple, in the presence of Fo and the other holy gods. I know whither his thoughts had strayed. At the farther end of the city, on the flat roof paved with porcelain, upon which stood the handsome vases covered with painted flowers, sat the beau- teous Pu, of the little roguish eyes, of the full lips, and of the tiny feet. The tight shoe pained her, but her heart pained her still more. She lifted her graceful round arm, and her satin dress What the Moon saw. 87 rustled. Before her stood a glass bowl contain- ing four goldfish. She stirred the bowl carefully with a slender lacquered stick, very slowly, for she, too, was lost in thought. Was she thinking, perchance, how the fishes were richly clothed in gold, how they lived calmly and peacefully in their crystal world, how they were regularly fed, and yet how much happier they might be if they were free? Yes, that she could well understand, the beautiful Pu. Her thoughts wandered away from her home, wandered to the temple, but not for the sake of holy things. Poor Pu! Poor Soui-hong! Their earthly thoughts met, but my cold beam lay between the two, like the sword of the cherub." TWENTY-SEVENTH EVENING. "THE air was calm," said the Moon: "the water was transparent as the pure ether through which I was gliding, and deep below the surface I could see the strange plants that stretched up their waving arms towards me like the gigantic trees of the forest. The fishes swam to and fro above their tops. High in the air a flight of wild swans were winging their way, one of which sank lower and lower, with wearied pinions, his eyes 88 What the Moon saw. following the airy caravan, that melted farther and farther into the distance. With outspread wings he sank slowly, as a soap bubble sinks in the still air, till he touched the water. At length his head lay back between his wings, and silently he lay there, like a white lotus flower upon the quiet lake. And a gentle wind arose, and crisped the quiet surface, which gleamed like the clouds that poured along in great broad waves; and the swan raised his head, and the glowing water splashed like blue fire over his breast and back. The morn- ing dawn illuminated the red clouds, the swan rose strengthened, and flew towards the rising sun, towards the bluish coast whither the caravan had gone; but he flew all alone, with a longing in his breast. Lonely he flew over the blue swelling billows." TWENTY-EIGHTH EVENING. "I WILL give you another picture of Sweden," said the Moon. Among dark pine woods, near the melancholy banks of the Stoxen, lies the old convent church of Wreta. My rays glided through the grating into the roomy vaults, where Kings sleep tranquilly in great stone coffins. On the wall, What the Moon saw. 89 above the grave of each, is placed the emblem of earthly grandeur, a kingly crown; but it is made only of wood, painted and gilt, and is hung on a wooden peg driven into the wall. The worms have gnawn the gilded wood, the spider has spun her web from the crown down to the sand, like a mourning banner, frail and transient as the grief of mortals. How quietly they sleep I can re- member them quite plainly. I still see the bold smile on their lips, that so strongly and plainly expressed joy or grief. When the steamboat winds along like a magic snail over the lakes, a stranger often comes to the church, and visits the burial vault: he asks the names of the Kings, and they have a dead and forgotten sound. He glances with a smile at the worm-eaten crowns, and if he happens to be a pious, thoughtful man, something of melancholy mingles with the smile. Slumber on, ye dead ones The Moon thinks of you, the Moon at night sends down his rays into your silent kingdom, over which hangs the crown of pine wood." TWENTY-NINTH EVENING. "CLOSE by the high road," said the Moon, "is 90 WIhat the Moon saw. an inn, and opposite to it is a great waggon-shed, whose straw roof was just being re-thatched. I looked down between the bare rafters and through the open loft into the comfortless space below. The turkey-cock slept on the high beam, and the saddle rested in the empty crib. In the middle of the shed stood a travelling carriage; the pro- prietor was inside, fast asleep, while the horses were being watered. The coachman stretched himself, though I am very sure that he had been most comfortably asleep half the last stage. The door of the servants' room stood open, and the bed looked as if it had been turned over and over; the candle stood on the floor, and had burned deep down into the socket. The wind blew cold through the shed: it was nearer to the dawn than to mid- night. In the wooden frame on the ground slept a wandering family of musicians. The father and mother seemed to be dreaming of the burning liquor that remained in the bottle. The little liale daughter was dreaming too, for her eyes were wet with tears. The harp stood at their heads, and the dog lay stretched at their feet." What the Moon saw. 91 THIRTIETH EVENING. IT was in a little provincial town," the Moon said; "it certainly happened last year, but that has nothing to do with the matter. I saw it quite plainly. To-day I read about it in the papers, but there it was not half so clearly expressed. In the tap-room of the little inn sat the bear leader, eating his supper; the bear was tied up outside, behind the wood pile-poor Bruin, who did nobody any harm, though he looked grim enough. Up in the garret three little children were playing by the light of my beams; the eldest was perhaps six years old, the youngest certainly not more than two. Tramp tramp !-somebody was coming up stairs: who might it be? The door was thrust open-it was Bruin, the great, shaggy Bruin! He had got tired of waiting down in the court- yard, and had found his way to the stairs. I saw it all," said the Moon. "The children were very much frightened at first at the great shaggy animal; each of them crept into a corner, but he found them all out, and smelt at them, but did them no harm. 'This must be a great dog,' they said, and began to stroke him. He lay down upon the ground, the youngest boy clambered on his back, 92 W[hat the Moon saw. and bending down a little head of golden curls; played at hiding in the beast's shaggy skin. Pre- sently the eldest boy took his drum, and beat upon it till it rattled again; the bear rose up on his hind legs and began to dance. It was a charming sight to behold. Each boy now took his gun, and the bear was obliged to have one too, and he held it up quite properly. Here was a capital playmate they had found and they began marching-one, ing-one, two! one, two! Suddenly some one came to the door, which opened, and the mother of the children appeared. You should have seen her in her dumb terror, with her face as white as chalk, her mouth half open, and her eyes fixed in a horrified stare. But the youngest boy nodded to her in great glee, and called out in his infantile prattle, 'We're playing at soldiers.' And then the bear leader came running up." THIRTY-FIRST EVENING. THE wind blew stormy and cold, the clouds flew hurriedly past; only for a moment now and then did the Moon become visible. He said, I looked down from the silent sky upon the driving clouds, I, Sli "I ) Iq Si I LNof ~----~------=i---------------- The Bear' playing at soldierss qvith the Chidnrem. |