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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 him than watching 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 barbarians； 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； on which stood the
handsome vases covered with painted flowers； sat the beauteous 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 rustled。 Before her
stood a glass bowl containing four gold…fish。 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 purest ether through which I was gliding； and deep below the
surface I could see the strange plants that stretched up their long
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 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 morning 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 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 tranquill