When they left the Forest, one Angel remained to guard the little Tree.  Night and day he watched so that no harm should come to it.  Day by day it grew in strength and beauty.  The sun sent it his choicest rays, heaven dropped its sweetest dew upon it, and the winds sang to it their prettiest songs.

So the years passed, and the little Tree grew until it became the pride and glory of the Forest.

One day the Tree heard some one coming through the Forest.  “Have no fear,” said the Angel, “for He who comes is the Master.”

And the Master came to the Tree and placed His Hands upon its smooth trunk and branches.  He stooped and kissed the Tree, and then turned and went away.

[Illustration:  A.  Bida.]

Many times after that the Master came to the Forest, rested beneath the Tree and enjoyed the shade of its foliage.  Many times He slept there and the Tree watched over Him.  Many times men came with the Master to the Forest, sat with Him in the shade of the Tree, and talked with Him of things which the Tree never could understand.  It heard them tell how the Master healed the sick and raised the dead and bestowed blessings wherever He walked.

But one night the Master came alone into the Forest.  His Face was pale and wet with tears.  He fell upon His knees and prayed.  The Tree heard Him, and all the Forest was still.  In the morning there was a sound of rude voices and a clashing of swords.

[Illustration:  Hofmann.]

Strange men plied their axes with cruel vigor, and the Tree was hewn to the ground.  Its beautiful branches were cut away, and its soft, thick foliage was strewn to the winds.  The Trees of the Forest wept.

The cruel men dragged the hewn Tree away, and the Forest saw it no more.

But the Night Wind that swept down from the City of the Great King stayed that night in the Forest awhile to say that it had seen that day a Cross raised on Calvary,—­the Tree on which was nailed the Body of the dying Master.

Eugene Field.

From “A Little Book of Profitable Tales.”  Published by Charles
Scribner’s Sons.

[Footnote 004:  Copyright, 1889, by Eugene Field.]

* * * * *

46

THE HOLY CITY.

       Last night I lay a-sleeping; there came a dream so fair;—­
       I stood in old Jerusalem, beside the Temple there;
       I heard the children singing, and ever as they sang
       Methought the voice of Angels
       From Heaven in answer rang;—­
       Methought the voice of Angels
       From Heaven in answer rang. 
       Jerusalem, Jerusalem, lift up your gates and sing
       Hosanna in the highest!  Hosanna to your King!