"
In spite of all this I rather liked "going out for the night." I
loved those nights in the open field. When the moon gave but little
light, and one could see but a few steps away, I forgot my immediate
surroundings, and my imagination was free! I would peer into the
open sky, would bring before my mind's eye father and mother and all
who were dear to me, and would feel near to them; for the sky that
spread over all of us was the very same. I could imagine my father
celebrating the new moon with a prayer. I could imagine my mother
watching for the same star I was looking at; I could imagine that we
were really looking at the same spot. . . . Then tears would come
into my eyes. My mother, I would think, was crying, too. And the
night listened to me, and the stars listened to me. . . . The
crickets chirped, and if I chose, I could believe they shared my
sorrows with me, and were sighing over my fate. . . .
Idle fancy, nonsense, you think; but when one has nothing real to
look up to, dreams are very sweet. A light breeze would steal over
me, refresh me, and bring me new hope; and I trusted I should not be
a prisoner always, the day of my release would surely come.
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