A poor woodman sat in his cottage one night, smoking his pipe bythe fireside, while his wife sat by his side spinning. «How lonelyit is, wife,» said he, as he puffed out a long curl of smoke, «for youand me to sit here by ourselves, without any children to play aboutand amuse us while other people seem so happy and merry with theirchildren!» «What you say is very true,» said the wife, sighing, andturning round her wheel; «how happy should I be if I had but onechild! If it were ever so small-nay, if it were no bigger than mythumb—I should be very happy, and love it dearly.» Now - odd as you maythink it - it came to pass that this good woman’s wish was fulfilled,just in the very way she had wished it; for, not long afterwards, shehad a little boy, who was quite healthy and strong, but was not muchbigger than my thumb. So they said, «Well, we cannot say we have notgot what we wished for, and, little as he is, we will love himdearly.» And they called him Thomas Thumb.
They gave him plenty of food, yet for all they could do he nevergrew bigger, but kept just the same size as he had been when he wasborn. Still, his eyes were sharp and sparkling, and he soon showedhimself to be a clever little fellow, who always knew well what he wasabout.
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