ugh every branch, through every leaf, as
warmly and fervently as if they had been the fibres of a human
heart. The summit of the tree waved to and fro, and bent downwards
as if in his silent longing he sought for something. Then there came
to him the fragrance of thyme, followed by the more powerful scent
of honeysuckle and violets; and he fancied he heard the note of the
cuckoo. At length his longing was satisfied. Up through the clouds
came the green summits of the forest trees, and beneath him, the oak
saw them rising, and growing higher and higher. Bush and herb shot
upward, and some even tore themselves up by the roots to rise more
quickly. The birch-tree was the quickest of all. Like a lightning
flash the slender stem shot upwards in a zigzag line, the branches
spreading around it like green gauze and banners. Every native of
the wood, even to the brown and feathery rushes, grew with the rest,
while the birds ascended with the melody of song. On a blade of grass,
that fluttered in the air like a long, green ribbon, sat a
grasshopper, cleaning his wings with his legs. May beetles hummed, the
bees murmured, the birds sang, each in his own way; the air was filled
with the sounds of song and gladness.

"But where is the little blue flower that grows by the water?"
asked the oak, "and the purple bell-flower, and the daisy?" You see
the oak wanted to have them all with him.

"Here we are, we are here," sounded in voice and song.

"But the beautiful thyme of last summer, where is that? and the
lilies-of-the-valley, which last year covered the earth with their
bloom? and the wild apple-tree with its lovely blossoms, and all the
glory of the wood, which has flourished year after year? even what may
have but now sprouted forth could be with us here."

"We are here, we are here," sounded voices higher in the air, as
if they had flown there beforehand.

"Why this is beautiful, too beautiful to be believed," said the
oak in a joyful tone. "I have them all here, both great and small; not
one has been forgotten. Can such happiness be imagined?" It seemed
almost impossible.

"In heaven with the Eternal God, it can be imagined, and it is
possible," sounded the reply through the air.

And the old tree, as it still grew upwards and onwards, felt
that his roots were loosening themselves from the earth.

"It is right so, it is best," said the tree, "no fetters hold me
now. I can fly up to the very highest point in light and