枞树

THE FIR TREE

Out in the woods stood a nice little Fir Tree. The place he had was a very
good one: the sun shone on him: as to fresh air, there was enough of that, and
round him grew many large-sized comrades, pines as well as firs. But the
little Fir wanted so very much to be a grown-up tree.

He did not think of the warm sun and of the fresh air; he did not care for the
little cottage children that ran about and prattled when they were in the
woods looking for wild-strawberries. The children often came with a whole
pitcher full of berries, or a long row of them threaded on a straw, and sat
down near the young tree and said, "Oh, how pretty he is! What a nice little
fir!" But this was what the Tree could not bear to hear.

At the end of a year he had shot up a good deal, and after another year he was
another long bit taller; for with fir trees one can always tell by the shoots
how many years old they are.

"Oh! Were I but such a high tree as the others are," sighed he. "Then I should
be able to spread out my branches, and with the tops to look into the wide
world! Then would the birds build nests among my branches: and when there was
a breeze, I could bend with as much stateliness as the others!"

Neither the sunbeams, nor the birds, nor the red clouds which morning and
evening sailed above him, gave the little Tree any pleasure.

In winter, when the snow lay glittering on the ground, a hare would often come
leaping along, and jump right over the little Tree. Oh, that made him so
angry! But two winters were past, and in the third the Tree was so large that
the hare was obliged to go round it. "To grow and grow, to get older and be
tall," thought the Tree--"that, after all, is the most delightful thing in the
world!"

In autumn the wood-cutters always came and felled some of the largest trees.
This happened every year; and the young Fir Tree, that had now grown to a very
comely size, trembled at the sight; for the magnificent great trees fell to
the earth with noise and cracking, the branches were lopped off, and the trees
looked long and bare; they were hardly to be recognised; and then they were
laid in carts, and the horses dragged them out of the wood.

Where did they go to? What became of them?

In spring, when the swallows and the storks came, the Tree asked them, "Don't
you know where they have been taken? Have you not met them anywhere?"

The swallows did not know anything about it; but the Stork looked musing,
nodded his head, and said, "Yes; I think I know; I met many ships as I was
flying hither from Egypt; on the ships were magnificent masts, and I venture
to assert that it was they that smelt so of fir. I may congratulate you, for
they lifted themselves on high most majestically!"

"Oh, were I but old enough to fly across the sea! But how does the sea look in
reality? What is it like?"

"That would take a long time to explain," said the Stork, and with these words
off he went.

"Rejoice in thy growth!" said the Sunbeams. "Rejoice in thy vigorous growth,
and in the fresh life that moveth within thee!"

And the Wind kissed the Tree, and the Dew wept tears over him; but the Fir
understood it not.

When Christmas came, quite young trees were cut down: trees which often were
not even as large or of the same age as this Fir Tree, who could never rest,
but always wanted to be off. These young trees, and they were always the
finest looking, retained their branches; they were laid on carts, and the
horses drew them out of the wood.

"Where are they going to?" asked the Fir. "They are not taller than I; there
was one indeed that was considerably shorter; and why do they retain all their
branches? Whither are they taken?"

"We know! We know!" chirped the Sparrows. "We have peeped in at the windows in
the town below! We know whither they are taken! The greatest splendor and the
greatest magnificence one can imagine await them. We peeped through the
windows, and saw them planted in the middle of the warm room and ornamented
with the most splendid things, with gilded apples, with gingerbread, with
toys, and many hundred lights!"

"And then?" asked the Fir Tree, trembling in every bough. "And then? What
happens then?"

"We did not see anything more: it was incomparably beautiful."

"I would fain know if I am destined for so glorious a career," cried the Tree,
rejoicing. "That is still better than to cross the sea! What a longing do I
suffer! Were Christmas but come! I am now tall, and my branches spread like
the others that were carried off last year! Oh! were I but already on the
cart! Were I in the warm room with all the splendor and magnificence! Yes;
then something better, something still grander, will surely follow, or
wherefore should they thus ornament me? Something better, something still
grander must follow--but what? Oh, how I long, how I suffer! I do not know
myself what is the matter with me!"

"Rejoice in our presence!" said the Air and the Sunlight. "Rejoice in thy own
fresh youth!"

But the Tree did not rejoice at all; he grew and grew, and was green both
winter and summer. People that saw him said, "What a fine tree!" and towards
Christmas he was one of the first that was cut down. The axe struck deep into
the very pith; the Tree fell to the earth with a sigh; he felt a pang--it was
like a swoon; he could not think of happiness, for he was sorrowful at being
separated from his home, from the place where he had sprung up. He well knew
that he should never see his dear old comrades, the little bushes and flowers
around him, anymore; perhaps not even the birds! The departure was not at all
agreeable.

The Tree only came to himself when he was unloaded in a court-yard with the
other trees, and heard a man say, "That one is splendid! We don't want the
others." Then two servants came in rich livery and carried the Fir Tree into a
large and splendid drawing-room. Portraits were hanging on the walls, and near
the white porcelain stove stood two large Chinese vases with lions on the
covers. There, too, were large easy-chairs, silken sofas, large tables full of
picture-books and full of toys, worth hundreds and hundreds of crowns--at
least the children said so. And the Fir Tree was stuck upright in a cask that
was filled with sand; but no one could see that it was a cask, for green cloth
was hung all round it, and it stood on a large gaily-colored carpet. Oh! how
the Tree quivered! What was to happen? The servants, as well as the young
ladies, decorated it. On one branch there hung little nets cut out of colored
paper, and each net was filled with sugarplums; and among the other boughs
gilded apples and walnuts were suspended, looking as though they had grown
there, and little blue and white tapers were placed among the leaves. Dolls
that looked for all the world like men--the Tree had never beheld such
before--were seen among the foliage, and at the very top a large star of gold
tinsel was fixed. It was really splendid--beyond description splendid.

"This evening!" they all said. "How it will shine this evening!"

"Oh!" thought the Tree. "If the evening were but come! If the tapers were but
lighted! And then I wonder what will happen! Perhaps the other trees from the
forest will come to look at me! Perhaps the sparrows will beat against the
windowpanes! I wonder if I shall take root here, and winter and sum