The Sprite Clings to the Oak. 47

 

was nothing left but a pile of wood. When they moved these
logs, the sprite took his carpet-bag in his hand and trudged
after. He decided never to leave his dear tree while a stick of
it remained. One of the wood-cutters saw the little man, who
was visible when he took his bag in his hand like a traveller.

“* Ffalloo! is that a grasshopper?’ cried the man.

“Instantly the sprite jumped into the grass, and hung the
bag around his neck again. From the lumber-yard to the
mill, where sharp saws smoothed and polished the logs, did
the sprite follow the tree, and at last they reached the shore,
where the firm, stout oak was to build a ship. The sprite saw
a great deal of the world in those busy places, and learned
more than’ the brook or the birds could ever have taught
him.