Fourteenth Evening"I was gliding over the Luneburg Heath," the Moon said. "A
lonely hut stood by the wayside, a few scanty bushes grew near it,
and a nightingale who had lost his way sang sweetly. He died in the
coldness of the night: it was his farewell song that I
heard.
"The morning dawn came glimmering red. I saw a caravan of
emigrant peasant families who were bound to Hamburgh, there to take
ship for America, where fancied prosperity would bloom for them.
The mothers carried their little children at their backs, the elder
ones tottered by their sides, and a poor starved horse tugged at a
cart that bore their scanty effects. The cold wind whistled, and
therefore the little girl nestled closer to the mother, who,
looking up at my decreasing disc, thought of the bitter want a
