tion 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 th