,
good-night." Here fell a leaf and there fell a leaf. "We will rock you
and lull you. Go to sleep, go to sleep. We will sing you to sleep, and
shake you to sleep, and it will do your old twigs good; they will even
crackle with pleasure. Sleep sweetly, sleep sweetly, it is your
three-hundred-and-sixty-fifth night. Correctly speaking, you are but a
youngster in the world. Sleep sweetly, the clouds will drop snow
upon you, which will be quite a cover-lid, warm and sheltering to your
feet. Sweet sleep to you, and pleasant dreams." And there stood the
oak, stripped of all its leaves, left to rest during the whole of a
long winter, and to dream many dreams of events that had happened in
its life, as in the dreams of men. The great tree had once been small;
indeed, in its cradle it had been an acorn. According to human
computation, it was now in the fourth century of its existence. It was
the largest and best tree in the forest. Its summit towered above
all the other trees, and could be seen far out at sea, so that it
served as a landmark to the sailors. It had no idea how many eyes
looked eagerly for it. In its topmost branches the wood-pigeon built
her nest, and the cuckoo carried out his usual vocal performances, and
his well-known notes echoed amid the boughs; and in autumn, when the
leaves looked like beaten copper plates, the birds of passage would
come and rest upon the branches before taking their flight across
the sea. But now it was winter, the tree stood leafless, so that every
one could see how crooked and bent were the branches that sprang forth
from the trunk. Crows and rooks came by turns and sat on them, and
talked of the hard times which were beginning, and how difficult it
was in winter to obtain food.

It was just about holy Christmas time that the tree dreamed a
dream. The tree had, doubtless, a kind of feeling that the festive
time had arrived, and in his dream fancied he heard the bells
ringing from all the churches round, and yet it seemed to him to be
a beautiful summer's day, mild and warm. His mighty summits was
crowned with spreading fresh green foliage; the sunbeams played
among the leaves and branches, and the air was full of fragrance
from herb and blossom; painted butterflies chased each other; the
summer flies danced around him, as if the world had been created
merely for them to dance and be merry in. All that had happened to the
tree during every year of his life seemed to pass before him, a