wooden shoe which her nephew had given to the vagabond, standing beside
the other shoe which she herself had placed there the night before,
intending to put in it a handful of switches.

And as little Wolff, who had come running at the cries of his aunt,
stood in speechless delight before all the splendid Christmas gifts,
there came great shouts of laughter from the street.

The old woman and the little boy went out to learn what it was all
about, and saw the gossips gathered around the public fountain. What
could have happened? Oh, a most amusing and extraordinary thing! The
children of all the rich men of the city, whose parents wished to
surprise them with the most beautiful gifts, had found nothing but
switches in their shoes!

Then the old woman and little Wolff remembered with alarm all the riches
that were in their own fireplace, but just then they saw the pastor of
the parish church arriving with his face full of perplexity.

Above the bench near the church door, in the very spot where the night
before a child, dressed in white, with bare feet exposed to the great
cold, had rested his sleeping head, the pastor had seen a golden
circle wrought into the old stones. 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 in