The Steadfast Tin Soldier
A translation of Hans Christian Andersen's "Den standhaftige Tinsoldat" by Jean Hersholt.
There were once five-and-twenty tin soldiers. They were all brothers, born of the same old tin spoon. They shouldered their muskets and looked straight ahead of them, splendid in their uniforms, all red and blue. The very first thing in the world that they heard was, "Tin soldiers!" A small boy shouted it and clapped his hands as the lid was lifted off their box on his birthday. He immediately set them up on the table. All the soldiers looked exactly alike except one. He looked a little different as he had been cast last of all. The tin was short, so he had only one leg. But there he stood, as steady on one leg as any of the other soldiers on their two. But just you see, he'll be the remarkable one. On the table with the soldiers were many other playthings, and one that no eye could miss was a marvelous castle of cardboard. It had little windows through which you could look right inside it. And in front of the castle were miniature trees around a little mirror supposed to represent a lake. The wax swans that swam on its surface were reflected in the mirror. All this was very pretty but prettiest of all was the little lady who stood in the open doorway of the castle. Though she was a paper doll, she wore a dress of the fluffiest gauze. A tiny blue ribbon went over her shoulder for a scarf, and in the middle of it shone a spangle that was as big as her face. The little lady held out both her arms, as a ballet dancer does, and one leg was lifted so high behind her that the tin soldier couldn't see it at all, and he supposed she must have only one leg, as he did. "That would be a wife for me," he thought. "But maybe she's too grand. She lives in a castle. I have only a box, with four-and-twenty roommates to share it. That's no place for her. But I must try to make her acquaintance." Still as stiff as when he stood at attention, he lay down on the table behind a snuffbox, where he could admire the dainty little dancer who kept standing on one leg without ever losing her balance.
When the evening came the other tin soldiers were put away in their box, and the people of the house went to bed. Now the toys began to play among themselves at visits, and battles, and at giving balls. The tin soldiers rattled about in their box, for they wanted to play too, but they could not get the lid open. The nutcracker turned somersaults, and the slate pencil squeaked out jokes on the slate. The toys made such a noise that they woke up the canary bird, who made them a speech, all in verse. The only two who stayed still were the tin soldier and the little dancer. Without ever swerving from the tip of one toe, she held out her arms to him, and the tin soldier was just as steadfast on his one leg. Not once did he take his eyes off her. Then the clock struck twelve and — clack! — up popped the lid of the snuffbox. But there was no snuff in it, no — out bounced a little black bogey, a jack-in-the-box. "Tin soldier," he said. "Will you please keep your eyes to yourself?" The tin soldier pretended not to hear. The bogey said, "Just you wait till tomorrow."
But when morning came, and the children got up, the soldier was set on the window ledge. And whether the bogey did it, or there was a gust of wind, all of a sudden the window flew open and the soldier pitched out headlong from the third floor. He fell at breathtaking speed and landed cap first, with his bayonet buried between the paving stones and his one leg stuck straight in the air. The housemaid and the little boy ran down to look for him and, though they nearly stepped on the tin soldier, they walked right past without seeing him. If the soldier had called, "Here I am!" they would surely have found him, but he thought it contemptible to raise an uproar while he was wearing his uniform. Soon it began to rain. The drops fell faster and faster, until they came down by the bucketful. As soon as the rain let up, along came two young rapscallions. "Hi, look!" one of them said, "there's a tin soldier. Let's send him sailing." They made a boat out of newspaper, put the tin soldier in the middle of it, and away he went down the gutter with the two young rapscallions running beside him and clapping their hands. High heavens! How the waves splashed, and how fast the water ran down the gutter. Don't forget that it had just been raining by the bucketful. The paper boat pitched, and tossed, and sometimes it whirled about so rapidly that it made the soldier's head spin. But he stood as steady as ever. Never once flinching, he kept his eyes front, and carried his gun shoulder-high. Suddenly the boat rushed under a long plank where the gutter was boarded over. It was as dark as the soldier's own box. "Where can I be going?" the soldier wondered. "This must be that black bogey's revenge. Ah! if only I had the little lady with me, it could be twice as dark here for all that I would care."
Out popped a great water rat who lived under the gutter plank. "Have you a passport?" said the rat. "Hand it over." The soldier kept quiet and held his musket tighter. On rushed the boat, and the rat came right after it, gnashing his teeth as he called to the sticks and straws: "Halt him! Stop him! He didn't pay his toll. He hasn't shown his passport." But the current ran stronger and stronger. The soldier could see daylight ahead where the board ended, but he also heard a roar that would frighten the bravest of us. Hold on! Right at the end of that gutter plank the water poured into the great canal. It was as dangerous to him as a waterfall would be to us. He was so near it he could not possibly stop. The boat plunged into the whirlpool. The poor tin soldier stood as staunch as he could, and no one can say that he so much as blinked an eye. Thrice and again the boat spun around. It filled to the top — and was bound to sink. The water was up to his neck and still the boat went down, deeper, deeper, deeper, and the paper got soft and limp. Then the water rushed over his head. He thought of the pretty little dancer whom he'd never see again, and in his ears rang an old, old song:
"Farewell, farewell, O warrior brave,
Nobody can from Death thee save."
And now the paper boat broke beneath him, and the soldier sank right through. And just at that moment he was swallowed by a most enormous fish. My! how dark it was inside that fish. It was darker than under the gutter-plank and it was so cramped, but the tin soldier still was staunch. He lay there full length, soldier fashion, with musket to shoulder. Then the fish flopped and floundered in a most unaccountable way. Finally it was perfectly still, and after a while something struck through him like a flash of lightning. The tin soldier saw daylight again, and he heard a voice say, "The Tin Soldier!" The fish had been caught, carried to market, bought, and brought to a kitchen where the cook cut him open with her big knife. She picked the soldier up bodily between her two fingers, and carried him off upstairs. Everyone wanted to see this remarkable traveler who had traveled about in a fish's stomach, but the tin soldier took no pride in it. They put him on the table and — lo and behold, what curious things can happen in this world — there he was, back in the same room as before. He saw the same children, the same toys were on the table, and there was the same fine castle with the pretty little dancer. She still balanced on one leg, with the other raised high. She too was steadfast. That touched the soldier so deeply that he would have cried tin tears, only soldiers never cry. He looked at her, and she looked at him, and never a word was said.
Just as things were going so nicely for them, one of the little boys snatched up the tin soldier and threw him into the stove. He did it for no reason at all. That black bogey in the snuffbox must have put him up to it. The tin soldier stood there dressed in flames. He felt a terrible heat, but whether it came from the flames or from his love he didn't know. He'd lost his splendid colors, maybe from his hard journey, maybe from grief, nobody can say. He looked at the little lady, and she looked at him, and he felt himself melting. But still he stood steadfast, with his musket held trim on his shoulder.
Then the door blew open. A puff of wind struck the dancer. She flew like a sylph, straight into the fire with the soldier, blazed up in a flash, and was gone. The tin soldier melted, all in a lump. The next day, when a servant took up the ashes she found him in the shape of a little tin heart. But of the pretty dancer nothing was left except her spangle, and it was burned as black as a coal.
THE END.
The Constant Tin-Soldier
A translation of Hans Christian Andersen's "Den standhaftige Tinsoldat" by CAROLINE PEACHEY.
THERE were once five-and-twenty Tin-soldiers, all brothers, for they had all been made out of one old tin-spoon. They carried muskets in their arms, and held themselves very upright, and their uniforms were red and blue — very gay indeed. The first word that they heard in this world, when the lid was taken off the box wherein they lay, was, "Tin-soldiers!" It was a little boy who made this exclamation, clapping his hands at the same time. They had been given to him because it was his birth-day, and he now set them out on the table. The soldiers resembled each other to a hair; one only was rather different from the rest; he had but one leg, for he had been made last, when there was not quite tin enough left; however, he stood as firmly upon his one leg as the others did upon their two. And this identical Tin-soldier it is whose fortunes seem to us worthy of record. On the table where the Tin-soldiers were set out were several other playthings, but the most charming of them all was a pretty pasteboard castle. Through its little windows one could look into the rooms. In front of the castle stood some tiny trees, clustering round a little mirror intended to represent a lake, and waxen swans swam in the lake, and were reflected on its surface. All this was very pretty; but prettiest of all was a little damsel standing in the open doorway of the castle. She, too, was cut out of pasteboard; but she had on a frock of the clearest muslin, a little sky-blue riband was flung across her shoulders like a scarf, and in the midst of this scarf was set a bright gold wing. The little lady stretched out both her arms, for she was a dancer, and raised one of her legs so high in the air that the Tin-soldier could not find it, and fancied that she had, like him, only one leg. "That would be just the wife for me," thought he; "but, then, she is of rather too high rank, she lives in a castle. I have only a box; besides, there are all our five-and-twenty men in it, it is no place for her! However, there will be no harm in my making acquaintance with her." And so he stationed himself behind a snuff box that stood on the table; from this place he had a full view of the delicate little lady, who still remained standing on one leg, yet without losing her balance.
When evening came, all the other Tin-soldiers were put away into the box, and the people of the house went to bed. The playthings now began to play in their turn; they pretended to visit, to fight battles, and give balls. The Tin-soldiers rattled in the box, for they wanted to play too, but the lid would not come off. The nut-crackers cut capers, and the slate-pencil played at commerce on the slate; there was such a racket that the canary-bird waked up, and began to talk too; but he always talked in verse. The only two who did not move from their places were the Tin-soldier and the little dancer; she constantly remained in her graceful position, standing on the point of her foot, with outstretched arms; and as for him, he stood just as firmly on his one leg, never for one moment turning his eyes away from her. Twelve o'clock struck — crash! open sprang the lid of the snuff-box; but there was no snuff inside it; no, out jumped a little black Conjuror; in fact, it was a Jack-in-the-box. "Tin-soldier!" said the Conjuror, "wilt thou keep thine eyes to thyself?" But the Tin-soldier pretended not to hear. "Well, only wait till to-morrow!" quoth the Conjuror.
When the morrow had come, and the children were out of bed, the Tin-soldier was placed on the window-ledge, and, whether the Conjuror or the wind occasioned it, all at once the window flew open, and out fell the Tin-soldier, head foremost, from the third story to the ground. A dreadful fall was that! his one leg turned over and over in the air, and at last he rested, poised on his soldier's cap, with his bayonet between the paving-stones. The maid-servant and the little boy immediately came down to look for him; but although they very nearly trod on him, they could not see him. If the Tin-soldier had but called out, "Here I am!" they might easily have found him; but he thought it would not be becoming for him to cry out, as he was in uniform. It now began to rain; every drop fell heavier than the last; there was a regular shower. When it was over, two boys came by. "Look," said one, "here is a Tin-soldier! he shall have a sail for once in his life." So they made a boat out of an old newspaper, put the Tin-soldier into it, and away he sailed down the gutter, both the boys running along by the side and clapping their hands. The paper-boat rocked to and fro, and every now and then veered round so quickly that the Tin-soldier became quite giddy; still he moved not a muscle, looked straight before him, and held his bayonet tightly clasped. All at once the boat sailed under a long gutter-board; he found it as dark here as at home in his own box. "Where shall I get to next?" thought he; "yes, to be sure, it is all that Conjuror's doing! Ah, if the little maiden were but sailing with me in the boat, I would not care for its being twice as dark!"
Just then a great Water-Rat, that lived under the gutter-board, darted out. "Have you a passport?" asked the Rat. "Where is your passport?" But the Tin-soldier was silent, and held his weapon with a still firmer grasp. The boat sailed on, and the Rat followed. Oh! how furiously he showed his teeth, and cried out to sticks and straws, "Stop him, stop him! he has not paid the toll! he has not shown his passport!" But the stream grew stronger and stronger. The Tin-Soldier could already catch a glimpse of the bright day-light before the boat came from under the tunnel, but at the same time he heard a roaring noise, at which the boldest heart might well have trembled. Only fancy! where the tunnel ended, the water of the gutter fell perpendicularly into a great canal; this was as dangerous for the Tin-soldier as sailing down a mighty waterfall would be for us. He was now so close that he could no longer stand upright; the boat darted forwards, the poor Tin-soldier held himself as stiff and immoveable as possible, no one could accuse him of having even blinked. The boat spun round and round, three, nay, four times, and was filled with water to the brim; it must sink. The Tin-soldier stood up to his neck in water, deeper and deeper sank the boat, softer and softer grew the paper; the water went over the soldier's head, he thought of the pretty little dancer, whom he should never see again, and these words rang in his ears: —
"Wild adventure, mortal danger
Be thy portion, valiant stranger!"
The paper now tore asunder, the Tin-soldier fell through the rent; but in the same moment he was swallowed up by a large fish. Oh, how dark it was! worse even than under the gutter-board, and so narrow too! — but the Tin-soldier's resolution was as constant as ever; there he lay, at full length, shouldering his arms. The fish turned and twisted about, and made the strangest movements! at last he became quite still; a flash of lightning, as it were, darted through him. The daylight shone brightly, and some one exclaimed, "Tin-soldier!" The fish had been caught, taken to the market, sold, and brought home into the kitchen, where the servant-girl was cutting him up with a large knife. She seized the Tin-soldier by the middle with two of her fingers, and took him into the parlour, where every one was eager to see the wonderful man who had travelled in the maw of a fish; — however, our little warrior was by no means proud. They set him on the table, and there — no, how could anything so extraordinary happen in this world! — the Tin-soldier was in the very same room in which he had been before; he saw the same children, the same playthings stood on the table, among them the beautiful castle with the pretty little dancing maiden, who was still standing upon one leg, whilst she held the other high in the air; she, too, was constant. It quite affected the Tin-soldier; he could have found it in his heart to weep tin-tears, but such weakness would have been unbecoming in a soldier. He looked at her, and she looked at him, but neither spoke a word.
And now one of the little boys took the Soldier and threw him without ceremony into the stove. He did not give any reason for so doing, but, no doubt, the Conjuror in the snuff-box must have had a hand in it. The Tin-soldier now stood in a blaze of red light; he felt extremely hot; whether this heat was the result of the actual fire, or of the flames of love within him, he knew not. He had entirely lost his colour; whether this change had happened during his travels, or were the effect of strong emotion, I know not. He looked upon the little damsel, she looked upon him, and he felt that he was melting; but, constant as ever, he still stood shouldering his arms.
A door opened, the wind seized the Dancer, and, like a sylph, she flew straightway into the stove, to the Tin-soldier; they both flamed up into a blaze — and were gone! The Soldier was melted to a hard lump, and when the maid took the ashes out the next day, she found his remains in the shape of a little tin-heart: of the Dancer there remained only the gold wing, and that was burnt black as a coal.
THE END.
The Steadfast Tin Soldier
A translation of Hans Christian Andersen's "Den standhaftige Tinsoldat" by unknown translator/interpreter #1.
There were once five-and-twenty tin soldiers; they were all brothers, for they had all been born of one old tin spoon. They held guns, and looked straight before them; their uniform was red and blue, and very fine. The first thing they had heard in the world, when the lid was taken off the box, in which they lay, had been the words "Tin soldiers!" a little boy spoke up and clapped his hands. The soldiers had been given to him, for it was his birthday; and now he put them on the table. Each soldier was exactly like the rest; but one of them was a little different; he had one leg because he had been cast last of all, and there had not been enough tin to finish him; but he stood as firmly upon his one leg as the others on their two; and it was just this soldier who became worth talking about. On the table on which they had been placed stood many other playthings, but the toy that most took the eye was a neat castle of cardboard. Through the little windows one could see straight into the hall. Outside stood some small trees and a little looking-glass, which was made to look like a clear lake. Swans of wax swam on this lake, and looked at themselves in it. This was all very pretty; but the prettiest of all was a little lady, who stood at the open door of the castle; she was cut out in paper, but she had a dress of the clearest gauze, and a little narrow blue ribbon over her shoulders, that looked like a scarf; and in the middle of this ribbon was a shining tinsel rose, as big as her whole face. The little lady stretched out both her arms, for she was a dancer, and then she lifted one foot so high in the air that the Tin Soldier could not see it at all, and thought that, like himself, she had but one leg. "That would be the wife for me," thought he; "but she is very grand. She lives in a castle, and I have only a box, and there are five-and-twenty of us in that. It is no place for her. But I must try to make friends with her." And then he lay down at full length behind a snuff-box which was on the table; there he could easily watch the little dainty lady, who still stood on one leg without losing her balance.
When the evening came, all the tin soldiers were put in their box, and the people in the house went to bed. Now the toys began to play at "visiting," and at "war," and "giving balls." The tin soldiers rattled in their box, for they wanted to join, but could not lift the lid. The Nut-cracker went head over heels, and the Pencil played games on the table; there was so much noise that the Canary woke up, and began to speak too, and even in verse. The only two who did not stir from their places were the Tin Soldier and the little Dancer; she stood straight up on the point of one of her toes, and stretched out both her arms, and he was just as firm on his one leg; and he never turned his eyes away from her. Now the clock struck twelve — and, bounce! the lid flew off the snuff-box; but there was not snuff in it, but a little black troll; you see, it was a Jack-in-the-box. "Tin Soldier," said the Troll; "keep your eyes to yourself." But the Tin Soldier made as if he did not hear him. "Just you wait till to-morrow!" said the Troll.
But when the morning came, and the children got up, the Tin Soldier was placed in the window; and whether it was the Troll or the draught that did it, all at once the window flew open, and the Soldier fell, head over heels, out of the third story. That was a terrible journey! He put his leg straight up, and came down so that he stood on his head, and his bayonet between the paving-stones. The servant-maid and the little boy came down at once to look for him, but though they almost trod upon him they could not see him. If the Soldier had cried out, "Here I am!" they would have found him; but he did not think it proper to call out loudly, because he was in his soldier clothes. Now it began to rain; each drop fell faster than the other, and at last it came down in a full stream. When the rain was past, two street boys came by. "Just look!" said one of them, "there lies a tin soldier. He shall have a sail." And so they made a boat out of a newspaper, and put the Tin Soldier in the middle of it, and he sailed down the gutter; now the two boys ran beside him and clapped their hands. Mercy on us! how the waves rose in that gutter, and how fast the stream ran! But then it had been a heavy rain. The paper boat rocked up and down, and sometimes turned round so quickly that the Tin Soldier trembled; but he was firm, and never moved a muscle, but looked straight before him, and carried his gun erect. All at once the boat went into a long drain, and it became as dark as if he had been in his box. "I wonder where I am going now," he thought. "Yes, yes, that's the Troll's fault. Ah! if the little lady only sat here with me in the boat, it might be twice as dark for all I should care."
Suddenly there came a great water-rat, which lived under the drain. "Have you a passport?" said the Rat. "Give me your passport." But the Tin Soldier kept still, and only held faster his gun. The boat went on, but the Rat came after it. Whew! how he gnashed his teeth, and called out to the bits of straw and wood, — "Stop him! stop him! he has n't paid toll — he has n't shown his passport!" But the stream became stronger and stronger. The Tin Soldier could see the bright daylight where the arch of the drain ended; but he also heard a roaring noise, which might well frighten a bolder man. Only think — just where the tunnel ended, the drain ran into a great canal; and for him that would have been as full of peril as for us to be carried down a great waterfall. Now he was already so near it that he could not stop. The boat was carried out, the poor Tin Soldier held himself as stiffly as he could, and no one could say that he moved an eyelid. The boat whirled round three or four times, and was full of water to the very edge — it must sink. The Tin Soldier stood up to his neck in water, deeper and deeper sank the boat, and the paper was fast dropping to pieces; and now the water closed over the Soldier's head. Then he thought of the pretty little Dancer, and how he should never see her again; and it sounded in the Soldier's ears: —
"Farewell, farewell, thou warrior brave,
Die shalt thou this day."
And now the paper broke in two, and the Tin Soldier fell through; but at that moment he was swallowed up by a great fish. Oh, how dark it was in there! It was darker than in the drain tunnel; and then it was very narrow, too. But the Tin Soldier was firm, and lay at full length, with his gun. The fish swam to and fro; he made the strangest stir; at last he became quite still and there was a streak of light through him. The light shone quite clear, and a voice said aloud, "The Tin Soldier!" The fish had been caught, carried to market, bought, and taken into the kitchen, where the cook cut him open with a large knife. She took the Soldier round the body with two fingers, and carried him into the room, where all waited to see the famous man who had traveled about in the inside of a fish; but the Tin Soldier was not at all proud. They placed him on the table, and there — no! What curious things may happen in the world! The Tin Soldier was in the very room in which he had been before! he saw the same children, and the same toys stood upon the table; and there was the pretty castle with the graceful Dancer. She was still standing on one leg, and held the other extended in the air. She was faithful too. That moved the Tin Soldier: he was very near weeping tin tears, but that would not have been proper. He looked at her, and she looked at him, but they said nothing to each other.
Then one of the little boys took the Tin Soldier and flung him into the stove. He gave no reason for doing this. It must have been the fault of the Jack-in-the-box. The Tin Soldier stood there quite in the blaze, and felt a heat that was terrible; but whether this heat came from the real fire or from love he did not know. The colors had quite run off from him; but whether that had happened on the journey, or had been caused by grief, no one could say. He looked at the little lady, she looked at him, and he felt that he was melting; but he stood firm, with his gun in his arms.
Then suddenly the door flew open, and the draught of air caught the Dancer, and she flew like a sylph just into the stove to the Tin Soldier, and flashed up in a flame, and then was gone! Then the Tin Soldier melted down into a lump, and when the servant-maid took the ashes out the next day, she found him in the shape of a little tin heart. But of the Dancer was left nothing but the tinsel rose, and that was burned as black as a coal.
THE END.
The Steadfast Tin Soldier
A translation of Hans Christian Andersen's "Den standhaftige Tinsoldat" by unknown translator/interpreter #2.
There were once upon a time five-and-twenty tin-soldiers — all brothers, as they were made out of the same old tin spoon. Their uniform was red and blue, and they shouldered their guns and looked straight in front of them. The first words that they heard in this world, when the lid of the box in which they lay was taken off, were: "Hurrah, tin-soldiers!" This was exclaimed by a little boy, clapping his hands; they had been given to him because it was his birthday, and now he began setting them out on the table. Each soldier was exactly like the other in shape, except just one, who had been made last when the tin had run short; but there he stood as firmly on his one leg as the others did on two, and he is the one that became famous. There were many other playthings on the table on which they were being set out, but the nicest of all was a pretty little castle made of cardboard, with windows through which you could see into the rooms. In front of the castle stood some little trees surrounding a tiny mirror which looked like a lake. Wax swans were floating about and reflecting themselves in it. That was all very pretty; but the most beautiful thing was a little lady, who stood in the open doorway. She was cut out of paper, but she had on a dress of the finest muslin, with a scarf of narrow blue ribbon round her shoulders, fastened in the middle with a glittering rose made of gold paper, which was as large as her head. The little lady was stretching out both her arms, for she was a Dancer, and was lifting up one leg so high in the air that the Tin-soldier couldn't find it anywhere, and thought that she, too, had only one leg. "That's the wife for me!" he thought; "but she is so grand, and lives in a castle, whilst I have only a box with four-and-twenty others. This is no place for her! But I must make her acquaintance." Then he stretched himself out behind a snuff-box that lay on the table; from thence he could watch the dainty little lady, who continued to stand on one leg without losing her balance.
When the night came all the other tin-soldiers went into their box, and the people of the house went to bed. Then the toys began to play at visiting, dancing, and fighting. The tin-soldiers rattled in their box, for they wanted to be out too, but they could not raise the lid. The nut-crackers played at leap-frog, and the chalk ran about the blackboard; there was such a noise that the canary woke up and began to talk to them, in poetry too! The only two who did not stir from their places were the Tin-soldier and the little Dancer. She remained on tip-toe, with both arms outstretched; he stood steadfastly on his one leg, never moving his eyes from her face. The clock struck twelve, and crack! off flew the lid of the spice-box; but there were no spices inside, nor any hot curry powder, only a little imp — that was the beauty of it. Now an imp is a magical creature, a little like a fairy, only more naughty. "Hullo, Tin-soldier!" said the imp. "Don't look at things that aren't intended for the likes of you!" She meant that he shouldn't look at the little dander. But the Tin-soldier took no notice, and seemed not to hear. "Very well, wait till tomorrow!" said the imp.
When it was morning, and the children had got up, the Tin-soldier was put in the window; and whether it was the wind or the little imp, I don't know, but all at once the window flew open and out fell the little Tin-soldier, head over heels, from the third-storey window! That was a terrible fall, I can tell you! He landed on his head with his leg in the air, his gun being wedged between two paving-stones. The nursery-maid and the little boy came down at once to look for him, but, though they were so near him that they almost trod on him, they did not notice him. If the Tin-soldier had only called out "Here I am!" they must have found him; but he did not think it fitting for him to cry out, because he had on his uniform. Soon it began to drizzle; then the drops came faster, and there was a regular down-pour. When it was over, two little street boys came along. "Just look!" cried one. "Here is a Tin-soldier! He shall sail up and down in a boat!" So they made a little boat out of newspaper, put the Tin-soldier in it, and made him sail up and down the gutter; both the boys ran along beside him, clapping their hands. What great waves there were in the gutter, and what a swift current! The paper-boat tossed up and down, and in the middle of the stream it went so quick that the Tin-soldier trembled; but he remained steadfast, showed no emotion, looked straight in front of him, shouldering his gun. All at once the boat passed under a long tunnel that was as dark as his box had been. "Where can I be coming now?" he wondered. "Oh, dear! This is the imp's fault! Ah, if only the little lady were sitting beside me in the boat, it might be twice as dark for all I should care!"
Suddenly there came along a great water-rat that lived in the tunnel. "Have you a passport?" asked the rat. "Out with your passport!" But the Tin-soldier was silent, and grasped his gun more firmly. The boat sped on, and the rat behind it. Ugh! how he showed his teeth, as he cried to the chips of wood and straw: "Hold him, hold him! he has not paid the toll! He has not shown his passport!" But the current became swifter and stronger. The Tin-soldier could already see daylight where the tunnel ended; but in his ears there sounded a roaring enough to frighten any brave man. Only think! at the end of the tunnel the gutter discharged itself into a great canal; that would be just as dangerous for him as it would be for us to go down a waterfall. Now he was so near to it that he could not hold on any longer. On went the boat, the poor Tin-soldier keeping himself as stiff as he could: no one should say of him afterwards that he had flinched. The boat whirled three, four times round, and became filled to the brim with water: it began to sink! The Tin-soldier was standing up to his neck in water, and deeper and deeper sank the boat, and softer and softer grew the paper; now the water was over his head. He was thinking of the pretty little Dancer, whose face he should never see again, and there sounded in his ears, over and over again:
"Forward, forward, soldier bold!
Death's before thee, grim and cold!"
The paper came in two, and the soldier fell — but at that moment he was swallowed by a great fish. Oh! how dark it was inside, even darker than in the tunnel, and it was really very close quarters! But there the steadfast little Tin-soldier lay full length, shouldering his gun. Up and down swam the fish, then he made the most dreadful contortions, and became suddenly quite still. Then it was as if a flash of lightning had passed through him; the daylight streamed in, and a voice exclaimed, "Why, here is the little Tin-soldier!" The fish had been caught, taken to a market, sold, and brought into the kitchen, where the cook had cut it open with a great knife. She took up the soldier between her finger and thumb, and carried him into the room, where everyone wanted to see the hero who had been found inside a fish; but the Tin-soldier was not at all proud. They put him on the table, and — no, but what strange things do happen in this world! — the Tin-soldier was in the same room in which he had been before! He saw the same children, and the same toys on the table; and there was the same grand castle with the pretty little Dancer. She was still standing on one leg with the other high in the air; she too was steadfast. That touched the Tin-soldier, he was nearly going to shed tin-tears; but that would not have been fitting for a soldier. He looked at her, but she said nothing.
All at once one of the little boys took up the Tin-soldier, and threw him into the stove, giving no reasons; but doubtless the imp in the spice-box was at the bottom of this too. There the Tin-soldier lay, and felt a heat that was truly terrible; but whether he was suffering from actual fire, or from the ardour of his passion, he did not know. All his colour had disappeared; whether this had happened on his travels or whether it was the result of trouble, who can say? He looked at the little lady, she looked at him, and he felt that he was melting; but he remained steadfast, with his gun at his shoulder.
Suddenly a door opened, the draught caught up the little Dancer, and off she flew like a fairy to the Tin-soldier in the stove, burst into flames — and that was the end of her! Then the Tin-soldier melted down into a little lump, and when next morning the maid was taking out the ashes, she found him in the shape of a heart. There was nothing left of the little Dancer but her gilt rose, burnt as black as a cinder.
THE END.
The Steadfast Tin Soldier
A translation of Hans Christian Andersen's "Den standhaftige Tinsoldat" by unknown translator/interpreter #3.
THERE were once five and twenty tin soldiers, all brothers, for they were the offspring of the same old tin spoon. Each man shouldered his gun, kept his eyes well to the front, and wore the smartest red and blue uniform imaginable. The first thing they heard in their new world, when the lid was taken off the box, was a little boy clapping his hands and crying, "Soldiers, soldiers!" It was his birthday and they had just been given to him; so he lost no time in setting them up on the table. All the soldiers were exactly alike with one exception, and he differed from the rest in having only one leg. For he was made last, and there was not quite enough tin left to finish him. However, he stood just as well on his one leg as the others on two, in fact he is the very one who is to become famous. On the table where they were being set up, were many other toys; but the chief thing which caught the eye was a delightful paper castle. You could see through the tiny windows, right into the rooms. Outside there were some little trees surrounding a small mirror, representing a lake, whose surface reflected the waxen swans which were swimming about on it. It was altogether charming, but the prettiest thing of all was a little maiden standing at the open door of the castle. She, too, was cut out of paper, but she wore a dress of the lightest gauze, with a dainty little blue ribbon over her shoulders, by way of a scarf, set off by a brilliant spangle as big as her whole face. The little maid was stretching out both arms, for she was a dancer, and in the dance one of her legs was raised so high into the air that the tin soldier could see absolutely nothing of it, and supposed that she, like himself, had but one leg. "That would be the very wife for me!" he thought; "but she is much too grand; she lives in a palace, while I only have a box, and then there are five and twenty of us to share it. No, that would be no place for her! but I must try to make her acquaintance!" Then he lay down full length behind a snuff box, which stood on the table. From that point he could have a good look at the little lady, who continued to stand on one leg without losing her balance.
Late in the evening the other soldiers were put into their box, and the people of the house went to bed. Now was the time for the toys to play; they amused themselves with paying visits, fighting battles, and giving balls. The tin soldiers rustled about in their box, for they wanted to join the games, but they could not get the lid off. The nut-crackers turned somersaults, and the pencil scribbled nonsense on the slate. There was such a noise that the canary woke up and joined in, but his remarks were in verse. The only two who did not move were the tin soldier and the little dancer. She stood as stiff as ever on tip-toe, with her arms spread out: he was equally firm on his one leg, and he did not take his eyes off her for a moment. Then the clock struck twelve, when pop! up flew the lid of the snuff box, but there was no snuff in it, no! There was a little black goblin, a sort of Jack-in-the-box. "Tin soldier!" said the goblin, "have the goodness to keep your eyes to yourself." But the tin soldier feigned not to hear. "Ah! you just wait till to-morrow," said the goblin.
In the morning when the children got up they put the tin soldier on the window frame, and, whether it was caused by the goblin or by a puff of wind, I do not know, but all at once the window burst open, and the soldier fell head foremost from the third storey. It was a terrific descent, and he landed at last, with his leg in the air, and rested on his cap, with his bayonet fixed between two paving stones. The maid-servant and the little boy ran down at once to look for him; but although they almost trod on him, they could not see him. Had the soldier only called out, "here I am," they would easily have found him, but he did not think it proper to shout when he was in uniform. Presently it began to rain, and the drops fell faster and faster, till there was a regular torrent. When it was over two street boys came along. "Look out!" said one; "there is a tin soldier! He shall go for a sail." So they made a boat out of a newspaper and put the soldier into the middle of it, and he sailed away down the gutter; both boys ran alongside clapping their hands. Good heavens! what waves there were in the gutter, and what a current, but then it certainly had rained cats and dogs. The paper boat danced up and down, and now and then whirled round and round. A shudder ran through the tin soldier, but he remained undaunted, and did not move a muscle, only looked straight before him with his gun shouldered. All at once the boat drifted under a long wooden tunnel, and it became as dark as it was in his box. "Where on earth am I going to now!" thought he. "Well, well, it is all the fault of that goblin! Oh, if only the little maiden were with me in the boat it might be twice as dark for all I should care!"
At this moment a big water rat, who lived in the tunnel, came up. "Have you a pass?" asked the rat. "Hand up your pass!" The tin soldier did not speak, but clung still tighter to his gun. The boat rushed on, the rat close behind. Phew, how he gnashed his teeth and shouted to the bits of stick and straw, — "Stop him, stop him, he hasn't paid his toll; he hasn't shown his pass!" But the current grew stronger and stronger, the tin soldier could already see daylight before him at the end of the tunnel; but he also heard a roaring sound, fit to strike terror to the bravest heart. Just imagine! Where the tunnel ended the stream rushed straight into the big canal. That would be just as dangerous for him as it would be for us to shoot a great rapid. He was so near the end now that it was impossible to stop. The boat dashed out; the poor tin soldier held himself as stiff as he could; no one should say of him that he even winced. The boat swirled round three or four times, and filled with water to the edge; it must sink. The tin soldier stood up to his neck in water, and the boat sank deeper and deeper. The paper became limper and limper, and at last the water went over his head — then he thought of the pretty little dancer, whom he was never to see again, and this refrain rang in his ears, —
"Onward! Onward! Soldier!
For death thou canst not shun."
At last the paper gave way entirely and the soldier fell through — but at the same moment he was swallowed by a big fish. Oh! how dark it was inside the fish, it was worse than being in the tunnel even; and then it was so narrow! But the tin soldier was as dauntless as ever, and lay full length, shouldering his gun. The fish rushed about and made the most frantic movements. At last it became quite quiet, and after a time, a flash like lightning pierced it. The solider was once more in the broad daylight, and some one called out loudly, "a tin soldier!" The fish had been caught, taken to market, sold, and brought into the kitchen, where the cook cut it open with a large knife. She took the soldier up by the waist, with two fingers, and carried him into the parlour, where everyone wanted to see the wonderful man, who had travelled about in the stomach of a fish; but the tin soldier was not at all proud. They set him up on the table, and, wonder of wonders! he found himself in the very same room that he had been in before. He saw the very same children, and the toys were still standing on the table, as well as the beautiful castle with the pretty little dancer. She still stood on one leg, and held the other up in the air. You see she also was unbending. The soldier was so much moved that he was ready to shed tears of tin, but that would not have been fitting. He looked at her, and she looked at him, but they said never a word.
At this moment one of the little boys took up the tin soldier, and without rhyme or reason, threw him into the fire. No doubt the little goblin in the snuff box was to blame for that. The tin soldier stood there, lighted up by the flame, and in the most horrible heat; but whether it was the heat of the real fire, or the warmth of his feelings, he did not know. He had lost all his gay colour; it might have been from his perilous journey, or it might have been from grief, who can tell? He looked at the little maiden, and she looked at him; and he felt that he was melting away, but he still managed to keep himself erect, shouldering his gun bravely.
A door was suddenly opened, the draught caught the little dancer and she fluttered like a sylph, straight into the fire, to the soldier, blazed up and was gone! By this time the soldier was reduced to a mere lump, and when the maid took away the ashes next morning she found him, in the shape of a small tin heart. All that was left of the dancer was her spangle, and that was burnt as black as a coal.
THE END.
The Constant Tin Soldier
A translation of Hans Christian Andersen's "Den standhaftige Tinsoldat" by unknown translator/interpreter #4.
THERE were once five-and-twenty tin soldiers that were all brothers, for they were all made out of the same old tin spoon. They all shouldered their muskets, looked stiff, and wore a smart red and blue uniform. The first thing they heard in this world, when the lid was taken off the box in which they lay, were the words "Tin soldiers!" spoken by a little boy, who was clapping his hands with joy. They had been given him on his birthday, and he now set them up on the table. Each soldier was exactly the image of the other, except one that was a little different to the rest; and he had only one leg, having been melted the last of the batch, when there was not enough tin left. Yet he stood as firmly on his one leg as the others on their two legs; and it was precisely he, who became a remarkable character. The table on which they were placed was strewed with a number of other toys, the most attractive amongst them being a pretty little paper castle. One might see through the tiny windows into the rooms. In front of the castle stood little trees, round a small piece of looking-glass, that was meant to represent a transparent lake. Wax swans were swimming on its surface, that reflected back their image. This was all very pretty; but the prettiest of all was a diminutive lady, who stood at the castle's open door. She, too, was cut out of paper; but she wore a dress of the clearest muslin and a narrow blue ribbon over her shoulders, like a scarf; and in the middle of this was placed a tinsel rose, as big as her whole face. The little lady stretched out both her arms, for she was a dancer; and then she lifted her leg so high that the tin soldier lost sight of it, and therefore concluded that she had only one, like himself. "She would make a fit wife for me," thought he; "only she is very genteel, and lives in a castle; while I have nothing but a box to live in, and we are five-and-twenty of us in that. It would be no place for a lady! Still I must try and scrape acquaintance with her." And he laid himself at full length behind a snuff-box that happened to be on the table, and from thence he could peep at the delicate little lady, who continued standing on one leg without losing her balance.
Towards evening, all the other tin soldiers were put back into the box, and the people of the house went to bed; so now the playthings began to play at various games. The tin soldiers rattled in their box, for they wanted to join the rest, but they could not lift up the lid. The nut-crackers threw somersaults, and the pencil jumped about the table; and there was such a din that the canary-bird awoke, and began to speak, and in poetry, too. The only ones who did not move from their places, were the tin soldier and the dancer. She stood on tiptoe, and stretched out both her arms; and he was just as persevering on his one leg. He did not take his eyes off her for a single moment. The clock now struck twelve, when — crack! up flew the lid of the snuff-box; there was no snuff in it, but a little black gnome, for it was a puzzle. "Tin soldier." said the gnome, "don't be hankering after forbidden fruit." But the tin soldier pretended not to have heard him. "Only wait till to-morrow," observed the gnome.
Next morning, when the children were up, the tin soldier was placed in the window; and whether it was the gnome, or the draught, that did it, certain it is that the window flew open, and down the soldier fell, head over heels from the third storey into the street below. It was a tremendous fall! His cap and bayonet stuck fast between the flag-stones, while his leg stood upright in the air. The servant-girl and the little boy went downstairs immediately to look after him; but, though they had nearly trodden upon him, they could not manage to find him. If the tin soldier had but called out, "Here am I!" they might have found him; but he did not think it consistent with his uniform to cry out for help. It now began to rain. The drops fell faster and faster, and there was soon a regular shower. When it was over, two boys that were idling about the streets happened to pass by. "Look," said one of them, "there lies a tin soldier. He shall have a sail in a boat." And so they made a boat out of a newspaper, and placed the soldier inside it, and set him floating down the gutter. The two boys ran by his side, clapping their hands. But, dear me! what waves there were in the gutter, and what a strong current! It was, to be sure, at high water, owing to the rain. The paper boat rocked up and down, and sometimes whirled round so fast that the tin soldier trembled; yet he remained at his post, made no faces, looked straight before him, and shouldered his musket. On a sudden, the boat shot under a long bridge that lay across the gutter, where it was as dark as in his box. "Where am I going to?" thought he. "This must surely be the gnome's fault! Oh! if the little lady was but here at my side in the boat, it might then be as dark as it pleased, and I should not care."
A huge rat, that lived under the bridge of the gutter, now made his appearance. "Have you a pass?" enquired the rat. "Come, out with it!" But the tin soldier remained silent, and held his musket still tighter. The boat flew past, and the rat followed. How he did gnash his teeth, and call out to the wood-shavings and the straw: "Stop him! stop him! He has not paid the toll, nor shown his pass." But the stream gushed on more madly still, and the tin soldier could already see daylight at the point where the bridge ended; at the same time, however, he heard a rushing sound, well calculated to appall even the bravest. Only fancy! just where the bridge left off, the waters widened into a large sheet that fell into the mouth of a sewer; and such a situation was as perilous to him as it would be for us to sail down a waterfall in a boat. He was now so near the precipice that he could no longer keep himself back. The boat dashed on, and the poor tin soldier kept as stiff as ever he could, that nobody should say of him that he had even so much as winked an eye. The boat now spun round three or four times, till it was filled with water to the edge — and sink it must! The tin soldier stood up to his neck in water, while the boat sank deeper and deeper, the paper went gradually to rags, and the waters now closed over the tin soldier's head. He thought of the elegant little dancer, whom he should never see again, and in his ears rang the burden of the old song: —
"On, soldier! on — on — though swords clash and shots rattle,
'Tis thy fate to find death in the midst of the battle."
And now the paper fell in two, and down the tin soldier was flung — but was instantly swallowed up by a huge fish. Oh! how dark it was inside the fish! — worse a great deal than under the bridge over the gutter, and, besides, it was such a narrow place. But the tin soldier retained his fortitude, and lay at full length with his gun on his shoulder. The fish swam about, making the most frightful contortions. At last he became quite quiet. Then a flash of lightning seemed to dart through him, daylight appeared, and a voice called out, "The tin soldier, as I'm alive!" The fish had been caught, taken to market, and sold, and was now in the kitchen, where the cook was opening it with a large knife. She picked up the soldier by the waist, between her finger and thumb, and carried him into the sitting-room, where everybody was desirous of seeing such a celebrated man, who had travelled about inside a fish. But the tin soldier was not the more conceited for that. They placed him on the table, and there — what odd events do happen in the world, to be sure! The tin soldier found himself once more in the identical room in which he had been before, and saw the same children, and the same playthings on the table, together with the noble castle and the elegant little dancer. She was still standing on one leg, and still holding up the other — she, too, was constant. This touched the tin soldier so deeply that he was fit to weep tin, only he restrained himself, as in duty bound. He looked at her, and she looked at him, but they said nothing.
Then one of the little boys took up the soldier, and flung him right into the stove; nor did he give any reason for so doing, which plainly showed that the gnome in the box was at the bottom of it all. The tin soldier was now lighted up by the flames, and felt a tremendous degree of heat; but whether it proceeded from the real fire, or from the fire of love, he could not exactly tell. His colour was completely gone, but whether this had happened during his travels, or was merely the effects of grief, nobody could guess. He looked at the little lady, and she looked at him, and he felt himself melting away; still he stood firm with his gun on his shoulder.
The door now happened to open, and the wind caught up the dancer, who fluttered like a sylph right into the stove beside the tin soldier, and was instantly consumed by the flames. The tin soldier melted down to a lump, and next day, when the maid raked out the ashes, she found him in the shape of a little tin heart. Of the dancer nothing remained but the tinsel rose, and that was as black as a cinder.
THE END.
The Gallant Tin Soldier
A translation of Hans Christian Andersen's "Den standhaftige Tinsoldat" by unknown translator/interpreter #5.
THERE were once five-and-twenty tin soldiers. They were all brothers, because they were born of the same old tin spoon. They all shouldered their muskets, they all looked straight before them, and they all had the same splendid uniform — red and blue. The first words they heard in this world, when the lid was taken off the box in which they were lying, were: "Tin soldiers!" It was a little boy who shouted this as he clapped his hands in delight at seeing the soldiers. They had just been given to him as a present, because it was his birthday. He began putting them on the table. They were all exactly alike, except one, and he had only one leg because he had been cast last of all, and there was not tin enough to fill the mold; but he stood just as firm on his one leg as the others on their two, and it was just this soldier who became famous. On the table where they had been placed stood many other toys, but the most remarkable of all was a splendid castle made of cardboard. You could see right into the rooms through the small windows. In front of the castle some small trees were placed round a looking-glass which was to represent a lake. Swans made of wax swam on the lake and watched their reflection in it. It was altogether very pretty; but the prettiest of all was a little lady who was standing right outside the open gate of the castle. She was also cut out of paper, but she had a skirt of the clearest gauze, and a little, narrow blue ribbon over her shoulders, just like a scarf, and in the middle of it was a bright spangle as big as her face. The little lady stretched out both her arms, — she was a dancer, — and she lifted one leg so high that the tin soldier could not see it, and he believed that she had only one leg like himself. "That's the wife for me," he thought; "but she is very grand: she lives in a castle. I have only a box, and there are twenty-five of us in there already. It's no place for her. But I must try and get acquainted with her." And then he laid himself down at full length behind a snuff-box which was on the table. There he could have a good look at the elegant little lady, who remained standing on one leg without losing her balance.
Later on in the evening all the other tin soldiers were put back, in their box, and the people in the house went to bed. Then the toys commenced to play and amuse themselves. They played at "visiting," at "making war," and at "giving balls." The tin soldiers were making a noise in their box because they wanted to join in the fun, but they could not get the lid off. The nut-cracker turned somersaults, and the slate pencil did all sorts of tricks on the slate. There was such a noise that the canary woke up and began to chatter, and that in verse too. The only two who did not stir from their places were the tin soldier and the little dancer. She was standing on the tip of her toes, with both her arms stretched out; he remained quietly behind the snuff-box. He never took his eyes off her for a moment. The clock struck twelve and — bounce! — the lid flew off the snuff-box; but there was no snuff in it at all, only a little black goblin. It was a kind of Jack-in-the-box, you know. "Tin soldier," shouted the goblin, "will you keep your eyes to yourself?" But the tin soldier appeared as if he did not hear it. "Just wait till to-morrow," said the goblin.
When the morning came and the children were up, the tin soldier was put in the window; but whether it was the goblin or the draught which was the cause of it, the window flew open all of a sudden, and the soldier fell head foremost from the third story. It was a terrible fall. There he was, standing on his head, his bayonet sticking between two paving-stones and his leg pointing up in the air. The servant girl and the little boy ran down into the street at once to look for him; but although they very nearly trod upon him, they could not see him. If the soldier would only have cried out, "Here I am!" they could have found him; but he thought it was beneath his dignity to shout aloud because he was in uniform. It began to rain; the drops fell faster and faster till they poured down. When the rain was over two boys came past. "Look!" cried one of them, "there's a tin soldier! Let's give him a sail." They made a boat out of a newspaper and put the soldier in it, and soon he was sailing along the gutter, while the two boys ran alongside him, clapping their hands. What a rough sea there was in that gutter, and what a strong tide there was running! But then it had been raining in torrents. The paper boat rocked up and down, and now and then it turned about so rapidly that the tin soldier was very nearly shaken overboard; but he stuck to it manfully, and did not even change countenance. He looked straight before him, and grasped his musket. All of a sudden the boat drifted into a drain, where it was just as dark as if he had been in his box "I wonder where I am off to now?" he thought. "Well, well, it is all the doing of that goblin. Aha! if the little lady were only here along with me in the boat, I would not mind if it were twice as dark."
Just then a large water-rat, who was living in the drain, saw him. "Have you got a pass?" asked the rat. "Give me your pass!" But the tin soldier did not answer, and grasped his musket still tighter. The boat rushed on, and the rat gave chase to it. How the rat gnashed his teeth! He shouted out to all the bits of wood and straw which were floating about in the drain, "Stop him! stop him! He has n't paid the toll! he has n't shown his pass!" But the rush of the water in the drain carried the boat along faster and faster. The tin soldier could already see the bright daylight at the end of the drain, but he heard at the same time a roaring noise, which was enough to frighten even a bold man. Only think, at the end of the drain the water rushed out into a big canal! It was to him just as dangerous a passage as a big waterfall would be to us. He was now so near this point that he could not stop the boat. The boat darted out; the poor tin soldier summoned up all his courage, and kept himself steady — nobody should say of him that he moved a muscle. The boat whirled round three or four times — it was filling with water to the very edge — it must sink; the tin soldier stood up to his neck in water, the boat sank deeper and deeper, and the paper was gradually giving way. The water had now reached up to the soldier's head; he thought of the beautiful little dancer, whom he should never see again; the old nursery rhyme was ringing in his ears:
Danger, danger, warrior bold,
Prepare to meet thy grave so cold!
At this moment the boat went to pieces, and the tin soldier was sinking to the bottom when a great fish snapped him up and swallowed him. What a dark place it was! It was even darker than in the drain, and there was so little room, too; but our gallant tin soldier did not flinch a bit; he lay at full length, shouldering his musket. The fish was rushing about, and was struggling fearfully. At last he became quiet; something like a flash of lightning passed through him. It was broad daylight, and somebody cried out, "A tin soldier!" The fish had been caught and brought to market, where he was sold, and had now been carried up into the kitchen, where the cook cut him open with a big knife. She took the soldier and carried him into the parlor, where everybody wanted to see the remarkable man who had traveled about in the stomach of a fish; but the tin soldier was not at all proud. They put him on the table, and there — but no! — what wonderful things will happen in this world! — the tin soldier was in the very room where he fell out of the window; he saw the same children, and the toys were all standing on the table; there was the beautiful castle, with the elegant little dancer. She was still standing on one leg, and kept the other high in the air. Had she been waiting for him? The tin soldier was so much moved that he nearly shed tears of tin, but it was not becoming. He looked at her and she looked at him, but they did not say anything.
Then one of the little boys took the tin soldier and threw him right into the fire, without giving any reason for doing so; it must have been the goblin in the box who put this into his head. The tin soldier stood there quite radiant; he felt a heat that was something terrible, but whether it was the heat from the fire or from his love, he was not quite sure. The colors had quite gone off him, but whether this had happened to him on his journey, or was caused by his grief, no one could tell. He looked at the little lady, and she looked at him; he felt he was melting, but he remained firm, shouldering his musket.
Suddenly the door of the room flew open, the draft caught the dancer, and she flew like a sylph straight into the stove to the tin soldier; there was a blaze — and she was gone. The brave tin soldier melted down into a little lump, and when the servant girl took out the ashes next morning, she found him in the shape of a little tin heart. Of the beautiful dancer remained only the spangle, and that was burned as black as coal.
THE END.
