Page:A Picture-book without Pictures and Other Stories (1848).djvu/42

 green breezy heights, I had only the grey chimneys as far as I could see. I did not possess one friend here; not a single face which I knew saluted me.

One evening, very much depressed in mind, I stood at my window; I opened it and looked out. Nay, how glad it made me; I saw a face which I knew; a round, friendly face, that of my dearest friend in heaven; it was the Moon—the dear old Moon, the very same, precisely the same, as when she peeped at me between the willow trees on the marshes. I kissed my hand to her; she shone right down into my chamber, and promised me, that every night when she was out she would take a peep at me. And she has honestly kept her word—pity only that she can remain for so short a time!

Every night she comes she tells me one thing or another which she has seen either that night or the night before. “Make a sketch,” said she, on her first visit, “of what