And yet all this while the tree grew a notch or joint taller every
year; for by the number of joints in the stem of a fir tree we can
discover its age.
Still, as it grew, it complained: "Oh! how I wish I were as tall as
the other trees; then I would spread out my branches on every side,
and my crown would overlook the wide world around. I should have the
birds building their nests on my boughs, and when the wind blew, I
should bow with stately dignity, like my tall companions."
So discontented was the tree, that it took no pleasure in the warm
sunshine, the birds, or the rosy clouds that floated over it morning
and evening.
Sometimes in winter, when the snow lay white and glittering on the
ground, there was a little hare that would come springing along,
and jump right over the little tree's head; then how mortified it
would feel.
Two winters passed; and when the third arrived, the tree had grown so
tall that the hare was obliged to run round it. Yet it remained
unsatisfied, and would exclaim, "Oh! to grow, to grow; if I could but
keep on growing tall and old! There is nothing else worth caring for
in the world."
In the autumn the woodcutters came, as usual, and cut down several of
the tallest trees; and the young fir, which was now grown to its full
height, shuddered as the noble trees fell to the earth with a crash.
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