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A MOONLIGHT FABLE
There was once a little man whose mother made him a beautiful suit
of clothes。 It was green and gold and woven so that I cannot
describe how delicate and fine it was； and there was a tie of
orange fluffiness that tied up under his chin。 And the buttons
in their newness shone like stars。 He was proud and pleased by his
suit beyond measure； and stood before the long looking…glass when
first he put it on； so astonished and delighted with it that he
could hardly turn himself away。
He wanted to wear it everywhere and show it to all sorts of
people。 He thought over all the places he had ever visited and all
the scenes he had ever heard described； and tried to imagine what
the feel of it would be if he were to go now to those scenes and
places wearing his shining suit； and he wanted to go out forthwith
into the long grass and the hot sunshine of the meadow wearing it。
Just to wear it！ But his mother told him； 〃No。〃 She told him he
must take great care of his suit； for never would he have another
nearly so fine； he must save it and save it and only wear it on
rare and great occasions。 It was his wedding suit； she said。 And
she took his buttons and twisted them up with tissue paper for fear
their bright newness should be tarnished； and she tacked little
guards over the cuffs and elbows and wherever the suit was most
likely to come to harm。 He hated and resisted these things； but
what could he do？ And at last her warnings and persuasions had
effect and he consented to take off his beautiful suit and fold it
into its proper creases and put it away。 It was almost as though
he gave it up again。 But he was always thinking of wearing it
and of the supreme occasion when some day it might be worn without
the guards； without the tissue paper on the buttons； utterly and
delightfully； never caring； beautiful beyond measure。
One night when he was dreaming of it； after his habit； he
dreamed he took the tissue paper from one of the buttons and found
its brightness a little faded； and that distressed him mightily in
his dream。 He polished the poor faded button and polished it； and
if anything it grew duller。 He woke up and lay awake thinking of
the brightness a little dulled and wondering how he would feel if
perhaps when the great occasion （whatever it might be） should
arrive； one button should chance to be ever so little short of its
first glittering freshness； and for days and days that thought
remained with him； distressingly。 And when next his mother let him
wear his suit； he was tempted and nearly gave way to the temptation
just to fumble off one little bit of tissue paper and see if indeed
the buttons were keeping as bright as ever。
He went trimly along on his way to church full of this wild
desire。 For you must know his mother did； with repeated and
careful warnings； let him wear his suit at times； on Sundays； for
example； to and fro from church； when there was no threatening of
rain； no dust nor anything to injure it； with its buttons covered
and its protections tacked upon it and a sunshade in his hand to
shadow it if there seemed too strong a sunlight for its colours。
And always； after such occasions； he brushed it over and folded it
exquisitely as she had taught him； and put it away again。
Now all these restrictions his mother set to the wearing of
his suit he obeyed； always he obeyed them； until one strange night
he woke up and saw the moonlight shining outside his window。 It
seemed to him the moonlight was not common moonlight； nor the night
a common night； and for a while he lay quite drowsily with this odd
persuasion in his mind。 Thought joined on to thought like things
that whisper warmly in the shadows。 Then he sat up in his little
bed suddenly； very alert； with his heart beating very fast and a
quiver in his body from top to toe。 He had made up his mind。 He
knew now that he was going to wear his suit as it should be worn。
He had no doubt in the matter。 He was afraid； terribly afraid； but
glad； glad。
He got out of his bed and stood a moment by the window looking
at the moonshine…flooded garden and trembling at the thing he meant
to do。 The air was full of a minute clamor of crickets and
murmurings； of the infinitesimal shouting of little living things。
He went very gently across the creaking boards； for fear that he
might wake the sleeping house； to the big dark clothes…press
wherein his beautiful suit lay folded； and he took it out garment
by garment and softly and very eagerly tore off its tissue…paper
covering and its tacked protections； until there it was； perfect
and delightful as he had seen it when first his mother had given it
to hima long time it seemed ago。 Not a button had tarnished； not
a thread had faded on this dear suit of his； he was glad enough for
weeping as in a noiseless hurry he put it on。 And then back he
went； soft and quick； to the window and looked out upon the garden
and stood there for a minute； shining in the moonlight； with his
buttons twinkling like stars； before he got out on the sill and；
making as little of a rustling as he could； clambered down to the
garden path below。 He stood before his mother's house； and it was
white and nearly as plain as by day； with every window…blind but
his own shut like an eye that sleeps。 The trees cast still shadows
like intricate black lace upon the wall。
The garden in the moonlight was very different from the garden
by day； moonshine was tangled in the hedges and stretched in
phantom cobwebs from spray to spray。 Every flower was gleaming
white or crimson black； and the air was aquiver with the thridding
of small crickets and nightingales singing unseen in the depths of
the trees。
There was no darkness in the world； but only warm； mysterious
shadows； and all the leaves and spikes were edged and lined with
iridescent jewels of dew。 The night was warmer than any night had
ever been； the heavens by some miracle at once vaster and nearer；
and spite of the great ivory…tinted moon that ruled the world； the
sky was full of stars。
The little man did not shout nor sing for all his infinite
gladness。 He stood for a time like one awe…stricken； and then；
with a queer small cry and holding out his arms； he ran out as if
he would embrace at once the whole warm round immensity of the
world。 He did not follow the neat set paths that cut the garden
squarely； but thrust across the beds and through the wet； tall；
scented herbs； through the night stock and the nicotine and the
clusters of phantom white mallow flowers and through the thickets
of southern…wood and lavender； and knee…deep across a wide space of
mignonette。 He came to the great hedge and he thrust his way
through it； and though the thorns of the brambles scored him deeply
and tore threads from his wonderful suit； and though burs and
goosegrass and havers caught and clung to him； he did not care。 He
did not care； for he knew it was all part of the wearing for which
he had longed。 〃I am glad I put on my suit；〃 he said； 〃I am glad
I wore my suit。〃
Beyond the hedge he came to the duck…pond； or at least to what
was the duck…pond by day。 But by night it was a great bowl of
silver moonshine all noisy with singing frogs； of wonderful silver
moonshine twisted and clotted with strange patternings； and the
little man ran down into its waters between the thin black rushes；
knee…deep and waist…deep and to his shoulders； smiting the water to
black and shining wavelets with either hand； swaying and shivering
wavelets； amid which the stars were netted in the tangled
reflections of the brooding trees upon the bank。 He waded until he
swam； and so he crossed the pond and came out upon the other side；
trailing； as it seemed to him； not duckweed； but very silver in
long； clinging； dripping masses。 And up he went through the
transfigured tangles of the willow…herb and the uncut seeding grass
of the farther bank。 And so he came glad and breathless into the
highroad。 〃I am glad；〃 he said； 〃beyond measure； that I had
clothes that fitted this occasion。〃
The highroad ran straight as an arrow flies； straight into the
deep blue pit of sky beneath the moon； a white and shining road
between the singing nightingales； and along it he went； running now
and leaping； and now walking and rejoicing； in the clothes his
mother had made for him with tireless； loving hands。 The road was
deep in dust； but that for him was only soft whiteness； and as he
went a great dim moth came fluttering round his wet and shimmering
and hastening figure。 At first he did not heed the moth； and then
he waved his hands at it and made a sort of dance with it as it
circled round his head。 〃Soft moth！〃 he cried； 〃dear moth！ And
wonderful night； wonderful night of the world！ Do you think my
clothes are beautiful； dear moth？ As beautiful as your scales and
all this silve