now 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 they going?"

"We know, we know," sang the sparrows; "we have looked in at the
windows of the houses in the town, and we know what is done with them.
They are dressed up in the most splendid manner. We have seen them
standing in the middle of a warm room, and adorned with all sorts of
beautiful things,--honey cakes, gilded apples, playthings, and many
hundreds of wax tapers."

"And then," asked the fir-tree, trembling through all its
branches, "and then what happens?"

"We did not see any more," said the sparrows; "but this was enough
for us."

"I wonder whether anything so brilliant will ever happen to me,"
thought the fir-tree. "It would be much better than crossing the
sea. I long for it almost with pain. Oh! when will Christmas be
here? I am now as tall and well grown as those which were taken away
last year. Oh! that I were now laid on the wagon, or standing in the
warm room, with all that brightness and splendor around me!
Something better and more beautiful is to come after, or the trees
would not be so decked out. Yes, what follows will be grander and more
splendid. What can it be? I am weary with longing. I scarcely know how
I feel."

"Rejoice with us," said the air and the