he 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 poor 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,
and they quickly blazed up brightly, while the tree sighed so deeply
that each sigh was like a little 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 or of some winter night
there when the stars shone brightly, 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 on his breast
the golden star 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 past--for all stories must come to an end at some time or
other.

[Illustration]

LITTLE TUK

LITTLE TUK! An odd name, to be sure! However, it was not the little
boy's real name. His real name was Carl; but when he was so young that
he could not speak plainly, he used to call himself Tuk. It would be
hard to say why, for it is not at all like "Carl"; but the name does as
well as any, if one only knows it.

Little Tuk was left at home to take care of his sister Gustava, who was
much younger than himself; and he had also to learn his lesson. Here
were two things to be done at the same time, and they did not at all
suit each other. The poor boy sat with his sister in his lap, singing to
her all the songs he knew, yet giving, now and then, a glance into his
geography, which lay open beside him. By to-morrow morning he must know
the names of all the towns in Seeland by heart, and be able to tell
about them all that