etched 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