NORSE TALES AND SKETCHES

by

ALEXANDER L. KIELLAND

Translated by R. L. Cassie

London

1896

INTRODUCTION

Encouraged by the great and growing popularity of Scandinavianliterature in this country, I venture to submit to public judgment thishumble essay towards an English presentment of some of the charmingnovelettes of Alexander L. Kielland, a writer who takes rank among theforemost exponents of modern Norse thought. Although these short storiesdo not represent the full fruition of the author's genius, they yetconvey a fairly accurate conception of his literary personality, and ofthe bold realistic tendency which is so strikingly developed in hislonger novels. 

Kielland's style is polished, lucid, and incisive. He does not wastewords or revel in bombastic diffuseness. Every phrase of his narrativeis a definite contribution towards the vivification of his realisticeffects. His concise, laconic periods are pregnant with deep meaning, and instinct with that indefinable Norse essence which almost eludes thetranslator--that vague something which specially lends itself to thetreatment of weird or pathetic situations. 

In his pre-eminence as a satirist, Kielland resembles Thackeray. Hissatire, although keen, is always wholesome, genial, and good-humoured. 

Kielland's longer novels are masterly delineations of Norwegianprovincial life and character, and his vivid individualization of hisnative town of Stavanger finds few parallels in fiction. 

In conclusion, the writer hopes that this modest publication may help todraw the attention of the cultured British public to another of thegreat literary figures of the North. 

R. L. C. 

CONTENTS. 

 A SIESTA

 A MONKEY

 A TALE OF THE SEA

 A DINNER

 TROFAST

 KAREN

 MY SISTER'S JOURNEY TO MODUM

 LETTERS FROM MASTER-PILOT SEEHUS

 OLD DANCES

 AUTUMN

A SIESTA. 

In an elegant suite of chambers in the Rue Castiglione sat a merry partyat dessert. 

Senhor José Francisco de Silvis was a short-legged, dark-complexionedPortuguese, one of those who usually come from Brazil with incrediblewealth, live incredible lives in Paris, and, above all, become notoriousby making the most incredible acquaintances. 

In that little company scarcely anybody, except those who had come inpairs, knew his neighbour. And the host himself knew his guests onlythrough casual meetings at balls, _tables d' hôte_, or in the street. 

Senhor de Silvis laughed much, and talked loudly of his success in life, as is the habit of rich foreigners; and as he could not reach up to thelevel of the Jockey Club, he gathered the best company he could find. When he met anyone, he immediately asked for the address, and sent nextday an invitation to a little dinner. He spoke all languages, evenGerman, and one could see by his face that he was not a little proudwhen he called over the table: Mein lieber Herr Doctor! Wie geht'sIhnen?'

There was actually a live German doctor among this merry party. He hadan overgrown light-red beard, and that Sedan smile which invariablyaccompanies the Germans in Paris. 

The temperature of the conversation rose with the champagne; the soundsof fluent and broken French were mingled with those of Spanish andPortuguese. The ladies lay back in their chairs and laughed. The guestsalready knew each other well enough not to be reserved or constrained. Jokes and _bons-mots_ passed over the table, and from mouth to mouth. 'Der liebe Doctor' alone engaged in a serious discussion with thegentleman next to him--a French journalist with a red ribbon in hisbuttonhole. 

And there was one more who was not drawn into the general merriment. Hesat on the right of Mademoiselle Adèle, while on the left was her newlover, the corpulent Anatole, who had surfeited himself on truffles. 

During dinner Mademoiselle Adèle had endeavoured, by many innocentlittle arts, to infuse some life into her right-hand neighbour. However, he remained very quiet, answering her courteously, but briefly, and inan undertone. 

At first she thought he was a Pole--one of those very tiresome specimenswho wander about and pretend to be outlaws. However, she soon perceivedthat she had made a mistake, and this piqued Mademoiselle Adèle. For oneof her many specialties was the ability to immediately 'assort' all theforeigners with whom she mingled, and she used to declare that she couldguess a man's nationality as soon as she had spoken ten words with him. 

But this taciturn stranger caused her much perplexed cogitation. If hehad only been fair-haired, she would at once have set him down as anEnglishman, for he talked like one. But he had dark hair, a thick blackmoustache, and a nice little figure. His fingers were remarkably long, and he had a peculiar way of trifling with his bread and playing withhis dessert-fork. 

'He is a musician, ' whispered Mademoiselle Adèle to her stout friend. 

'Ah!' replied Monsieur Anatole. 'I am afraid I have eaten too manytruffles. '

Mademoiselle Adèle whispered in his ear some words of good counsel, uponwhich he laughed and looked very affectionate. 

However, she could not relinquish her hold of the interesting foreigner. After she had coaxed him to drink several glasses of champagne, hebecame livelier, and talked more. 

'Ah!' cried she suddenly; 'I hear it in your speech. You are anEnglishman!'

The stranger grew quite red in the face, and answered quickly, 'No, madame. '

Mademoiselle Adèle laughed. 'I beg your pardon. I know that Americansfeel angry when they are taken for Englishmen. '

'Neither am I an American, ' replied the stranger. 

This was too much for Mademoiselle Adèle. She bent over her plate andlooked sulky, for she saw that Mademoiselle Louison opposite wasenjoying her defeat. 

The foreign gentleman understood the situation, and added, half aloud:'I am an Irishman, madame. '

'Ah!' said Mademoiselle Adèle, with a grateful smile, for she was easilyreconciled. 

'Anatole! Irishman--what is that?' she asked in a whisper. 

'The poor of England, ' he whispered back. 

'Indeed!'

Adèle elevated her eyebrows, and cast a shrinking, timid glance at thestranger. She had suddenly lost much of her interest in him. 

De Silvis's dinners were excellent. The party had sat long at table, andwhen Monsieur Anatole thought of the oysters with which the feast hadbegun, they appeared to him like a beautiful dream. On the contrary, hehad a somewhat too lively recollection of the truffles. 

Dinner was over; hands were reaching out for glasses, or trifling withfruit or biscuits. 

That sentimental blonde, Mademoiselle Louison, fell into meditation overa grape that she had dropped in her champagne glass. Tiny brightair-bubbles gathered all round the coating of the fruit, and when it wasquite covered with these shining white pearls, they lifted the heavygrape up through the wine to the surface. 

'Look!' said Mademoiselle Louison, turning her large, swimming eyes uponthe journalist, 'look, white angels are bearing a sinner to heaven!'

'Ah! _charmant_, mademoiselle! What a sublime thought!' exclaimed thejournalist, enraptured. 

Mademoiselle Louison's sublime thought passed round the table, and wasmuch admired. Only the frivolous Adèle whispered to her obese admirer, 'It would take a good many angels to bear you, Anatole. '

Meanwhile the journalist seized the opportunity; he knew how to rivetthe general attention. Besides, he was glad to escape from a tiresomepolitical controversy with the German; and, as he wore a red ribbon andaffected the superior journalistic tone, everybody listened to him. 

He explained how small forces, when united, can lift great burdens; andthen he entered upon the topic of the day--the magnificent collectionsmade by the press for the sufferers by the floods in Spain, and for thepoor of Paris. Concerning this he had much to relate, and every momenthe said 'we, ' alluding to the press. He talked himself quite warm about'these millions, that we, with such great self-sacrifice, have raised. '

But each of the others had his own story to tell. Numberless littletouches of nobility--all savouring of self-denial--came to light fromamidst these days of luxury and pleasure. 

Mademoiselle Louison's best friend--an insignificant little lady who satat the foot of the table--told, in spite, of Louison's protest, how thelatter had taken three poor seamstresses up to her own rooms, and hadthem sew the whole of the night before the _fête_ in the hippodrome. Shehad given the poor girls coffee and food, besides payment. 

Mademoiselle Louison suddenly became an important personage at table, and the journalist began to show her marked attention. 

The many pretty instances of philanthropy, and Louison's swimming eyes, put the whole company into a quiet, tranquil, benevolent frame of mind, eminently in keeping with the weariness induced by the exertions of thefeast. And this comfortable feeling rose yet a few degrees higher afterthe guests were settled in soft easy-chairs in the cool drawing-room. 

There was no other light than the fire in the grate. Its red glimmercrept over the English carpet and up the gold borders in the tapestry;it shone upon a gilt picture-frame, on the piano that stood opposite, and, here and there, on a face further away in the gloom. Nothing elsewas visible except the red ends of cigars and cigarettes. 

The conversation died away. The silence was broken only by an occasionalwhisper or the sound of a coffee-cup being put aside; each seemeddisposed to enjoy, undisturbed, his genial mood and the quiet gladnessof digestion. Even Monsieur Anatole forgot his truffles, as he reclinedin a low chair close to the sofa, on which Mademoiselle Adèle had takenher seat. 

'Is there no one who will give us a little music?' asked Senhor deSilvis from his chair. 'You are always so kind, Mademoiselle Adèle. '

'Oh no, no!' cried Mademoiselle; 'I am too tired. '

But the foreigner--the Irishman--rose from his corner and walked towardsthe instrument. 

'Ah, you will play for us! A thousand thanks, Monsieur--. ' Senhor deSilvis had forgotten the name--a thing that often happened to him withhis guests. 

'He is a musician, ' said Mademoiselle Adèle to her friend. Anatolegrunted admiringly. 

Indeed, all were similarly impressed by the mere way in which he satdown and, without any preparation, struck a few chords here and there, as if to wake the instrument. 

Then he began to play--lightly, sportively, frivolously, as befitted thesituation. The melodies of the day were intermingled with fragments ofwaltzes and ballads; all the ephemeral trifles that Paris hums over foreight days he blended together with brilliantly fluent execution. 

The ladies uttered exclamations of admiration, and sang a few bars, keeping time with their feet. The whole party followed the music withintense interest; the strange artist had hit their mood, and drawn themall with him from the beginning. 'Der liebe Doctor' alone listened withthe Sedan smile on his face; the pieces were too easy for him. 

But soon there came something for the German too; he nodded now and thenwith a sort of appreciation. 

It was a strange situation: the piquant fragrance that filled the air, the pleasure-loving women--these people, so free and unconstrained, allstrangers to one another, hidden in the elegant, half-dark salon, eachfollowing his most secret thoughts--thoughts born of the mysterious, muffled music; whilst the firelight rose and fell, and made everythingthat was golden glimmer in the darkness. 

And there constantly came more for the doctor. From time to time heturned and signed to De Silvis, as he heard the loved notes of 'unserSchumann, ' 'unser Beethoven, ' or even of 'unser famoser Richard. '

Meanwhile the stranger played on, steadily and without apparent effort, slightly inclined to the left, so as to give power to the bass. Itsounded as if he had twenty fingers, all of steel; he knew how to unitethe multitudinous notes in a single powerful clang. Without any pause tomark the transition from one melody to another, he riveted the interestof the company by constant new surprises, graceful allusions, and genialcombinations, so that even the least musical among them were constrainedto listen with eager attention. 

But the character of the music imperceptibly changed. The artist bentconstantly over the instrument, inclining more to the left, and therewas a strange unrest in the bass notes. The Baptists from 'The Prophet'came with heavy step; a rider from 'Damnation de Faust' dashed up fromfar below, in a desperate, hobbling hell-gallop. 

The rumbling grew stronger and stronger down in the depths, and MonsieurAnatole again began to feel the effects of the truffles. MademoiselleAdèle half rose; the music would not let her lie in peace. 

Here and there the firelight shone on a pair of black eyes staring atthe artist. He had lured them with him, and now they could not breakloose; downward, ever downward, he led them--downward, where was a dulland muffled murmur as of threatenings and plaints. 

'Er führt eine famose linke Hand, ' said the doctor. But De Silvis didnot hear him; he sat, like the others, in breathless expectancy. 

A dark, sickening dread went out from the music and spread itself overthem all. The artist's left hand seemed to be tying a knot that wouldnever be loosened, while his right made light little runs, like flames, up and down in the treble. It sounded as if there was something uncannybrewing down in the cellar, whilst those above burnt torches and mademerry. 

A sigh was heard, a half-scream from one of the ladies, who felt ill;but no one heeded it. The artist had now got quite down into the bass, and his tireless fingers whirled the notes together, so that a coldshudder crept down the backs of all. 

But into that threatening, growling sound far below there began to comean upward movement. The notes ran into, over, past each other--upward, always upward, but without making any way. There was a wild struggle toget up, as it were a multitude of small, dark figures scratching andtearing; a mad eagerness, a feverish haste; a scrambling, a seizing withhands and teeth; kicks, curses, shrieks, prayers--and all the while theartist's hands glided upward so slowly, so painfully slowly. 

'Anatole, ' whispered Adèle, pale as death, 'he is playing Poverty. '

'Oh, these truffles!' groaned Anatole, holding his stomach. 

All at once the room was lit up. Two servants with lamps and candelabraappeared in the _portière_; and at the same moment the stranger finishedby bringing down his fingers of steel with all his might in adissonance, so startling, so unearthly, that the whole party sprang up. 

'Out with the lamps!' shouted De Silvis. 

'No, no!' shrieked Adèle; 'I dare not be in the dark. Oh, that dreadfulman!'

Who was it? Yes, who was it? They involuntarily crowded round the host, and no one noticed the stranger slip out behind the servants. 

De Silvis tried to laugh. 'I think it was the devil himself. Come, letus go to the opera. '

'To the opera! Not at any price!' exclaimed Louison. 'I will hear nomusic for a fortnight. '

'Oh, those truffles!' moaned Anatole. 

The party broke up. They had all suddenly realized that they werestrangers in a strange place, and each one wished to slip quietly home. 

As the journalist conducted Mademoiselle Louison to her carriage, hesaid: 'Yes, this is the consequence of letting one's self be persuadedto dine with these semi-savages. One is never sure of the company hewill meet. '

'Ah, how true! He quite spoiled my good spirits, ' said Louisonmournfully, turning her swimming eyes upon her companion. 'Will youaccompany me to La Trinité? There is a low mass at twelve o'clock. '

The journalist bowed, and got into the carriage with her. 

But as Mademoiselle Adèle and Monsieur Anatole drove past the Englishdispensary in the Rue de la Paix, he stopped the driver, and saidpleadingly to his fair companion: 'I really think I must get out and getsomething for those truffles. You will excuse me, won't you? That music, you know. '

'Don't mind me, my friend. Speaking candidly, I don't think either of usis specially lively this evening. Good-night. '

She leant back in the carriage, relieved at finding herself alone; andthis light, frivolous creature cried as if she had been whipped whilstshe drove homeward. 

Anatole was undoubtedly suffering from the truffles, but yet he thoughthe came to himself as the carriage rolled away. Never in their wholeacquaintance had they been so well pleased with each other as at thismoment of parting. 

'Der liebe Doctor' had come best through the experience, because, beinga German, he was hardened in music. All the same, he resolved to take awalk as far as Müller's _brasserie_ in the Rue Richelieu to get a decentglass of German beer, and perhaps a little bacon, on the top of it all. 

A MONKEY. 

Yes, it was really a monkey that had nearly procured me 'Laudabilis'[Footnote: A second-class pass. ] in my final law examination. As itwas, I only got 'Haud'; [Footnote: A third-class pass. ] but, afterall, this was pretty creditable. 

But my friend the advocate, who had daily, with mingled feelings, toread the drafts of my work, found my process-paper so good that he hopedit might raise me into the 'Laud' list. And he did not wish me to sufferthe injury and annoyance of being plucked in the _vivâ voce_examination, for he knew me and was my friend. 

But the monkey was really a coffee-stain on the margin of page 496 ofSchweigaard's Process, which I had borrowed from my friend Cucumis. 

Going up to a law examination in slush and semi-darkness in mid-winteris one of the saddest experiences that a man can have. It may, indeed, be even worse in summer; but this I have not tried. 

One rushes through these eleven papers (or is it thirteen?--it iscertainly the most infamous number that the college authorities havebeen able to devise)--like an unhappy _débutant_ in a circus. He standson the back of a galloping horse, with his life in his hands and a sillycircus smile on his lips; and so he must leap eleven (or is itthirteen?) times through one of these confounded paper-covered hoops. 

The unhappy mortal who passes--or tries to pass--his law examination, finds himself in precisely the same situation, only he does not gallopround a ring, under brilliant gaslight, to the music of a full band. Hesits upon a hard chair in semi-darkness with his face to the wall, andthe only sound he hears is the creaking of the inspectors' boots. For inall the wide, wide world there are no such creaky boots as those of lawexamination inspectors. 

And so comes the dreadful moment when the black-robed tormentor from theCollegium Juridicum brings in the examination-paper. He plants himselfin the doorway, and reads. Coldly, impassively, with a cruel mockery ofthe horror of the situation, he raises aloft this fateful document--thiswretched paper-covered hoop, through which we must all spring, ordismount and wend our way back--on foot!

The candidates settle themselves in the saddle. Some seem quite unableto get firmly seated; they rock uneasily hither and thither, and onerider dismounts. He is followed to the door by all eyes, and a sigh runsthrough the assembled students. 'You to-day; I to-morrow. '

Meanwhile one begins to hear a light trotting over the paper; they areleaping. 

Some few individuals sit firmly and gracefully through it all, and comeout on the other side 'standing for Laud. ' Others think that leapingstraight is too easy; therefore, they turn in the air and alight withbacks first. These also get through, but backwards; and it is said thattheir agility does not win from the judges its deserved meed ofappreciation. 

Again, others leap, but miss the hoop. They spring underneath, to oneside--some even high over the top, alighting safe and sound on the otherside. These latter generally find the paper extremely simple, andcontinue the wild ride quite unconcernedly. 

But if one is not fond of riding, and has had no practice in leaping, heis much to be pitied--unless, indeed, he has a monkey on page 496. 

I do not know how many hoops I had passed when I found myself face toface with the process-paper. 

It was an unhealthy life that we then led: leaping by day and reading bynight. I sat at midnight half-way through Schweigaard's Process, alternately putting my head out of the window and into the washhandbasin, and, between whiles, rushing like a whirlwind through thewithered leaves of the musty volume. 

However, even the most violent wind must eventually fall; and, indeed, this was my heartfelt wish. But the juridical momentum was strongwithin me. I sat stiffly, peering and reading for the eleventh time:'One might thus certainly assume'--'One--might--thus--certainly, '--combine the useful with the agreeable--and lean back--a little in thechair. I can read just as well; the lamp doesn't bother me in the least. 'One--might--thus--'

But all manner of non-juridical images rose up from the book, entwinedthemselves about the lamp, and threatened to completely overshadow myclear legal brain. I could yet dimly see the white paper. 'One--might--thus--'. The rest disappeared in a myriad of small dark characters thatflowed down the closely-printed pages; in dull despair my eyes followedthe stream, and then I saw, towards the bottom of the right-hand page, aface. 

It was a monkey that was drawn on the margin. It was excellently drawn, I thought, the brown colouring of the face being especially remarkable. I am ashamed to say that my interest in this work of art proved strongerthan Schweigaard himself. I roused myself a little, and leant forwardin order to see better. 

By turning the leaf, I discovered that the remarkable brown colouring ofthe face was due to the fact that the whole monkey, after all, was onlya coffee-stain. The artist had merely added a pair of eyes and a littlehair; the genial expression of the picture was really to be credited tothe individual who had spilt the coffee. 

'Cucumis couldn't draw, ' thought I; that I knew. 'But, by Jove! he_could_ do his process!'

And now I came to think of Cucumis, of his handsome degree, of histriumphant home-coming, and of how much he must have read in order tobecome so learned. And, while I thought of all this, my consciousnessawoke little by little, until my own ignorance suddenly stood clearlybefore me in all its horrible nakedness. 

I pictured to myself the shame of having to 'dismount, ' or, still worse, of being that one unfortunate of whom it is invariably said withsinister anonymity, 'One of the candidates received _non contemnendus_'. And as it sometimes happens that people lose their reason through muchlearning, so I grew half crazy with terror at my ignorance. 

Up I jumped, and dipped my head in the wash-basin. Scarcely taking timeto dry myself, I began to read with an energy that fixed every word inmy memory. 

Down the left page I hurried, with unabated vigour down the right; Ireached the monkey, rushed past him, turned the leaf, and read bravelyon. 

I was not conscious of the fact that my strength was now completelyexhausted. Although I caught a glimpse of a new section (usually sostrong an incentive to increased effort), I could not help gettingentangled in one of those artful propositions that one reads over andover again in illusory profundity. 

I groped about for a way of escape, but there was none. Incoherentthoughts began to whirl through my brain. 'Where is the monkey?--a spotof coffee--one cannot be genial on both sides--everything in life has aright and a wrong side--for example, the university clock--but if Icannot swim, let me come out--I am going to the circus--I know very wellthat you are standing there grinning at me, Cucumis--but I can leapthrough the hoop, I can--and if that professor who is standing smokingat my paraffin lamp had only conscientiously referred to _corpus juris_, I should not now be lying here--in my night-shirt in the middle of KarlJohan's Gade [Footnote: A principal street of Christiania. ]--but--' ThenI sank into that deep, dreamless slumber which only falls to the lot ofan evil conscience when one is very young. 

I was in the saddle early next morning. 

I don't know if the devil ever had shoes on, but I must suppose he had, for his inspectors were in their boots, and they creaked past me, whereI sat in my misery with my face to the wall. 

A professor walked round the rooms and looked at the victims. Occasionally he nodded and smiled encouragingly, as his eye fell on oneof those miserable lick-spittles who frequent the lectures; but when hediscovered me, the smile vanished, and his ice-cold stare seemed towrite upon the wall over my head: 'Mene, mene! [Footnote: Dan. V. 25. ]Wretch, I know thee not!'

A pair of inspectors walked creakily up to the professor and fawned uponhim; I heard them whispering behind my chair. I ground my teeth insilent wrath at the thought that these contemptible creatures were paidfor--yes, actually made their living by torturing me and some of my bestfriends. 

The door opened; a glimmering yellow light fell upon the white faces; itcalled to mind 'The Victims of Terrorism' in Luxembourg. Then all againbecame dark, and the black-robed emissary of the College flitted throughthe room like a bat, with the famous white document in his claws. 

He began to read. 

Never in my life had I been less inclined for leaping; and yet I startedviolently at the first words. 'The monkey!' I had almost shouted; for heit was--it was evidently the coffee-stain on page 496. The paper boreprecisely upon what I had read with so much energy the preceding night. 

And I began to write. After a short, but superior and assured preamble, I introduced the high-sounding words of Schweigaard, 'One might thuscertainly assume, ' etc. , and hurried down the left page, with unabatedvigour down the right, reached the monkey, dashed past him, began togrope and fumble, and then I found I could not write a word more. 

I felt that something was wanting, but I knew that it was useless tospeculate; what a man can't do, he can't. I therefore made a full stop, and went away long before any of the others were half finished. 

He has dismounted, thought my fellow-sufferers, or he may have leapedwide of the hoop. For it was a difficult paper. 

 * * * * *

'Why, ' said the advocate, as he read, 'you are better than I thought. This is pure Schweigaard. You have left out the last point, but thatdoesn't matter very much; one can see that you are well up in thesethings. But why, then, were you so pitiably afraid of the processyesterday?'

'I didn't know a thing. '

He laughed. 'Was it last night, then, that you learned your process?'

'Yes. '

'Did anyone help you?'

'Yes. '

'He must be a devil of a crammer who could put so much law into yourhead in one night. May I ask what wizard it was?'

'A monkey!' I replied. 

A TALE OF THE SEA. 

Once there lay in a certain haven a large number of vessels. They hadlain there very long, not exactly on account of storm, but ratherbecause of a dead calm; and at last they had lain there until they nolonger heeded the weather. 

All the captains had gradually become good friends; they visited fromship to ship, and called one another 'Cousin. '

They were in no hurry to depart. Now and then a youthful steersman mightchance to let fall a word about a good wind and a smooth sea. But suchremarks were not tolerated; order had to be maintained on a ship. Those, therefore, who could not hold their tongues were set ashore. 

Matters could not, however, go on thus for ever. Men are not so good asthey ought to be, and all do not thrive under law and order. 

The crews at length began to murmur a little; they were weary ofpainting and polishing the cabins, and of rowing the captains to andfrom the toddy suppers. It was rumoured that individual ships weregetting ready for sailing. The sails of some were set one by one in allsilence, the anchors were weighed without song, and the ships glidedquietly out of the harbour; others sailed while their captains slept. Fighting and mutiny were also heard of; but then there came help fromthe neighbour captains, the malcontents were punished and put ashore, and all moorings were carefully examined and strengthened. 

Nevertheless, all the ships, except one, at last left the harbour. Theydid not all sail with like fortune; one and another even came in againfor a time, damaged. Others were little heard of. The captain of oneship, it was said, was thrown overboard by his men; another sailed withhalf the crew in irons, none knew where. But yet they were all inmotion, each striving after its own fashion, now in storm, now in calm, towards its goal. 

As stated, only one ship remained in the harbour, and it lay safe andsound, with two anchors at the bottom and three great cables attached tothe quay. 

It was a strange little craft. The hull was old, but it had been newlyrepaired, and they had given it a smart little modern figurehead, whichcontrasted strangely with the smooth sides and the heavy stern. Onecould see that the rigging had originally belonged to a large vessel, but had been very hastily adapted to the smaller hull, and this stillfurther increased the want of proportion in the brig's whole appearance. Then it was painted with large portholes for guns, like a man-of-war, and always carried its flag at the main-mast. 

The skipper was no common man. He himself had painted the sketch of thebrig that hung in the cabin, and, besides, he could sing--both psalmsand songs. Indeed, there were those who maintained that he composed thesongs himself; but this was most probably a lie. And it was certainly alie that they whispered in the forecastle: that the skipper had notquite got his sea-legs. Young men always tell such stories tocabin-boys, in order to appear manly. And, besides, there was asteersman on the brig, who could, on a pinch, easily round the headlandsalone. 

He had sailed as steersman for many years of our Lord, ever since thetime of the skipper's late father. He had become as if glued to thetiller, and many could scarcely imagine the old brig with a newsteersman. 

He had certainly never voyaged in distant waters; but as his trade hadalways been the same, and as he had invariably been in the company ofothers, the brig had sailed pretty fortunately, without special damageand without special merit. 

Therefore, both he and the skipper had arrived at the conviction thatnone could sail better than they, and hence they cared little what theothers did. They looked up at the sky and shook their heads. 

The men felt quite comfortable, for they were not used to better things. Most of them could not understand why the crews of the other ships werein such a hurry to be off; the month went round all the same, whetherone lay in port or sailed, and then it was better to avoid work. So longas the skipper made no sign of preparation for sailing, the men mightkeep their minds easy, for he must surely have the most interest ingetting away. And besides, they all knew what sort of fellow thesteersman was, and if such a capable and experienced man lay still, theymight be quite sure that he had good and powerful reasons. 

But a little party among the crew--some quite youthful persons--thoughtit was a shame to let themselves be thus left astern by everybody. Theyhad, indeed, no special advantage or profit to expect from the voyage, but at last the inaction became intolerable, and they conceived thedaring resolve of sending a youth aft to beg the captain to fix a datefor sailing. 

The more judicious among the crew crossed themselves, and humblyentreated the young man to keep quiet; but the latter was a rashgreenhorn, who had sailed in foreign service, and therefore imaginedhimself to be a 'regular devil of a fellow. ' He went right aft and downinto the cabin, where the skipper and the steersman sat with theirwhisky before them, playing cards. 

'We would ask if the skipper would kindly set sail next week, for now weare all so weary of lying here, ' said the young man, looking the skipperstraight in the eyes without winking. 

The latter's face first turned pale blue, and then assumed a deep violettint; but he restrained himself, and said, as was his invariable custom:

'What think you, steersman?'

'H'm, ' replied the steersman slowly. More he never used to say at first, when he was questioned, for he did not like to answer promptly. But whenhe got an opportunity of speaking alone, without being interrupted, hecould utter the longest sentences and the very hardest words. And thenthe skipper was especially proud of him. 

However short the steersman's reply might seem, the skipper at onceunderstood its meaning. He turned towards the youth--gravely, butgracefully, for he was an exceedingly well-bred man. 

'You cursed young fool! don't you think I understand these things betterthan you? I, who have thought of nothing but being a skipper since I wasknee-high! But I know well enough what you and the like of you arethinking about. You don't care a d---- about the craft, and if you couldonly get the power from us old ones, you would run her on the firstislet you came to, so that you might plunder her of the whisky. Butthere will be none of that, my young whelp! Here we shall lie, as longas I choose. '

When this decision reached the forecastle, it awoke great indignationamong the young and immature, which, indeed, was only to be expected. But even the skipper's friends and admirers shook their heads, andopined that it was a nasty answer; after all, it was only a civilquestion, which ought not to compromise anybody. 

There now arose a growing ill-humour--something quite unheard-of amongthese peaceable fellows. Even the skipper, who was not usually quick tounderstand or remark anything, thought he saw many sullen faces, and hewas no longer so well pleased with the bearing of the crew when hestepped out upon deck with his genial 'Good-morning, you rogues. '

But the steersman had long scented something, for he had a fine nose andlong ears. Therefore, a couple of evenings after the young man'sunfortunate visit, it was remarked that something extraordinary wasbrewing aft. 

The cabin-boy had to make three journeys with the toddy-kettle, and thereport he gave in the forecastle after his last trip was indeeddisquieting. 

The steersman seemed to have talked without intermission for two hours;before them on the table lay barometer, chronometer, sextant, journal, and half the ship's library. This consisted of Kingo's hymn-book and anold Dutch 'Kaart-Boikje'; [Footnote: Chart-book. ] for the skipper coulddo just as little with the new hymns as the steersman with the newcharts. 

The skipper now sat prodding the chart with a large pair of compasses, while the steersman talked, using all his longest and hardest words. There was one word in particular that was often repeated, and this theboy learned by heart. He said it over and over again to himself as hewent up the cabin stairs and passed along the deck to the forecastle, and the moment he opened the door he shouted:

'Initiative! Mind that word, boys! Write it down--initiative!'

_In-i-ti-a-tive_ was with much difficulty spelt out and written withchalk on the table. And during the boy's long statement all these mensat staring, uneasily and with anxious expectancy, at this long, mysticword. 

'And then, ' concluded the cabin-boy at last--'then says the steersman:"But we ourselves shall take the--" what is written on the table. '

All exclaimed simultaneously, 'Initiative. '

'Yes, that was it. And every time he said it, they both struck the tableand looked at me as if they would eat me. I now think, therefore, thatit is a new kind of revolver they intend to use upon us. '

But none of the others thought so; it was surely not so bad as that. Butsomething was impending, that was clear. And the relieved watchman wentto his berth with gloomy forebodings, and the middle watch did not get awink of sleep that night. 

At seven o'clock next morning both skipper and steersman were up ondeck. No man could remember ever having seen them before so early in theday. But there was no time to stand in amazement, for now followed, inquick succession, orders for sailing. 

'Heave up the anchors! Let two men go ashore and slip the cables!'

There was gladness and bustle among the crew, and the preparationsproceeded so rapidly that in less than an hour the brig was undercanvas. 

The skipper looked at the steersman and shook his head, muttering, 'Thisis the devil's own haste. '

After a few little turns in the spacious harbour, the brig passed theheadland and stood out to sea. A fresh breeze was blowing, and the wavesran rather high. 

The steersman, with a prodigious twist in his mouth, stood astride thetiller, for such a piece of devil's trumpery as a wheel should nevercome on board as long as _he_ had anything to say in the matter. 

The skipper stood on the cabin stairs, with his head above thecompanion. His face was of a somewhat greenish hue, and he frequentlyran down into the cabin. The old boatswain believed that he went to lookat the chart, the young man thought he drank whisky, but the cabin-boyswore that he went below to vomit. 

The men were in excellent spirits; it was so refreshing to breathe thesea air, and to feel the ship once again moving under their feet. Indeed, the old brig herself seemed to be in a good humour; she dived asdeep down between the seas as she could, and raised much more foam thanwas necessary. 

The young sailors looked out for heavy seas. 'Here comes a whopper, 'they shouted; 'if it would only hit us straight!' And it did. 

It was a substantial sea, larger than the others. It approacheddeliberately, and seemed to lie down and take aim. It then rosesuddenly, and gave the brig, which was chubby as a cherub, such amighty slap on the port cheek that she quivered in every timber. Andhigh over the railing, far in upon the deck, dashed the cold salt spray;the captain had scarcely time to duck his head below the companion. 

Ah, how refreshing it was! It exhilarated both old and young; they hadnot had a taste of the cold sea-water for a long time, and with onevoice the whole crew broke into a lusty 'Hurrah!'

But at this moment the steerman's stentorian voice rang out: 'Hard toleeward!' The brig luffed up close to the wind, the sails flapped soviolently that the rigging shook, and now followed in rapid succession, even quicker than before, orders to anchor. 'Let fall the port anchor!Let go the starboard one too!'

Plump--fell the one; plump--went the other. The old chains rattled out, and a little red cloud of rust rose up on either side of the bowsprit. 

The men, accustomed to obey, worked rapidly without thinking why, andthe brig soon rode pretty quietly at her two anchors. 

But now, after the work was finished, no one could conceal hisastonishment at this sudden anchoring, just off the coast, among isletsand skerries. And still more extraordinary seemed the behaviour of thosein command. For they both stood right forward, with their backs to theweather, leaning over the railing and staring at the port bow. Some hadeven thought they had heard the captain cry, 'To the pumps, men, ' butthis point was never cleared up. 

'What the devil can they be doing forward?' said the rash young man. 

'They think she struck on a reef when we shipped the big sea, ' whisperedthe cabin-boy. 

'Hold your jaw, boy!' said the boatswain. 

All the same, the cabin-boy's words passed from mouth to mouth; a littlechuckle was heard here and there; the men's faces became more and moreludicrously uneasy, and their suppressed laughter was on the point ofbursting forth. Then the steersman was seen to nudge the skipper in theside. 

'Yes; but then you must whisper to me, ' said the latter. 

The steersman nodded, and then the skipper turned to the crew andsolemnly spoke as follows:

'Yes, this time, fortunately, everything went well; but now I hope thateach of you will have learnt how dangerous it is to lend an ear to thesejuvenile agitators, who can never be quiet and let evolution, as thesteersman says, pursue its natural course. I yielded to your wishes thistime, it is true, but not because I approved of your insane rashness; itwas simply that I might convince you by--by the logic of events. Andsee--how did things go? Certainly we have, as by a miracle, been sparedthe worst; but now we lie here, outside our safe haven, our oldanchorage, which we have forsaken to be tossed about on the turbulentwaters of the unknown and the untried. But, believe me, henceforth youwill find both our excellent steersman and your captain at our post, guarding against such crude, immature projects. And if things go badlywith us in days to come, you must all remember that it is entirely yourown fault; we wash our hands of the matter. '

Thereupon he strode through the men, who respectfully fell back to lethim pass. The steersman, who had really whispered, dried his eyes andfollowed. They both disappeared in the cabin. 

 * * * * *

There was much strife in the forecastle that day, and it grew worseafter. 

The brig's happy days were all over. Dissension and discontent, suspicion and obstinacy, converted the narrow limits of the forecastleinto a veritable hell. 

Only skipper and steersman seemed to thrive well under all this. Thegeneral dissatisfaction did not affect them; for they, of course, werenot to blame. 

None thought of any change. The crew had done what they could, and theskipper, on his part, had also been accommodating. 

Now they might keep their minds at rest. The brig lay in a dangerousplace, but now she would have to lie--and there she lies to this day. 

A DINNER. 

There was a large dinner-party at the merchant's. The judge had made aspeech in honour of the home-coming of the student, the eldest son ofthe house, and the merchant had replied with another in honour of thejudge; so far all was well and good. And yet one could see that the hostwas disquieted about something. He answered inconsequentially, decantedRhine wine into port, and betrayed absence of mind in all manner ofways. 

He was meditating upon a speech--a speech beyond the scope of theregulation after-dinner orations. This was something very remarkable;for the merchant was no speaker, and--what was still more remarkable--heknew it himself. 

When, therefore, well on in the dinner, he hammered upon the table forsilence, and said that he must give expression to a sentiment that layat his heart, everybody instantly felt that something unusual wasimpending. 

There fell such a sudden stillness upon the table, that one could hearthe lively chatter of the ladies, who, in accordance with Norse custom, were dining in the adjoining rooms. 

At length the silence reached even them, and they crowded in the doorwayto listen. Only the hostess held back, sending her husband an anxiouslook. 'Ah, dear me!' she sighed, half aloud, 'he is sure to make amuddle of it. He has already made all his speeches; what would he be atnow?'

And he certainly did not begin well. He stammered, cleared his throat, got entangled among the usual toast expressions, such as 'I will notfail to--ahem--I am impelled to express my, my--that is, I would begyou, gentlemen, to assist me in--'

The gentlemen sat and stared down into their glasses, ready to emptythem upon the least hint of a conclusion. But none came. On thecontrary, the speaker recovered himself. 

For something really lay at his heart. His joy and pride over his son, who had come home sound and well after having passed a respectableexamination, the judge's flattering speech, the good cheer, the wine, the festive mood--all this put words into his mouth. And when he gotover the fatal introductory phrases, the words came more and morefluently. 

It was the toast of 'The Young. ' The speaker dwelt upon ourresponsibility towards children, and the many sorrows--but also the manyjoys--that the parents have in them. 

He was from time to time compelled to talk quickly to hide his emotion, for he felt what he said. 

And when he came to the grown-up children, when he imagined his dear sona partner in his business, and spoke of grandchildren and so on, hiswords acquired a ring of eloquence which astonished all his hearers, andhis peroration was greeted with hearty applause. 

'For, gentlemen, it is in these children that we, as it were, continueour existence. We leave them not only our name, but also our work. Andwe leave them this, not that they may idly enjoy its fruits, but thatthey may continue it, extend it--yes, do it much better than theirfathers were able to. For it is our hope that the rising generation mayappropriate the fruits of the work of the age, that they may be freedfrom the prejudices that have darkened the past and partially darken thepresent; and, in drinking the health of the young, let us wish that, steadily progressing, they may become worthy of their sires--yes, let ussay it--outgrow them. 

'And only when we know that we leave the work of our generation in ablerhands, can we calmly look forward to the time when we shall bid adieu toour daily task, and then we may confidently reckon upon a bright andglorious future for our dear Fatherland. A health to the Young!'

The hostess, who had ventured nearer when she heard that the speech wasgoing on well, was proud of her husband; the whole company was in anexhilarated humour, but the gladdest of all was the student. 

He had stood a little in awe of his father, whose severely patriarchalprinciples he well knew. He now heard that the old man was extremelyliberal-minded towards youth, and he was very glad to be enabled todiscourse with him upon serious matters. 

But, for the moment, it was only a question of jesting; _à propos_ ofthe toast, there ensued one of those interesting table-talks, about whowas really young and who old. After the company had arrived at thiswitty result, that the eldest were in reality the youngest, theyadjourned to the dessert-table, which was laid in the ladies' room. 

But, no matter how gallant the gentlemen--especially those of the oldschool--may be towards the fair sex, neither feminine amiability nor themost _recherché_ dessert has power to stop them for long on their way tothe smoking-room. And soon the first faint aroma of cigars, so great aluxury to smokers, announced the beginning of that process which hasobtained for our ladies the fame of being quite smoke-dried. 

The student and a few other young gentlemen remained for a time withthe young ladies--under the strict surveillance of the elder ones. Butlittle by little they also were swallowed up in the gray cloud whichindicated the way that their fathers had taken. 

In the smoking-room they were carrying on a very animated conversationupon some matter of social politics. The host, who was speaking, supported his view with a number of 'historical facts, ' which, however, were entirely unreliable. 

His opponent, a solicitor of the High Court, was sitting chucklinginwardly at the prospect of refuting these inaccurate statements, whenthe student entered the room. 

He came just in time to hear his father's blundering, and, in his jovialhumour, in his delight over the new conception of his father that he hadacquired after the toast, he said, with a cheery bluntness:

'Excuse me, father, you are mistaken there. The circumstances are not atall as you state. On the contrary--'

He got no further: the father laughingly slapped him on the shoulder, and said:

'There, there! are you, too, trifling with newspapers! But really, youmust not disturb us; we are in the middle of a serious discussion. '

The son heard an irritating sniff from the gray cloud; he was provokedat the scorn implied in his interposition being regarded as disturbing aserious conversation. 

He therefore replied somewhat sharply. 

The father, who instantly remarked the tone, suddenly changed his ownmanner. 

'Are you serious in coming here and saying that your father is talkingnonsense?'

'I did not say that; I only said that you were mistaken. '

'The words are of little moment, but the meaning was there, ' said themerchant, who was beginning to get angry. For he heard a gentleman sayto his neighbour:

'If this had only happened in my father's time!'

One word now drew forth another, and the situation became extremelypainful. 

The hostess, who had always an attentive ear for the gentlemen'sconversation, as she knew her husband's hasty temper, immediately cameand looked in at the door. 

'What is it, Adjunct [Footnote: Assistant-teacher. ] Hansen?'

'Ah, ' replied Hansen, 'your son has forgotten himself a little. '

'To his own father! He must have had too much to drink. Dear Hansen, tryand get him out. '

The Adjunct, who was more well-meaning than diplomatic, and who, besides(a rarer thing with old teachers than is generally supposed) wasesteemed by his former pupils, went and took the student withoutceremony by the arm, saying: 'Come, shall we two take a turn in thegarden?'

The young man turned round violently, but when he saw that it was theold teacher, and received, at the same time, a troubled, imploringglance from his mother, he passively allowed himself to be led away. 

While in the doorway, he heard the lawyer, whom he had never been ableto endure, say something about the egg that would teach the hen to lay, which witticism was received with uproarious laughter. A thrill passedthrough him; but the Adjunct held him firmly, and out they went. 

It was long before the old teacher could get him sufficiently quieted tobecome susceptible to reason. The disappointment, the bitter sense ofbeing at variance with his father, and, not least, the affront of beingtreated as a boy in the presence of so many--all this had to pour outfor awhile. 

But at last he became calm, and sat down with his old friend, who nowpointed out to him that it must be very painful to an elderly man to becorrected by a mere youth. 

'Yes, but I was right, ' said the student, certainly for the twentiethtime. 

'Good, good! but yet you must not put on an air of wanting to be wiserthan your own father. '

'Why, my father himself said that he would have it so. '

'What? When did your father say that?' The teacher almost began tobelieve that the wine had gone to the young gentleman's head. 

'At the table--in his speech. '

'At the table--yes! In his speech--yes! But, don't you see, that isquite another matter. People allow themselves to say such things, especially in speeches; but it is by no means intended that thesetheories should be translated into practice. No, believe me, my dearboy, I am old, and I know humanity. The world must wag like this; we arenot made otherwise. In youth one has his own peculiar view of life, but, young man, it is not the right one. Only when one has arrived at thecalm restfulness of an advanced age does one see circumstances in thetrue light. And now I will tell you something, upon the truth of whichyou may confidently rely. When you come to your father's years andposition, your opinions will be quite the same as his now are, and, likehim, you will strive to maintain them and impress them upon yourchildren. '

'No, never! I swear it, ' cried the young man, springing to his feet. Andnow he spoke in glowing terms, to the effect that for him right wouldalways be right, that he would respect the truth, no matter whence itcame, that he would respect the young, and so on. In short, he talked ashopeful youths are wont to talk after a good dinner and violent mentaldisturbance. 

He was beautiful, as he stood there with the evening sun shining uponhis blonde hair, and his enthusiastic countenance turned upward. 

There was in his whole personality and in his words somethingtransporting and convincing, something that could not fail to work animpression--that is to say, if anybody but the teacher had seen andheard him. 

For upon the teacher it made no impression whatever; he was old, ofcourse. 

The drama of which he had that day been a witness he had seen manytimes. He himself had successively played both the principal _rôles_; hehad seen many _débutants_ like the student and many old players like themerchant. 

Therefore he shook his venerable head, and said to himself:

'Yes, yes; it is all well enough. But just see if I am not right; hewill become precisely the same as the rest of us. '

And the teacher was right. 

TROFAST. [Footnote: Faithful. ]

 I. 

Miss Thyra went and called into the speaking-tube:

'Will Trofast's cutlets be ready soon?'

The maid's voice came up from the kitchen: 'They are on the window-sillcooling; as soon as they are all right, Stine shall bring them up. '

Trofast, who had heard this, went and laid himself quietly down upon thehearthrug. 

He understood much better than a human being, the merchant used to say. 

Besides the people of the house, there sat at the breakfast-table anold enemy of Trofast's--the only one he had. But be it said that Cand. Jur. [Footnote: Graduate in law. ] Viggo Hansen was the enemy of agreat deal in this world, and his snappish tongue was well known allover Copenhagen. Having been a friend of the family for many years, heaffected an especial frankness in this house, and when he was in aquerulous mood (which was always the case) he wreaked his bitternessunsparingly upon anything or anybody. 

In particular, he was always attacking Trofast. 

'That big yellow beast, ' he used to say, 'is being petted and pamperedand stuffed with steak and cutlets, while many a human child must biteits fingers after a piece of dry bread. '

This, however, was a tender point, of which Dr. Hansen had to be rathercareful. 

Whenever anyone mentioned Trofast in words that were not full ofadmiration, he received a simultaneous look from the whole family, andthe merchant had even said point-blank to Dr. Hansen that he might oneday get seriously angry if the other would not refer to Trofast in abecoming manner. 

But Miss Thyra positively hated Dr. Hansen for this; and althoughWaldemar was now grown up--a student, at any rate--he took a specialpleasure in stealing the gloves out of the doctor's back pocket, anddelivering them to Trofast to tear. 

Yes, the good-wife herself, although as mild and sweet as tea, wassometimes compelled to take the doctor to task, and seriouslyremonstrate with him for daring to speak so ill of the dear animal. 

All this Trofast understood very well; but he despised Dr. Hansen, andtook no notice of him. He condescended to tear the gloves, because itpleased his friend Waldemar, but otherwise he did not seem to see thedoctor. 

When the cutlets came, Trofast ate them quietly and discreetly. He didnot crunch the bones, but picked them quite clean, and licked theplatter. 

Thereupon he went up to the merchant, and laid his right fore-paw uponhis knee. 

'Welcome, welcome, old boy!' cried the merchant with emotion. He wasmoved in like manner every morning, when this little scene wasre-enacted. 

'Why, you can't call Trofast old, father, ' said Waldemar, with a littletone of superiority. 

'Indeed! Do you know that he will soon be eight?'

'Yes, my little man, ' said the good wife gently; 'but a dog of eight isnot an old dog. '

'No, mother, ' exclaimed Waldemar eagerly. 'You side with me, don't you?A dog of eight is not an old dog. '

And in an instant the whole family was divided into two parties--twovery ardent parties, who, with an unceasing flow of words, set todebating the momentous question:--whether one can call a dog of eightyears an old dog or not. Both sides became warm, and, although each onekept on repeating his unalterable opinion into his opponent's face, itdid not seem likely that they would ever arrive at unanimity--not evenwhen old grandmother hurriedly rose from her chair, and positivelyinsisted upon telling some story about the Queen-Dowager's lap-dog, which she had had the honour of knowing from the street. 

But in the midst of the irresistible whirl of words there came a pause. Some one looked at his watch and said: 'The steamboat. ' They all rose;the gentlemen, who had to go to town, rushed off; the whole company wasscattered to the four winds, and the problem--whether one can call a dogof eight an old dog or not--floated away in the air, unsolved. 

Trofast alone did not stir. He was accustomed to this domestic din, andthese unsolved problems did not interest him. He ran his wise eyes overthe deserted breakfast-table, dropped his black nose upon his powerfulfore-paws, and closed his eyes for a little morning nap. As long as theywere staying out in the country, there was nothing much for him to do, except eat and sleep. 

Trofast was one of the pure Danish hounds from the Zoological Gardens. The King had even bought his brother, which fact was expresslycommunicated to all who came to the house. 

All the same, he had had a pretty hard upbringing, for he was originallydesignated to be watch-dog at the merchant's large coalstore out atKristianshavn. 

Out there, Trofast's behaviour was exemplary. Savage and furious as atiger at night, in the daytime he was so quiet, kindly, and even humble, that the merchant took notice of him, and promoted him to the positionof house-dog. 

And it was really from this moment that the noble animal began todevelop all his excellent qualities. 

From the very beginning he had a peculiar, modest way of standing at thedrawing-room door, and looking so humbly at anybody who entered that itwas quite impossible to avoid letting him into the room. And there hesoon made himself at home--under the sofa at first, but afterwards uponthe soft carpet in front of the fire. 

And as the other members of the family learned to appreciate his raregifts, Trofast gradually advanced in importance, until Dr. Hansenmaintained that he was the real master of the house. 

Certain it is that there came a something into Trofast's whole demeanourwhich distinctly indicated that he was well aware of the position heoccupied. He no longer stood humbly at the door, but entered firsthimself as soon as it was opened. And if the door was not opened for himinstantly when he scratched at it, the powerful animal would raisehimself upon his hind-legs, lay his fore-paws upon the latch, and openit for himself. 

The first time that he performed this feat the good-wife delightedlyexclaimed:

'Isn't he charming? He's just like a human being, only so much betterand more faithful!'

The rest of the family were also of opinion that Trofast was better thana human being. Each one seemed, as it were, to get quit of a few of hisown sins and infirmities through this admiring worship of the nobleanimal; and whenever anybody was displeased with himself or others, Trofast received the most confidential communications, and solemnassurances that he was really the only friend upon whom one could rely. 

When Miss Thyra came home disappointed from a ball, or when her bestfriend had faithlessly betrayed a frightfully great secret, she wouldthrow herself, weeping, upon Trofast's neck, and say: 'Now, Trofast, Ihave only you left. There is nobody--nobody--nobody on the earth wholikes me but you! Now we two are quite alone in the wide, wide world;but you will not betray your poor little Thyra--you must promise methat, Trofast. ' And so she would weep on, until her tears trickled downTrofast's black nose. 

No wonder, therefore, that Trofast comported himself with a certaindignity at home in the house. But in the street also it was evident thathe felt self-confident, and that he was proud of being a dog in a townwhere dogs are in power. 

When they were staying in the country in summer, Trofast went to townonly once a week or so, to scent out old acquaintances. Out in thecountry, he lived exclusively for the sake of his health; he bathed, rolled in the flower-beds, and then went into the parlour to rub himselfdry upon the furniture, the ladies, and finally upon the hearthrug. 

But for the remainder of the year the whole of Copenhagen was at hisdisposal, and he availed himself of his privileges with much assurance. 

What a treat it was, early in the spring, when the fine grass began toshoot upon the public lawns, which no human foot must tread, to run upand down and round in a ring with a few friends, scattering the tufts ofgrass in the air!

Or when the gardener's people had gone home to dinner, after havingpottered and trimmed all the forenoon among the fine flowers and bushes, what fun it was to pretend to dig for moles; thrust his nose down intothe earth in the centre of the flower-bed, snort and blow, then beginscraping up the earth with his fore-feet, stop for a little, thrust hismuzzle down again, blow, and then fall to digging up earth with all hismight, until the hole was so deep that a single vigorous kick from hishind-legs could throw a whole rose-bush, roots and all, high in the air!

When Trofast, after such an escapade, lay quietly in the middle of thelawn, in the warm spring sunshine, and saw the humans trudge wearilypast outside, in dust or mud, he would silently and self-complacentlywag his tail. 

Then there were the great fights in Grönningen, or round the horse inKongens Nytorv. [Footnote: King's Square. ] From thence, wet andbedraggled, he would dash up Östergade [Footnote: East Street. ] amongpeople's legs, rubbing against ladies' dresses and gentlemen'strousers, overthrowing old women and children, exercising an unlimitedright-of-way on both sides of the pavement, now rushing into a backyardand up the kitchen stairs after a cat, now scattering terror andconfusion by flying right at the throat of an old enemy. Or Trofastwould sometimes amuse himself by stopping in front of a little girl whomight be going an errand for her mother, thrusting his black nose upinto her face, and growling, with gaping jaws, 'Bow, wow, wow!'

If you could see the little thing! She becomes blue in the face, herarms hang rigidly by her sides, her feet keep tripping up and down; shetries to scream, but cannot utter a sound. 

But the grown ladies in the street cry shame upon her, and say:

'What a little fool! How _can_ you be afraid of such a dear, nice dog?Why, he only wants to play with you! See what a great big, fine fellowhe is. Won't you pat him?'

But this the little one will not do upon any account; and, when she goeshome to her mother, the sobs are still rising in her throat. Neither hermother nor the doctor can understand, afterwards, why the healthy, lively child becomes rigid and blue in the face at the least fright, andloses the power to scream. 

But all these diversions were colourless and tame in comparison with_les grands cavalcades d'amour_, in which Trofast was always one of theforemost. Six, eight, ten, or twelve large yellow, black, and red dogs, with a long following of smaller and quite small ones, so bitten andmud-bespattered that one could scarcely see what they were made of, butyet very courageous, tails in the air and panting with ardour, althoughthey stood no chance at all, except of getting mauled again and rolledin the mud. And so off in a wild gallop through streets, squares, gardens, and flower-beds, fighting and howling, covered with blood anddirt, tongues lolling from mouths. Out of the way with humans andbaby-carriages, room for canine warfare and love! And thus they wouldrush on like Aasgaard's demon riders through the unhappy town. [Footnote: Aasgaard was the 'garth' or home of the gods. After theadvent of Christianity, the Norse gods became demons, and it was thepopular belief that they rode across the sky at night, foreboding evil. ]

Trofast heeded none of the people on the street except the policemen. For, with his keen understanding, he had long ago discerned that thepolice were there to protect him and his kind against the manifoldencroachments of humanity. Therefore he obligingly stopped whenever hemet a policeman, and allowed himself to be scratched behind the ear. Inparticular, he had a good, stout friend, whom he often met up inAabenraa, where he (Trofast) had a _liaison_ of many years' standing. 

When Policeman Frode Hansen was seen coming upstairs from a cellar--athing that often happened, for he was a jolly fellow, and it was apleasure to offer him a half of lager-beer--his face bore a greatlikeness to the rising sun. It was round and red, warm and beaming. 

But when he appeared in full view upon the pavement, casting a severeglance up and down the street, in order to ascertain whether anyevil-disposed person had seen where he came from, there would arise afaint reminiscence of something that we, as young men, had read about inphysics, and which, I believe, we called the co-efficient of expansion. 

For, when we looked at the deep incision made by his strong belt, before, behind and at the sides, we involuntarily received theimpression that such a co-efficient, with an extraordinarily strongtendency to expand, was present in Frode Hansen's stomach. 

And people who met him, especially when he heaved one of his deep, beerysighs, nervously stepped to one side. For if the co-efficient in thereshould ever happen to get the better of the strong belt, the pieces, andparticularly the front buckle, would fly around with a force sufficientto break plate-glass windows. 

In other respects, Frode Hansen was not very dangerous of approach. Hewas even looked upon as one of the most harmless of police-constables;he very rarely reported a case of any kind. All the same, he stood wellwith his superiors, for when anything was reported by others, no matterwhat, if they only asked Frode Hansen, he could always make someinteresting disclosure or other about it. 

In this way the world went well with him; he was almost esteemed inAabenraa and down Vognmagergade. Yes, even Mam Hansen sometimes foundmeans to stand him a half of lager beer. 

And she had certainly little to give away. Poverty-stricken andbesotted, she had enough to do to struggle along with her two children. 

Not that Mam Hansen worked or tried to work herself forward or upward;if she could only manage to pay her rent and have a little left over forcoffee and brandy, she was content. Beyond this she had no illusions. 

In reality, the general opinion--even in Aabenraa--was that Mam Hansenwas a beast; and, when she was asked if she were a widow, she wouldanswer: 'Well, you see, that's not so easy to know. '

The daughter was about fifteen and the son a couple of years younger. About these, too, the public opinion of Aabenraa and district had itthat a worse pair of youngsters had seldom grown up in those parts. 

Waldemar was a little, pale, dark-eyed fellow, slippery as an eel, fullof mischief and cunning, with a face of indiarubber, which in one secondcould change its expression from the boldest effrontery to the mostsheepish innocence. 

Nor was there anything good to say about Thyra, except that she gavepromise of becoming a pretty girl. But all sorts of ugly stories werealready told about her, and she gadded round the town upon very variouserrands. 

Mam Hansen would never listen to these stories; she merely waved themoff. She paid just as little attention to the advice of her femalefriends and neighbours, when they said:

'Let the children shift for themselves--really, they're quite brazenenough to do it--and take in a couple of paying lodgers. '

'No, no, ' Mam Hansen would reply; 'as long as they have some kind of ahome with me, the police will not get a firm grip of them, and they willnot quite flow over. '

This idea, that the bairns should not quite 'flow over, ' had grown andgrown in her puny brain, until it had become the last point, aroundwhich gathered everything motherly that could be left, after a life likehers. 

And therefore she slaved on, scolded and slapped the children when theycame late home, made their bed, gave them a little food, and so heldthem to her, in some kind of fashion. 

Mam Hansen had tried many things in the course of her life, andeverything had brought her gradually downward, from servant-girl towaitress, down past washerwoman to what she now was. 

Early in the mornings, before it was light, she would come overKnippelsbro [Footnote: Bro, a bridge. ] into the town, with a heavybasket upon each arm. Out of the baskets stuck cabbage-leaves andcarrot-tops, so that one would suppose that she made a business ofbuying vegetables from the peasants out at Amager, in order to sell themin Aabenraa and the surrounding quarters. 

All the same, it was not a greengrocery business that she carried on, but, on the contrary, a little coal business: she sold coalsclandestinely and in small portions to poor folk like herself. 

This evident incongruity was not noticed in Aabenraa; not even PolicemanFrode Hansen seemed to find anything remarkable about Mam Hansen'sbusiness. When he met her in the mornings, toiling along with the heavybaskets, he usually asked quite genially: 'Well, my little Mam Hansen, were the roots cheap to-day?'

And, if his greeting were less friendly than usual, he was treated to ahalf of lager later in the day. 

This was a standing outlay of Madam Hansen's, and she had one besides. Every evening she bought a large piece of sugared Vienna bread. She didnot eat it herself; neither was it for the children; no one knew whatshe did with it, nor did anybody particularly care. 

 * * * * *

When there was no prospect of halves of lager, Policeman Frode Hansenpromenaded his co-efficient with dignity up and down the street. 

If he then happened to meet Trofast or any other of his canine friends, he always made a long halt, for the purpose of scratching him behind theear. And when he observed the great _nonchalance_ with which the dogscomported themselves in the street, it was a real pleasure to him tosternly pounce upon some unhappy man and note down his full name andaddress, because he had taken the liberty of throwing an envelope intothe gutter. 

 II. 

It was late in the autumn. There was a dinner-party at the merchant's;the family had been back from the country for some time. 

The conversation flowed on languidly and intermittently, until theflood-gates were suddenly lifted, and it became a wild _fos_[Footnote: Waterfall, cataract. ] For down at the hostess's end of thetable this question had cropped up: 'Can one call a lady a finelady--a real fine lady--if it be known that on a steam-boat she hasput her feet up on a stool, and disclosed small shoes and embroideredstockings?' And, strangely enough, as if each individual in thecompany had spent half his life in considering and weighing thisquestion, all cast their matured, decided, unalterable opinions uponthe table. The opposing parties were formed in an instant; theunalterable opinions collided with each other, fell down, were caughtup again, and thrown with ever-increasing ardour. 

Up at the other end of the table they took no part in this animatedconversation. Near the host there sat mostly elderly gentlemen, andhowever ardently their wives might have desired to solve the problemonce for all by expressing their unalterable opinion, they werecompelled to give up the idea, as the focus of the animated conversationwas among some young students right down beside the hostess, and thedistance was too great. 

'I don't think I see the big yellow beast to-day, ' said Dr. Viggo Hansenin his querulous tone. 

'Unfortunately not. Trofast is not here to-day. Poor fellow! I have beenobliged to request him to do me a disagreeable service. '

The merchant always talked about Trofast as if he were an esteemedbusiness friend. 

'You make me quite curious. Where _is_ the dear animal?'

'Ah, my dear madam, it is indeed a tiresome story. For, you know, therehas been stealing going on out at our coal warehouse at Kristianshavn. '

'Oh, good gracious! Stealing?'

'The thefts have evidently been practised systematically for a longtime. '

'Have you noticed the stock getting less, then?'

But now the merchant had to laugh, which he seldom did. 

'No, no, my dear doctor, excuse my laughing, but you are really toonaive. Why, there are now about ten thousand tons of coal out there, soyou will see that it wants some--'

'They would have to steal from evening till morning with a pair ofhorses, ' interjected a young business man, who was witty. 

When the merchant had finished his laugh, he continued:

'No; the theft was discovered by means of a little snow that fellyesterday. '

'What! Snow yesterday? I don't know anything about that. '

'It was not at the time of day when we are awake, madam, it is true; butyet, very early yesterday morning there fell a little snow, and when myfolks arrived at the coal store, they discovered the footprints of thethief or thieves. It was then found that a couple of boards in the wallwere loose, but they had been so skilfully put in place that nobodywould ever notice anything wrong. And the thief crawls through theopening night after night; is it not outrageous?'

'But don't you keep a watch-dog?'

'Certainly I do; but he is a young animal (of excellent breed, by theway, half a bloodhound), and, whatever way these wretches go abouttheir work, it is evident that they must be on friendly terms with thebeast, for the dog's footprints were found among those of the thieves. '

'That was indeed remarkable. And now Trofast is to try what he can do, Ipresume?'

'Yes, you are quite right. I have sent Trofast out there to-day; he willcatch the villains for me. '

'Could you not nail the loose boards securely in position?'

'Of course we could, Dr. Hansen; but I must get hold of the fellows. They shall have their well-merited punishment. My sense of right is mostdeeply wounded. '

'It is really delightful to have such a faithful animal. '

'Yes, isn't it, madam? We men must confess to our shame that in manyrespects we are far behind the dumb animals. '

'Yes, Trofast is really a pearl, sir. He is, beyond comparison, theprettiest dog in all--'

'Constantinople, ' interrupted Dr. Hansen. 

'That is an old joke of Hansen's, ' explained the merchant. 'He hasre-christened the Northern Athens the Northern Constantinople, becausehe thinks there are too many dogs. '

'It is good for the dog-tax, ' said some one. 

'Yes, if the dog-tax were not so inequitably fixed, ' snapped Dr. Hansen. 'There is really no sense in a respectable old lady, who keeps a dog ina hand-bag, having to pay as much as a man who takes pleasure inannoying his fellow-creatures by owning a half-wild animal as big as alittle lion. '

'May I ask how you would have the dog-tax reckoned, Dr. Hansen?'

'According to weight, of course, ' replied Dr. Viggo Hansen withouthesitation. 

The old merchants and councillors laughed so heartily at this idea ofweighing the dogs, that the disputants at the lower end of the table, who were still vigorously bombarding each other with unalterableopinions, became attentive and dropped their opinions, in order tolisten to the discussion on dogs. And the question, 'Can one call a ladya fine lady--a really fine lady--if it be known that on a steamboat shehas put her feet up on a stool, and disclosed small shoes andembroidered stockings?' also floated away in the air, unsolved. 

'You seem to be a downright hater of dogs, Dr. Hansen!' said the ladynext to him, still laughing. 

'I must tell you, madam, ' cried a gentleman across the table, 'that heis terribly afraid of dogs. '

'But one thing, ' continued the lady--'one thing you must admit, and thatis, that the dog has always been the faithful companion of man. '

'Yes, that is true, madam, and I could tell you what the dog has learnedfrom man, and man from the dog. '

'Tell us; do tell us!' was simultaneously exclaimed from severalquarters. 

'With pleasure. In the first place, man has taught the dog to fawn. '

'What a very queer thing to say!' cried old grandmother. 

'Next, the dog has acquired all the qualities that make man base andunreliable: cringing flattery upward, and rudeness and contemptdownward; the narrowest adhesion to his own, and distrust and hatred ofall else. Indeed, the noble animal has proved such an apt pupil that heeven understands the purely human art of judging people by theirclothes. He lets well-dressed folks alone, but snaps at the legs of theragged. '

Here the doctor was interrupted by a general chorus of disapproval, andMiss Thyra bitterly gripped the fruit-knife in her little hand. 

But there were some who wanted to hear what mankind had learned from thedog, and Dr. Hansen proceeded, with steadily-growing passion andbitterness:

'Man has learned from the dog to set a high price upon this grovelling, unmerited worship. When neither injustice nor ill-treatment has ever metanything but this perpetually wagging tail, stomach upon earth, andlicking tongue, the final result is that the master fancies himself asplendid fellow, to whom all this devotion belongs as a right. And, transferring his experience of the dog into his human intercourse, heputs little restraint upon himself, expecting to meet wagging tails andlicking tongues. And if he be disappointed, then he despises mankindand turns, with loud-mouthed eulogies, to the dog. '

He was once more interrupted; some laughed, but the greater number wereoffended. By this time Viggo Hansen had warmed to his subject; hislittle, sharp voice pierced through the chorus of objections, and heproceeded as follows:

'And, while we are speaking of the dog, may I be allowed to present anextraordinarily profound hypothesis of my own? Is there not somethinghighly characteristic of our national character in the fact that it iswe who have produced this noble breed of dogs--the celebrated, pureDanish hounds? This strong, broad-chested animal with the heavy paws, the black throat, and the frightful teeth, but so good-natured, harmless, and amiable withal--does he not remind you of the renowned, indestructible Danish loyalty, which has never met injustice orill-treatment with anything but perpetually wagging tail, stomach uponearth, and licking tongue? And when we admire this animal, formed in ourown image, is it not with a kind of melancholy self-praise that we pathim upon the head, and say: "You are indeed a great, good, faithfulcreature!"'

'Do you hear, Dr. Hansen? I must point out to you that in my house thereare certain matters which--'

The host was angry, but a good-natured relation of the family hastenedto interrupt him, saying: 'I am a countryman, and you will surely admit, Dr. Hansen, that a good farm watch-dog is an absolute necessity for_us_. Eh?'

'Oh yes, a little cur that can yelp, so as to awake the master. '

'No, thank you. We must have a decent dog, that can lay the rascals bythe heels. I have now a magnificent bloodhound. '

'And if an honest fellow comes running up to tell you that youroutbuildings are burning, and your magnificent bloodhound flies at histhroat--what then?'

'Why, that would be awkward, ' laughed the countryman. And the otherslaughed too. 

Dr. Hansen was now so busily engaged in replying to all sides, employingthe most extravagant paradoxes, that the young folks in particular wereextremely amused, without specially noting the increasing bitterness ofhis tone. 

'But our watch-dogs, our watch-dogs! You will surely let us keep them, doctor?' exclaimed a coal-merchant laughingly. 

'Not at all. Nothing is more unreasonable than that a poor man, whocomes to fill his bag from a coal mountain, should be torn to pieces bywild beasts. There is absolutely no reasonable relation between such atrifling misdemeanour and so dreadful a punishment. '

'May we ask how you would protect your coal mountain, if you had one?'

'I should erect a substantial fence of boards, and if I were veryanxious, I should keep a watchman, who would say politely, but firmly, to those who came with bags: "Excuse me, but my master is veryparticular about that. You must not fill your bag; you must takeyourself off at once. "'

Through the general laughter which followed this last paradox, aclerical gentleman spoke from the ladies' end of the table:

'It appears to me that there is something lacking in thisdiscussion--something that I would call the ethical aspect of thequestion. Is it not a fact that in the hearts of all who sit here thereis a clear, definite sense of the revolting nature of the crime we calltheft?'

These words were received with general and hearty applause. 

'And I think it does very great violence to our feelings to hear Dr. Hansen minimising a crime that is distinctly mentioned in Divine andhuman law as one of the worst--to hear him reduce it to the size of atrifling and insignificant misdemeanour. Is not this highly demoralizingand dangerous to Society?'

'Permit me, too, ' promptly replied the indefatigable Hansen, 'to presentan ethical aspect of the question. Is it not a fact that in the heartsof innumerable persons who do not sit here there is a clear, definitesense of the revolting nature of the crime they call wealth? And must itnot greatly outrage the feelings of those who do not themselves possessany coal except an empty bag, to see a man who permits himself to owntwo or three hundred thousand sacks letting wild beasts loose to guardhis coal mountain, and then going to bed after having written on thegate: "Watch-dogs unfastened at dusk"? Is not that very provoking andvery dangerous to Society?'

'Oh, good God and Father! He is a regular _sans-culotte_!' cried oldgrandmother. 

The majority gave vent to mutterings of displeasure; he was going toofar; it was no longer amusing. Only a few still laughingly exclaimed:'He does not mean a word of what he says; it is only his way. Goodhealth, Hansen!'

But the host took the matter more seriously. He thought of himself, andhe thought of Trofast. With ominous politeness, he began:

'May I venture to ask what you understand by a reasonable relationbetween a crime and its punishment?'

'For example, ' replied Dr. Viggo Hansen, who was now thoroughly roused, 'if I heard that a merchant possessing two or three hundred thousandsacks of coal had refused to allow a poor creature to fill his bag, andthat this same merchant, as a punishment, had been torn to pieces bywild beasts, then that would be something that I could very easilyunderstand, for between such heartlessness and so horrible a punishmentthere is a reasonable relation. '

'Ladies and gentlemen, my wife and I beg you to make yourselves at home, and welcome. '

There was a secret whispering and muttering, and a depressed feelingamong the guests, as they dispersed themselves through the salons. 

The host walked about with a forced smile on his lips, and, as soon ashe had welcomed every one individually, he went in search of Hansen, inorder to definitely show him the door once for all. 

But this was not necessary. Dr. Viggo Hansen had already found it. 

 III. 

There had really been some snow, as the merchant had stated. Although itwas so early in the winter, a little wet snow fell towards morning forseveral days in succession, but it turned into fine rain when the sunrose. 

This was almost the only sign that the sun had risen, for it did not getmuch lighter or warmer all day. The air was thick with fog--not thewhitish-gray sea mist, but brown-gray, close, dead Russian fog, whichhad not become lighter in passing over Sweden; and the east wind camewith it and packed it well and securely down among the houses ofCopenhagen. 

Under the trees along Kastelgraven and in Grönningen the ground wasquite black after the dripping from the branches. But along the middleof the streets and on the roofs there was a thin white layer of snow. 

All was yet quite still over at Burmeister and Wain's; the black morningsmoke curled up from the chimneys, and the east wind dashed it down uponthe white roofs. Then it became still blacker, and spread over theharbour among the rigging of the ships, which lay sad and dark in thegray morning light, with white streaks of snow along their sides. At theCustom House the bloodhounds would soon be shut in, and the iron gatesopened. 

The east wind was strong, rolling the waves in upon Langelinie, andbreaking them in grayish-green foam among the slimy stones, whilst longswelling billows dashed into the harbour, broke under the Custom House, and rolled great names and gloomy memories over the stocks round thefleet's anchorage, where lay the old dismantled wooden frigates in alltheir imposing uselessness. 

The harbour was still full of ships, and goods were piled high in thewarehouses and upon the quays. 

Nobody could know what kind of winter they were to have--whether theywould be cut off for months from the world, or if it would go by withfogs and snow-slush. 

Therefore there lay row upon row of petroleum casks, which, togetherwith the enormous coal mountains, awaited a severe winter, and there laypipes and hogsheads of wine and cognac, patiently waiting for newadulterations; oil and tallow and cork and iron--all lay and waited, each its own destiny. 

Everywhere lay work waiting--heavy work, coarse work, and fine work, from the holds of the massive English coal-steamers, right up to thethree gilded cupolas on the Emperor of Russia's new church in Bredgade. 

But as yet there was no one to put a hand to all this work. The townslept heavily, the air was thick, winter hung over the city, and it wasso still in the streets that one could hear the water from the meltingsnow on the roofs fall down into the spouts with a deep gurgling, as ifeven the great stone houses yet sobbed in semi-slumber. 

A little sleepy morning clock chimed over upon Holmen; here and there adoor was opened, and a dog came out to howl; curtains were rolled up andwindows were opened; the servant-girls went about in the houses, and didtheir cleaning by a naked light which stood and flickered; at a windowin the palace sat a gilded lacquey and rubbed his nose in that earlymorning hour. 

The fog lay thick over the harbour, and hung in the rigging of the greatships as if in a forest; rain and flakes of wet snow made it stillthicker, but the east wind pressed it down between the houses, andcompletely filled Amalieplads, so that Frederick V. Sat as if in theclouds, and turned his proud nose unconcernedly towards hishalf-finished church. 

Some more sleepy clocks now began to chime; a steam-whistle joined inwith a diabolical shriek. In the taverns which 'open before the clockstrikes' they were already serving early refections of hot coffee andschnapps; girls with hair hanging down their backs, after a wild night, came out of the sailors' houses by Nyhavn, and sleepily began to cleanwindows. 

It was bitterly cold and raw, and those who had to cross Kongens Nytorvhurried past Öhlenschläger, whom they had set outside the theatre, bare-headed, with his collar full of snow, which melted and ran downinto his open shirt-front. 

Now came the long, relentless blasts of steam-whistles from thefactories all round the town, and the little steamers in the harbourwhistled for no reason at all. 

The work, which everywhere lay waiting, began to swallow up the manysmall dark figures, who, sleepy and freezingly cold, appeared anddisappeared all round the town. And there was almost a quiet bustle inthe streets; some ran, others walked--both those who had to go down intothe coal steamers, and those who must up and gild the Emperor ofRussia's cupolas, and thousands of others who were being swallowed byall kinds of work. 

And waggons began to rumble, criers to shout, engines raised theirpolished, oily shoulders, and turned their buzzing wheels; and little bylittle the heavy, thick atmosphere was filled with a muffled murmur fromthe collective work of thousands. The day was begun; joyous Copenhagenwas awake. 

Policeman Frode Hansen froze even to his innermost co-efficient. It hadbeen an unusually bitter watch, and he walked impatiently up and down inAabenraa, and waited for Mam Hansen. She was in the habit of coming atthis time, or even earlier, and to-day he had almost resolved to carrymatters as far as a half lager or a cup of warm coffee. 

But Mam Hansen came not, and he began to wonder whether it was notreally his duty to report her. She was carrying the thing too far; itwould not do at all any longer, this humbug with these cabbage-leavesand that coal business. 

Thyra and Waldemar had also several times peeped out into the littlekitchen, to see if their mother had come and had put the coffee-pot onthe fire. But it was black under the kettle, and the air was so dark andthe room so cold that they jumped into bed again. 

 * * * * *

When they opened the great gates of merchant Hansen's coalstore atKristianshavn, Trofast sat there and shamefacedly looked askance; it wasreally a loathsome piece of work that they had set him to do. 

In a corner, between two empty baskets, they found a bundle of rags, from which there came a faint moaning. There were a few drops of bloodupon the snow, and close by there lay, untouched, a piece of sugaredVienna bread. 

When the foreman understood the situation, he turned to Trofast topraise him. But Trofast had already gone home; the position was quitetoo uncomfortable for _him_. 

They gathered her up, such as she was, wet and loathsome, and theforeman decided that she should be placed upon the first coal-cart goinginto town, and that they could stop at the hospital, so that theprofessor himself might see whether she was worth repairing. 

 * * * * *

About ten o'clock the merchant's family began to assemble at thebreakfast-table. Thyra came first. She hurried up to Trofast, patted andkissed him, and overwhelmed him with words of endearment. 

But Trofast did not move his tail, and scarcely raised his eyes. He kepton licking his fore-paws, which were a little black after the coal. 

'Good gracious, my dear mother!' cried Miss Thyra; 'Trofast isundoubtedly ill. Of course he has caught cold in the night; it wasreally horrid of father. '

But when Waldemar came in, he declared, with a knowing air, that Trofastwas affronted. 

All three now fell upon him with entreaties and excuses and kind words, but Trofast coldly looked from one to the other. It was clear thatWaldemar was right. 

Thyra then ran out for her father, and the merchant came inserious--somewhat solemn. They had just told him by telephone from theoffice how well Trofast had acquitted himself of his task, and, kneelingdown on the hearthrug before Trofast, he thanked him warmly for thegreat service. 

This mollified Trofast a good deal. 

Still kneeling, with Trofast's paw in his hand, the merchant now toldhis family what had occurred during the night. That the thief was ahardened old woman, one of the very worst kind, who had even--justimagine it!--driven a pretty considerable trade in the stolen coal. Shehad been cunning enough to bribe the young watch-dog with a dainty pieceof bread; but, of course, that was no use with Trofast. 

'And that brings me to think how often a certain person, whom I do notwish to name, would rant about it being a shame that a beast shouldrefuse bread, for which many a human being would be thankful. Do we notnow see the good of that? Through that--ahem!--that peculiarity, Trofastwas enabled to reveal an abominable crime; to contribute to the justpunishment of evildoers, and thus benefit both us and society. '

'But, father, ' exclaimed Miss Thyra, 'will you not promise me onething?'

'What is that, my child?'

'That you will never again require such a service of Trofast. Rather letthem steal a little. '

'That I promise you, Thyra; and you, too, my brave Trofast, ' said themerchant, rising with dignity. 

'Trofast is hungry, ' said Waldemar, with his knowing air. 

'Goodness, Thyra! fetch his cutlets!'

Thyra was about to rush down into the kitchen, but at that moment Stinecame puffing upstairs with them. 

 * * * * *

Presumably, the professor did not find Mam Hansen worth repairing. Atany rate, she was never seen again, and the children 'flowed quiteover. ' I do not know what became of them. 

KAREN. [Footnote: The scene of this tale is laid in Denmark. ]

There was once in Krarup Kro [Footnote: Kro, a country inn. ] a girlnamed Karen. She had to wait upon all the guests, for the innkeeper'swife almost always went about looking for her keys. And there camemany to Krarup Kro--folk from the surrounding district, who gatheredin the autumn gloamings, and sat in the inn parlour drinkingcoffee-punches, usually without any definite object; and alsotravellers and wayfarers, who tramped in, blue and weather-beaten, toget something hot to carry them on to the next inn. 

But Karen could manage everything all the same, although she walkedabout so quietly, and never seemed in a hurry. 

She was small and slim, quite young, grave and silent, so that with herthere was no amusement for the commercial travellers. But decent folkswho went into the tavern in earnest, and who set store on their coffeebeing served promptly and scalding hot, thought a great deal of Karen. And when she slipped quietly forward among the guests with her tray, theunwieldy frieze-clad figures fell back with unaccustomed celerity tomake way for her, and the conversation stopped for a moment. All had tolook after her, she was so charming. 

Karen's eyes were of that large gray sort which seem at once to look atone and to look far, far beyond, and her eyebrows were loftily arched, as if in wonder. 

Therefore strangers thought she did not rightly understand what theyasked for. But she understood very well, and made no mistakes. There wasonly something strange about her, as if she were looking for somethingfar away, or listening, or waiting, or dreaming. 

The wind came from the west over the low plains. It had rolled long, heavy billows across the Western Sea; [Footnote: German Ocean. ] saltand wet with spray and foam, it had dashed in upon the coast. But onthe high downs with the tall wrack-grass it had become dry and full ofsand and somewhat tired, so that when it came to Krarup Kro it hadquite enough to do to open the stable-doors. 

But open they flew, and the wind filled the spacious building, andforced its way in at the kitchen-door, which stood ajar. And at lastthere was such a pressure of air that the doors in the other end of thestable also burst open; and now the west wind rushed triumphantly rightthrough the building, swinging the lantern that hung from the roof, whisking the ostler's cap out into the darkness, blowing the rugs overthe horses' heads, and sweeping a white hen off the roost into thewatering-trough. And the cock raised a frightful screech, and the ostlerswore, and the hens cackled, and in the kitchen they were nearlysmothered with smoke, and the horses grew restless, and struck sparksfrom the stones. Even the ducks, which had huddled themselves togethernear the mangers, so as to be first at the spilt corn, began quacking;and the wind howled through the stable with a hellish din, until acouple of men came out from the inn parlour, set their broad backsagainst the doors and pressed them to again, while the sparks from theirgreat tobacco-pipes flew about their beards. 

After these achievements the wind plunged down into the heather, ranalong the deep ditches, and took a substantial grip of the mail-coach, which it met half a mile from the town. 

'He is always in a devil of a hurry to get to Krarup Kro!' growledAnders, the postboy, cracking his whip over the perspiring horses. 

For this was certainly the twentieth time that the guard had lowered thewindow to shout something or other up to Anders. First it was a friendlyinvitation to a coffee-punch in the inn; but each time the friendlinessbecame scantier, until at last the window was let down with a bang, andout sped some brief but expressive remarks about both driver and horses, which Anders, at all events, could not have cared to hear. 

Meanwhile the wind swept low along the ground, and sighed long andstrangely in the dry clusters of heather. The moon was full, but sodensely beclouded that only a pale hazy shimmer hovered over the night. 

Behind Krarup Kro lay a peat moss, dark with black turf-stacks anddangerous deep pits. And among the heathery mounds there wound a stripof grass that looked like a path; but it was no path, for it stopped onthe very brink of a turf-pit that was larger than the others, and deeperalso. 

In this grassy strip the fox lay and lurked, quite flat, and the harebounded lightly over the heather. 

It was easy for the fox to calculate that the hare would not describe awide circle so late in the evening. It cautiously raised its pointednose and made an estimate; and as it sneaked back before the wind, tofind a good place from which it could see where the hare would finishits circuit and lie down, it self-complacently thought that the foxeswere always getting wiser and wiser, and the hares more foolish thanever. 

In the inn they were unusually busy, for a couple of commercialtravellers had ordered roast hare; besides, the landlord was at anauction in Thisted, and Madame had never been in the habit of seeing toanything but the kitchen. But now it unfortunately chanced that thelawyer wanted to get hold of the landlord, and, as he was not at home, Madame had to receive a lengthy message and an extremely importantletter, which utterly bewildered her. 

By the stove stood a strange man in oilskins, waiting for a bottle ofsoda-water; two fish-buyers had three times demanded cognac for theircoffee; the stableman stood with an empty lantern waiting for a light, and a tall, hard-featured countryman followed Karen anxiously with hiseyes; he had to get sixty-three öre change out of a krone. [Footnote:A krone contains 100 öre, and is equal to 1 S. 1-½ d. ]

But Karen went to and fro without hurrying herself, and without gettingconfused. One could scarcely understand how she kept account of allthis. The large eyes and the wondering eyebrows were strained as if inexpectation. She held her fine little head erect and steady, as if notto be distracted from all she had to think of. Her simple dress of blueserge had become too tight for her, so that the collar cut slightly intoher neck, forming a little fold in the skin below the hair. 

'These country girls are very white-skinned, ' said one of thefish-buyers to the other. They were young men, and talked about Karen asconnoisseurs. 

At the window was a man who looked at the clock and said: 'The postcomes early to-night. '

There was a rumbling of wheels on the paving-stones without, thestable-door was flung open, and the wind again rattled all the doors anddrove smoke out of the stove. 

Karen slipped out into the kitchen the moment the door of the parlourwas opened. The mail-guard entered, and said 'good-evening' to thecompany. 

He was a tall, handsome man, with dark eyes, black curly hair and beard, and a small, well-shaped head. The long rich cloak of King of Denmark'smagnificent red cloth was adorned with a broad collar of curled dogskinthat drooped over his shoulders. 

All the dim, sickly light from the two paraffin lamps that hung overthe table seemed to fall affectionately upon the red colour, whichcontrasted so strikingly with the sober black and gray tints of all elsein the room. And the tall figure with the small curly head, the broadcollar, and the long purple folds, became, as he walked through thelow-roofed, smoky room, a marvel of beauty and magnificence. 

Karen came hurriedly in from the kitchen with her tray. She bent herhead, so that one could not see her face, as she hastened from guest toguest. 

She placed the roast hare right in front of the two fish-buyers, whereupon she took a bottle of soda-water to the two commercialtravellers, who sat in the inner room. Then she gave the anxiouscountryman a tallow candle, and, as she slipped out again, she putsixty-three öre into the hand of the stranger by the stove. 

The innkeeper's wife was in utter despair. She had, indeed, quiteunexpectedly found her keys, but lost the lawyer's letter immediatelyafter, and now the whole inn was in the most frightful commotion. Nonehad got what they wanted--all were shouting together. The commercialmen kept continuously ringing the table bell; the fish-buyers went intofits of laughter over the roast hare, which lay straddling on the dishbefore them. But the anxious countryman tapped Madame on the shoulderwith his tallow candle; he trembled for his sixty-three öre. And, amidall this hopeless confusion, Karen had disappeared without leaving atrace. 

Anders the post-boy sat on the box; the innkeeper's boy stood ready toopen the gates; the two passengers inside the coach became impatient, asdid also the horses--although they had nothing to look forward to--andthe wind rustled and whistled through the stable. 

At length came the guard, whom they awaited. He carried his large cloakover his arm, as he walked up to the coach and made a little excuse forhaving kept the party waiting. The light of the lantern shone upon hisface; he looked very warm, and smilingly said as much, as he drew on hiscloak and climbed up beside the driver. 

The gates were opened, and the coach rumbled away. Anders let the horsesgo gently, for now there was no hurry. Now and then he stole a glance atthe guard by his side; he was still sitting smiling to himself, andletting the wind ruffle his hair. 

Anders the post-boy also smiled in his peculiar way. He began tounderstand. 

The wind followed the coach until the road turned; thereupon it againswept over the plain, and whistled and sighed long and strangely amongthe dry clusters of heather. The fox lay at his post; everything wascalculated to a nicety; the hare must soon be there. 

In the inn Karen had at last reappeared, and the confusion had graduallysubsided. The anxious countryman had got quit of his candle and receivedhis sixty-three öre, and the commercial gentlemen had set to work uponthe roast hare. 

Madame whined a little, but she never scolded Karen; there was not aperson in the world who could scold Karen. 

Quietly and without haste Karen again walked to and fro, and the air ofpeaceful comfort that always followed her once more overspread the snug, half-dark parlour. But the two fish-buyers, who had had both one and twocognacs with their coffee, were quite taken up with her. She had gotsome colour in her cheeks, and wore a little half-hidden gleam of asmile, and when she once happened to raise her eyes, a thrill shotthrough their whole frames. 

But when she felt their eyes following her, she went into the room wherethe commercial men sat dining, and began to polish some teaspoons at thesideboard. 

'Did you notice the mail-guard?' asked one of the travellers. 

'No, not particularly; I only got a glimpse of him. I think he went outagain directly, ' replied the other, with his mouth full of food. 

'He's a devilish fine fellow! Why, I danced at his wedding. '

'Indeed. So he is married?'

'Yes; his wife lives in Lemvig; they have at least two children. She wasa daughter of the innkeeper of Ulstrop, and I arrived there on the veryevening of the wedding. It was a jolly night, you may be sure. '

Karen dropped the teaspoons and went out. She did not hear them callingto her from the parlour. She walked across the courtyard to her chamber, closed the door, and began half-unconsciously to arrange the bedclothes. Her eyes stood rigid in the darkness; she pressed her hands to her head, to her breast; she moaned; she did not understand--she did notunderstand--

But when she heard Madame calling so piteously, 'Karen, Karen!' shesprang up, rushed out of the yard, round the back of the house, out--outupon the heath. 

In the twilight the little grassy strip wound in and out among theheather, as if it were a path; but it was no path--no one must believeit to be a path--for it led to the very brink of the great turf-pit. 

The hare started up; it had heard a splash. It dashed off with longleaps, as if mad; now contracted, with legs under body and back arched, now drawn out to an incredible length, like a flying accordion, itbounded away over the heather. 

The fox put up its pointed nose, and stared in amazement after the hare. It had not heard any splash. For, according to all the rules of art, ithad come creeping along the bottom of a deep ditch; and, as it was notconscious of having made any mistake, it could not understand thestrange conduct of the hare. 

Long it stood, with its head up, its hindquarters lowered, and its greatbushy tail hidden in the heather; and it began to wonder whether thehares were getting wiser or the foxes getting more foolish. 

But when the west wind had travelled a long way it became a north wind, then an east wind, then a south wind, and at last it again came over thesea as a west wind, dashed in upon the downs, and sighed long andstrangely among the dry clusters of heather. But then a pair ofwondering gray eyes were lacking in Krarup Kro, and a blue serge dressthat had grown too tight. And the innkeeper's wife whined and whimperedmore than ever. She could not understand it--nobody could understandit--except Anders the post-boy--and one beside. 

But when old folks wished to give the young a really serious admonition, they used to begin thus: 'There was once in Krarup Kro a girl namedKaren--

MY SISTER'S JOURNEY TO MODUM. 

My sister was going to Modum. It was before the opening of the DrammenRailway, and it was a dreadfully long carriole drive from Christiania toDrammen. 

But everything depended upon getting off--hyp--getting to Drammen--hyp, hyp--in time to catch the train which left for Modum at two o'clock. Hyp--oh, dear, if the train should be gone--to wait until nextday--alone--in Drammen!

My sister stimulated the post-boys with drink-money, and the horses withsmall pokes of her umbrella; but both horses and post-boys were numerousupon this route, and much time was lost at the stopping-places. 

First, the luggage had to be transferred to the new carriole. Therewere the big trunk and the little one, and the plaids with loosenedstrap, the umbrella, the _en-tout-cas_, the bouquet, and the book. 

Then there was paying, and reckoning, and changing; and the purse wascrammed so extraordinarily full that it would shower three-skillingpieces, [Footnote: Skilling, a halfpenny. ] or a shining half-dollarwould swing itself over the side, make a graceful curve, like askater, round the floor, and disappear behind the stove. It had to begot out before it could be changed, and that nobody could do. 

As soon as the fresh horses appeared in the yard, my sister would springresolutely out, and swing herself into the carriole. 

'Thanks; I am ready now. Let us be off. Good-bye. '

Yes, then they would all come running after her--the umbrella, the_en-tout-cas_, the plaids with loosened strap, the bouquet, and thebook, everything would be thrown into her lap, and she would hold on tothem until the next station was reached, while the station-master'shonest wife stood and feebly waved the young lady's pocket-handkerchief, in a manner which could not possibly attract her attention. 

Although she thus lost no time, the drive was, nevertheless, extremelytrying, and it was a great relief to my sister when she at lengthrattled down the hill from Gjelleboek, and saw Drammen extended belowher. There were not many minutes left. 

At last she was down in the town. 'In Drammen, in Drammen!' muttered mysister, beginning to triumph. Like a fire-engine she dashed along thestreets to the station. Everything was paid. She had only to jump out ofthe carriole; but when she looked up at the station clock, theminute-hand was just passing the number twelve. 

Undismayed, my sister collected her knick-knacks and rushed into thewaiting-room, which was quite empty. But the young man who had sold thetickets, and who was in the act of drawing down the panel, caught aglimpse of this belated lady, and was good-natured enough to wait. 

'A ticket--for Heaven's sake! A ticket for Drammen! What does it cost?'

'Where are you going, miss?' asked the good-natured young man. 

'To Drammen--do you hear? But do make haste. I am sure the train will begone. '

'But, miss, ' said the young man, with a modest smile, 'you _are_ inDrammen. '

'Ah! I beg your pardon. Yes, so I am; it is to Modum, to Modum that Iwant to go. '

She received her ticket, filled her lap with her things, and, purse inmouth, hurried out upon the platform. 

She was instantly seized by powerful hands, lifted off the ground, andtenderly deposited in a _coupé_. 

'Puff, ' said the locomotive impatiently, beginning to strain at thecarriages. 

My sister leant back on the velvet sofa, happy and triumphant; she hadbeen in time. Before her, upon the other sofa, she had all her dearlittle things, which seemed to lie and smile at her--the bouquet and thebook, the _en-tout-cas_ and the umbrella, and the very plaids, with thestrap completely unfastened. 

Then, as the train slowly began to glide out of the station, she heardthe footstep of a man--rap, rap--of a man running--rap, rap, rap--running on the platform alongside the train; and although, ofcourse, it did not concern her, still she would see what he was runningfor. 

But no sooner did my sister's head become visible than the running manwaved his arms and cried:

'There she is, there she is--the young lady who came last! Where shallwe send your luggage?'

Then my sister cried in a loud and firm voice:

'To Drammen!'

And with these words she was whirled away. 

LETTERS FROM MASTER-PILOT SEEHUS. 

KRYDSVIG FARM, January 1, 1889. 

MR. EDITOR, Referring to our talk of last December, when I said I was not unwillingto send you occasional letters, if anything important should happen, Ido not know of anything that I could think worthy of being published ormade public in your paper except the weather, which always and evergives cause for alternate praise and blame, when one is living, so tospeak, out among the sea's breakers, where there is no quietness toexpect on a winter's day, but storms and rough weather as we had in thelast Yule-nights, with a violent storm from the east and with suchtremendous gusts of wind that the pots and pans flew about like birds. And there is much damage done by the east wind and nothing gained, because it only drives wreckage out to sea. But it was not quite so badas it was in the great storms in the last days of November, whichculminated or reached their highest point on Monday, the 26th November, when it was rougher than old folk can remember it to have ever been, with such a tremendous sea that it seemed as if it would reach thefields that we here at Krydsvig have owned from old times; it almosttouched the cowhouses. After that time we had light frosts withchangeable weather and a smoother sea, which was not covered, but richlysown, with many sad relics of the storm, mostly deck cargo, which is notso great a loss, as it is always lying, so to speak, upon expectancy oradventure; and when it goes, it is a relief to the ship and a great andespecial blessing to these treeless coasts, particularly when it comesashore well split up and distributed, a few planks at each place, sothat the Lensmand [Footnote: Sheriff's officer. ] cannot see any greateraccumulation at any one place than that he can, with a good conscience, abandon an auction and let the folk keep what they have been luckyenough to find or diligent enough to garner in from the sea in theirboats; but this time it did not repay the trouble, because of frost andan easterly land-wind, which kept the wreck from land for some time. Butnow the most of it has come in that is to come at this time, and it maybe long to another time, as we must hope, for the seaman's sake, although I, for my part, have never been able to join with anyparticular devotion in prayers and supplications that we may be freefrom storms and foul weather; for our Lord has made the sea thus and nototherwise, so that there must come storms and tumults in the atmosphereof the air, and, as a consequence, towering billows. And it seems to me, further, that we cannot decently turn to the Lord and ask Him to dosomething over again or in a different way; but we can well wish eachother God's help and all good luck in danger, and especially good gearfor our own ones, who sail with wit and canniness, while the Englishmanis mostly a demon to sail and go with full steam on in fogs and drivingrain-storms, of which we can expect enough in Januarius month at thebeginning of the new year, which I hope may be a good year for thesecoasts, with decent weather, as it may fall out, and somethingrespectable in the way of wreckage. 

Yours very truly, LAURITZ BOLDEMANN SEEHUS, Late Master-Pilot. 

KRYDSVIG, January 22, 1889. 

MR. EDITOR, I take up my pen to-day to inform you that I, the undersigned, addressyou for the last time, as I will not write more because of my sore eyes, which are not to be wondered at, after all that they have seen in bitterweather and in a long life of trouble and hardship from my youth up, mostly at sea in spray and driving snow-storms at the fishing, which isall over and past, as everything old is past. But things new are comingto the front, and here I sit alone like Job, though he, to be sure, hadsome friends, but loneliness is a sore thing for old folk, and idlenesswhich they are not used to, so that the Sheriff might as well have givenme back my post as master-pilot on my return from America. But he wouldnot do it, because I was not cunning enough to agree with him, when hedid not understand anybody, but it is given out officially that I am tooold, and thus I sit here without having shaved for a week, because I amangry and my hand trembles, but not owing to old age. And I don't think, either, that anybody is much to be envied for having friends like Job's, and I am not stricken with boils and sitting among potsherds, but amquite hale and strong, if I am rather dried-up and stiff, but I wouldundertake to dance a reel and a Hamburg schottische if I could only geta girl with a fairly round waist to take hold of, but it seems to methat they are shrinking in and becoming flatter than they were in myyoung days; but then I think that it is surely the sore eyes that arecheating me, for I have always held this belief, that girls are girls inall times, but old folks should be quiet and mind what they understand, which is nothing that relates to the young. But a man should not getsour _in finem_, for all that, and I have found that it is a dangerousthing to grow old, for this reason, that one becomes so surly beforeone's time, and that is against my inner construction, and I have nowsat here awhile and gazed out on the sea through rain and mist, and thenI straightened my old back and spat out my quid, which in all truthsmacked more of the brass box than of tobacco, because it had beenchewed several times, but I have cut myself a new one with my knife, asI can no longer bite it off, for the reason that there are hardly anyteeth, but I have still a few front ones, and I have one good tooth, which is hidden and is no ornament, but it is useful when I eat toughthings like dried ham. And I take up the pen again because I want to letyou know that I am not so ill but that I may hold out for a while yet;and, if I keep my health, you shall hear from me soon, but I havenothing to say about the weather, because we have not had any weatherfor a long time, and I am wondering whether this winter will come toanything, or if it will pass over in damp and wet and loose wind. 

Yours very truly, LAURITZ BOLDEMANN SEEHUS, Late Master-Pilot. 

KRYDSVIG, April 13, 1889. 

MR. EDITOR, About the rotten feet on the sheep, which animal I by nature despise, onaccount of its cowardice and a tremendous silliness, the one runningafter the other, but if a man _will_ plague himself with farming who hasbeen a sailor from his mother's apron-string, he must keep these beastsand others like his neighbours, although he understands nothing, or verylittle, about the whole tribe. So I have upon my small patch of groundtwo good ewes, with little wit, but wool, and I sent them long beforeYule to a ram at Börevig, one of the fine kind from Scotland, as folkbothered me that I must do it, because of the breed and the wool andmany things, but not a rotten foot did I hear of until after muchjangling among folk and a great to-do among the learned and such like, which is nothing new to me in that kind of folk, who always and alwaysstand behind each other's backs, crying with a loud cry, 'It was not myfault, ' but, faith, it was. So I say to myself, 'What shall I do withthese rotten feet from Scotland, if I get the disease ingrafted, andlikewise upon the innocent offspring, ' who are already toddling aboutall three, because there were two in the one ewe. But foreign sicknessis not a thing to be afflicted with, at a time when we have scab amongour sheep and much else, and more than I know of, and thus I turned mylook again and again to that Government, to see if it will ever gathersense. But yet the Government had not so very rotten feet in that otherimportant matter of a Sheriff, whom we got with unexpected smartness andpromptness, much to our gain and the reverse, when we think of what theman now is, but there must be a skipper all the same. And now it isgrowing light all over the world; that is, in our hemisphere, for springhas come upon us with extraordinary quickness, and the ice, it went withPeder-Varmestol, [Footnote: February 22nd. ] and the lapwing, she cameone morning with her back shining as if she had been polished out ofbronze, with her crest erect, and throwing herself about in the air likea dolphin in the sea, with her head down and her tail up, crying andscreaming. But the lark is really the silliest creature, to sing onwithout ceasing the livelong day, and the sea-pie has come, and standsbobbing upon the same stone as last year, and the wild-goose and thewater-wagtail. So we are all cheered up again, all the men of Jæderen, and the cod bites, too, for those who have time, but folk are mostlycarting sea-weed, and ploughing and sowing, not without grumbling insome places, but the work must be done. 

Yours very truly, L. B. SEEHUS. 

KRYDSVIG, July 1, 1889. 

MR. EDITOR, Your letter of the 20th ult. Received, and contents noted, and I now begto reply that it is not very convenient, for the reason that old folk'stalk is mostly about winter storms and seldom about summer, when the sunshines, and the lambs frisk and throw their tails high in the air. But, you see, they were tups all three, which was not unlooked-for after sucha ram, and consequently no letter can be expected from me before autumn, when the sea gets some life in it and a grown man's voice, so to speak, for now it lies--God bless me--like a basin of milk, to the inwardvexation of folk who know what the sea should be in Nature's householdwith ships and storms and wreckage, and a decent number of wrecks atthose places where the structure of the coast permits the rescue of menand a distribution of the wreck if it be of wood, but some trash are nowof iron. And I am now as parched in the hide as I was that time inNaples when the helmsman sailed the brig on to the pier-head because ahurricane had risen, and Skipper Worse and I stood on the quay andcried, though he swore mostly, and I had a basket on my arm withsomething that they called bananas, which they fry in butter. And it isnot very nice nowadays, when the sun rises and sets in nothing but bluesky, and not a cloud to be seen, as if it were the Mediterranean of myyoung days, and I smell the bananas, but we here have no other stinkingstuff, that I know, than ware and cods' heads. But, Mr. Editor, theyoung are dull and heavy with the sunshine; I myself went about singing, and wanted to show the flabby wenches of Varhaug how one once danced areal _molinask_, as it was Sunday and the young folk hung round thewalls like half-dead flies in the heat. But there had been grease burnt, which made it more slippery than soft soap on the deck, and there laythe whole master-pilot in the middle of the _molinask_, and bit off thestalk of his clay pipe, but he kept his tooth, which has already beenspoken about, and to his shame had to be lifted by four firm-handedfellows with much laughing, wherefore I have sat myself down in my chairto wait for the autumn, because I cannot speak or write about thedrought, but only get angry and unreasonable. 

Yours very truly, LAURITZ BOLDEMANN SEEHUS. 

KRYDSVIG, October 20, 1889. 

MR. EDITOR, I could have continued my silence a very long time yet, for it has notbeen a great autumn either on land or sea, but little summer storms, asif for frolic, with small seas and loose wreckage, but unusually farout, about three miles from land. But the long, dark lamp-lit eveningsare come, and this shoal of fish which I must write to you about and askwhat the end is going to be; for now we almost think that the sea upnorth Stavanger way must be choke-full, as it was of herrings in thegood old days that are no more, but it is now big with coal-fish, mostlynorth by the Reef, they say, but the undersigned and old Velas, who is astill older man, got about four boxes of right nice coal-fish yesterday, a little to the south-east. But half Jæren [Footnote: Jæderen, the coastdistrict near Stavanger. ] was on the sea, boat upon boat, for the doublereason of the coal-fish and that they had not an earthly thing to doupon the land, for this year the earth has yielded us everything welland very early, but the straw is short, which, if the truth must betold, is the only thing to complain of. But the farmers are making wryfaces, like the merchants in Östersöen when they complain of theherrings, for they must always complain, except about the sheep, whichare going off very well to the Englishman, and I can't conceive whatthere will be left of this kind of beast in Jæren, but it is all thesame to me, seeing that I have never liked the sheep at all until lastyear, when he paid taxes for all Jæren, which was more than was expectedof him. And it would be well if any one were able to put bounds uponthis burning of sea-ware, which the devil or somebody has invented foruse as a medicine in Bergen--they say, but I do not believe it, becauseit has a stink that goes into the innermost part of your nostrils andinto your tobacco besides. But then the east wind is good for something, at least, for it sends the heaps of ware out to sea, and I can imaginehow it will surprise the Queen of England when she knows how we stink. And I have a grievance of my own, viz. , boys shooting with blunderbussesand powder, and with so little wit that my eyes flash with anger everytime I see them creeping on their stomachs towards a starling or acouple of lean ring-plovers, and I shout and cast stones to warn theinnocent creatures, since the farmer of Jæren is, as it were, histhrall's thrall, and lets the servant-boys make a fool of him and playthe concertina all night, which might be put up with, but no powder andshooting should be allowed, so that Jæren may not become a desert forbird-life, and only concertinas left and rascals of boys on theirstomachs as above. 

Yours very truly, LAURITZ BOLDEMANN SEEHUS. 

KRYDSVIG, December 25, 1889. 

MR. EDITOR, After having, in the course of a long and very stormy life, given heedto the clouds of the sky and the various aspects of the sea, which canchange before your eyes as you look, like a woman who discovers anotherwhom she likes better, and you stand forsaken and rejected, because agirl's mind is like the ocean above-mentioned, and full of storms as theSpanish Sea, and I early received my shock of that kind for life, ofwhich I do not intend to speak, but the weather is of a nature that Ihave never before observed in this country, with small seas, rare andmoderate storms, and on this first Yule-day a peace on the earth andsuch a complacent calm on the sea that you might row out in a trough. The wreckage that came in on the 8th and 9th December last was the onlyextravagance, so to speak, of the sea this year, for there was too muchin some places, and this will probably give the Lensmand a pretext forholding an auction, to the great ruination of the people, for the plankswere rare ones, both long and good-hearted timber. But at an auctionhalf the pleasure is lost, besides more that is very various inkind--for instance, brandy: and the town gentlemen who sell such liquorto the farmer must answer to their consciences what substances andingredients such a drink is cooked out of, as it brings on mentalweakness and bodily torment, proof of which I have seen numberless timesin strong and well-fabricated persons, especially during the Yule-days. But this is not my friendship's time, for they say at the farm that theOldermand [Footnote: Master-pilot] is haughty, and will not swallowtheir devil's drink at any price. But I sit alone before a bottle of oldJamaica, which is part of what Jacob Worse brought home from the WestIndies in 1825, and I think of him and Randulf and the old ones, and thesmell of the liquor seems to call up living conversations, which you canhear, and you must laugh, although you are alone, and you have such adesire to write everything down as it happened; but no more to thenewspapers for this reason, that they have been after me with falseteeth and a nice, neat widow, of whom nothing more will be said. Andthis extraordinarily mild winter has in some way kept the rheumatism outof my limbs; besides, I am strong by nature and no age to speak of; but, of course, it must be admitted that youth is better and more lively, ofwhich, as above, nothing more will be said. 

As the years go on, Mr. Editor, disappointments bite fast into us, likebarnacles and mussels under ships; but we ourselves do not feel that ourspeed is decreasing, and that we are dropping astern, and, as alreadyhinted, old age does not protect us against folly. 

Yours very truly, LAURITZ BOLDEMANN SEEHUS. 

OLD DANCES. 

We really strove honestly, swung ourselves and swung our ladies, although many were stiff enough to get round. We were not invited to aball; this dance was merely a surprise frolic. 

We had dined in all good faith--at least, the stranger cousin had; andwhile I stood thinking of coffee, and dreading no danger, the housebegan to swarm with young folks who had dined upstairs or downstairs, orat home, or not at all, or God knows where. The dining-room doors werethrown open again, the floor was cleared as if by magic, partners caughthold of each other, two rushed to the piano, and--one, two, three, theywere in the middle of a galop before I could recover my wits. 

They immediately forsook me again, when I received a frightful blow inthe region of the heart. It was Uncle Ivar himself, who shouted:

'Come, boy; inside with you, and move your legs. Don't stand there likea snivelling chamberlain, but show what kind of fellow you are withthose long pipe-stalks that our Lord has sent you out upon. '

Thus the dance began; and although I did not at all like uncle's way ofarranging matters, I good-naturedly set to work, and we strove honestly, that I can say, with the cousins as well as the lighter of the aunts. 

By degrees we even became lively; and everything might have passed offin peace and joy if uncle had not taken it into his head that we werenot doing our utmost in the dance, especially we gentlemen. 

'What kind of dancing is that to show to people?' he exclaimedcontemptuously. 'There they go, mincing and tripping, as spindle-shankedas pencils and parasols. No, there was another kind of legs in my time!Pooh, boys, that was dancing, that was!'

We held up our heads and footed it until our ears tingled. But everytime that Uncle Ivar passed the ball-room door, his jeers became moreaggravating, until we were almost exhausted, each one trying to benimbler than another. 

But what was the use? Every time uncle came back from his round throughthe smoking-room, where he cooled his head in an enormous ale-bowl, hewas bolder and bolder, and at last he had aled so long in the coolingbowl that his boldness was not to be repressed. 

'Out of the way with these long-shanked flamingoes!' he cried. 'Now, boys, you are going to see a real national dance. Come, Aunt Knoph, wetwo old ones will make these miserable youngsters of nowadays thinkshame. '

'Oh, no, my dear, do let me alone, ' begged respectable Mrs. Knoph;'remember, we are both old. '

'The devil is old, ' laughed uncle merrily; 'you were the smartest of thelasses, and I was not the greatest lout among the boys, that I know. Socome along, old girl!'

'Oh no, my dear Ivaren; won't you excuse me?' pleaded Mrs. Knoph. Butwhat was the use? The hall was cleared, room had to be made, and wemiserable flamingoes were squeezed up against the walls, so that wemight be out of the way, at all events. 

All the young ladies were annoyed at the interruption, and we gentlemenwere more or less sulky over all the affronts that we had endured. Butthe lady who had to play was quite in despair. She had merely receivedorders to play something purely national; and no matter how often sheasked what dance it was to be, uncle would only stare politely at herover his spectacles, and swear that this would be another kind of dance. 

As far as Uncle Ivar was concerned, 'Sons of Norway' was no doubt goodenough for any or every dance; and as to the dance itself, the music wasreally not so very important; for, you see, it happened in this way:

Uncle Ivar came swinging in with one arm by his side, and tall, respectable Mrs. Knoph on the other. He placed her with a chivalroussweep in the middle of the floor, bowed in the fashion of elderlygallants, with head down between his legs and arms hanging in front, butquickly straightened himself up again and looked about with a provokingsmile. 

Uncle Ivar, without a coat and with vest unbuttoned, was a sight to seein a ball-room. A flaming red poll, one of the points of his collar upand one down, his false shirtfront thrust under a pair of home-madebraces, which were green, two white bands of tape hanging down, a tuftof woollen shirt visible here and there. 

But one began to respect the braces when one saw what they carried--atrousers-button as big as a square-sail, and another behind--I am surethat one could have written 'Constantinople' in full across it in alarge hand. 

'Tush, boys!' cried uncle, clapping his hands, 'now, by Jove, you shallsee a dance worth looking at!' And then it began--at least, I _think_that it began here, but, as will presently appear, this is not quitecertain. It happened in this way:

The pianist struck up some national tune or other; uncle swung his armsand shuffled a little with his feet, amorously ogling old Mrs. Knophover his spectacles. 

All attention was now concentrated upon Uncle Ivar's legs; it was clearthat after the little preliminary steps he would let himself go! I stoodand wondered whether he would spring into the air clear over Mrs. Knoph, or only kick the cap off her head. 

That would have been quite like him, and it is not at all certainwhether he himself did not think of performing some such feat, for, aswill presently appear, we cannot know; it happened, you see, in thisway:

As Uncle Ivar, after some little pattering, collected his energies forthe decisive _coup_, he violently stamped his feet upon the floor. 

But, as if he had trodden upon soft soap, like lightning his heelsglided forward from under him. The whole of Uncle Ivar fell backwardupon Constantinople, his legs beat the air, and the crown of his headstruck the floor with a boom that resounded through the whole house. 

Yes, there he lay stretched in all his _rondeur_, with the square-sailjust in front of the feet of respectable Mrs. Knoph, who resembled adeserted tower in the desert. 

I was irreverent enough to let the others gather him up. Of course hewould not fall to pieces; I knew the Constantinople architecture. Islipped out into the corridor and laughed until I was quite exhausted. 

But since then I have often wondered what kind of dance it could havebeen. 

AUTUMN. 

AARRE, October 7, 1890. 

I had intended to send a few observations upon the wild-goose to_Nature_, but since they have extended to quite a long letter, they goto _Dagbladet_. It is not because I believe that they represent anythingnew that no one has observed before; but I know how thoughtlessly mostof us let the sun shine, and the birds fly, without any idea of what arefreshment it is for a man's soul to understand what he sees in Nature, and how interesting animal life becomes when we have once learned thatthere is a method and a thought in every single thing that the animalundertakes, and what a pleasure it is to discover this thought, andtrace the beautiful reasoning power which is Nature's essence. 

And thus most of us go through life, and down into a hole in the groundlike moles, without having taken any notice of the bird that flew or thebill that sang. We believe that the small birds are sparrows, the largerprobably crows; barndoor fowls are the only ones we know definitely. 

I met a lady the other day who was extremely indignant about this. Shehad asked the man at whose house she was staying--a very intelligentpeasant--what kind of bird it was that she had seen in the fields. Itwas evident that it was a thrush--merely a common thrush--and shedescribed the bird to him: it was about half as large as a pigeon, grayand speckled with yellow; it hopped in the fields, and so on. 

'Would it be the bird they call a swallow?' suggested the man. 

'Not at all, ' replied the lady angrily. 'I rather think it was a kind ofthrush. '

'Oh! then you had better ask my wife. '

'So she understands birds, does she?' exclaimed the lady, muchmollified. 

'Yes, she is mad with them, they do so much mischief among thecherries. '

With this my lady had to go. But the story is not yet finished; theworst is to come. 

For when, indignant at the countryman's ignorance of the bird-world, shetold all this in town, there was one very solemn gentleman who said:

'Are you sure that it was not a gull?'

This went beyond all bounds, thought my lady, and she came andcomplained bitterly to me. 

When wild-geese fly in good order, as they do when in the air for daysand nights together, the lines generally form the well-known plough, with one bird at the point, and the two next ones on either side of hima little way behind. 

Hitherto I have always been content with the explanation that wereceived and gave one another as boys, viz. , that the birds chose thisformation in order to cleave the air, like a snow-plough clearing a way. 

But it suddenly occurred to me the other day that this was purenonsense--an association of ideas called forth by the resemblance to aplough, which moves in earth or snow, but which has no meaning up in theair. 

What _is_ cloven air? And who gets any benefit by it?

Yes, if the geese flew as they walk--one directly behind theother--there might perhaps, in a contrary wind, be some little shelterand relief for the very last ones. But they fly nearly side by side insuch a manner that each one, from first to last, receives completely'uncloven' air right in the breast; there can be no suggestion that itis easier for the last than for the first bird to cut a way. 

The peculiar order of flight has quite another meaning, viz. , to keepthe flock together on the long and fatiguing journey; and if we startfrom this basis, the reasoning thought becomes also evident in thearrangement itself. 

Out here by the broad Aarre Water there pass great flights ofwild-geese; and in bad weather it may happen that they sit in thousandson the water, resting and waiting. 

But even if the flock flies past, there is always uneasiness and noisewhen they come over Aarre Water. The ranks break, for a time the wholebecomes a confused mass, while they all scream and quack at the sametime. 

Only slowly do they form again and fly southward in long lines, untilthey shrink to thinner and thinner threads in the gray autumn sky, andtheir last sound follows them upon the north wind. 

Then I always believe that there has been a debate as to whether theyshould take a little rest down on Aarre Water. There are certainly manyold ones who know the place again, and plenty of the young aretender-winged, and would fain sit on the water and dawdle away ahalf-day's time. 

But when it is eventually resolved to fly on without stopping, and thelines again begin to arrange themselves, it has become clear to me thateach seeks his own place in the ranks slanting outwards behind theleaders, so that by this means he may be conducted along with the trainwithout being under the necessity of troubling about the way. 

If these large, heavy birds were to fly in a cluster for weeks, day andnight, separation and confusion would be inevitable. They would get ineach other's way every minute with their heavy wings, there would besuch a noise that the leader's voice could not be distinguished, and itwould be impossible to keep an eye upon him after dark. Besides, overhalf the number are young birds, who are undertaking this tremendousjourney for the first time, and who naturally, at Aarre Water, begin toask if it be the Nile that they see. Time would be lost, the flock wouldbe broken up, and all the young would perish on the journey, if therewere not, in the very disposition of the ranks, something of thebeautiful reasoning thought binding them together. 

Let us now consider the first bird, who leads the flock--presumably anold experienced gander. He feels an impulse towards the south, but heundoubtedly bends his neck and looks down for known marks in thelandscape. That is why the great flocks of geese follow our coast-linesouthward until the land is lost to view. 

But the birds do not look straight forward in the direction of theirbills: they look to both sides. Therefore, the bird next to the leaderdoes not follow right behind him in the 'cloven' air, but flies nearlyalongside, so that it has the leader in a direct line with its right orleft eye at a distance of about two wing-flaps. 

And the next bird does the same, and the next; each keeps at the samedistance from its fore-bird. 

And what each bird sees of its fore-bird are the very whitest feathersof the whole goose, under the wings and towards the tail, and this, indark nights, is of great assistance to the tired, half-sleepingcreatures. 

Thus each, except the pilot himself, has a fore-bird's white body in aline with one eye, and more they do not need to trouble about. They canput all their strength into the monotonous work of wing-flapping, aslong as they merely keep the one eye half open and see that they havethe fore-bird in his place. Thus they know that all is in order, thatthey are in connection with the train, and with him at the head whoknows the way. 

If from any cause a disturbance arises, it is soon arranged upon thisprinciple; and when the geese have flown a day or two from thestarting-point, such rearrangement is doubtless effected more rapidlyand more easily. For I am convinced that they soon come to know oneanother personally so well that each at once finds his comrade inflight, whom he is accustomed to have before his eye, and therefore theyare able to take their fixed places in the ranks as surely andaccurately as trained soldiers. 

We can all the more readily imagine such a personal acquaintance amonganimals, as we know that even men learn with comparative ease todistinguish individuals in flocks of the same species of beasts. If wetownspeople see a flock of sheep, it presents to us the same ovineface--only with some difference between old and young. But apeasant-woman can at once take out her two or three ewes from the bigflock that stands staring by the door--indeed, she can even recognisevery young lambs by their faces. 

Thus I believe I understand the reason for the wild-goose's order offlight better than when I thought of a plough that 'clove' the air; and, as already stated, it may well be that many have been just as wise longago. But I venture to wager that the great majority of people have neverthought of the matter at all, and I fear that multitudes will think ofit somewhat in this fashion: 'What is it to me how those silly geesefly?'

I often revert to the strangely thoughtless manner in which knowledge ofanimal life is skipped over in the teaching of the young. The rude andwild conception of animals which the clergy teach from the Old Testamentseems to cause only deep indifference on the part of the girls, and, inthe boys, an unholy desire to ramble about and blaze away with a gun. 

Here there has been a shooting as on a drill-ground all the summer, until now only the necessary domestic animals are left. Among the cows, the starlings were shot into tatters, so that they crawled wingless, legless, maimed, into holes in the stone fences to die. If a respectablecurlew sat by the water's edge mirroring his long bill, a rascal of ahunter lay behind a stone and sighted; and was there a water-puddle withrushes that could conceal a young duck, there immediately came afully-armed hero with raised gun. Even English have been here! They hadsome new kind of guns--people said--that shot as far as you pleased, andround corners and behind knolls. They murdered, I assure you; they laidthe district bare as pest and pox! I must stop, for I am growing soangry. 

I have had thoughts of applying for a post as inspector of birds in theWestland. I should travel round and teach people about the birds, exhibit the common ones, so that all might have the pleasure ofrecognising them in Nature; accustom people to listen to their song andcry, and to take an interest in their life, their nests, eggs, andyoung. 

Then I should inflame the peasants against the armed farm-boys, day-labourers, and poachers, and against the sportsmen from town, whostroll around without permission and crack away where they please. Itonly wants a beginning and a little combination, for the peasant, in hisheart, is furious at this senseless shooting. 

Perhaps some day, when not a single bird is left, my idea of aninspector may come to be honoured and valued. Would that a godlyStorthing [Footnote: Parliament. ] may then succeed in finding a piousand well-recommended man, who can instruct the people in a moral manneras to where the humid Noah accommodated the ostriches in the ark, orwhat he managed to teach the parrots during the prolonged rainy weather. 

We, too, have recently had a deluge. The lakes and the river have risento the highest winter-marks. But the soil of this blessed place is sosandy that roads and fields remain firm and dry, the water running offand disappearing in a moment. 

It has also blown from all quarters, with varying force, for threeweeks. We press onward over the plain, and stagger about among thehouses, where the gusts of wind rush in quite unexpectedly with loudclaps. The fishing-rod has had to be carried against the wind, and thewater of the river has risen in the air like smoke. 

And the sea, white with wrath, begins to form great heavy breakers farout in many fathoms of water, rolls them in upon the strand, inundateslarge tracts, and carries away the young wrack-grass and what we call'strandkaal' [Footnote: Sea-kale. ]--all that has grown in summer andgathered a little flying sand around it as tiny fortifications; thesea has washed the beach quite bare again, and fixed its old limitshigh up among the sand-heaps, where they are strong enough to hold outfor the winter. 

I have now been here four months to a day, and have seen the corn sinceit was light-green shoots until now, when it is well secured in thebarns, --where there was room. For the crop has been so heavy--not in thememory of man has there been such a year on this coast--that rich stacksof corn are standing on many farms, and the lofts are crammed to theroof-trees. 

Inland there is corn yet standing out; it is yellowing on the fields, which are here green and fresh as in the middle of spring. 

We have had many fine days; but autumn is the time when Jæderen is seenat its best. 

As the landscape nowhere rises to any great height, we always see muchsky; and, although we do not really know it, we look quite as much atthe magnificent, changeful clouds as at the fine scenery, which recedesfar into the distance and is never strikingly prominent. 

And all day long, in storm and violent showers, the autumn sky changes, as if in a passionate uproar of wrath and threatenings, alternating withreconciliation and promise, with dark brewing storm-clouds, gleams ofsunshine and rainbows, until the evening, when all is gathered togetherout on the sea to the west. 

Then cloud chases cloud, with deep openings between, which shine with alurid yellow. The great bubbling storm-clouds form a framework aroundthe western sky, while everywhere shoot yellow streaks and red beams, which die away and disappear and are pressed down into the sea, until wesee only one sickly yellow stripe of light, far out upon the wave. 

Then darkness rolls up from the sea in the west and glides down from thefjelds in the east, lays itself to rest upon the black wastes ofheather, and spreads an uncanny covering over the troubled Aarre Waters, which groan and sob and sigh among rushes and stones. A stupendousmelancholy rises up from the sea and overflows all things, while thewakeful breakers, ever faithful, murmur their watchman-song the livelongnight.