Oh, how lovely she was!--so calm! so all alone in the midst of the great blue ocean! the sun of the night! She seemed to hold up the tent of the heavens in a great silver knot.

And, like the stars above, all the flowers below had lost their colour and looked pale and wan, sweet and sad.

It was just like what the schoolmaster had been telling him about the Elysium of the Greek and Latin poets, to which they fancied the good people went when they died--not half so glad and bright and busy as the daylight world which they had left behind them, and to which they always wanted to go back that they might eat and drink and be merry again--but oh, so tender and lovely in its mournfulness! Several times in winter, looking out, he saw a strange sight--the air so full of great snowflakes that he could not see the moon through them, although her light was visible all about them.

They came floating slowly down through the dusky light, just as if they had been a precipitate from that solution of moonbeams.

He could hardly persuade himself to go to bed, so fascinating was the sight; but the cold would drive him to his nest again.
Once the wheel-watchman pulled him up in the midst of a terrible thunder-storm--when the East and the West were answering each other with alternate flashes of forked lightning that seemed to split the black clouds with cracks of blinding blue, awful in their blasting silence--followed by great, billowy, shattering rolls of thunder, as loud as if the sky had been a huge kettledrum, on which the clubs of giant drummers were beating a terrible onset; while at sudden intervals, down came the big-dropped rain, pattering to the earth as if beaten out of the clouds by the blows of the thunder.