nths the cold winds will
be here, and then we shall fall to the ground and be trodden under
foot--that will be the end of us. So I am determined to see something of
the world before that time comes. I shall go off with the first north
wind that visits us--so I tell you. You will not reason me out of my
plan.'

'Oh, stay, stay with us!' cried the trembling listener; 'you cannot
surely know the sorrow you would cause, nor the troubles you would have
to endure. It is true we leave our kind branches but to die, but we are
not carelessly trodden on; the rustling of we poor faded leaves beneath
man's feet recall to his mind pure and holy thoughts of the unknown
future, filling his heart with unuttered prayers to the Great Power who
changeth not. Then, if we poor leaves can teach a lesson, we have not
lived in vain. Do not murmur at your humble fate, dear friend, but stay
with us, contented with your simple destiny and the goodness of God.'

The Aspen leaf ceased speaking, overcome by its emotion, whilst the
little grumbler, silenced, but not convinced, turned sulkily away. It
did not relish the kind advice of its true friend, nor did it at all
intend to follow it, but still it settled down on its tiny twig so very
quietly, that all its relatives firmly believed it had given up its
foolish scheme of imaginary happy freedom; but they were mistaken, for a
few days after a north wind came quite unexpectedly upon them. It bent
the Aspen tree almost to breaking, still the loving little leaves clung
trembling to their parent, feeling that their very safety rested on
their keeping close to it. Then, finding its strength was in vain, away
the north wind rushed to the sturdy old Oak, swaying its branches wildly
about, and even making them crack in its fierce rage.

But the Oak reared its proud head defiantly, and its leaves hung tightly
on--all save one. Alas! with a mocking laugh at his friends' and his
brothers' fears, he threw himself into the arms of the cruel north wind,
who bore him swiftly away, and ere the night came the foolish leaf lay
faded and dead.

As he was whirled away, a sad, sad moan sighed through the branches of
the old Oak. 'Twas a cry of anguish for its wilful child.

* * * * *

The bright summer was gone.

One by one the leaves were falling. With a gentle rustle they fell from
their parent trees, and lay in their faded beauty upon the earth.

The little Aspen leaf lingered,