The latter
part of the story had wholly faded from my
memory, so that I "made up" to suit the
tastes of my audience. Afterward I told the
story to a good many children, at one time
or another, and it gradually took the shape
it has here. It was not until several years
later that, in re-reading Andersen for other
purposes, I came upon the real story of
the Little Fir Tree, and read it for
myself. Then indeed I was amused, and
somewhat distressed, to find how far I had
wandered from the text.
I give this explanation that the reader
may know I do not presume to offer the
little tale which follows as an "adaptation"
of Andersen's famous story. I offer it
plainly as a story which children have
liked, and which grew out of my early
memories of Andersen's "The Little Fir
Tree"].
Once there was a Little Fir Tree, slim
and pointed, and shiny, which stood in the
great forest in the midst of some big fir
trees, broad, and tall, and shadowy green.
The Little Fir Tree was very unhappy
because he was not big like the others. When
the birds came flying into the woods and
lit on the branches of the big trees and
built their nests there, he used to call up
to them,--
"Come down, come down, rest in my
branches!" But they always said,--
"Oh, no, no; you are too little!"
And when the splendid wind came blowing
and singing through the forest, it bent
and rocked and swung the tops of the big
trees, and murmured to them.
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