they going? What would become of them?” The young fir-tree wished very
much to know; so in the spring, when the swallows and the storks came, it
asked, “Do you know where those trees were taken? Did you meet them?”
The swallows knew nothing, but the stork, after a little reflection, nodded
his head, and said, “Yes, I think I do. I met several new ships when I flew
from Egypt, and they had fine masts that smelt like fir. I think these must
have been the trees; I assure you they were stately, very stately.”
“Oh, how I wish I were tall enough to go on the sea,” said the fir-tree.
“What is the sea, and what does it look like?”
“It would take too much time to explain,” said the stork, flying quickly
away.
“Rejoice in thy youth,” said the sunbeam; “rejoice in thy fresh growth,
and the young life that is in thee.”
And the wind kissed the tree, and the dew watered it with tears; but the
fir-tree regarded them not.
Christmas-time drew near, and many young trees were cut down, some
even smaller and younger than the fir-tree who enjoyed neither rest nor
peace with longing to leave its forest home. These young trees, which were
chosen for their beauty, kept their branches, and were also laid on wagons
and drawn by horses out of the forest.
“Where are they going?” asked the fir-tree. “They are not taller than I am:
indeed, one is much less; and why are the branches not cut off? Where are
