it was near its sleeping time, its night--the
winter was close at hand.

Already the tempests were singing, "Good night, good night! Thy leaves
are falling--we pluck them, we pluck them! Try if thou canst slumber;
we shall sing thee to sleep, we shall rock thee to sleep; and thy old
boughs like this--they are creaking in their joy! Softly, softly
sleep! It is thy three hundred and sixty-fifth night. Sleep calmly!
The snow is falling from the heavy clouds; it will soon be a wide
sheet, a warm coverlet for thy feet. Sleep calmly and dream
pleasantly!"

And the oak tree stood disrobed of all its leaves to go to rest for
the whole long winter, and during that time to dream many dreams,
often something stirring and exciting, like the dreams of human
beings.

It, too, had once been little. Yes, an acorn had been its cradle.
According to man's reckoning of time it was now living in its fourth
century. It was the strongest and loftiest tree in the wood, with its
venerable head reared high above all the other trees; and it was seen
far away at sea, and looked upon as a beacon by the navigators of the
passing ships. It little thought how many eyes looked out for it. High
up amidst its green coronal the wood-pigeons built their nests, and
the cuckoo's note was heard from thence; and in the autumn, when the
leaves looked like hammered plates of copper, came birds of passage,
and rested there before they flew far over the sea. But now it was
winter, and the tree stood leafless, and the bended and gnarled
branches were naked. Crows and jackdaws came and sat themselves there
alternately, and talked of the rigorous weather which was commencing,
and how difficult it was to find food in winter.

It was just at the holy Christmas time that the tree dreamt its most
charming dream. Let us listen to it.

The tree had a distinct idea that it was a period of some solemn
festival; it thought it heard all the church bells round ringing, and
it seemed to be a mild summer day. Its lofty head, it fancied, looked
fresh and green, while the bright rays of the sun played among its
thick foliage. The air was laden with the perfume of wild flowers;
various butterflies chased each other in sport around its boughs, and
the ephemera danced and amused themselves. All that during years the
tree had known and seen around it now passed before it as in a festive
procession. It beheld, as in the olden time, knights and ladies on
horseback, with feathers i