re very
lonely."

"Oh," replied the old man, "I have pleasant thoughts of all that
has passed, recalled by memory; and now you are come to visit me,
and that is very pleasant."

Then he took from the book-case, a book full of pictures
representing long processions of wonderful coaches, such as are
never seen at the present time. Soldiers like the knave of clubs,
and citizens with waving banners. The tailors had a flag with a pair
of scissors supported by two lions, and on the shoemakers' flag
there were not boots, but an eagle with two heads, for the
shoemakers must have everything arranged so that they can say, "This
is a pair." What a picture-book it was; and then the old man went into
another room to fetch apples and nuts. It was very pleasant,
certainly, to be in that old house.

"I cannot endure it," said the tin soldier, who stood on a
shelf, "it is so lonely and dull here. I have been accustomed to
live in a family, and I cannot get used to this life. I cannot bear
it. The whole day is long enough, but the evening is longer. It is not
here like it was in your house opposite, when your father and mother
talked so cheerfully together, while you and all the dear children
made such a delightful noise. No, it is all lonely in the old man's
house. Do you think he gets any kisses? Do you think he ever has
friendly looks, or a Christmas tree? He will have nothing now but
the grave. Oh, I cannot bear it."

"You must not look only on the sorrowful side," said the little
boy; "I think everything in this house is beautiful, and all the old
pleasant thoughts come back here to pay visits."

"Ah, but I never see any, and I don't know them," said the tin
soldier, "and I cannot bear it."

"You must bear it," said the little boy. Then the old man came
back with a pleasant face; and brought with him beautiful preserved
fruits, as well as apples and nuts; and the little boy thought no more
of the tin soldier. How happy and delighted the little boy was; and
after he returned home, and while days and weeks passed, a great
deal of nodding took place from one house to the other, and then the
little boy went to pay another visit. The carved trumpeters blew
"Tanta-ra-ra. There is the little boy. Tanta-ra-ra." The swords and
armor on the old knight's pictures rattled. The silk dresses
rustled, the leather repeated its rhyme, and the old chairs had the
gout in their backs, and cried, "Creak;" it was all exactly like the
first time