r the shoemakers must have
everything so that they can say, it is a pair! Yes, that was a picture
book!

The old man now went into the other room to fetch preserves, apples, and
nuts--yes, it was delightful over there in the old house.

"I cannot bear it any longer!" said the pewter soldier, who sat on the
drawers. "It is so lonely and melancholy here! But when one has been in
a family circle one cannot accustom oneself to this life! I cannot bear
it any longer! The whole day is so long, and the evenings are still
longer! Here it is not at all as it is over the way at your home, where
your father and mother spoke so pleasantly, and where you and all your
sweet children made such a delightful noise. Nay, how lonely the old man
is--do you think that he gets kisses? Do you think he gets mild eyes,
or a Christmas tree? He will get nothing but a grave! I can bear it no
longer!"

"You must not let it grieve you so much," said the little boy. "I find
it so very delightful here, and then all the old thoughts, with what
they may bring with them, they come and visit here."

"Yes, it's all very well, but I see nothing of them, and I don't know
them!" said the pewter soldier. "I cannot bear it!"

"But you must!" said the little boy.

Then in came the old man with the most pleased and happy face, the most
delicious preserves, apples, and nuts, and so the little boy thought no
more about the pewter soldier.

The little boy returned home happy and pleased, and weeks and days
passed away, and nods were made to the old house, and from the old
house, and then the little boy went over there again.

The carved trumpeters blew, "Trateratra! There is the little boy!
Trateratra!" and the swords and armor on the knights' portraits rattled,
and the silk gowns rustled; the hog's leather spoke, and the old chairs
had the gout in their legs and rheumatism in their backs: Ugh! it was
exactly like the first time, for over there one day and hour was just
like another.

"I cannot bear it!" said the pewter soldier. "I have shed pewter tears!
It is too melancholy! Rather let me go to the wars and lose arms and
legs! It would at least be a change. I cannot bear it longer! Now, I
know what it is to have a visit from one's old thoughts, with what they
may bring with them! I have had a visit from mine, and you may be sure
it is no pleasant thing in the end; I was at last about to jump down
from the drawers.

"I saw you all over there at home so