112 fTistory of Guitta-Percha Willie.

 

cannot say it had much to look at. On such a
night he would say to himself that the day was so
sound asleep he was dreaming of nothing at all,
and make haste to his nest. Then again there was
the cold night of black frost, when there was cloud
enough to hide the stars and the moon, and yet a
little light came soaking through, enough to reveal
how hopeless and dreary the earth was. For in
such nights of cold, when there is no snow to cover
them, the flowers that have crept into their roots
to hide from the winter are not even able to dream
of the spring ;—they grow quite stupid and be-
numbed, and sleep outright like a polar bear or a
dormouse. He never could look long at such a
night.

Neither did he care to look long when a loud
wind was out—except the moon was bright; for
the most he could distinguish was the trees blowing
against the sky, and they always seemed not to
like it, and to want to stop. And if the big strong
trees did not like it, how could the poor little deli-
cate flowers, shivering and shaking and tossed to
and fro? If he could have seen the wind itself, it
would have been a different thing; but as it was,
he could enjoy it more by lying in bed and listen-
ing to it. Then as he listened he could fancy
himself floating out through miles and miles of
night and wind, and moon-and-star-light, or moony
snowflakes, or even thick darkness and rain; until,