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 further 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 scornfully； and pointed at her with their
fingers。 Oh； how frightened the little maid was！ 'But if one has not
done anything wrong；' she thought； 'nothing evil can harm one。 I
wonder if I have done anything wrong？' And she considered。 '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。〃
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
wayside。 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 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 bell； 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 convent bell drowned its expiring echoes。〃
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 himself！ 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； 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 fancied 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
eye 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 on 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 thoughtful and meditative； as if he were thinking on the rolling
centuries； and little love…gods sport with him and with the
crocodiles。 In the horn of plenty sat with folded arms a little tiny
love…god； contemplating the great solemn river…god； a true picture
of the boy at the spinning wheel… the features were exactly the
same。 Charming and life…like 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 upon 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 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 the 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 room where little Bertel sat in his night…shirt 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 building 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 Rothschild's house。
〃I looked through the open door。 The staircase was brilliantly
lighted： servants carrying wax candles in massive silver
candlesticks stood there； and bowed low before an old woman； who was being brought downstairs in a litter。 The proprietor of the house
stood bare…headed； and respectfully imprinted a kiss on the hand of
the old woman。 She was his mother。 She nodded in a 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 evening 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 prepared in the Bay of Naples。
〃If I deserted the lowly house； where the fortunes 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。〃
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… and it was just at the chimneys that I was looking。 Suddenly 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 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 to 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； though it was very prettily blacked with soot。
〃'The whole town can see me now；' he exclaimed； '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 windows 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； in the most glaring colours； and richly gilt…
pictures 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 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 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 hi