Sometimes the lightning and the thunder, sometimes the moon-rainbow, sometimes the aurora borealis, is busy.

And the streams are running all night long, and seem to babble louder than in the day time, for the noises of the working world are still, so that we hear them better.

Almost the only daylight thing awake, is the clock ticking with nobody to heed it, and that sounds to me very dismal.

But it was the look of the night, the meaning on her face that Willie cared most about, and desired so much to see, that he was at times quite unhappy to think that he never could wake up, not although ever so many strange and lovely dreams might be passing before his window.

He often dreamed that he had waked up, and was looking out on some gorgeous and lovely show, but in the morning he knew sorrowfully that he had only dreamed his own dream, not gazed into that of the sleeping day.