"But the blue-bell and the little wild tansy," said the oak tree; "I should like them with me too."
"We are with you," they sang in their low, sweet tones.
"But the pretty water-lily of last year, and the wild apple tree that stood down yonder, and looked so fresh, and all the forest flowers of years past, had they lived and bloomed till now, they might have been with me."
"We are with you--we are with you," sang their voices far above, as if they had gone up before.
"Well, this is quite enchanting," cried the old tree. "I have them all, small and great--not one is forgotten. How is all this happiness possible and conceivable?"
"In the celestial paradise all this is possible and conceivable," voices chanted around.
And the tree, which continued to rise, observed that its roots were loosening from their hold in the earth.
"This is well," said the tree. "Nothing now retains me. I am free to mount to the highest heaven--to splendour and light; and all that are dear to me are with me--small and great--all with me."
This was the oak tree's dream; and whilst it dreamt a fearful storm had burst over sea and land that holy Christmas eve. The ocean rolled heavy billows on the beach--the tree rocked violently, and was torn up by the roots at the moment it was dreaming that its roots were loosening. It fell. Its three hundred and sixty-five years were now as but the day of the ephemeron.
On Christmas morning, when the sun arose, the storm was passed. All the church bells were ringing joyously; and from every chimney, even the lowest in the peasant's cot, curled from the altars of the Druidical feast the blue smoke of the thanksgiving oblation. The sea became more and more calm, and on a large vessel in the offing, which had weathered the tempest during the night, were hoisted all its flags in honour of the day.
"The tree is gone--that old oak tree which was always our landmark!" cried the sailors. "It must have fallen in the storm last night. Who shall replace it? Alas! no one can."
This was the tree's funeral oration--short, but well meant--as it lay stretched at full length amidst the snow upon the shore, and over it floated the melody of the psalm tunes from the ship--hymns of Christmas joy, and thanksgivings for the salvation of the souls of mankind by Jesus Christ, and the blessed promise of everlasting life.