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What will become of Me? 87
large fire-place,” one of the blocks of wood said
to the others.
“Tt is, alas! our pre-ordained destiny,” sighed
another.
“We, the offspring of the forest, cannot attempt
anything nobler than to become fire and flames,
and to boil the pot,” added a third.
But one of the little blocks that was without
either flaws or cracks, and which was lying there
by itself, so white and pretty, could not agree in
its mind that it would not become anything better
than charcoal and cinders; and when it heard the
disconsolate talking of its comrades, the little white
block begged to differ: “Who knows what one is
good for!”
But the others considered that it only spoke in
pride, and said, “We shall meet again—in the
fire-place.”
The guests from the town arrived at the villa.
A journeyman threw down the pieces of wood from
the big pile, he sawed and cut them into little
pieces, preparing one log after another for the
fire-place,
“Kneech, krasch!” said the logs as they were
being chopped into little bits ; and when the servant
girl carried them into the kitchen, they all whispered
to the little white log, “It will be your turn next.”
One day the owner came into the back yard, and
had his little son with him.
“Now we will knock them with the axe, and
hear by the ring whether there is a good piece
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