opposite as plainly as if you had been really here; it was that Sunday morning — vou know which I mean. All you children were standing in front of the table singing the hymn you sing every morning; you were standing devotedly with folded hands, and your father and mother were just as solemn. Then the door was opened and your little sister Maria, who is n't two years old yet, and who always will dance when she hears music or singing, no matter what kind, was brought into the room, — which ought not to have been done, — and then she began to dance, but she could not keep the right time, for the music was too slow, and then she stood first on one leg and bent her head right forward, and then on the other leg with her head in the same position, but she could not get into right time. You all looked very serious, although it was difficult enough to keep from laughing, but I laughed inwardly till I fell down from the table and got a bump which I still have, for it was n't right of me to laugh. All of it stands again vividly before me, as well as everything else I have gone through ; and those must be the old memories and what they can carry with them. Tell me if you still sing on Sun- days. And tell me something about little Maria. And how is my comrade, the other tin soldier? Ah, he is really happy! I cannot stand it any longer." "But you have been given away as a present," said the little boy; "you must remain where you are; don't you understand that.?" And the old man came in with a drawer, in which there were many things to look at: there was "the white house," and "the balsam-box," and old playing-cards, so large and richly gilt as one never sees nowa- days. And many other drawers were opened. Later on the old man opened the piano. It was one of those with a landscape on the inside of the lid. He sat down to play on it, hut it was very much out of tune, and then he hummed a song. "Yes, she could sing that," he said, and nodded to the portrait he had bought of the old-furniture dealer, and the old man's eyes shone brightly. " I want to go to the wars! I want to go to the wars!" cried the tin soldier as loud as he could, and threw himself down on the floor. What had become of him .? Both the old man and the little boy searched for him, but he was lost and gone. "I shall find him," said the old man, but he never found him. The flooring was so open and full of holes that the tin soldier had fallen through one of the chinks, and there he lay in an open grave. And the day passed, and the little boy went home ; and the week passed, and many more weeks passed. The windows were quite frozen over, and the little boy had to sit and breathe on the panes to get a peep- hole through which he could look over at the old house. The snow had covered up all the ornaments and inscriptions and the steps were full of snow, just as if there was no one at home.
