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 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 the 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 he able to spread out my branches, and with the tops to look into the wide world! Then would the birds 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 happenned every year; and the young Fir Tree, that had now grown to a very comely size, trembled at the sight; for the magnificient 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?'
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