“Remember the words which you spoke to-day when the Farmer raised his axe. You told him that he could not make another such tree; and those words saved this great oak. You were right, Karl. And he was right when he agreed that the acorn which he might plant to-day would not become like this king of trees in his lifetime, nor in that of his son, or his grandson, or his great-grandson. Yet the acorn which you plant will grow, and its shade, its beauty, its greenness will one day equal this. Though you may never see it, the world will be better for your deed, and future generations will bless you for it. This shall be your task, Karl, to fare forth upon a lifelong pilgrimage and plant as you go the blessed trees which will shelter the many people who are to come after you. Thus the Flat Land will become famous for all time as the place of happy wayfaring.” Now poor Karl understood not one word of all this which the Dryad had so prettily spoken, save that he was to go away. But this thought he seized eagerly. “I am to go away!” he cried. “When, dear Maiden, and where?” “You must go to-night,” answered the Dryad, waving her wand. “See, already the shadows are falling. You must not be missed nor sought for this night. You must take with you only this,--a sack of acorns upon your shoulders. See where they lie all about us under the tree, ready for you to gather! And look! I will take this green mantle which I wear and make of it a sack to hold your burden. Take it, Karl, and fill it thus with the gift of your old friend, the oak.” Karl did as she showed him, and presently he had the long, soft sack filled with brown acorns. Then the Dryad gave him a lesson in planting. She showed him how to dig a little hole for each acorn and cover it with mould; and though Karl was so simple he learned the lesson readily, for he had a loving teacher. Then the Dryad told him how he must walk a hundred paces from the planting of one acorn before he turned earth to cover the next. “Now, Karl, you shall go forth,” she said, “from village to village wherever your thought may lead,--for it does not matter,--planting acorns on either side of the way. And if any one asks you why you do this, do you tell him the story of this day; and I warrant you will need no other pence to pay for food or a bed whenever you need them. Do not forget this story, Karl. Do not forget.” “I am a simpleton,” said Karl humbly, “yet I shall never forget this day’s happenings, nor your words to me. But shall I indeed be doing something for the world’s good? I do not see how that can be.” “Trust me, Karl,” said the Dryad kindly. “Indeed and indeed, you will be doing much, I promise you,--more than many men who call themselves wise. But see, already the night is falling. It is time that you were starting upon your journey.”