The Story Hour: A Book for the Home and the Kindergarten

by Kate Douglas Smith Wiggin

  A STORY OF THE FOREST

  "It is not the gay forms he meets in the fairy-tale which charm thechild, but a spiritual, invisible truth lying far deeper."--Froebel.

  Far away, in the depths of a great green rustling wood, there lived aFir-tree. She was tall and dark and fragrant; so tall that her topmostplumes seemed waving about in the clouds, and her branches were so thickand strong and close set that down below them on the ground it was darkalmost as night.

  There were many other trees in the forest, as tall and grand as she,and when they bent and bowed to each other, as the wind played in theirbranches, you could hear a wonderful lovely sound, like the great organwhen it plays softly in the church.

  Down below, under the trees, the ground was covered with a glossy browncarpet of the sharp, needle-like leaves the fir-trees had let fall, andon this carpet there were pointed brown fir cones lying, looking dry andwithered, and yet bearing under their scales many little seeds, hiddenaway like very precious letters in their dainty envelopes.

  Even on bright summer days this wood was cool and dark, and, as youwalked about on the soft brown carpet, you could hear the wonderful songthe pine needles made as they rubbed against each other; and perhaps faraway in the top of some tall tree you could hear the wood-thrush singout gladly.

  All around the great Fir-tree, where her cones had dropped, a familyof young firs was growing up,--very tiny yet, so tiny you might havecrushed them as you walked, and not felt them under your foot.

  The Fir-tree spread her thick branches over them, and kept off thefierce wind and the bitter cold, and under her shelter they were growingstrong.

  They were all fine little trees, but one of them, that stood quite apartfrom the rest, was the finest of all, very straight and well shapedand handsome. Every day he looked up at the mother-tree, and saw howstraight and strong she grew,--how the wind bent and waved her branches,but did not stir her great trunk; and as he looked, he sent his ownrootlets farther down into the dark earth, and held his tiny head upmore proudly.

  The other trees did not all try to grow strong and tall. Indeed, one ofthem said, "Why should I try to grow? Who can see me here in this darkwood? What good will it do for me to try? I can never be as fine andstrong as the mother-tree."

  So he was unhappy and hung his head, and let the wind blow him furtherand further over toward the ground; and as he did not care for hisrootlets, they lost their hold in the earth, and by and by he witheredquite away.

  But our brave little Fir-tree grew on; and when a long time had gone by,his head was on a level with his mother's lowest branches, and he couldlisten and hear all the whispering and talking that went on among thegreat trees. So he learned many things, for the trees were old andwise; and the birds, who are such great travelers, had told them manywonderful things that had happened in far-off lands.

  And the Fir-tree asked his mother many, many questions. "Dearmother-tree," he said, "shall we always live here? Shall I keep ongrowing until I am a grand tall tree like you? And will you always bewith me?"

  "Who knows!" said the mother-tree, rustling in all her branches. "If weare stout-hearted, and grow strong in trunk and perfect in shape,then perhaps we shall be taken away from the forest and made usefulsomewhere,--and we want to be useful, little son."

  It was about this time that the young Fir-tree made himself some musicthat he used to whisper when the winds blew and rocked his branches.This is the little song, but I cannot sing it as he did.

  SONG OF THE FIR-TREE.

  Root grow thou long-er heart be thou strong-er; Let the sun bless me, soft-ly ca- ress me; Let rain-drops pat-ter, wind, my leaves scat-ter. My root must grow long-er, my heart must grow stronger.

  "Root, grow thou longer, Heart, be thou stronger; Let the sun bless me, Softly caress me; Let raindrops patter, Wind, my leaves scatter. My root must grow longer, My heart must grow stronger."

  And one day, when he was singing this song to himself, some birdsfluttered near, pleased with the music, and as he seemed kind they beganto build their nest in his branches,

  Then what a proud Fir-tree, that the birds should choose him to takecare of them! He would not play now with the wind as it came frolickingby, but stood straight, that he might not shake the pretty soft nest.And when the eggs were laid at last, all his leaves stroked each otherfor joy, and the noise they made was so sweet that the mother-tree bentover to see why he was so happy.

  The mother-bird sat patiently on the nest all day, and when, now andthen, she flew away to rest her tired little legs, the father-bird cameto keep the eggs warm.

  So the Fir-tree was never alone; and now he asked the birds some of themany questions he had once asked his mother, "Tell me, dear birdies,"he said, "what does the mother-tree mean? She says if I grow strong, Ishall be taken away to be useful somewhere. How can a Fir-tree be usefulif he is taken away from the forest where he was born?"

  So the birds told him how he could be useful: how perhaps men mighttake him for the mast of a ship, and fasten to him, strong and firm, thegreat white sails that send the ship like a bird over the water; or thathe might be used to hold a bright flag, as it waved in the wind. Thenthe mother-bird thought of the happy Christmas time, for the birdsand flowers and trees know all about it; and she told the Fir of theChristmas greens that were cut in the forest; of the branches and boughsthat were used to make the houses fresh and bright; and of the Christmastrees, on which gifts were hung for the children.

  Now the Fir-tree had seen some children one day, and he knew about theirbright eyes, and their rosy cheeks, and their dear soft little hands.The day they came into the woods, they had made a ring and danced abouthim, and one little girl had held up her finger, and asked the others tohush and hear the song he was singing.

  So of all the thing's the birds had told him, the sweetest to him wasabout the Christmas tree. If only he might be a Christmas tree, and havethe children dance about him again, and feel their presents among hisgreen branches!

  So he did all that a little tree could do to grow strong in every part,and each day he sang his song:&&

  "Root, grow thou longer, Heart, grow thou stronger; Sweet sunshine, bless me, Softly caress me; Cold raindrops, patter, Wind, my leaves scatter, My roots must grow longer, My heart must grow stronger,"

  Soon the days began to grow cold. The birdlings who had been born inthe Fir-tree's branches had gone far away to the South. The father andmother bird had gone too, and on the way had stopped to say good-by tothe brave little tree.

  The white snow had fallen in gentle flakes, and covered the cones andthe glossy carpet of pine needles. All was still and shining and cold inthe forest, and the great trees seemed taller and darker than ever.

  One day some men came into the wood with saws and ropes and axes, andcut down many of the great trees, and among these was the mother-fir.They fastened oxen to all the trees, and dragged them away, rustling andwaving, over the smooth snow.

  The mother-tree had gone,--"gone to be useful," said the little Fir; andthough he missed her very much, and the world seemed very empty when helooked up and no longer saw her thick branches and her strong trunk, yethe was not unhappy, for he was a brave little Fir.

  Still the days grew colder, and often the Fir-tree wondered if thechildren who had made a ring and danced about him would remember himwhen Christmas time came.

  He could not grow, for the weather was too cold, and so he had the moretime for thinking. He thought of the birds, of the mother-tree, and,most of all, of the little girl who had lifted her finger, and said,"Hush! hear the Fir-tree sing."

  Sometimes the days seemed long, and he sighed in all his branches, andalmost thought he would never be a Christmas tree.

  But suddenly, one day, he heard something far away that sounded like theringing of Christmas bells. It was the children laughing and singing, asthey ran over the snow.

  Nearer they came, and stood beside the Fir. "Yes," said the little girl,"it is my very
tree, my very singing tree!"

  "Indeed," said the father, "it will be a good Christmas tree. See howstraight and well shaped it is."

  Then the tree was glad; not proud, for he was a good little Fir, butglad that they saw he had tried his best.

  {Illustration: Not all firs can be Christmas trees.}

  So they cut him down and carried him away on a great sled; away from thetall dark trees, from the white shining snow-carpet at their feet, andfrom all the murmuring and whispering that go on within the forest.

  The little trees stood on tiptoe and waved their green branches for"Good-by," and the great trees bent their heads to watch him go.

  "Not all firs can be Christmas trees," said they; "only those who growtheir best."

  The good Fir-tree stood in the children's own room. Round about his feetwere flowers and mosses and green boughs. From his branches hung toysand books and candies, and at the end of each glossy twig was a brightglittering Christmas candle.

  The doors were slowly opened; the children came running in; and whenthey saw the shining lights, and the Christmas tree proudly holdingtheir presents, they made a ring, and danced about him, singing.

  And the Fir-tree was very happy!