"Little Willy ran to the window, and looked out, with eyes and mouth wide open, in great surprise. Yes, it was really true. The bed was gone; there it went, tramping down the middle of the street. Its pillow had fallen a little to one side, which gave it a jaunty and rakish air. 'Humph!' said Willy. 'Well, I'm glad the ugly old thing is gone. Now I shall not have to go to bed at all.'
"That was all very well for an hour or so, but after that the little boy began to grow very sleepy in spite of himself. He rubbed his eyes, he yawned, he tried to shake himself broad awake, but it was of no use. For some time longer he fought against the sleepiness, but at last he went to his mother, looking very much ashamed, and said:
"'Please, mamma, I want to go to bed!' 'I am very sorry, Willy,' said his mother; 'but you have no bed to go to. You have driven away your good bed by ill-treatment, and now you must sit up all night.'
"Poor little Willy! he tried to go to sleep in a chair, but his head kept tumbling backward or forward and waking him. Oh! he was wretchedly uncomfortable, and finally he burst into tears. 'Oh! my dear bed!' cried he. 'My nice, soft, warm, pretty bed! why did I ever treat you so badly? oh! dear good bed, if you will only come back to me, I will never, never call you names again. Oh! oh! oh! how tired I am, and cold, and – ' but suddenly he stopped crying, for he thought he heard a noise outside. He listened. Yes, through the open window came a faint sound – thump! thump! thump! Willy flew to the window. Oh joy! there was the bed, stumping back up the street on its fluted yellow legs. Back it came, in at the window and across the room, till it stood in its accustomed place. In about three minutes Willy's head was on the pillow, and I believe he has never called his bed names since."
"Why! bless me!" said Uncle Jack, looking down. "Here is Downy asleep too. Let us go upstairs and see if his bed is there all right. I hope it did not hear what he said about it, for you see they are sensitive fellows, these beds. Now then, up we go! I will carry Downy, Mrs. Posset, and do you bring Puff and Fluff with you, for it is high time that they were in bed too."
Well, Uncle Jack is a very wise man in most things, but I should have thought he would have known better than to try the cat-stairs for the first time at night, with a candle in one hand, and a child in his arms. At the first step he bumped his own head; at the second he bumped the child's head; at the third he bumped the candle, and put it out, so there he was in the dark. A sad plight he would have been in if it had not been for my beams; but two or three of the boldest and most skilful of them popped down through the skylight and showed him the way up: for which, by the way, he might have thanked them, but I dare say he did not think of it. After stumbling over a trunk, and a chair, and nearly breaking his nose against the edge of a door, poor Uncle Jack finally reached the large room which he had chosen to be the nursery. Puff and Fluff, who had tumbled up behind him, looked eagerly to see if Downy's bed was there. Yes, there it stood, drawing its white curtains primly round it, and looking very amiable. Fluff gave a sigh of relief.
"Oh," she said, "I was so afraid it had heard what Downy said."
"I think, perhaps, it is a little deaf," said Puff. "It never seems to mind, and yet he calls it all sorts of names sometimes."
"Can a thing be deaf in its legs, Uncle Jack?" asked Fluff.
But Uncle Jack began to laugh, and that hurt Fluff's feelings, so she said nothing more. And now Mrs. Posset came, and the three dear little mice were soon snugly tucked up in bed; the twins together, with their arms round each other's necks, and little Downy curled up alone in his pretty white nest, the sweetest mouse that ever was seen.
Ah! now it was my turn. As soon as Mrs. Posset had left the room, down I came post-haste, on Flash, my swiftest beam. I sat down on Fluff's pillow, and soon introduced myself to the little mice. They were fast asleep, of course, but that is the best time to take children. In fact, I never can get on with them when they are awake, their heads are full of so many things. "Yes," I said, "I really am the Man in the Moon. I live in a silver palace – "
"Really silver?" asked Puff.
"Yes, really silver, from top to bottom, from roof to cellar, walls and floors, tables and chairs, dishes and spoons are all silver, as bright as Flash, who is dancing about the room here."
"I should think a silver bed would be rather hard," said Fluff.
"Not when it has a cloud mattress and pillow," I replied. "That makes it soft enough, I can tell you."
Then I told them how the clouds were divided into three classes, and how one kind was good to sleep on, and another good to ride on, and the third good (very good, too,) to eat.
"Does it taste like the white part in floating island?" asked Fluff.
"Rather like it, but a great, great deal nicer, more like whipped cream."
"And is that all you have to eat?"
"Oh, no! I have ice cream whenever I want it. All the mountains up here are covered with ice cream instead of snow, and I have only to send a beam out a few steps and I have all I want; pink or white, or any color I choose."
"Oh, how lovely!" sighed Fluff. "Tell us more, Mr. Moonman!"
So I told them about my neighbors, the stars, and my elder brother in the Sun, with his splendid palace of gold and diamond. We are very fond of each other, but we cannot often visit each other, so we send letters and messages by the comets, who come and go, or by the merry meteors.
Well, well, how many questions they did ask, those mice. I had been telling them about my big mirror, and "Oh!" cried Puff, "can you really see all the people in the world?"
"Yes, indeed, but not all at once. As I tip my glass this way or that, so I see this place or that place. Yesterday I saw a fine sight, I can tell you."
"Oh! what was it? what was it?" cried the three mice.
"You shall hear," I said, "if you will be quiet. Listen now, for it is nearly time for me to go home, and Flash is looking pale.
"Well, I saw some wolves go to a concert, and that is more than any of you ever saw, I'll warrant. In a certain wild part of northern Germany, there lived three good brothers whom I know very well. Their names are Hans, Karl, and Wilhelm; and they are musicians by trade; that is to say, Hans plays on the violoncello, which is a very big fiddle, about half as big as himself, while Wilhelm has a small fiddle, and Karl toots away on a kind of little brass trumpet called a cornet. So, now you know about the men as if you had seen them, for they do nothing in the world but play on their several instruments. Now, yesterday there was to be a wedding, and the three brothers were asked to come and play for the guests to dance. Their way led through a wild and gloomy forest, where many wild beasts roamed about; but the three started merrily, and strolled along singing and talking together. Suddenly they stopped singing, for they heard a noise that was not so pleasant as their song; it was a long, low howl, and soon came another, and another. Then they knew that the wolves were coming, and their hearts sank within them. Anxiously they looked about them. They were in an open space in the wood. Now a rustling was heard, and out came a gray wolf and looked at them. The teeth of the three brothers chattered in their heads; it was like the sound of castanets, as I hear them played in Spain by the black-eyed dancing-girls. Another wolf came out, and he came yet nearer, and then two more. 'If I had but my gun!' cried Hans. 'If I had but my hunting-knife!' said Karl. 'Ah! brothers,' said Wilhelm, 'we have nothing, so we must die. Nevertheless, let us die merrily, so take your instruments and we will play a tune for these beasts, that we may all dance together.'
"So the three brothers took their instruments, the big fiddle, and the little fiddle, and the trumpet, and began to play. As the first notes sounded the wolves stopped short. Seeing this, the brothers played the faster a merry waltz, which they had meant to play at the wedding. 'Tra-la-la! tra-la-la!' gaily rang out the notes in the clear air, while the musicians' teeth rattled like the castanets, and their limbs trembled, and their hands could scarcely hold the instruments; for they were playing for their lives, you see! yes, and they won the game, for the wolves, who were not used to concerts, did not know what to make of this sort of thing. They began to be frightened, to wonder what strange beasts