over them. But when they saw the gorgeous beauty of their new
dresses, they were very proud, and tried to hold themselves up, and not
to give way to this strange weakness and faintness. And at last, oh! at
last, the final touch was given, and with one cold farewell glance from
his bright, sharp eyes, the court painter of the great King Winter
passed on over the meadow.

Soon morning broke, and the leaves, waking from their brief and uneasy
slumber, looked around to see the splendor in which they were arrayed.
How the sun stared at them, when he rose. He sent down a special sunbeam
to give them his compliments and to say that he had never seen them look
so charming. Oh! very proud were the little leaves, and very happy, they
thought; but somehow they did not feel at all well. The day was bright
and warm, and yet they were so cold, so cold! and the numbness and
weakness still seemed creeping over them, and would not now be shaken
off. And now the great Tree awoke, (for he was apt to sleep late, being
very old.) But instead of being pleased, as his children thought he
would be, when he saw their fine appearance, he sighed and wept.

"Ah, my children!" he said; "my poor unhappy children! I see what has
happened. You have listened to the Wind, and the Frost has been with
you; and now you will leave me, and I shall be alone again, as I have
been so many, many years."

"Oh, no! no! Father Tree," cried the leaves, "we will stay with you
always."

But the old Tree shook his head, and said, "No, my children! it is too
late. You cannot choose now whether you will go or stay, and soon, soon
I shall be left alone."

The little leaves did not understand this, and they tried to forget the
sad words, and to be happy with their fine new dresses. But still they
were so cold, so cold! and still the drowsy numbness kept creeping,
creeping over them, and each day they became weaker and weaker. And one
day, oh! one fearful day, the Wind came. Fiercely and furiously he flew
across the meadow, savagely he rushed at the great Tree. "Now," he
howled, "now, little leaves, will you come with me? ha! ha! _now_ will
you come?" he clutched the leaves, and they shivered and moaned, and
clung to the branches. But alas! their strength was gone, they could no
longer resist the blast: and in a moment they were whirled away and
away, borne hither and thither on the wings of the mighty Wind, and at
last dashed down on the earth, to shiver and die in t