The moon is dark in herself, like our earth; not like
the sun, and those stars which shine by their own glorious light; if she
had light of her own, it would be full moon every night; but all that soft
brightness which makes everything look so beautiful in the quiet moonlight,
really comes from the sun. When the sun has gone down, as it were, into the
sea, or has disappeared behind some distant mountain, how do you know that
there _is_ any sun? Look at the moon "walking in brightness," and remember
that it is only as the light of the absent sun falls upon her and is
reflected from her face (just as Chrissie said he had often seen the light
of the setting sun thrown back from the windows) that she can shine at all.
[Illustration: "YON CRESCENT MOON, A GOLDEN BOAT, HANGS DIM BEHIND THE
TREE, O!"]
Little children love the moon. I have seen a baby who could hardly speak,
clasp her tiny hands and call out, "Have it! have it!" as she saw it glow
like a lamp behind the trees; and we do not lose this love as we grow
older.
When we remember that the sun is four hundred times farther away from us
than the moon, it makes our earth's silent companion seem very near by
comparison; but still you will not think the journey to the moon a short
one, when I tell you that if you could travel through the fields of air,
rushing along in a fast train, never stopping day or night, it would be
eight months before you got to your journey's end.
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