The Fir Tree Page #3

"The Fir Tree" by Hans Christian Andersen is a classic children's tale that centers around a small fir tree in the forest who dreams of growing up. The tree wishes to become grand and tall like its peers. Throughout different seasons and with every different group of visitors to the forest, the tree learns more about life and its own existence. When it is finally cut down and decorated for Christmas, it continues to dream of better days ahead, only to eventually realise its precious past moments in the forest. This poignant tale illustrates Andersen's unique ability to write a deeply insightful narrative cloaked in a simple children's story form.

• Children

								

very sorry, for it made them also think less of it.

"Do you know only one story?" asked the rats.

"Only one," replied the fir-tree; "I heard it on the happiest
evening of my life; but I did not know I was so happy at the time."

"We think it is a very miserable story," said the rats. "Don't you
know any story about bacon, or tallow in the storeroom."

"No," replied the tree.

"Many thanks to you then," replied the rats, and they marched off.

The little mice also kept away after this, and the tree sighed,
and said, "It was very pleasant when the merry little mice sat round
me and listened while I talked. Now that is all passed too. However, I
shall consider myself happy when some one comes to take me out of this
place." But would this ever happen? Yes; one morning people came to
clear out the garret, the boxes were packed away, and the tree was
pulled out of the corner, and thrown roughly on the garret floor; then
the servant dragged it out upon the staircase where the daylight
shone. "Now life is beginning again," said the tree, rejoicing in
the sunshine and fresh air. Then it was carried down stairs and
taken into the courtyard so quickly, that it forgot to think of
itself, and could only look about, there was so much to be seen. The
court was close to a garden, where everything looked blooming. Fresh
and fragrant roses hung over the little palings. The linden-trees were
in blossom; while the swallows flew here and there, crying, "Twit,
twit, twit, my mate is coming,"--but it was not the fir-tree they
meant. "Now I shall live," cried the tree, joyfully spreading out
its branches; but alas! they were all withered and yellow, and it
lay in a corner amongst weeds and nettles. The star of gold paper
still stuck in the top of the tree and glittered in the sunshine. In
the same courtyard two of the merry children were playing who had
danced round the tree at Christmas, and had been so happy. The
youngest saw the gilded star, and ran and pulled it off the tree.
"Look what is sticking to the ugly old fir-tree," said the child,
treading on the branches till they crackled under his boots. And the
tree saw all the fresh bright flowers in the garden, and then looked
at itself, and wished it had remained in the dark corner of the
garret. It thought of its fresh youth in the forest, of the merry
Christmas evening, and of the little mice who had listened to the
story of "Humpty Dumpty." "Past! past!" said the old tree; "Oh, had
I but enjoyed myself while I could have done so! but now it is too
late." Then a lad came and chopped the tree into small pieces, till
a large bundle lay in a heap on the ground. The pieces were placed
in a fire under the copper, and they quickly blazed up brightly, while
the tree sighed so deeply that each sigh was like a pistol-shot.
Then the children, who were at play, came and seated themselves in
front of the fire, and looked at it and cried, "Pop, pop." But at each
"pop," which was a deep sigh, the tree was thinking of a summer day in
the forest; and of Christmas evening, and of "Humpty Dumpty," the only
story it had ever heard or knew how to relate, till at last it was
consumed. The boys still played in the garden, and the youngest wore
the golden star on his breast, with which the tree had been adorned
during the happiest evening of its existence. Now all was past; the
tree's life was past, and the story also,--for all stories must come
to an end at last.
								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes