burnt its image; but it was not such a picture as one generally sees: no, there was life in it; the leaves of the trees moved, and human beings went and came as in a mirror. And he looked through another pane; there was Jacob’s dream. The ladder went straight up into heaven, and the angels with their broad wings ascended and descended upon it. Yea, all that had happened in this world lived and moved on the window-panes; but such beautiful glass-painting as this could only be produced by Time.
The Fairy smiled, and led the Prince into a high, and spacious hall, whose walls seemed transparent, and were covered with paintings: there were thousands of happy beings, whose faces were radiant with beauty, and who laughed and sang so that their voices formed a wondrous harmony. The highest were so very small; smaller than the least rose-bud, when it is drawn like a mere dot upon the paper.
In the midst of the hall stood a large tree, with luxuriant pendent branches; and
