It was asuperstition, but a superstition of such a class, that he who knowsthe story and has seen this picture, need have only two words placedunder the picture to make him understand it; and these two wordsare: "A mother."
  TWENTY-FIFTH EVENING
  "It was yesterday, in the morning twilight"- these are the wordsthe Moon told me- "in the great city no chimney was yet smoking- andit was just at the chimneys that I was looking. Suddenly a little heademerged from one of them, and then half a body, the arms resting onthe rim of the chimney-pot. 'Ya-hip! ya-hip!' cried a voice. It wasthe little chimney-sweeper, who had for the first time in his lifecrept through a chimney, and stuck out his head at the top. 'Ya-hip!ya-hip' Yes, certainly that was a very different thing to creepingabout in the dark narrow chimneys! the air blew so fresh, and he couldlook over the whole city towards the green wood. The sun was justrising. It shone round and great, just in his face, that beamed withtriumph, though it was very prettily blacked with soot.
  "'The whole town can see me now,' he exclaimed, 'and the mooncan see me now, and the sun too. Ya-hip! ya-hip!' And he flourishedhis 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 whatdoes the Chinaman care about the outer world? Close wooden shutterscovered the windows behind the walls of the houses; but through thewindows of the temple a faint light glimmered. I looked in, and sawthe quaint decorations within. From the floor to the ceilingpictures are painted, in the most glaring colours, and richly gilt-pictures representing the deeds of the gods here on earth. In eachniche statues are placed, but they are almost entirely hidden by thecoloured drapery and the banners that hang down. Before each idol (andthey are all made of tin) stood a little altar of holy water, withflowers and burning wax lights on it. Above all the rest stood Fo, thechief deity, clad in a garment of yellow silk, for yellow is herethe sacred colour. At the foot of the altar sat a living being, ayoung priest. He appeared to be praying, but in the midst of hisprayer he seemed to fall into deep thought, and this must have beenwrong, for his cheeks glowed and he held down his head. PoorSoui-Hong! Was he, perhaps, dreaming of working in the little flowergarden behind the high street wall? And did that occupation seemmore agreeable to him than watching the wax lights in the temple? Ordid he wish to sit at the rich feast, wiping his mouth with silverpaper between each course? Or was his sin so great that, if he daredutter it, the Celestial Empire would punish it with death? Had histhoughts ventured to fly with the ships of the barbarians, to theirhomes in far distant England? No, his thoughts did not fly so far, andyet they were sinful, sinful as thoughts born of young hearts,sinful here in the temple, in the presence of Fo and the other holygods.
  "I know whither his thoughts had strayed. At the farther end ofthe city, on the flat roof paved with porcelain, on which stood thehandsome vases covered with painted flowers, sat the beauteous Pu,of the little roguish eyes, of the full lips, and of the tiny feet.The tight shoe pained her, but her heart pained her still more. Shelifted her graceful round arm, and her satin dress rustled. Before herstood a glass bowl containing four gold-fish. She stirred the bowlcarefully with a slender lacquered stick, very slowly, for she, too,was lost in thought. Was she thinking, perchance, how the fisheswere richly clothed in gold, how they lived calmly and peacefully intheir crystal world, how they were regularly fed, and yet how muchhappier they might be if they were free?