the tin
soldier. I think it will just fit you. It looks well to wear a uniform
when you go into company."

"Yes, certainly," said Hjalmar; and in a moment he was dressed
as neatly as the neatest of all tin soldiers.

"Will you be so good as to seat yourself in your mamma's thimble,"
said the little mouse, "that I may have the pleasure of drawing you to
the wedding."

"Will you really take so much trouble, young lady?" said
Hjalmar. And so in this way he rode to the mouse's wedding.

First they went under the floor, and then passed through a long
passage, which was scarcely high enough to allow the thimble to
drive under, and the whole passage was lit up with the phosphorescent
light of rotten wood.

"Does it not smell delicious?" asked the mouse, as she drew him
along. "The wall and the floor have been smeared with bacon-rind;
nothing can be nicer."

Very soon they arrived at the bridal hall. On the right stood
all the little lady-mice, whispering and giggling, as if they were
making game of each other. To the left were the gentlemen-mice,
stroking their whiskers with their fore-paws; and in the centre of the
hall could be seen the bridal pair, standing side by side, in a hollow
cheese-rind, and kissing each other, while all eyes were upon them;
for they had already been betrothed, and were soon to be married. More
and more friends kept arriving, till the mice were nearly treading
each other to death; for the bridal pair now stood in the doorway, and
none could pass in or out.

The room had been rubbed over with bacon-rind, like the passage,
which was all the refreshment offered to the guests. But for dessert
they produced a pea, on which a mouse belonging to the bridal pair had
bitten the first letters of their names. This was something quite
uncommon. All the mice said it was a very beautiful wedding, and
that they had been very agreeably entertained.

After this, Hjalmar returned home. He had certainly been in
grand society; but he had been obliged to creep under a room, and to
make himself small enough to wear the uniform of a tin soldier.

FRIDAY

"It is incredible how many old people there are who would be
glad to have me at night," said Ole-Luk-Oie, "especially those who
have done something wrong. 'Good little Ole,' say they to me, 'we
cannot close our eyes, and we lie awake the whole night and see all
our evil deeds sitting on our beds like little imps, and sprinkling us
with hot water. Will you