352 WHAT THE MOON SAW.

out of these pictures, but the number might be too great, aftet
all. The pictures I have here given have not been chosen at
random, but follow in their proper order, just as they were de-
scribed to me. Some great gifted painter, or some poet or
musician, may make something more of them if he likes; what
I have given here are only hasty sketches, hurriedly put upon
the paper, with some of my own thoughts interspersed ; for the
Moon did not come to me every evening—a cloud sometimes hid
his face from me.

FIRST EVENING.

“Last night”--I am quoting the Moon’s own words—“ last
night I was gliding through the cloudless Indian sky. My face

  

SS

 

The Indian Girl.

was mirrored in the waters of the Ganges, and my beams strove
to pierce through the thick intertwining boughs of the bananas,
arching beneath me like the tortoise’s shell. Forth from the
thicket tripped’a Hindoo maid, light as a gazelle, beautiful as Eve,
Airy and ethereal as a vision, and yet sharply defined amid the
surrounding shadows, stood this daughter of Hindostan: I could
read on her delicate brow the thought that had brought her hither.
The thorny creeping plants tore her sandals, but for all that she
came rapidly forward, The deer that had come down to the river
to quench her thirst, sprang by with a startled bound, for in her
hand the maiden bore a lighted lamp. I could see the blood in