Once upon a time a little star that had been shining for hundreds of years became tired of shining every night and wanted to go down upon the earth and see what was going on there. "I wonder what there is away down there where we cannot see," it said one night to a brother star that had been shining beside it for hundreds of years, also.
"I do not know, and I cannot understand why you should care when we are happy up here and have only to shine every night," replied the brother star. "But I am not happy," said the little star. "I am unhappy because I want to see what there is beneath us, and I cannot from here. I wonder what would happen if I were to drop from here -- would I keep on going and never stop, or would I find a place much better than this down below?"
"I have never thought about any other place but this," replied the brother star, "but if we were intended to live in another place than this we should have been put there. I would not think about it any more, and be happy here where all of us shine every night." The old moon had been listening to all that the little star said, and when both had finished speaking he said: "You better stay where you are and not go down upon the earth, for while it is a good place for people to live, it is not a good place for little stars."
"Why, you would be lost the minute you landed there, and no one would know where you belonged. You better stay here with your brothers and keep on shining." But the little star kept on thinking about the big space below it, and one night when everything was quiet and the wind was sleeping the little star saw a nice, fleecy cloud floating right toward the old moon.
"Now is my time," it said to itself. "That cloud will soon cover the old moon's face and he will not see me. I will just drop out of the sky and shoot down to the earth, and if I do not like being there I have no doubt but I can get back again." So the foolish little star slipped out of its niche in the sky and down, down it went to the earth. "A shooting star," some one said, and then the foolish little star found itself in a big field of daisies and rested on the green grass, where it could not see a thing.
A big beetle crawled up to it and asked, "Where did you come from?" "I am a star come to visit your earth," was the reply. "Oh, come here," called the beetle to another, "here's a star come down to earth." "That is not a star," said the second beetle; "stars are bright and shine; this is only a piece of stone."
"But I am a star," declared the little star, "and I have been shining for hundreds of years up in the sky. I came down to visit the earth because I wanted to see what was here." "You will have to tell that to some one who does not know as much as we do," replied the beetles, and off they went, leaving the poor little star wondering if the earth was worth a visit, after all.
By and by the daisies heard a sound of crying, and they bent their heads and listened. "It comes from down deep in the grass," said one. "We must look and find who is unhappy." "Oh, please tell me how to get to my home again!" cried the little star when it saw the daisies looking for it. "Where did you come from?" they asked. "I am a star, and I live away up above this earth," said the little star. "I have been shining up there for hundreds of years, and I wanted to see the earth, so I just dropped down, and now I cannot find my way back."
"You are a star?" said the daisies. "You do not look like one, but I suppose you are what is called a shooting star, and you have lost your brightness. I am afraid we cannot help you to get back to your home; none of us know the way." "Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" cried the little star. "I cannot see anything down here. I thought your earth was a big place and there would be much to see."
"There is much to see, and it is a big, beautiful world, too," replied the daisies. "But you are on the ground, under the grass, and cannot see its beauty. You see, you do not belong here and cannot appreciate the earth as we do." "I want to go home," moaned the little star; "it is all dark here and I cannot see. Will no one show me the way home?" "Do you suppose the moon would know where this lost star's home is?" asked one daisy.
"Where is he? Where is he?" cried the little star. "Old Mr. Moon will surely know the way home." "He is not here just now," said the daisies, "but when the cloud in front of him has passed we will see if he can help you." In a few minutes the moon was shining on the field of daisies, and it reached the spot where the little star was. "Mr. Moon," cried all the daisies at once, "there is a lost star down here. Can you show it the way home?" But before the daisies had finished their question the little star had seen the moonbeam, and it lifted its face and cried out for joy. "I can see! I can see!" it said. "This is the path that will take me to my home."
"If the daisies really wish me to help you find your home, I will," replied the moon, "but you deserve to be lost because you left your brothers and the home where you have lived so long without a regret." "No, I never will leave my place beside my brothers if you will take me home, Mr. Moon, I promise you," said the little star, "no matter how many hundred years more I have to shine." By the bright rays of the moon the little star climbed back to the sky, but when it passed its brother stars it hung its head in shame, for they were weeping because it had left them. The little star had left its brothers without a thought of them. Far away from its brothers it found a place where it must shine for a hundred years before it can ever be as bright as it was. And when it regains its former brightness its brothers will have gained in brightness, and so be lost to the little star forever. Poor little lost star!
