The Selfish Giant

Every afternoon, as they were
coming from school, the children used to go and play in the
Giant’s garden.

It was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass.
Here and there over the grass stood beautiful flowers like stars,
and there were twelve peach-trees that in the spring-time broke
out into delicate blossoms of pink and pearl, and in the autumn
bore rich fruit. The birds sat on the trees and sang so
sweetly that the children used to stop their games in order to
listen to them. “How happy we are here!” they
cried to each other.

One day the Giant came back. He had been to visit his
friend the Cornish ogre, and had stayed with him for seven
years. After the seven years were over he had said all that
he had to say, for his conversation was limited, and he
determined to return to his own castle. When he arrived he
saw the children playing in the garden.

“What are you doing here?” he cried in a very
gruff voice, and the children ran away.

“My own garden is my own garden,” said the Giant;
“any one can understand that, and I will allow nobody to
play in it but myself.” So he built a high wall all
round it, and put up a notice-board.

TRESPASSERS
WILL BE
PROSECUTED

He was a very selfish Giant.

The poor children had now nowhere to play. They tried to
play on the road, but the road was very dusty and full of hard
stones, and they did not like it. They used to wander round
the high wall when their lessons were over, and talk about the
beautiful garden inside. “How happy we were
there,” they said to each other.

Then the Spring came, and all over the country there were
little blossoms and little birds. Only in the garden of the
Selfish Giant it was still winter. The birds did not care
to sing in it as there were no children, and the trees forgot to
blossom. Once a beautiful flower put its head out from the
grass, but when it saw the notice-board it was so sorry for the
children that it slipped back into the ground again, and went off
to sleep. The only people who were pleased were the Snow
and the Frost. “Spring has forgotten this
garden,” they cried, “so we will live here all the
year round.” The Snow covered up the grass with her
great white cloak, and the Frost painted all the trees
silver. Then they invited the North Wind to stay with them,
and he came. He was wrapped in furs, and he roared all day
about the garden, and blew the chimney-pots down.
“This is a delightful spot,” he said, “we must
ask the Hail on a visit.” So the Hail came.
Every day for three hours he rattled on the roof of the castle
till he broke most of the slates, and then he ran round and round
the garden as fast as he could go. He was dressed in grey,
and his breath was like ice.

“I cannot understand why the Spring is so late in
coming,” said the Selfish Giant, as he sat at the window
and looked out at his cold white garden; “I hope there will
be a change in the weather.”

But the Spring never came, nor the Summer. The Autumn
gave golden fruit to every garden, but to the Giant’s
garden she gave none. “He is too selfish,” she
said. So it was always Winter there, and the North Wind,
and the Hail, and the Frost, and the Snow danced about through
the trees.

One morning the Giant was lying awake in bed when he heard
some lovely music. It sounded so sweet to his ears that he
thought it must be the King’s musicians passing by.
It was really only a little linnet singing outside his window,
but it was so long since he had heard a bird sing in his garden
that it seemed to him to be the most beautiful music in the
world. Then the Hail stopped dancing over his head, and the
North Wind ceased roaring, and a delicious perfume came to him
through the open casement. “I believe the Spring has
come at last,” said the Giant; and he jumped out of bed and
looked out.

What did he see?

He saw a most wonderful sight. Through a little hole in
the wall the children had crept in, and they were sitting in the
branches of the trees. In every tree that he could see
there was a little child. And the trees were so glad to
have the children back again that they had covered themselves
with blossoms, and were waving their arms gently above the
children’s heads. The birds were flying about and
twittering with delight, and the flowers were looking up through
the green grass and laughing. It was a lovely scene, only
in one corner it was still winter. It was the farthest
corner of the garden, and in it was standing a little boy.
He was so small that he could not reach up to the branches of the
tree, and he was wandering all round it, crying bitterly.
The poor tree was still quite covered with frost and snow, and
the North Wind was blowing and roaring above it.
“Climb up! little boy,” said the Tree, and it bent
its branches down as low as it could; but the boy was too
tiny.

And the Giant’s heart melted as he looked out.
“How selfish I have been!” he said; “now I know
why the Spring would not come here. I will put that poor
little boy on the top of the tree, and then I will knock down the
wall, and my garden shall be the children’s playground for
ever and ever.” He was really very sorry for what he
had done.

So he crept downstairs and opened the front door quite softly,
and went out into the garden. But when the children saw him
they were so frightened that they all ran away, and the garden
became winter again. Only the little boy did not run, for
his eyes were so full of tears that he did not see the Giant
coming. And the Giant stole up behind him and took him
gently in his hand, and put him up into the tree. And the
tree broke at once into blossom, and the birds came and sang on
it, and the little boy stretched out his two arms and flung them
round the Giant’s neck, and kissed him. And the other
children, when they saw that the Giant was not wicked any longer,
came running back, and with them came the Spring. “It
is your garden now, little children,” said the Giant, and
he took a great axe and knocked down the wall. And when the
people were going to market at twelve o’clock they found
the Giant playing with the children in the most beautiful garden
they had ever seen.

All day long they played, and in the evening they came to the
Giant to bid him good-bye.

“But where is your little companion?” he said:
“the boy I put into the tree.” The Giant loved
him the best because he had kissed him.

“We don’t know,” answered the children;
“he has gone away.”

“You must tell him to be sure and come here
to-morrow,” said the Giant. But the children said
that they did not know where he lived, and had never seen him
before; and the Giant felt very sad.

Every afternoon, when school was over, the children came and
played with the Giant. But the little boy whom the Giant
loved was never seen again. The Giant was very kind to all
the children, yet he longed for his first little friend, and
often spoke of him. “How I would like to see
him!” he used to say.

Years went over, and the Giant grew very old and feeble.
He could not play about any more, so he sat in a huge armchair,
and watched the children at their games, and admired his
garden. “I have many beautiful flowers,” he
said; “but the children are the most beautiful flowers of
all.”

One winter morning he looked out of his window as he was
dressing. He did not hate the Winter now, for he knew that
it was merely the Spring asleep, and that the flowers were
resting.

Suddenly he rubbed his eyes in wonder, and looked and
looked. It certainly was a marvellous sight. In the
farthest corner of the garden was a tree quite covered with
lovely white blossoms. Its branches were all golden, and
silver fruit hung down from them, and underneath it stood the
little boy he had loved.

Downstairs ran the Giant in great joy, and out into the
garden. He hastened across the grass, and came near to the
child. And when he came quite close his face grew red with
anger, and he said, “Who hath dared to wound
thee?” For on the palms of the child’s hands
were the prints of two nails, and the prints of two nails were on
the little feet.

“Who hath dared to wound thee?” cried the Giant;
“tell me, that I may take my big sword and slay
him.”

“Nay!” answered the child; “but these are
the wounds of Love.”

“Who art thou?” said the Giant, and a strange awe
fell on him, and he knelt before the little child.

And the child smiled on the Giant, and said to him, “You
let me play once in your garden, to-day you shall come with me to
my garden, which is Paradise.”

And when the children ran in that afternoon, they found the
Giant lying dead under the tree, all covered with white
blossoms.