WHAT THE MOON SAW. 367

hands, his eyes turned up towards me, he looked like a grotesque
monument—a Punch on a grave—very peculiar and whimsical.
If the people could have seen their favourite, they would have
cried as usual, ‘ Bravo, Pulcinella! bravo, bravissimo 1?”

SIXTEENTH EVENING.

Hear what the Moon told me. “I have seen the cadet who
had just been made an officer put on his handsome uniform for
the first time; I have seen the young bride in her wedding dress,
and the Princess girl-wife happy in her gorgeous robes; but never
have I seen a felicity equal to that ofa little girl of four years old,
whom I watched this evening. She had received a new blue dress
and a new pink hat; the splendid attire had just been put on, and
all were calling for a candle, for my rays, shining in through the
windows of the room, were not bright enough for the occasion,
and further illumination was required. There stood the little
maid, stiff and upright as a doll, her arms stretched painfully
straight out away from her dress, and her fingers apart; and, oh,
what happiness beamed from her eyes and from her whole counte-
nance! ‘To-morrow you shall go out in your new clothes,’ said
her mother; and the little one looked up at her hat and down at
her frock, and smiled brightly. ‘ Mother,’ she cried, ‘ what will
the little dogs think when they see me in these splendid new
things?” :

SEVENTEENTH EVENING.

“J have spoken to you of Pompeii,” said the Moon; “that
corpse of a city, exposed in the view of living towns: I know
another sight still more strange, and this is not the corpse, but
the spectre of a city. Whenever the jetty fountains splash into
the marble basins, they seem to me to be telling the story of the
floating city. Yes, the spouting water may tell of her, the waves
of the sea may sing of her fame! On the surface of the oceana
mist often rests, and this is her widow’s veil. The Bridegroom
of the Sea is dead, his palace and his city are his mausoleum!
Dost thou know this city? She has never heard the rolling of
wheels or the hoof-tread of horses in her streets, through which
the fish swim, while the black gondola glides spectrally over the
green water. I will show you the place,” continued the Moon,
“the largest square in it, and you will fancy yourself transported
into the city of a fairy tale. The grass grows rank among the
broad flagstones, and in the morning twilight thousands of tame
pigeons flutter around the solitary lofty tower. On three sides
you find yourself surrounded by cloistered walks. In these the
silent Turk sits smoking his long pipe; the handsome Greek
leans against the pillar, and gazes at the upraised trophies and