‘Oh! if I were only big enough to sail away over the sea too! What sort of thing is the sea? what does it look like?’
‘Oh! it would take much too long to tell you all that,’ said the stork, and off he went.
‘Rejoice in your youth,’ said the sunbeams, ‘rejoice in the sweet growing time, in the young life within you.’
And the wind kissed it and the dew wept tears over it, but the fir-tree did not understand.
Towards Christmas-time quite little trees were cut down, some not as big as the young fir-tree, or just the same age, and now it had no peace or rest for longing to be away. These little trees, which were chosen for their beauty, kept all their branches; they were put in carts and drawn out of the wood by horses.
‘Whither are those going?’ asked the fir-tree; ‘they are no bigger than I, and one there was much smaller even! Why do they keep their branches? Where are they taken to?’
‘We know! we know!’ twittered the sparrows. ‘Down there in the city we have peeped in at the windows, we know where they go! They attain to the greatest splendour and magnificence you can imagine! We have looked in at the windows and seen them planted in the middle of the warm room and adorned with the most beautiful things-golden apples, sweet-meats, toys and hundreds of candles.’
‘And then?’ asked the fir-tree, trembling in every limb with eagerness, ‘and then? what happens then?’
‘Oh, we haven’t seen anything more than that. That was simply matchless!’
‘Am I too destined to the same brilliant career?’ wondered the fir-tree excitedly. ‘That is even better than sailing over the sea! I am sick with longing. If it were only Christmas! Now I am tall and grown-up like those which were taken away last year. Ah, if I were only in the cart! If I were only in the warm room with all the splendour and magnificence! And then? Then comes something better, something still more beautiful, else why should they dress us up? There must be something greater, something grander to come—but what? Oh! I am pining away! I really don’t know what’s the matter with me!’