Then
all the people knew that the beautiful, sleeping
child, beside whom had lain the carpenter's tools,
was the Christ Child himself, and that he had
rewarded the faith and charity of little Wolff.
THE PINE TREE
BY HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN (TRANSLATED)
I
WHEN IT WAS LITTLE
Out in the woods stood such a nice little Pine
Tree: he had a good place; the sun could get at
him; there was fresh air enough; and round him
grew many big comrades, both pines and firs.
But the little Pine 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
who ran about and prattled when they were looking
for wild strawberries and raspberries. Often
they came with a whole jug full, or had their
strawberries strung on a straw, and sat down near the
little Tree and said, ``Oh, what a nice little fellow!''
This was what the Tree could not bear to hear.
The year after he had shot up a good deal, and
the next year after he was still bigger; for with
pine trees one can always tell by the shoots how
many years old they are.
``Oh, were I but such a big tree as the others
are,'' sighed the little Tree. ``Then I could
spread my branches so far, and with the tops look
out into the wide world! Birds would build nests
among my branches; and when there was a
breeze, I could nod as grandly as the others
there.
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