The Fir Tree stood quite still and absorbed in thought; the birds in the wood had
never related the like of this. 'Humpy-Dumpy fell downstairs, and yet he married the princess!
Yes, yes! That's the way of the world!' thought the Fir Tree, and believed it all, because the
man who told the story was so good-looking. 'Well, well! who knows, perhaps I may fall
downstairs, too, and get a princess as wife! And he looked forward with joy to the morrow,
when he hoped to be decked out again with lights, playthings, fruits, and tinsel. 'I won't
tremble to-morrow!' thought the Fir Tree. 'I will enjoy to the full all my splendor! To-morrow
I shall hear again the story of Humpy-Dumpy, and perhaps that of Ivedy-Avedy too.' And the
whole night the Tree stood still and in deep thought. In the morning the servant and the
housemaid came in. 'Now then the splendor will begin again,' thought the Fir. But they dragged
him out of the room, and up the stairs into the loft: and here, in a dark corner, where no
daylight could enter, they left him. 'What's the meaning of this?' thought the Tree. 'What am
I to do here? What shall I hear now, I wonder?' And he leaned against the wall lost in
reverie. Time enough had he too for his reflections; for days and nights passed on, and nobody
came up; and when at last somebody did come, it was only to put some great trunks in a corner,
out of the way. There stood the Tree quite hidden; it seemed as if he had been entirely
forgotten. 'Tis now winter out-of-doors!' thought the Tree. 'The earth is hard and covered
with snow; men cannot plant me now, and therefore I have been put up here under shelter till
the spring-time comes! How thoughtful that is! How kind man is, after all! If it only were not
so dark here, and so terribly lonely! Not even a hare! And out in the woods it was so
pleasant, when the snow was on the ground, and the hare leaped by; yes - even when he jumped
over me; but I did not like it then! It is really terribly lonely here!' 'Squeak! Squeak!'
said a little Mouse, at the same moment, peeping out of his hole. And then another little one
came. They snuffed about the Fir Tree, and rustled among the branches. 'It is dreadfully
cold,' said the Mouse. 'But for that, it would be delightful here, old Fir, wouldn't it?' 'I
am by no means old,' said the Fir Tree. 'There's many a one considerably older than I am.'
'Where do you come from,' asked the Mice; 'and what can you do?' They were so extremely
curious. 'Tell us about the most beautiful spot on the earth. Have you never been there? Were
you never in the larder, where cheeses lie on the shelves, and hams hang from above; where one
dances about on tallow candles: that place where one enters lean, and comes out again fat and
portly?' 'I know no such place,' said the Tree. 'But I know the wood, where the sun shines and
where the little birds sing.' And then he told all about his youth; and the little Mice had
never heard the like before; and they listened and said, 'Well, to be sure! How much you have
seen! How happy you must have been!' 'I!' said the Fir Tree, thinking over what he had himself
related. 'Yes, in reality those were happy times.' And then he told about Christmas-eve, when
he was decked out with cakes and candles. 'Oh,' said the little Mice, 'how fortunate you have
been, old Fir Tree!' 'I am by no means old,' said he. 'I came from the wood this winter; I am
in my prime, and am only rather short for my age.' 'What delightful stories you know,' said
the Mice: and the next night they came with four other little Mice, who were to hear what the
Tree recounted: and the more he related, the more he remembered himself; and it appeared as if
those times had really been happy times. 'But they may still come - they may still come!
Humpy-Dumpy fell downstairs, and yet he got a princess!' and he thought at the moment of a
nice little Birch Tree growing out in the woods: to the Fir, that would be a real charming
princess. 'Who is Humpy-Dumpy?' asked the Mice. So then the Fir Tree told the whole fairy
tale, for he could remember every single word of it; and the little Mice jumped for joy up to
the very top of the Tree. Next night two more Mice came, and on Sunday two Rats even; but they
said the stories were not interesting, which vexed the little Mice; and they, too, now began
to think them not so very amusing either. 'Do you know only one story?' asked the Rats. 'Only
that one,' answered the Tree. 'I heard it on my happiest evening; but I did not then know how
happy I was.' 'It is a very stupid story! Don't you know one about bacon and tallow candles?
Can't you tell any larder stories?' 'No,' said the Tree. 'Then good-bye,' said the Rats; and
they went home. At last the little Mice stayed away also; and the Tree sighed: 'After all, it
was very pleasant when the sleek little Mice sat round me, and listened to what I told them.
Now that too is over. But I will take good care to enjoy myself when I am brought out again.'
But when was that to be? Why, one morning there came a quantity of people and set to work in
the loft. The trunks were moved, the tree was pulled out and thrown - rather hard, it is true
- down on the floor, but a man drew him towards the stairs, where the daylight shone. 'Now a
merry life will begin again,' thought the Tree. He felt the fresh air, the first sunbeam - and
now he was out in the courtyard. All passed so quickly, there was so much going on around him,
the Tree quite forgot to look to himself. The court adjoined a garden, and all was in flower;
the roses hung so fresh and odorous over the balustrade, the lindens were in blossom, the
Swallows flew by, and said, 'Quirre-vit! My husband is come!' but it was not the Fir Tree that
they meant. 'Now, then, I shall really enjoy life,' said he exultingly, and spread out his
branches; but, alas, they were all withered and yellow! It was in a corner that he lay, among
weeds and nettles. The golden star of tinsel was still on the top of the Tree, and glittered
in the sunshine. In the court-yard some of the merry children were playing who had danced at
Christmas round the Fir Tree, and were so glad at the sight of him. One of the youngest ran
and tore off the golden star. 'Only look what is still on the ugly old Christmas tree!' said
he, trampling on the branches, so that they all cracked beneath his feet. And the Tree beheld
all the beauty of the flowers, and the freshness in the garden; he beheld himself, and wished
he had remained in his dark corner in the loft; he thought of his first youth in the wood, of
the merry Christmas-eve, and of the little Mice who had listened with so much pleasure to the
story of Humpy-Dumpy. 'Tis over - tis past!' said the poor Tree. 'Had I but rejoiced when I
had reason to do so! But now tis past, tis past!' And the gardener's boy chopped the Tree into
small pieces; there was a whole heap lying there. The wood flamed up splendidly under the
large brewing copper, and it sighed so deeply! Each sigh was like a shot. The boys played
about in the court, and the youngest wore the gold star on his breast which the Tree had had
on the happiest evening of his life. However, that was over now - the Tree gone, the story at
an end. All, all was over - every tale must end at last.