Moonshine crept down, one clear, unclouded night, to look about the world
and see what was going on. In her hand she carried a silver lamp, by
whose white rays all objects could be seen as plainly as at noontide;
and wherever she went, the shadows, ashamed of their blackness, stole
guiltily away and tried to hide themselves. Her path led through a forest
and down a mountain side, where wild beasts roamed for prey; but now the
timid deer browsed securely among the underbrush, and the hungry bear
trudged supperless off to his den, the stealthy panther kept useless
watch from the branches overhead, the rattlesnake slid back into its hole
and left the tree-toads chirping cheerily, the sly fox found the rabbits
too wide awake for him; for was not Moonshine abroad with her silver
lamp, proclaiming to all harmless creatures: Here is your enemy, and
there is your enemy?
On she passed till she came to a pioneer’s log cabin, standing alone in
the wide wilderness. Listening, she heard the sound of a voice singing:
“Lullaby, lullaby, baby,
Lullaby, by, by,
While all the little stars twinkle,
Twinkle up in the sky.
“Lullaby, lullaby, baby,
Lullaby, by, by;
Thy father has gone a journey,
And there’s only thou and I,
To rock, rock, to and fro,
And to watch, watch for the savage foe,
To sleep, sleep,
And to keep, keep
Watch for the savage foe,
While all the little stars twinkle,
Twinkle up in the sky.”
“Ah,” said Moonshine, “the mother and her babe are alone and unguarded
in that rude dwelling. Even as she sings her voice trembles with fear. I
will set my lamp in the window and pause awhile to keep her company.”
Instantly a soft radiance flooded the room within, and the mother,
looking up, beheld the gentle face peeping through the window. “Oh,
Moonshine,” she cried, with tears of joy, “how glad am I that you have
come! Stay with me a little, for I am lonesome; and tell me, pray, if
there be any savages lurking about.”
Not far off a band of red men, their faces bedaubed with paint, and their
hair decked out with plumes, were gliding noiselessly through the dense
woods, thinking to steal upon the cabin unawares and destroy it and its
inmates. But as soon as they saw the silver lamp upon the window-sill,
they turned away, saying: “Moonshine is there! She would give warning of
our approach.”
Moonshine, seeing that the dreaded enemy had turned aside, passed on
and left the mother and her child sleeping peacefully. As swift she
glided through valley and over hill, and across river and lake and
village-dotted plain, the rays of her glittering lamp reached far and
wide through the darkness, making the trees and gardens and rippling
corn-fields glad, pointing the shortest route to a weary boatman,
revealing to a belated traveler the robbers who stealthily pursued,
looking in upon three rosy children who slumbered cosily in one couch
together—stooping to kiss their shining curls and happy faces, and to
whisper something pleasant in their ears. Nor did she pause when she came
to the great sea, but glided on over the foaming billows. A white-sailed
ship the winds were driving towards an unknown reef. Quickly she set her
silver lamp upon the perilous rock. Far over the angry waters shone the
beacon light, and the mariners, seeing danger ahead, shifted their sails
and changed the vessel’s course.
The wanderer reached, at length, a distant coast, and, holding her
lamp aloft, passed on from town to town. A student sat at midnight,
wakeful among his books. Moonshine glanced over his shoulder at the
closely-printed page, and the light of her silver lamp so put to shame
his miserable taper that he extinguished it, and began to write some
verses in her praise.
At last, Moonshine peered down into a deep, dark dungeon, and saw a
hapless human creature bound with chains. Pale and wan he was, from long
years of imprisonment. For hours she remained to speak to him comforting
words.
In the morning the pioneer came to his home on the mountain side, and
told how he had been rescued by Moonshine from highwaymen who pursued him
as he journeyed. “Ah, bless her,” said the wife; “for she also watched
over us, and guarded us while we slept.” The three rosy children awakened
smiling, and told one another their dreams; they had all dreamed of
fairy-land. The storm-tossed ship sailed into port, and the grateful
mariners declared that, but for Moonshine, they would have gone to the
bottom of the sea. The student went about with such a beaming countenance
that people questioned, Was he moonstruck? A jailer, descending into a
deep, dark dungeon, found the fettered captive lying silent, with closed
eyes; and the sad soul that had gazed out of those eyes—who had set it
free? Moonshine?