〃I looked down from the silent sky upon the driving clouds； and saw
the great shadows chasing each other across the earth。 I looked upon a
prison。 A closed carriage stood before it； a prisoner was to be
carried away。 My rays pierced through the grated window towards the
wall； the prisoner was scratching a few lines upon it； as a parting
token； but he did not write words； but a melody； the outpouring of his
heart。 The door was opened； and he was led forth； and fixed his eyes
upon my round disc。 Clouds passed between us； as if he were not to see
his face； nor I his。 He stepped into the carriage； the door was
closed； the whip cracked； and the horses gallopped off into the
thick forest； whither my rays were not able to follow him； but as I
glanced through the grated window； my rays glided over the notes；
his last farewell engraved on the prison wall… where words fail；
sounds can often speak。 My rays could only light up isolated notes； so
the greater part of what was written there will ever remain dark to
me。 Was it the death…hymn he wrote there？ Were these the glad notes of
joy？ Did he drive away to meet death； or hasten to the embraces of his
beloved？ The rays of the Moon do not read all that is written by
mortals。〃
THIRTY…SECOND EVENING
〃I love the children；〃 said the Moon； 〃especially the quite little
ones… they are so droll。 Sometimes I peep into the room； between the
curtain and the window frame； when they are not thinking of me。 It
gives me pleasure to see them dressing and undressing。 First； the
little round naked shoulder comes creeping out of the frock； then
the arm； or I see how the stocking is drawn off； and a plump little
white leg makes its appearance； and a white little foot that is fit to
be kissed； and I kiss it too。
〃But about what I was going to tell you。 This evening I looked
through a window； before which no curtain was drawn； for nobody
lives opposite。 I saw a whole troop of little ones； all of one family；
and among them was a little sister。 She is only four years old； but
can say her prayers as well as any of the rest。 The mother sits by her
bed every evening； and hears her say her prayers； and then she has a
kiss； and the mother sits by the bed till the little one has gone to
sleep； which generally happens as soon as ever she can close her eyes。
〃This evening the two elder children were a little boisterous。 One
of them hopped about on one leg in his long white nightgown； and the
other stood on a chair surrounded by the clothes of all the
children； and declared he was acting Grecian statues。 The third and
fourth laid the clean linen carefully in the box； for that is a
thing that has to be done； and the mother sat by the bed of the
youngest； and announced to all the rest that they were to be quiet；
for little sister was going to say her prayers。
〃I looked in； over the lamp； into the little maiden's bed； where
she lay under the neat white coverlet； her hands folded demurely and
her little face quite grave and serious。 She was praying the Lord's
prayer aloud。 But her mother interrupted her in the middle of her
prayer。 'How is it；' she asked； 'that when you have prayed for daily
bread； you always add something I cannot understand？ You must tell
me what that is。' The little one lay silent； and looked at her
mother in embarrassment。 'What is it you say after our daily bread？'
'Dear mother； don't be angry： I only said； and plenty of butter on
it。'〃
THE END
。