The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1877-12-24
THE PRESS.
The Last Dream Ofthe Old
Oak.
A Christmas Fancy, by Hans Christian
Andersen.

would be to us men. We wake by day and
sleep through the night, and then we have
our dreams; it is different with the tree.
which keeps awake through three seasons Of
the year, and does not get its sleep till winter
comes. Winter is its time for rest, its night
after the long day, which Is called spring,
summer and autumn.
On many warm summer day the ephemra
the fly that lives but for the day, had danced
around his crown-had lived, enjoyed and
felt happy; and then rested for moment
In quiet bliss the tiny creature, on one of
the great fresh oak leaves; and then the tree
always said:
"Poor little thingl Your whole life is but a
single day! How very short it's quite melan-
cholyp'
melancholy Why do you say that ?" the
ephemera would then always reply. SIT is
wonderfully bright, warm and makes me re-
joicep
'But only one day, and then it's all done p'
"DoneW repeated the ephemera. "What's
the meaning of done? Are you done too?
mo; shall perhaps live for thousands OF
your days, and my day is whole seasons long!
IT'S something so long that you can't at all
manage to reckon it out"
"No; then don't understand you. You
say you have thousands of my days; but
have thousands of moments in which I can
be merry and happy. Does all the beauty of
the world cease when you die?"
mo-" replied the tree SIT will certainly
last much longer-far longer than can pos
sibly think"
swell. then we have the same time, only
we reckon differently"
And the ephemera danced and foated in the
air, and re]oiced in her delicate wing of gauze
and velvet, and rejoiced in the balmy breezes
laden with the fragrance of meadows and of
wild roses and elder flowers, of the garden
hedges, wild thyme and mint. and daisies;
The scent of these was all so strong that the
ephemera was almost intoxicated. The day
was long and beautiful, full ofjoy and of sweet
feeling and when the sun sank low the little
fly felt very agreeably tired Of all its happi-
ness and enjoyment. The delicate wings
would not carry it any more, and quietly and
slowly it glided down upon the soft grass
blade, nodded its head as we'll as it could nod
and went quietly to sleep-and was dead.
Poor little ephemera" said the oak. "That
was a terribly short life."
And on every summer day the same dance
was repeated, the same question and answer
and the same sleep. The same thing was
repeated through whole generations of
ephemeras; all of them felt equally merry
and equally happy.
spring morning, the noon of summer and the
evening of autumn; and its time of rest, its
night was coming on apace. Already the
storms were singing their goodnight, good
nightV Here fell leaf and there fell a
leaf.
swell rock you and dande you! Go to
sleep, go to sleep! We sing you to sleep, we
shake you to sleep, but it does you good in
your old twigs, does it not2 They seem to
crack ior very joy. Sleep sweetly, sleep
sweetly. It's your three hundred and sixty
fifth night. Properly speaking. you're only
STRIPPING as yet. Sleep sweetlv the clouds
strew down snow, there will be quite cey-
erlet, warm and protecting around your feet
Sweet sleep to you and pleasant dreamsp'
And the oak tree stood there, denuded of all
Its leaves, to sleep through the long winter,
and to dream many dream, always about
something that had happened to it-just as
in the dreams of men.
The great oak had once been small-in-
deed an acorn had been its cradle. Accord
tngly to human computation it was now in
its fourth century. 1t was the greatest and
best tree in the forest; its crown lowered far
above all the trees, land could be deserted from
afar across the sea, so that it served as a
landmark to the sailors; the tree had no
idea how many eyes were in the habit of
seeking it, High up in its green summit the
wood-pigeon built her nest, and the cuckoo
sat in its boughs and sang his song; and plates
of copper, the birds of passage came and
rested there, before they flew away across the
sea; but now it was winter, and the tree
stood there leadess, so that every one could
see how gnarled and crooked the branches
were that shot away from its trunk. Grows
and rocks came and took their seat by turns
in the boughs, and spoke OF the hard times
OF getting living through the winter.
If was inst at the h0lv christmas tipoo
when the tree dreamed its most glorious
dream.
The tree had distinct feeling of the festive
time, and fancied he heard the bells ringing
from the churches all around; and yet it
seemed as if it were fine summers day,
mild and warm. Fresh and green he spread
out his mighty crown; the sunbeams played
among the twigs and the leaves; the air was
full OF the fragrance of herbs and blossoms !:
gay butterflies chased each other to and fro.
The ephemeral insects danced as If all the
world were created merely for them TO dance
and be merry in. Ali that the tree had ex-
perienced for years and years, and that had
happened around him, seemed to pass by him
again as in festive pageant. He saw the
knights OF ancient days ride by with their
noble danes on gallant steeds, with plumes
waving in their bonnets and falcons on their
wrists. The hunting horn sounded and the
0OS3o VOL hCus LIZ 5dW AOpbllC WdITlUIS
colored jenkins and with shining weapons
with spear and halbert, pitching their tents
and striking them again. The watch-fres
famed up anew, and men sang and slept
under the branches of the tree. He saw
loving couples meeting near his trunk. hap
PLY, in the moonshine, and they cut the
initials of their names in the gray-green bark
OF his stem. Once-but long years had
rolled by since then-citherns and Eoian
harps had been hung up on his boughs by mer-
ry wanderers; and now they hung there again,
and once again they sounded in tones of mar.
Vicious sweetness. The woodpigeons cooed,
as If they were telling what the tree felt in all
this, and the cuckoo called out to tell him
how many summer days he had yet to live.
Then it appeared to him as if new life were
ripping down into the remotest fiber of his
roots and mounting up into his highest
branches to the tops of the leaves. The tree
felt that he was stretching and spreading
himself, and through his root he felt that
there was life and motion even in the ground
ITSELF He felt his strength increase, he grew
higher, his stem shot up increasingly, and as
he grew more and more, his crown became
fuller and spread out; and in proportion as
the tree grew he felt his happiness increase
and his joyous hope that he should reach
even higher-quite up to the warm, brilliant
sun.
Already had he grown high above the
clouds, which foated past beneath his crown
like dark troops of passlge-birds, or like
great white swans. And every leaf of the
tree had the gift of sight, as if it had eyes
wherewith to see; the stars became visible in
broad daylight, great and sparkling; each of
them sparkled like pair of eyes, mild and
clear. They recalled to his memory WELL
known gentle eyes, eyes of children, eyes of
lovers who had met beneath his boughs.
1t was marvellous spectacle, and one full
of happiness and joy. And yet amid all this
happiness the tree felt a longing, yearning
desire that all other trees of the wood beneath
him, and all the bushes and herbs and flow
ers might be able to rise with him that they
might see this splendor and experience this
joy. The great majestic oak was not quite
happy in his happiness, while he had not
them all, great and little, about him; and
this feeling of yearning trembled through his
every twig, through his every leaf, warmly
and fervently as through human heart.
The crown of the tree waved to and fro, as
If he sought something in bis silent longing,
and he looked down. Then he felt the fra
GRANGE of thyme, and soon afterward the
more powerful scent of honeysuckle and VIC
lets, and he fancied he heard the cuckoo
answering him.
Yes, through the clouds the green SUBMITS
OF the forest came peering ap, and under
m I'm Na1r IL. H. 4~~1 4I.@-.