Grandpa's Tinderbox Written by Lu Xu
Illustrated by Chengliang Zhu
Grandpa's Tinderbox Written by Lu Xu
Illustrated by Chengliang Zhu
During my childhood, I lived with Grandpa in a small, mountain village. 2
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Grandpa was an old ranger of the Great Green Mountain. He dwelt alone in a wooden cottage on the mountain, staying there all year long.
Grandpa had an old, small tinderbox. When he wanted to smoke, he took out the flint and the firesteel from the box, putting a small pile of tinder against the flint. Clang! Clang! With a couple of strikes, some sparks flew onto the tinder, lighting up the tobacco shreds in the pipe bowl. 4
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Matches then were quite rare in countryside. Box-packed matches were hardly seen. All the matches we bought at the township grocery were unpackaged.
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When Grandpa smoked the pipe, he begrudged matches, but used the flint and the steel instead. By so doing, he could spare the matches for Grandma to use for cooking.
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At times, when Grandpa was out, strolling with his shotgun in the mountains, I stood on the big rock before the cottage, shouting to the valley, "Grandpa—it's meal time—" the entire valley answered me with echoes.
Ever since I could remember, I often climbed up the tall Great Green Mountain with a jar and a bamboo basket, bringing meals to Grandpa.
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Every time Grandpa went out on patrol, he left the tinderbox in the cottage, because he was not allowed to make the slightest spark in the woods. But, once, a little fox sneaked into the wooden cottage and stole Grandpa's tinderbox. As he had often seen how Grandpa used the flint and the steel, he was intrigued.
As the moon came up, the little fox hid himself in the dark, beginning to strike the flint against the steel. So doing, he mimicked a tiger's snarls, to scare the kids playing around, unwilling to go home even after sunset. 11
A couple of days later, the fox nearly made a great trouble with the tinderbox. With the flint and the steel, he lit up a small haystack to roast potatoes. As a result, the fire soon spread to a grass field, then to a wood. At last it burnt a little leopard living in the wood.
The kids saw the sparks and heard the scaring sounds. They were all frightened and went home one after another. The little fox felt so careless, for his trick had had its effect. 12
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The leopard's mother told the fox's mother about his mischief. Only then, did the mother fox know it was her son who had stolen Grandpa's tinderbox.
The mother fox chided her son, "You're too naughty, too disappointing! How could you steal away the kind old man's tinderbox! It's his most cherished item. He lives alone on the mountain. How anxious he'll be if his tinderbox is lost! Do you know? It was him who once saved your life!" 15
The story is, once upon a winter day, Grandpa found a little fox, lost in the snow. Grandpa took off his coat, wrapping up the fox, who was numb with cold, and sent him back to the fox den. The little fox was then a baby and couldn't remember anything. 16
Now he knew his wrongdoing. He furtively returned the tinderbox to Grandpa's cottage. 17
Autumn wind rose. The wild geese flew away in a V formation. Every year, before winter came, I climbed up the Great Green Mountain with Grandma, the last time in the year, bringing Grandpa some coats and food for winter.
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When snow blocked the mountain passes, sky and earth fusing into whiteness, Grandpa stayed in his cottage, spending the long winter in the mountain. I couldn't see him again until spring came. The snow melted away, and the trees turned green. Then I always found him much older than before, his teeth almost gone. 20
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When Grandpa was too old to move, the villagers persuaded him to leave and carried him down the mountains. After that, every day, when I returned from school, I saw him sitting alone at the entrance of the long and dark alleyway, basking and gazing at the mountains far away ‌
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"Grandpa, it's dark. Let's go home." "Come and look for me. Two of the beeches on the west hilltop seem missing?" "Grandpa, nothing's lost. There are still four. The other two are in the shadow." "No wonder I can't see them! Alas, I'm really old, useless, my eyes blur ‌" Grandpa murmured to himself.
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Before long, Grandpa sat at the entrance of the long and dark alleyway, facing the yonder mountain, and closed his eyes for good. Following his will, we carried him up the Great Green Mountain, and buried him by the cottage. I gently put in his coffin the small tinderbox, which accompanied him all his life. 24
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Having heard of his death, all the animals in the mountain felt quite sad. The little fox stood by Grandpa's tomb with his mother, crying as if his own grandpa had passed away.
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Since then, Grandpa stayed in his Great Green Mountain day and night. He lay in the embrace of the mountain, as if sleeping in the arms of his own mother.
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When I was young, I didn't notice the magic of Grandpa's tinderbox. Now, I've grown up and I find, even in the remotest country villages, no one knows how to use the flint and the firesteel. Then, I think of Grandpa's tinderbox, of his flint and steel, of the Clang! Clang! sound of its strikes, of the tiny, golden sparks dancing in the dark. Suddenly I realise how magic it is! I miss my dear Grandpa so much, and his tinderbox.
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Illustrator’s Words Of the books I’ve drawn the illustrations for, two includes fox: one is Flames; the other is Grandpa’s Tinderbox. The former tells of how fox struggles with human beings for survival, while the latter is a paean of the harmony between human and nature. They
Author’s Words I often missed my Grandpa, whose life was miserable, laborious and thrifty. In the wartime, he sent two of his sons to fight for their homeland. The blood of the two young men was shed on their native land. Grandpa was not only an old
guerrilla, but a ranger who never left the mountain. In his last days, old as he was, he was reluctant to return to the down.
When at midnight he patrolled, with a dim storm lantern, the burial ground on the mountain, where his ancestors rest in
showcase the two destinies of fox, and the two facets of human beings – barbarism
and civilization. Contrary to the drastically variable illustrations in Flames, most illustrations in Grandpa’s Tinderbox are eye-level, calm and lyrical. Many pages contain
the little fox, and natural, comfortable cottages … That’s our ideal environment. I drew
the trees one by one, as if I were planting them. Trees are the commonest creatures in nature, and also the most beautiful. We must take care of them, like Grandpa, and protect them.
peace … he would feel the dead ones were accompanying him, bringing him wisdom, strength and courage.
Today, my dear Grandpa, when another long winter comes and flakes fall gently outside the window, I miss you so much! I miss the way you patrolled with a shotgun on your back and an old storm lantern in hand. I miss your warm cottage
where dried wild mushrooms and herbs hung on the walls. I miss your bronze-color face with deepening wrinkles. I miss
About the Illustrator
Chengliang Zhu, who drew such beautiful illustrations for the story I dedicated to my dear Grandpa.
Mr. Chengliang Zhu is an illustrator for
the way you waded through the overspreading snow. I miss your deep steps in the thick snow. My gratitude goes to Mr.
About the Author Mr. Lu Xu, Chinese famous poet, writer and publisher, is the vice-chairman of Hubei Writers’ Association. He has
published more than 60 poetry and prose books. His work has won many awards, including National Award for Outstanding Children’s Literature, Chinese National Book Award, and the Fourth Bing Xin Award for Children’s Books, etc.
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children’s book and a member of Chinese
Artists’ Association. He has won many awards, including Excellence Award of
Asia Culture Center of United Nations, the First Feng Zikai Children’s Picture Book Award, etc.
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An old memory, a plain story, like the light and heat struck by a flint and a firesteel. Weak as it is, it lasts long. It’s a heart-enlightening spark that never goes out. It will shed its warm light on the long road of our life. I read this book once and again. My experience is, there’s always more to be known than already known.
Jin Bo
Chinese Famous Children’s Literature Writer
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