praise, the other day, of the elms and the maples, and even the pines;
but not one word did he say about the oaks. I didn't care for myself
in particular, but for my family, which has always been looked up to.
Well, I shall die, like my brother, and soon we shall all pass away; but,
unlike my brother oak, no one will cling to me as you do, vine, to his
old body."

"You're mistaken, sir. The gardener said, but a few days ago, that he
should plant a vine just like myself at your trunk if your foliage was
not better, so that you might present a finer appearance by the mingling
of the vine's soft leaves, and be more ornamental to the garden."

"I'll save him that trouble if my life is spared. I have no desire
to be decked in borrowed leaves. The oaks have always kept up a good
appearance; but oh, dear me, vine, didn't that blast take your breath
away? I fear I _shall_ die; but, if I do live, I'll show the gardener
what I can do. But, vine," and the voice of the oak trembled, "tell the
gardener, when he comes in the morning, if--if I am dead--that--that
the dreadful tempest killed instead of helped me."

The wind made such a roaring sound that the oak could not hear her
reply, and he tried now to become reconciled to death. He thought much
in that brief space of time and resolved, if his life was spared him,
that he would try and put forth his protecting branches over the beds of
flowers at his feet, to protect them from the blazing sun, and try to be
more kind and friendly to all. Deeper and deeper struck the roots into
the earth, till a new life-thrill shot through its veins. Was it death?

The oak raised its head. The clouds were drifting to the south. All
was calm, and the stars shone like friendly eyes in the heavens above