"fromtheshopopposite,"hereplied."manyportraitshangtherethatnoneseemtotroublethemselvesabout.thepersonstheyrepresenthavebeendeadandburiedlongsince.butiknewthisladymanyyearsago,andshehasbeendeadnearlyhalfacentury."

underaglassbeneaththepicturehunganosegayofwitheredflowers,whichwerenodoubthalfacenturyoldtoo,atleasttheyappearedso.

andthependulumoftheoldclockwenttoandfro,andthehandsturnedround;andastimepassedon,everythingintheroomgrewolder,butnooneseemedtonoticeit.

"theysayathome,"saidthelittleboy,"thatyouareverylonely."

"oh,"repliedtheoldman,"ihavepleasantthoughtsofallthathaspassed,recalledbymemory;andnowyouarecometovisitme,andthatisverypleasant."

thenhetookfromthebook-case,abookfullofpicturesrepresentinglongprocessionsofwonderfulcoaches,suchasareneverseenatthepresenttime.soldiersliketheknaveofclubs,andcitizenswithwavingbanners.thetailorshadaflagwithapairofscissorssupportedbytwolions,andontheshoemakers'flagtherewerenotboots,butaneaglewithtwoheads,fortheshoemakersmusthaveeverythingarrangedsothattheycansay,"thisisapair."whatapicture-bookitwas;andthentheoldmanwentintoanotherroomtofetchapplesandnuts.itwasverypleasant,certainly,tobeinthatoldhouse.

"icannotendureit,"saidthetinsoldier,whostoodonashelf,"itissolonelyanddullhere.ihavebeenaccustomedtoliveinafamily,andicannotgetusedtothislife.icannotbearit.thewholedayislongenough,buttheeveningislonger.itisnotherelikeitwasinyourhouseopposite,whenyourfatherandmothertalkedsocheerfullytogether,whileyouandallthedearchildrenmadesuchadelightfulnoise.no,itisalllonelyintheoldman'shouse.doyouthinkhegetsanykisses?doyouthinkheeverhasfriendlylooks,orachristmastree?hewillhavenothingnowbutthegrave.oh,icannotbearit."

"youmustnotlookonlyonthesorrowfulside,"saidthelittleboy;"ithinkeverythinginthishouseisbeautiful,andalltheoldpleasantthoughtscomebackheretopayvisits."

"ah,butineverseeany,andidon'tknowthem,"saidthetinsoldier,"andicannotbearit."

"youmustbearit,"saidthelittleboy.thentheoldmancamebackwithapleasantface;andbroughtwithhimbeautifulpreservedfruits,aswellasapplesandnuts;andthelittleboythoughtnomoreofthetinsoldier.howhappyanddelightedthelittleboywas;andafterhereturnedhome,andwhiledaysandweekspassed,agreatdealofnoddingtookplacefromonehousetotheother,andthenthelittleboywenttopayanothervisit.thecarvedtrumpetersblew"tanta-ra-ra.thereisthelittleboy.tanta-ra-ra."theswordsandarmorontheoldknight'spicturesrattled.thesilkdressesrustled,theleatherrepeateditsrhyme,andtheoldchairshadthegoutintheirbacks,andcried,"creak;"itwasallexactlylikethefirsttime;forinthathouse,onedayandonehourwerejustlikeanother."icannotbearitanylonger,"saidthetinsoldier;"ihavewepttearsoftin,itissomelancholyhere.letmegotothewars,andloseanarmoraleg,thatwouldbesomechange;icannotbearit.nowiknowwhatitistohavevisitsfromone'soldrecollections,andalltheybringwiththem.ihavehadvisitsfrommine,andyoumaybelievemeitisnotaltogetherpleasant.iwasverynearlyjumpingfromtheshelf.isawyouallinyourhouseopposite,asifyouwerereallypresent.itwassundaymorning,andyouchildrenstoodroundthetable,singingthehymnthatyousingeverymorning.youwerestandingquietly,withyourhandsfolded,andyourfatherandmother.youwerestandingquietly,withyourhandsfolded,andyourfatherandmotherwerelookingjustasserious,whenthedooropened,andyourlittlesistermaria,whoisnottwoyearsold,wasbroughtintotheroom.youknowshealwaysdanceswhenshehearsmusicandsingingofanysort;soshebegantodanceimmediately,althoughsheoughtnottohavedoneso,butshecouldnotgetintotherighttimebecausethetunewassoslow;soshestoodfirstononelegandthenontheother,andbentherheadverylow,butitwouldnotsuitthemusic.youallstoodlookingverygrave,althoughitwasverydifficulttodoso,butilaughedsotomyselfthatifelldownfromthetable,andgotabruise,whichistherestill;iknowitwasnotrighttolaugh.soallthis,andeverythingelsethatihaveseen,keepsrunninginmyhead,andthesemustbetheoldrecollectionsthatbringsomanythoughtswiththem.tellmewhetheryoustillsingonsundays,andtellmeaboutyourlittlesistermaria,andhowmyoldcomradeis,theothertinsoldier.ah,reallyhemustbeveryhappy;icannotendurethislife."

"youaregivenaway,"saidthelittleboy;"youmuststay.don'tyouseethat?"