The Fisher Girl

t Statione

TORS' P

er to the English reader what we believe to be a faithful re-production of Herr Bj?rnson's latest work. The poems are

h Or

lesb

ber,

TEN

AP

eter, a

P.

Other

P.

or Conf

P.

nd An

AP

ist

P.

nd of t

P.

Firs

P.

Rural

P.

ehen

AP

sic L

P.

cilia

P.

Sc

PTE

ETER, A

upturned boats that the fishermen have drawn over for shelter some stormy night; as one draws nearer, one sees how accidentally the whole has been built, mountains rising in the midst of the thoroughfare, or the hamlet separated by water into three, four divisions, while the streets crook

unloading. The only street in our little town lies along the quay, the white and red painted, one and two-storied houses follow this, yet not house to h

y ready to bow again. Besides you must bow to those you meet, for all these quiet people are thinking what is becoming to the inhabitants in general, and to themselves in particular. He who oversteps the bounds where h

indifferent to everything, that his father could neither thrash smiles nor tears out of him, so the father gave up struggling with him and put him in the shop. How astonished then--was he not? when he saw the lad give to each customer what he asked for, without a grain too much, never even touching so much as a raisin himself preferring not to talk, but weighing, counting, entering, without any change of countenance, very slowly, but with scrupulous exactness. His father's hopes began to revive, and he sent him with a fishing smack to Hamburg, to enter a Merchant's College, and to learn fine manners; he was away eight months, that must surely be sufficient. When he came back he had provided himself with six new suits of clothes, and on landing he put one suit on the top of another, for "things in actual wear are exempt from duty." But thickness excepted, he made about the same figure in the street next day. He walked straight or stiff with his arms perpendicular, shook hands with a sudden jerk, and bowed as if without joints to be at once stiff a

anything, he was not scolded nor thrashed as the father had been, but he was pinched. It was done very quietly, and with a kindness one might almost call polite, but it was done on every possible occasion. Every night when she undressed him, the mother counted the blue and yellow marks, and kissed them, but she offered no resistance, for she was pinched herself. For every tear in his clothes, (the father's Hamburg suits made up again,) for every blot on his copy-book she was to blame. So it was con

pt with the fingers; she had deep blue eyes, short brow; the expression of her face acted simultaneously. She was full of activity, and excitable; in the summer, bare-footed, bare-armed, and sunburnt; in the winter, clad as others in summer. Her father was a pilot and fisherman, she flew about and sold his fish; she rigged his boat, and when he

ith him as she shared her knowledge, and he received all without giving anything in return, for he had no provisions with him from home, and no imagination from the school. They rowed till the sun went down behind the snowcapped mountains, then they drew to shore on some rocky island, and kindled a fire, i.e. she gathered branches and sticks, while he looked on. She had bundled along a sailor's jacket of her father's and a rug for him, and in these he was wrapped. She kept up the fire, while he fell asleep; she kept herself aw

together with his mother, for his father, who little by little had taken the colour of the grains he weighed, had to keep his bed in the back room. From there he must yet take part in everything, must know what each especially had sold, then appeared not to hear, till he got them so near that he could pinch them. And one night when the wick had become quite dry in this little lamp, it went out. The wife wept without exactly knowing

of his, and Gunlaug stepped out. She was exactly the same, only full grown and taller than other women. Just

he dreams of the past; she went forward again; with every step she took, a year seemed to fall from off him, and when she stood beside him, where he had

smiled and blushed. Involuntarily he felt, as it were, a power within him; it was the first time in his life, a

months he developed more than in all the rest of his youth; he was lifted so far out of dreams and drowsiness as to form plans; he would leave, he would learn to play! But when one day he r

es. She had begun in pity, and ended in love to that which she herself had tended. Had she been composed but for a single moment! Seeing her gathering wrath, he was afraid, and exclaimed: "I will!"----She heard it, but anger over her own folly and his paltriness, over her own shame and his cowardice, boiled up in such fervid heat towards the explodin

over his own wretchedness, how all this had really come about, his energy sank as in a morass never to rise again. The boys of the town, observing his singularity, soon began to tease him, and as he was an obscure person whom no one rightly knew, either what he lived on or what he did,--it n

was said, and having had something left her, had now come to the town to establish a boarding house for seamen. This she conducted in such a way, that merchants and skippers came to her to hire their men, and sailors to ge

d; she had something of her mother's natura

I

OTHER

of autumn. The rocky islands, that in the midst of the fiord followed one after another, just as though rowing to land, gave in their dense forests a yet more marked display of colours, because they lay nearer. The sea was perfectly calm, a large vessel was heaving landward. The people sat upon their wooden doorsteps, half covered with rose bushes on either

hed, old women scolded and ordered, the policeman's great dog howled, and all the curs of the town replied; they who were in-doors must go out, ou

ey replied.--"Whatever can that be?" they now all of them asked anyone who was passing from the centre of the town. But as this town lies

heard every word. A little before the appointed time, therefore, he got the drunken policeman of the town and his great dog into the back room, where both were treated. When the Fisher Girl's curly pate was seen over the plank fencing, and at the same time a number of small fry tittered from every corner, Pedro suffered the scamps in front of the house to clash his rose bushes at their pleasure,--he waited quietly in the back room. And just as they were all standing round the tree in great stillness, and the Fisher Girl barefooted, torn, and scratched, was up to shake it, the side door suddenly flew open and Pedro and the Police rushed out with sticks, the great dog following. A cry of terror arose from the lads, while a number of

em she gained courage. "Let me go, or I'll tell mother!" she threatened, her whole face flashing fire. Then he recognised the face, and cried: "Your mother? Who is your mother?"--"Gunlaug on the Bank, Fisher Gunlaug," replied the youngster triumphantly; she saw he was afraid. Being near sighted, Pedro had never seen the girl before now; he was the only one in the place who did not know who she was, and he was not even aware that Gunlaug was in the town. As though possessed, he cried: "What do they call you?"--"Petra," cried the other still louder.--"Petra!" howled Pedro, turned and ran into the house as if he had been talking to the devil. But as the palest fear and the palest wrath resemble each other, she thought he was rushing in for his gun. She was terror-stricken, and already she felt the shot in her back, but as, just at this moment, they had broken the door open from outside, she made her escape; her dark hair flew behind her like a terror, her eyes shot fire, the dog which she just met, followed howling, and thus she fell on her mother, who was coming from the kitchen with a tureen of soup, the girl into the soup, the soup on the floor, and a "Go to the dogs!" after them both. But as she laid there in the soup, she cried: "He'll shoot me, mother, shoot me!"--"Who'll shoot you, you rascal?"--"He, Pedro Ohlsen?"--"Who?" roared the moth

oked up; before her stood a fine looking man, with high forehead and spectacles. She stood up quickly, for it was Hans Odegaard, a young man whom the whole town revered. "What are you crying for, my child?" She looked at him and said that she had been going to take

side looking at Odegaard.--"Your child is an ignorant one," he said, "you cannot answer to God or man, to let her go as she does."--"Who are you?" asked Gunlaug sharply.--"Hans Odegaard, your pastor's son." Her brow lightened a little, she had heard him highly spoken of. He began again: "During the time I have been at home, I have noticed this child, and to-day I have been again reminded of her. She must not any longer be brought up only to that which is useless."--What's that to you? the mother's face distinctly expressed. Then he asked her quietly: "But you mean her to learn something?"--"No."--He blushed slightly. "Why not?"--"People who have learning are perhaps the better for it?" She had had but one experience and this she held fast.--"I am astonished that any one can ask such a thing!"--"Ah, but, I know they are not;" she went down the steps to put an end to this nonsense. But he stepped in front of her: "Here is a duty which you SHALL NOT pass by. You are a thoughtless mother."--Gunlaug measured him from top to toe: "Who told you what I am?" she said as she passed by him.--"You have just now done it yourself, for otherwise you must have seen that the child is on the way to be ruined."--Gunlaug turned, and her eye met his; she saw he meant what he had said and she grew afraid. She had only had to do with seamen and tradespeople; such language she had

inquiringly.--"You must understand it better than I," she struggled to say; "but if it was not that you named our Lord,"--she stopped; she had smoothed her daughter's hair, and now sh

had taken upon himself. The child, too, was afraid of the one who for the first time h

ng out the CALLING that God had given them. He would dwell upon Saul who was leading a wild roving life, and upon a lad like David who was tending his father's sheep, until Samuel came and laid the hand of the Lord upon them. But the greatest calli

odest and simple, but it is there for all. Then she was seized with an eager zeal; it made her work with the power of a grown person, it upset her play, she grew quite thin. She got romantic longings; she would cut her hair, cloth

re to be a girl, and her studies went q

I

OR CONF

man and a strict preacher. He was besides an influential man, not so much in words as in deeds; for, as it was said, he "never forgot." T

chool and to the university; they passed the two first examinations together, and were then to study for the same profession. One day as they were going joyfully down stairs after their studies, Hans, in an outburst of high spirits and glee, threw himself upon his companion's back, thereby caus

ontinent so far restored him, that he could resume his theological studies; but

ng:" this was so bitter a disappointment to the father, that it made him several years older. He had commenced late in life, and was already an old man; he had worked hard, and always with this end

oad. When he was at home he associated with no one, except that in silence, greater or less, he dined at his father's table. If any began to converse with him, they were met by a superior clearness and earnestness for the tru

ent journey abroad, the hesitation all felt in conversing with him, and one can easily understand that he was regarded as a mysterious being to which each a

had put on her presents, thinking she would now be really to his taste, as he always wished her to be neat. But he had scarcely glanced

e came with the triumphal procession. From a shepherd he was called to be king, he dwelt in caves, but ended in building Jerusalem. When Saul was ill, he came beautifully attired, and played and sang before him, but when as king he himself was ill, he played and sang clad in the garb of repentance. When he had achieved his great works, he took

never forgot. She sat upon a white horse and came in triumphal procession, b

bye it increased to two, and at last it was quite a conversation. After such one day, he let a silver dollar slip down into her lap, and then hastened away in delight. Now, if it was against the mother's commands to talk to Pedro Ohlsen, it was against Odegaard's to take gifts from any one. The first prohibition she had little by little overstepped, but it came to her mind now, when it had led to her also overstepping the second. To get rid of the money she got hold of some one to treat; but, in spite of their best endeavours, they could not eat more than the worth of four m

neck; she could and she would now tell her all, but the mother released herself impatiently: "Will you have me to take alms? Take the money back at once. If you have made him believe I am in want, you have lied!"--"But, mother?"--"Take the money to him, I say, or I shall go myself and throw them at him, HIM who has taken my child from me!" The mother's lips trembled after the last words. Petra turned back very pale. She opened the door softly and glided out of the house. Before she knew what she was about the ten specie notes were torn to pieces in her fingers. When she found what she had done, she burst out in an invective against the mother. But Odegaard must know nothing about it, yes, he should know all! for to him she must not lie. A moment after and she stood in his house, and told him that her mother would not take the money, and that in her vexation at having to bring it back, she had torn the notes in two. She would have told him more, but he received her coldly, and told her to go home with the admonition to shew her mother obedience, even where it felt hard to do so. This, however, seemed strange to her, as she knew so much, that he did not do what the father most desired! On her way home she was quite overcome, and just then she met Pedro Ohlsen. She had shunned him all this

and soon this had the effect of keeping everything from her. Gunl

o inquiries, but the lessons were day by day conducted in a more distant manner. Petra was now divided amongst t

aware of it herself, and one day Odegaard comm

e up the lessons with the short intimation that this was the last time. By this he meant the last with him; for he would certainly watch over her still, though through others. She, however, remained seated where she was, the blood left her veins, her eyes remained fixed, and involuntarily moved, he hastened to give a reason: "It is not all young girls that are grown up at their confirmation; but you must be aware that it is so with you." If she had stood in the glare of a great fire, she could not have been more fiery red than she became at these words; her bosom heaved, her eyes took a vague expression and filled with tears, and driven fu

ike simplicity. She appeared all imagination, but he perceived in it especially a feeling of unrest. She was very earnest, but she read more to go on than to learn; what could be on the other side occupied her most. She had religious feeling, but as the pastor expressed it, "no turn for a religious life," and Odegaard was often anxious about her. Now that he was at the closing point, his thoughts involuntarily reverted to the stone step where he had recei

be startled in church, for a little below sat Pedro Ohlsen in prim new clothes; he was just stretching his neck to catch a glimpse of her over the heads of the boys; he soon bobbed down, but she saw him repeatedly stick up his thin-haired head to bob again. This distracted her, she did not wish to look, but she did look, and there,--just as the others were all deeply moved, many in tears,--she was terrified to see him rise up with

, as the one who stood nearest to her good intentions, she resolved in her heart that she would not put his hopes to shame. The steadfast eye that looked expressively in return seemed to entreat her for

we may as well go to him,--the pastor's son. Though I don't know what it will

reet they had never before walked together; indeed the mother had scarcely been there since sh

merchants, clerks, walked in groups, bowing to all as they passed. The half-grown up lads of the Latin school, each arm in arm with his best friend in the world, sauntered after in rash criticism; but to-day every one in his own mind must yield the palm to the lion of the place, the young merchant, the wealthiest man in the town, Yngve Vold, just returned from Spain, all in trim to take charge on the morrow of his mother's extensive fish trade. With a light hat over h

e quickly still, for they had heard that Odegaard had just left home for the steamer and would soon be gone. Petra was in great haste; she must, she must indeed see him and thank him before he went; it was wrong of him to leave her thus! She saw none of all those who were looking at her; it was the smoke from the steamer she saw over the roofs of the houses, and it seemed to be getting further away. When they came to the quay, the boat

r, and where she had slept for the first time the night before, and had that morning put on her new dress with so much delight, now received her bathed in tears, and without so much as a glance around;

V

ND AN

the daughters, both older than Odegaard, received her stiffly. They satisfied themselves with giving a bare account from their brother of what she was now to do. The whole of the forenoon sh

et, i.e. Lise, but not Let; for that was the name of a young cadet, who had been at home one Christmas, and betrothed himself to her on the ice, while she was only a child at school. Lise vowed it was not true, and cried if any one named it; nevertheless, she went by the name of Lise Let. The little, active Lise Let often laughed and often cried; but, whether she laughed or cried, she thought about love. A perfect swarm of new and curious thoughts soon filled the school; if a hand was reached out for the scissors, it wa

ere only a sailor, too."--"Oh! I'm not sorry for that, it's quite nice to be a sailor."--"Yes, to be sure,--your mother has ships. But what do you say now? You are so dull!"--"Yes, what shall I say?"--"What shall you say? Ha-ha-ha, perhaps you won't have me!"--"Ah! Petra, you know quite well I will; but I don't think I can trust you."--"Yes, Gunnar, I shall be as true, as true!"--He stood a minute still; "Let me see your face, Petra!"--"What for that?"--"I want to see if you really mean it."--"Do you think I go and trifle with you, Gunnar?" She was vexed and lifted the handkerchief.--"Well, Petra, if it is to be right regular earnest, then give me a kiss upon it, for one knows what that means."--"Have you lost your wits?" She drew the handkerchief over, and went on.--"Stay Petra, stay! You don't understand.--If we are engaged--" "Oh! nonsense with you!"--"Yes, but I know what is customary, and as far as experience goes, I beat you hollow. Remember all that I have seen."--"Yes, you've seen all like a simpleton, and you talk as you've seen."--"What do you mean by being engaged, then, Petra? I may surely ask about that! There's no meaning in running up and down hill after each other!"--"No, that's true enough." She laughed, and stopped. "But listen now, Gunnar! While we stand here and puff--huf!--I'll tell you how lovers do. Every evening as long as you are here, you must wait outside the sewing school and go home with me to the door, and if I am out anywhere else, you must wait in the street till I come. And when you go away, you must write to me, an

tal runner,--it won't help you,--I must speak to you,--it is too quiet here, people are dead, but you are not dead, I can see. I must speak to you; I am here for the eighth evening."--"For the eighth evening!"--"The eighth evening; ha, ha, ha, I would gladly go for eight more, for we two suit each other, don't we? It's no use, I shan't let you slip, for now you are tired, I can see."--"No, I'm not."--"Yes, you are."--"No, I'm not."--"Yes, you are! Talk, then, if you are not tired!"--"Ha, ha, ha!"--"Ha, ha, ha, ha! Yes, that's not to talk," and so they stopped. They exchanged a few witty words, half in jest, and half in earnest; then he began to speak in praise of Spain, and one picture followed another, till he ended in cursing the little town at their feet. The first, Petra followed with beaming eyes; the second tingled in her ears, while her eyes moved up and down over a gold chain that hung twice round his neck. "Yes, this," he said hastily, and drew out the end of the chain, to which a gold cross was fastened, "see, I took it with me to-night, to show at the singing club; it is from Spain. You shall hear its history." Then he related: "When I was in the south of Spain, I was present at a shooting match, and won this prize; it was handed to me at the festival with these words: 'Take this with you to Norway and give it to the most beautiful woman in your country, with the respectful hom

town and fiord and distant mountains; from the street the Spanish song sounded again, for the club had gone home with young Yngve Vold

eath, dearest,

eath, dearest,

s the

for the

s the

s for the

s a sw

the lo

is a

the fai

it is for thee, Take up the w

as it showed better upon black. She sat up in bed and kept looking at herself in a little hand mirror; was she indeed so beautiful? She stood up to do her hair and then look at herself again, but remembering that her mother knew nothing about it, she hastened to go down and tell her. Just as she was ready, and was about to hang the chain round her neck, it occurr

above the town, near the spot where she had got the chain, she

in back. But as the ship that Gunnar was going with, had the day before unexpectedly weighed anchor, because it had got a splendid cargo in the next town, so Yn

and the wherefore. But to one of these, Yngve Vold would not have ventured to offer the chain without, at the same time, offering his hand; it was only with the Fisher Girl he could do that. But if he wished to give her anything, why then not something she could have some use for; he had meant to scorn her so much the more, by giving her what she could never use. The story of "the most beautiful" must have been a fable; f

en. When she had been there some time, and he did not come, conflicting thoughts began to rise; she listened now in anger, now in fear; she could hear every one who came, long before she saw them, but it was never him. The little birds that half asleep changed their perches among the leaves, could frighten her, she sat so breathlessly; every sound from the town, every noise took her attention. A large vessel was weighing anchor, and the sailors were singing; it would be tugged out in the night, to get the good of the first morning breeze. She longed to go too, out upon the great sea. She caught up the song, the clinging stroke of the capstan gave raising

nd, but slowly, for he himself was afraid. At the first touch of his hand sh

and listened. She heard a step in the grass, a cracking among the leaves,--he was coming, and straight towards her.

d been walking as if in a fog and had not observed him before. He rose; a slight cry escaped her, but she did not stir, she merely put her hands before her eyes and wept. Then he whispered

htning,--a shade of anxiety passed over, but

thing so different from her thoughts during all this time of vexation and suffering, that it might well begin to make her happy! And she grew happier and happier as she realized her new position. She felt herself every one's equal, and all her lo

swered that she was not going to the sewing school any more. The mother thought she must be still a little dazed, and went down to get a parcel and a letter that a sailor boy had brought. There were the gifts already! As soon as she was alone, Petra, who had laid down again, got up in haste and opened the parcel with a certain solemnity; it contained a pair of French shoes; a little disappointed she was putting them aside, when she felt them heavy in the toes; she put her hand into one of them and drew forth a small parcel

r Pe

orgotten you since, except now and then in between, for a sailor has hard times of it. Now we have got here, and I have used all my wages to buy you presents as you asked me, and the money I got of mother, too, so I have none left. But, if I get leave, I shall come as soon as the gifts, for as long as it is secret, there is no certainty about others, especially young men, of whom there are many; but I will have it certain, so that no one can excuse hims

nar

'Norwegian Co

that he must have told her mother all about it, and then what would happen?--"Yes, to the Rectory," said the mother. "To the Rectory? Is it Odegaard that has come home?"--The mother turned round now: "Yes, who else?"--"Odegaard!" cried Petra, and the storm of joy cleared the air in an instant: "Odegaard has come, Odegaard, oh! he has got back!" she was out at the door and up over the fields. She rushed on, she laughed, she cried aloud; it was him, him, she wanted; if he had been at home, this trouble would never have come! With him she was safe; if she only thought upon his lofty beaming countenance, his mild voice, even upon the quiet rooms, rich in images, where he dwelt, she grew more peaceful, and a sense of security came over her. She took a moment to collect herself. Landscape and town were bathed in a stream of light, on that early autumn night, the fiord especially shone with a radiant splendour; out there in the haven, the last smoke was curling up from the steamer that had b

t they did, it was only to embrace once more. He was trembling, whilst she was radiant and blushing; she threw her arms round his neck; she clung to him like a child. And when they seated themselves, and she could play about his hands, his hair, his breast-pin, neckerchief, all these that she had been accustomed to regard respectfully from a distance, and when he bade her say "thou" and not "you," and she could not, and when he would tell her how rich she had made his poor life from the first hour, how long he had fought against it, that he mig

s love's fi

w of the e

of the wavel

at the clo

in the for

o'er the rug

the moment

r to nat

IST

ing so matchless, anything so--well isn't it? No, over the whole of Europe I have never seen such a cursedly curly-haired wonder,--have you? I got no peace, I was bewitched, she was mixed up in everything, I went away, came back again, impossible.--isn't it? Didn't know at first who she was ... the Fisher Girl, they said,--the Senorita they should have called her, the gipsy, the witch; all fire, eyes, bosom, hair,--what?--sparkling, hopping, laughing, trilling, blushing,--something----! Ran after her, you see, up among the trees in the forest, calm evening, ... she stood, I stood, a few words, song, dance,--and then?... well then I gave her my chain, as true as I live, a minute before, I had never thought of it! Next time, same place, same chase, she was afraid, and I;--well,--would you believe it? I could not say a single word, dare not touch her; but when she came back again, would you think it? I proposed to her, I had not thought about it a second before. Now yest

me!"--"Yes, I may hit you! you see: Spanish, Spanish cane, that suits too!" and the strokes fell over shoulders, arms, hands, face, anywhere and everywhere; the other rushed about the room: "Are you mad, have you lost your reason;--I will marry her!"--"Out!" cried Odegaard,

s, security, waving visions, lay over the airy castles in which she dwelt. She recalled the meeting of yesterday, every word, every look, every touch of the hand, every kiss; she would follow the whole way from the meeting to the parting, but never get to the end; for ever

. She had but little sense of the elegant, but she was inspired with it to-day: one thing made another look ugly till the right ones were selected, and even then the whole was not beautiful! To-day she would have given worlds to have been the most beautiful,--with the word a remembrance glided in, which she waved away with her hand; nothing, no nothing should come near that m

m; he had come to fetch her! A feeling of bashful joy took hold of her, she looked round to see if all was in or

gered back to get hold of the bed-post; her thoughts slipped from one abyss to another; in less than a second she had fallen from

the door and held fast to the lock, as if without that he could not stand. His voice

e heart again. This you have done,--and you have done it hypocritically!" He stopped: two or three times he tried in vain to begin again, then with a sudden pang of pain: "And all that I have stored up during these years, thought upon thought, you have had the heart to overturn as though it were an image of clay! Child, child, could you not understand t

h we believe can yield the flowers and fruit we look for, proves nothing but an enormous deception!--Tell me, what have I done to you that you COULD do anything so cruel? Child, child, had you but

was on her knees beside him, her head bent down, now she folded her hands, and looked up to him with an inexpressible entreaty for mercy. He looked down at her, and neither of them turned away. Then he lifted his hand preventingly against her, as if he felt within him a voice of persuasion that he would not hear,--bent hastily down for his hat that had fallen on the floor, and went quickly to the door; but still more quickly she stopped the way before him, she cast herself down, grasped hold of his knees, and nailed her eyes into him, but all without a sound; he both saw and felt that she was struggling for life. Then his old love was too strong, he bent down once more over her, and with an expressive look, but one that was full of pain, he

ot for a moment be misjudged; she told about Gunnar, and what she had asked of him, how she had hardly understood at the time, what she was doing; next about Yngve Vold's unlucky gold chain, that had taught her so much, and got her so fearfully entangled, and then about Odegaard, how on seeing him, she had forgotten all else. She could not understand how it had all happened, but this she did understand, that she had sinned deeply against them all, and especially against him who had taken her up, and given her all that one human being can give to another. After sitting long silent, at last the mother said: "Then you have committed no sin against ME? Where have I been all this time that you have never said a word to me?"--"Oh! mother, help me, don't be hard on me now; I feel that

and made his study beside him, saying to all who begged him to spare himself, that he could not do it;

matters stood whe

d far and near, "we have had enough of this now!" He had not gone far, before a girl overtook him with a parcel; she had another as well, and made a mistake, and Gunnar found in his a heavy gold chain; he stood looking at it a minute, and turning it over; he had not understood Gunlaug's fury before, but he understood still less why she should send him a gold chain. He called the girl back, she must have made a mistake, and she asked as she gave him the other par

infuriated man, but Gunnar ran after him. The clerks rose up "en masse" against him, but he kicked and struck on all sides; chairs, tables, and desks were over

or against whom they were fighting. In vain the captains cursed; in vain the citizens commanded that the only policeman should be sent for: he was just then out on the fiord, fishing. They ran to the magistrate, who was also postmaster; but he had locked himself in with the post that had just arrived, and answered out of the window, that he could not come; his assistant was at a funeral, they must wait.

d a few old women and children, talking on the field of battle; these

ver, all were agreed upon, that Arne the blacksmith had been mingled in the fray, as they had seen him striking on all sides with the Spaniard. For this Arne had to pay one specie doll

ees into "several young men." Soon there arose a general moral storm. The disgrace of a great street brawl, and sorrow in three of the best families rested on the head of the young girl who had been but half a year confirmed; three engagements at one time, and one of them with her teacher,--her life's benefactor! Indignation might well boil up. Had she n

e giddy. They would no longer bear the yoke that Gunlaug laid upon them, they would no

she would not give credit, and the better class in the back ground. They whistled, they shouted, they called for The Fisher Girl, for Fisher Gunlaug; by and bye

ame riot again, only that now all were there without distinction. They broke all the windows, they tore u

fished up a

ave yo

fished up a

ave yo

fished up a

st you'

ding

e grows

ay bite, but w

sket, they ne'

s gone, the

has h

gone, the m

has h

stor's son's g

haul a

ding

se gro

ay bite, but w

sket, they ne'

hey would have been mightily pleased

ord; but she kept silence; one must be able t

I

ND OF T

r an outlet;--but down to the mother she dare not go, and they were standing in front of the only window! A stone came flying through, and fell upon her bed; she gave a cry and ran into a corner behind a curtain, and hid herself among her old clothes. There she sat crouched up together, burning with shame, trembli

r face in the pillow, but she could not turn away from her thoughts; the mother would come powerfully and threateningly forward, as thunder clouds gather over

merciful hearts somewhere, even as there was a merciful God. He knew that the evil she had done was not done in wickedness, He knew her penitence, and He also knew her helplessness. She listened for her mother's steps below, but she did not hear them; she trembled to hear her on the stairs, but she did not come. The girl, too, must have left, for no one came up

d though every word cut her with knives, she was yet obliged to listen; but no sooner had she heard that the mother was mixed up with it, that they had been guilty of so shameful an injustice, than she sprang up, she would speak to the dastardly pack from the window, or cast herself down among them;

l half hour, she put off her shoes, took up her bundle, and softly opened the door. It pained her to think that after causing her mother all this sorrow, she must leave her without a farewell; but fear overpowered her; "Farewell mother! farewell mother!" she whispered t

e with me," said the mother, holding her arm, "I have provided for it." Petra released herself, as if from too tight a grasp; breathed out as after a conflict, and gave herself up to her mother. The latter led the way into a little room behind the kitchen, where a light was burning, and there was no window;--here she had been hid whilst the tumult raged. The room was so narrow that they could scarcely move in it; the mother took up a bundle rather smaller than Petra's, opened it, and took out a set of sailor's clothes. "Put these on," she whispered. Petra at on

never come here again."--She shuddered but did not look. They went by the upper path, along the edge of the forest, where she had passed half her life; where she had had that evening with Gunnar, those with Yngve Vold, and the last with Odegaard. They trod in withered leaves;

up at him, but as he did not dare to know her, she did not venture to recognise him. "This man has promised to help you to get away," said the mother without looking at either of them, and going up the steps she went into Pedro's room on the other side of the passage, leaving them to follow. The room was very small and low, and the peculiar close smell that pervaded it, made Petra feel faint; for more than a day now she had neither tasted food nor slept. From the middle of the ceiling hung a cage with a canary bird; they ha

now and then she drew a heavy sigh. Petra stood by the door, leaning against the wall, with both her hands over her bosom, for she felt ill. An old time piece was hacking the hours a

nd through all, the words were continually sounding in her ears, "I knew this man once, long ago!" The old clock began to go to it: "I-knew-this-man-once-long-a-go." A

ng the door, she led her quickly into the garden. Here she drew a few long draughts of the fresh autumn air. "Where am I going to?" she asked, when she began to come round.--"To Bergen," replied the mother, helping her to button the coat; "it is a large place, where no one knows you." When she was ready, Gunlaug stopped in the doorway: "You will have 100 specie dollars with you; if you don't get on, you still have something to fall back upon. He lends you them, he here,"--"Gives, gives," whispered Pedro, who passed them and went out into the street.--"Len

oment, out of the misery, the injustice, the tears, sprang up an anticipation, a hope; as a gleam of fire, kindled and extinguished, blazing

nue, where they trod again in withered leaves, and saw the ghostly branches that seemed stretching out their arms to come after them. They scrambled down over the mountain behind the yellow boat house; he baled out the water, and then rowed her along the coast that now looked like one black mass, with the

e wanted anything, or was sea-sick. She was ill, indeed, almost directly she got down, so on changing her dress she went up again. Here she found the smell of--oh, chocolate! She felt an immoderate hunger, and just then out of the cabin, came the same man that had received them, with a whole bowl full, and plenty of cakes; it was from her mother, he said. While she was eating, he told her further, that a box with her linen,

ed him, and in doing so she came so near his face, that she observed his eyes were moist and were anxiously following her. For, with her, he was in truth losing all that was left to his desolate life. He would like to have said something that might yield him a kind remembrance, when he should be no more; but it was forbidden him, and though he would have said it nevertheless, he could not manage it, for she did not help him! Petra was too tired, and she could not just then banish the thought that he had been the cause of her first sin against her mother. She could not bear it much longer, it grew worse instead of better the longer he sat, for people are easily annoyed when they are tired. The po

sat down behind the boat-house just as they were rowing from land. From that same spot, Pedro Ohlsen had in former days

he road home, but went further over: there, in the darkness, she found the path that led over the mountains, and that she took. He

upon the seamen to take up arms in her defence, and thus have a regular street fight. But as she did not shew herself, on the third night the people were scarcely to be restrained; they declared they would go in after her, they would turn the two women out into the streets, and chase them away from the town! The windows had not been mended since the previous night, and amid the shout of hurrahs, two men crept through to open the door,--and in rushed the crowd! T

celess women. They discussed the facts of the case so thoroughly, that at last it was the unanimous opinion, that whatev

ay as they passed by; the seamen especially felt her loss. There was no place like hers, they said; for there each had been dealt with according to his merit, had had his own

ing, just at one time, the house was so overflowing with people that not only were both rooms full, but the tables and chairs that stood in the garden in summer, had to be brought in, and set in the passages, in the kitchen, in the back room. No one who saw this assembly would suspect the feeling with which the people were sitting there; for the very moment that they crossed her threshold, she had taken her quiet command over them, and the decision with which she dealt to each his due, kept down every inquiry, every welcome. She was the same; only her hair was no longer black, and her manner a little more quiet. But when their spirits began to rise, they could no longer contain themselves, and every time that Gunlaug and the girl went out of the room, they called out to Knud the Boatman, who had always been Gunlaug's favorite, to drink her health when she came back. But he did not get courage to do it, till he was a little warmer in the head; at last, however, when she came in to collect the empty bottles and glasses, he got up, and said, "That it was a right go

I

FIRS

ickness, was led in the captain's boat, through a multiplicity of ships large and small, till at last they emerged

ng influence; but seeing herself in the glass, made her think of the last nights, and trembling at the remembrance, she hastened to make herself ready to go down to the new life awaiting her. There, she met her hostess, and several ladies, who, after eyeing her profoundly, promised to do what they could for her, and began by taking her round the town. Having several things to buy, she ran up for her pocket book, but she felt ashamed to take the thick clumsy old thing down stairs, so she opened it, to take out the money there. Instead of 100 specie dollars she found 300! That must be Pedro

again, an inclination prompted her to stretch out her hand and knock at them; sometimes she felt as though there were no outlet at all. There stood the mountains, sunless and dark, the clouds hung close over them, or were chased hurriedly away; wind and rain

y hundreds in one house. Yes, she would like that; the ticket was taken, the theatre was near at hand, and at the appointed time, she was taken there, and shewn to a seat in the first tier of

, nothing was to be seen but the rays of the sun oozing and fusing through the air,--over the whole of the endless plain, only sun, over all light and stillness,--and in this blessedness it died away. Involuntarily she arose, for she felt it was over. Oh marvel! there went the beautiful painted wall in front of her straight up through the roof! She was in a church, a church with pillars and arches, beautifully decorated; the organ was pealing, and people advancing towards her, in a strange garb, and they were talking,--yes, talking in church, and in a language she did not understand. What? They were talking also behind her: "Sit down!" they said, but there was nothing there to sit upon, and the two in church continued to stand too; as she looked at them, it came clearly to her mind, that the dress was the same as that she had seen in a picture of St. Olaf,--and there they were calling St. Olaf's name!--"Sit down!" sounded again from behind her; "sit down!" cried a great many voices,--"there is perhaps something behind as well," thought Petra, turning round. A sea of angry threatening faces met her gaze;--"there's something wrong here," she thought, and wanted to get away; but an old woman who sat next to her, pulled her gently by the dress: "Come, sit down, child," she whispered, "you know they behind cannot see!" She was in her place in a moment; for to be sure: that is the theatre, and we are looking on,--the theatre! she repeated the word, as if to recall herself. Then she was in the church again; notwithstanding all her endeavours, she could not understand the speaker; but when she fairly discovered that he was a young, handsome man, she began to understand a word now and then, and when she heard that he was in love, and love was his theme, she understood most of all. Then a third came in, who, for an instant, drew her attention away, for she knew from drawings that he must be a monk, and a monk she had a great desire to see. He trod so softly, was so quiet, yes, he must in truth be a godfearing man; he spoke slowly, distinctly, she followed every word. But the next minute, he turned and s

e people come in again, and it all goes on further?" "Then you have never been at a comedy?"--"No."--"Well, in many places there is no theatre, it is so expensive." "But whatever is this?" asked Petra anxiously, staring as if she couldn't wait for a reply: "Who are these people?"--"A company that Director Naso ha

d not see whom he talked to, she was observing the king's dress, the king's manners, the king's bearing; she was first

about was looking at her, and that the old woman had been deputed to ask her, nor did she hear that they sat and laughed at her. "But they don't speak like we do?" she asked, as she did not get any reply

e, the entire harmony poured in in long waves,--and as if all were a blending of colouring, came the procession, soldiers carrying halberds, choristers bearing censors, monks holding candles, the king wearing his crown, and the bridegroom arrayed in white, at his side,--then the white robed maidens strewing flowers and music before the bride, who was attired in white silk, and wore a red wreath: at her side walke

their marriage was against the holy scriptures, here on earth they could never be united,--oh he

ater!" cried th

" they cried from the parquet, "silence in the gallery!"--"Silence!" answered those above.--"You must not take it so m

ent, as grief rent, as the sword over the gate of paradise rent that first day. Weeping maidens took the red wreath from the bride, and replaced it with a white one; thereby she was sealed to the cloister for life. He to who

, the director's wife." Petra stared at the old lady, she thought she must be crazy and as the latter had lon

unheeded by. An ominous silence fell over all, and this brought her to herself; the church seemed to grow larger, the twelve strokes of the clocks sounded in empty space; it rumbled under the arches, the walls shook, St. Olaf had risen from his tomb, and wrapped in a w

so broad."--"No, no, no," said Petra, "I saw flames round about him, and the whole church shook beneath his tread!"--"Be quiet there!" was heard from several quarters; "Out with those who can't be quiet!"--"Silence in the gallery!" cried the parquet; "Silence!"

and sees him dead! It is as if the clouds of grief would gather over a single spot, but a glance dispels them: the bride looks up from the dead man's side, and prays that she too may die! The heavens open at her glance, the lightning flashes, the brida

d been half mad at the play;--but in their smiles, she saw only a reflection of the victory she herself had gained. In this confidence, that they were smiling in participation with her joy, her face bore so radiant an expression, that they could not resist it, and they smiled her smile in return; she passed down the broad stairs between the people who made way

nderstand her, and give her a satisfactory reply; and when she had got a real appreciation of what the drama was, and of wh

out to the adjacent promontory,--the wind was high, and the sea lashed up beneath her;--the town on both sides of the bay lay enveloped

he image o

why she had never before felt these thoughts, and she answered, because it was the moments only that had power over her, but then she felt that she had also power over them. She saw it

had not been long away, but as she went h

t was clearly depicted in her face and attitude; it attracted the director's attention, he looked at her, and taking a book, said as though nothing in the world had happened: "Take this, my girl, and read, but read as you talk yourself."--She did so. "No, no, that is not right, read Norwegian,--Norwegian, I say!"--and Petra read, but the same as before. "No, I tell you, it is altogether wrong. Do you understand what I mean? Are you stupid?"--He tried her again and again, then took the book from her and gave her another: "See, that is the opposite, it is comic, read that!"--"Yes, Petra read, but with the same result till she wearied him out."--"No, no!" he cried, "for heavens sake give over,--what do you want with the stage, what the deuce is it you want to act?"--"The play I saw yesterday."--"Aha! To be sure! well, and then?"--"Yes," said she, feeling a little bashful, "I thought it was so delightful, yesterday, but I have been thinking today it would be still more delightful if it had a good ending, and I would give it that."--"Eh, that is it? Well, to be sure! There's nothing to hinder; the author is dead. Of course, he is no longer correct, and you, who can neither speak, nor read, will improve his works;--yes, that is Norwegian!" Petra did not understand the words, she understood only that they went against her, and she began to fear. "Will you let me?" she asked softly.--"Certainly, Lord preserve us, there's nothing to hinder, be so good!--Listen," he said in a different tone, as he went close up to her, "you have no more idea of the drama than a cat; and you have no talent for either the comedy or the tragedy; I have tried you in both. Because you have a pretty face, and a fine figure, I suppose people have put it into your head that you could play much better than my wife, and so you will take the first part in my 'répertoire,' and make alterations to begin with;--yes, that is the Norwegians, they are the people that can do it."--Petra could hardly breathe, she struggled and struggled; at last she ventured to say: "Will you really not allow me?" He had been standing looking out of the window, and was certain she had gone; he now turned round in surprise, and was struck with her emotion, and the wonderful strength with which it was pourtrayed in her whole being; he looked at her a moment, then su

t. A mighty rumbling that grew stronger and stronger increased the feeling that she was entering upon an unknown region, where everything had its own meaning and some dark and mysterious connection, where man was only a nervous traveller, who had yet to discover whether or not he could get further. The rumbling came from several waterfalls, that in the wet weather had grown up to battle, and now hurled themselves precipitately from rock to rock with a terrific crash. Now and then they passed over narrow bridges; she could see

I

RURAL

ir bells merrily ringing, and were just approaching the farm as Petra was driving by. It was a beautiful day, the window panes in the long white wooden buildings glittered in the sun, and above the houses, towered the mountains, so thickly covered with firs, birch, ash, bird cherry, rowan trees, and the projecting rocks with juniper bushes, that the houses seemed quite sheltered by them. Facing the road, in front of the house, was a garden, apples, cherry, and plum tre

ut of his hand and off the step where he strewed it. The dean was not a tall man, but compact, with short neck and short forehead; the bushy eyebrows lay over eyes that did not often look straight before them, but now and then cast a flashing glance aside. His thick grey hair was cut short, and stood up on all sides, it grew down over his neck nearly as much as on his head; he wore no neckerchief, but a shirt stud; in the front the shirt was open,--one could see his hairy bosom; neither was it buttoned at the wrists, so the shirt cuffs came down over the small, powerful hands, now all licked over by the cows; both hands and arms were shaggy. He glanced sharply from the side, at the stranger lady who had alighted, and made her way between the goats to where his daughter was standing. It was impossible, for the noise of the cattle, dogs, and bell

es of flowers up in the frame above. As there were bushes and flowers on every side, growing up the walls, and on the greensward before her, it seemed like a conservatory in the midst of the garden; and yet one had not been a minute in the room, before the flowers were no longer seen; for the church standing by itself on a hill to the right wa

the life size portrait of a lady smiling down upon her from over the sofa, facing the light. She was sitting with her head a little to one side, and folded hands, her right arm rested on a book, on the back of which, in distinct letters, was inscribed: "Sabbath Hours." Her light hair and fair complexion, shed radiance, imparting a Sabbath peace to all around her. Her

ce, and yielded a charm, which made her at once the daughter of the portrait, and the nymph of the place. As she was walking there among the mother's flowers, Petra felt a strong drawing towards her; in the presence of such a woman, and in such a place, everything good must grow;--dare she but step within! She now doubly felt her loneliness; her glance followed Signe incessantly, Signe felt it and tried to evade it, but it did not help, she felt embarrassed, and stooped down over the flowers. At last Petra discovered her impropriety, she felt ashamed, and would have apologised, but there was something in the neatly arranged hair, the fine forehead, and the dress, that bade her be cautious. She look

peak. She dare not before this man repeat her request; he looked so austere. "You wish to stay here?" he asked, and he gave her a quick bright side glance. Her terror made her voice tremble a little: "I have no place to go to."--"Where are you from?" In a low tone she gave the town and her own name. "How did you get here?"--"I do not know, ... I am seeking ... I can pay for myself, ... I, ... Yes, I don't know," she could say no more for a minute, then she took fresh courage and continued: "I will do everything you tell me, if only I may stay here, and not have to go further ... and no

them, and bursting into tears when she did not get permission. The dean went after her, not to speak to her, but to shut the door. He came back quite flushed, and said in a subdued tone to the daughter, who was still standing by the stove: "Have you ever seen her equal?--Who is she? What is her object?"--The daughter did not at once reply, and when she answered it was in a still more subdued tone than the father's.--"She goes the wrong way about, but there is so

er over the roses. The gentlest reminder of her up there, when the daughter brought it thus before him, could make that hairy lion head as mild and gentle as a lamb's. He felt the truth at once, and stood like a school boy caught in a trick; he forgot to smoke and walk up and down, and after a long time he whispered: "Should I bid her remain a few days?"--"You have already answered her."--"Yes, b

thin,--then silence and again another roar. The dean, who had turned back, went forward a

of her childhood, but which she had never thought to see in print. In her amazement, she forgot to weep, but buried herself in the book,--what an absurd book it was!--She read with open mouth, it grew worse and worse, so low, but so irresistibly amusing, that it was impossible to give up, she must read on; she read, till she forgot all else, she read away

page was written: "Hans Odegaard." Blushing crimson she cried: "Is the book his,--is he coming here?" she got up.--"He has promised to do so," answered Signe,--and now Petra remembered, that there was a minister's family in Bergen's shire, whom he had met

---?" "The Fisher Girl!" put in the pastor. Petra looked up

eeding a little friendly help;--"stay here as long as you will, we shall help you!" Petra looked up in time to see the warm look Signe gave him in thanks;

ommunicated to her father. On his advice, Signe wrote the same day to

ing birch wood in the stove, and the New Testament laid between the two lights on the white t

she had been so innocently certain of being able to win his power and eloquence over to the service of her church. His first most cautious attempt was met by her first most cautious:--he drew back, disappointed, mistrustful. She saw it at once, and from that day he watched for her next attempt, while she did the same for his. But neither of them tried it again, for both had become afraid: he was afraid of his own passionate nature, and she, lest by a vain attempt, she might spoil her opportunity of influencing him; for she never gave up hope,--she had made it the aim of her life. But it never came to a conflict; for where she was, such could not be; yet to his active will, his repressed emotions, he must give vent, and so it happened every time he entered the pulpit and saw her seated below. The members of his church were drawn in with him as in a whirlwind, he excited them, and soon they him. She saw it, and sought to give rest to her foreboding heart in deeds of benevolence,----and later, when she became a mother, in the daughter

candidates for confirmation was announced, the mother became ill, like we are when wearied out. She said smilingly, that she could not walk any more, and a few days later, also smilingly, that how she could not sit. Though she could not speak to the daughter she would yet have her always beside her, for she could see her. And the daughter knew what she would most like; she read to her out of The Book of Life, and sang to her the hymns of her childhood, the new and peaceful hymns of her fellow believers. It was long before the dean

would have wished, became their guide for the future. The daughter's communion with her, that to which he himself had been a stranger, was now lived over again;--all was gone over afresh from the first hour the child could remember; the mother's hymns were sung, her prayers were prayed, the sermons she had thought most of, were read over one by one, and her explanations and observations upon them, lovingly remembered in faith. Thus roused to activity, he felt a desire to vis

he felt a desire to take an enlarged view of the world elsewhere. They there

e people l

X

EHEN

made Signe blush. By the dean or Signe reading aloud every evening, (Petra was not to be persuaded to do it;) they had gone through the chief poets of Scandinavia, and besides had read many of the best works in foreign literature; the drama was preferred. Just as they were about to light the lamps this evening to begin, the kitchen maid came in and said, that there was some one outside who had a message for Petra. It proved to be a sailor from her native place; her mother had enjoined him to seek her, as he was going in that direction, he had now come seven miles out of his way, and must hasten back, as the vessel would be sailing. As Petra wanted to talk with him, she went part of the way along the road, for he was a dependable man whom she knew. The evening was rather dark, and there was no light from the windows except in the wash house, where they were having a great wash; there was no light on the road, and the road itself could scarcely be seen, till the moon rose over the mountains; but P

e. At length, with a certain dull clink in his voice, he asked: "Who has seen it?"--"I have; I was up attending to the horses, it would be about one o'clock."--"She went down by a rope ladder?"--"And up again."--Again a long silence. Petra occupied the room above, that looked on to the farm yard; she was alone there, no one except her had a room on that side of the house, so there could be no mistake who it was.--"It may have been in her sleep," said the steward about to withdraw.--"She could not make the rope-ladder in her sleep," said the dean.--"No, that was what I thought too, therefore I judged it wa

: "She certainly is not alone."--"What is that you are saying?"--"No, there is always some one with her, talking to her; they often speak very loud; I have heard her both plead for herself and threaten. She must be in the hand of some evil power, poor thing!" Signe turned away; the dean had grown deathly pale.--"And here is the ladder," said the steward, he pulled it out, and got up. Two clothes lines were fastened together by a third, tied in a hard knot, then carried across and fastened in a knot about half a foot below, then

his winter, when she began to burn her lamp at night. It never struck me before to go down there."--"Then you have known it the whole winter," said the dean severely; "why have you not told me before?"--"I thought it was some one belonging to the house that was with her;--but when I saw her on the ladder last night, it struck me it might be some o

tairs, and rush along the passages overhead; they both hastened out: Petra's room was on fire! A spark must have fallen from the light in the corner, for the fire had sprung from there, and in a moment blazed along the wall-paper, and reached the wood work of the window, when it had been observed by some one passing by, who had run into the wash house and told them about it. The fire was soon put out;

d it was no worse. So saying, she took off the rest of her things, carried them out, and coming in again, she seated herself at the table, talking incessantly, of what this and that one had said and done, the whole place indeed was turned upside down, and it was very amusing. As the others continued silent, she expressed her regret that it had spoilt the evening for them; for she had been looking forward with so much pleasure to "Romeo and Juliet," which they were then reading aloud; she was going to ask Signe that very evening to read that scene over again, that she thought the finest of all: the parting of Romeo and Juliet on the balcony. In the midst of her chattering, one of the girls from the wash house came and said that they were short of clothes lines, there was one bundle missing. Petra grew suddenly red and got up; "I know where it is, I will go for it," she went a few steps, then remembering the fire, she stopped: "Goodness, it will be burnt! it was in my room!" Signe had turned towards her, the dean took a full view from the side: "What do you do with clothes lines?" He breathed heavily, he could scarcely speak. Petra looked at him, his fearfully grave look made her half afraid, but the next moment it made her laugh, she strove a minute against it, but looking at him again, she burst into such a hearty fit of l

screams, and fresh flight, but this time only to the sofa corner, where she hid herself Signe came, and bending over her, she whispered in her ear, all about their journey of discovery, with its pleasing consequences;--that which an hour ago had cost her both tears and fears, seemed now so amusing that she told it with humour! Petra listened and stopped her ears, looked up and hid herself by turns. When Signe had finished, and they were sitting together in the darkness, Petra whispered: "Do you know how it is? It is impossible to sleep at ten o'clock, when we go to our rooms, that which we have read has far too much power over me. So I learn it by heart, all the best pieces,--I know several scenes, and read them aloud to myself. When we

. She recited as if she were reading, now and then she was almost on fire, but then she would suddenly check herself. The dean had hardly observed this, before he would have a little more expression, but it only made her m

once awakened in them that impels them."--"That is very true; it is not often that a really educated person will go upon the stage."--"And still more seldom one poetically educated," said Signe--"Yes, if it occurs there is a want in the character, which allows vanity and levity to get the upper hand. In my travels abroad, and also when studying, I became acquainted with many actors, but I have never known, and I have never heard of any one knowing an actor, who led a really Christian life. I have seen that they have felt themselves calle

mething of the sort, which must have been thrown out of Petra's window the evening before, and not found, because it was the colour of the snow. He took up the book, and carried it in with him to his study; in opening the leaves to dry them

e came at last to the following rhyme, whi

my love, an

at fills me fr

l be, and I'll

a woman from

ers, and how

s, and loves

when she

when she

ray Thee, h

one that I

e below the

be Thy se

not Thy he

itation no doubt, of a poem th

iver nym

h to

shining fu

and

g, and tur

in

him who i

ill

d be sin, lirum

ed corrections,

sa,--hop

ry one, but they'll

la,--tr

r one, but keep

and clearly, the

est H

engrasserer thee to go to the masquerade with me to-morrow night; for I have never been, and I long for some real fun; h

Perni

eral times over, the following verse; she might have

rt, an inw

at within me

dden spring

d in Bal

eak with po

ble thought

elp in me

need awa

eal more, but the d

he was so eager to hear them read aloud, and then afterwards learn by heart. She had been deceiving them the whole time; even yester

olity, of jealousy and passion, of idleness and sensuality, of lies and growing unprincipledness, a life over which the vultures gather, as over a carcase, was that to which she longed to att

id not speak a word to her, but gave her the book,--she saw directly it was Petra's; a shadow of the mistrust and pain of yesterday, came over her, she dared not look at it; her heart beat so violently that she was obli

eems greater, more ingenious, wiser than we, yea, he may even glide into the mysterious. But soon the mind is aroused in indignation; integrity is strengthened

he piano in the dining room,

as dawned, and

despondency sto

lowing mou

he king of da

little birds

,' little c

hope with

the instrument, and out of

n you m

oat I mu

he breake

tempest

proved the last p

what never I

fancy

ve your

each the

waves ri

e keel, as she cut

f my vessel know

her heart, she looked all round with a confused expression. He stopped to give her his full mind, but his anger at the thought that for more than two years he had been made use of by this wily girl, and especially that his warm-hearted, affectionate daughter had been duped by her, came so forcibly

peared. Petra was in the housekeeper's room, which had been alloted to her since the fir

he mercy of the winds. She could be light-hearted with the light-hearted, and confidential with the confidential, hopeful in everything, but it was in the strength of that secret purpose,--that some time she would be able to secure that after which her powers wer

still she was not to be found. The longer one whom we seek hides from us, the greater we depict the cause of separation, and thus it was, that at last she made herself believe it had been treachery against Si

o suspicion. That that terrible experience might be repeated, augmented her vague fear to terror; she saw before her a future

bent down to listen, and knocked again: "Signe, oh Signe, you don't know how unhappy I am." No reply; long listening, still none. If one gets no answer, one doubts at last if anyone is there, even if one knows there is someone, and if it is dark, one gets afraid. "Signe,--Signe! if you are there, be merciful,--answer me,--Si

k. She was afraid lest any one should see her, for they would naturally connect it with the rope ladder. If she could but get away from this side that faced the farm, and out on to the cross wall; but when at last she did get there, a new danger awaited her; there was nothing before the windows, and she had to stoop down, in great fear of falling, every time she passed them. The long wall was very high, but there was a gooseberry hedge to receive her if she fell; she was not afraid. Her fingers tingled, her muscles quivered, but on she went. A few steps more and she would reach the window. There was no lig

t the window, this thoughtless repulsive boldness--; her image henceforth would be

k out of the window in Signe's room, and in the moonlight saw Petra buried in the bushes. It was with great difficulty they could get her extricated and carried up; she was taken into Signe's room, as the housekeepe

hut herself out from all this; she must soon leave the room, and probably the house. And where to then? She could not expect a third time to be taken up from the highway, and if she could, she would not; for it would end only in the same way. No human being could have confidence in her; whatever

y-and-by lofty; she had never before seen so high

SIC L

by something which filled the whole air,--it was the Sabbath bells. She sprang up and dressed herself, got something to eat i

n, they retired to the bishop's pew. As Petra reached it, and glided in, she saw Signe seated at the farthest corner. She retreated a step out, but just then the dean turned to go from the altar to the vestry; she hastened back into the pew, and sat as near the door as possible; Signe had put down her veil. This grieved Petra. She looked over the congregation, crowded together in the high wooden

and position, and on the other to develope the spiritual life in ourselves, and in those committed to our care. One must be careful in the choice of a vocation, for there may be a vocation sinful in itself, and there may be one that would become so for us,--either because it did not suit us, or because it suited our lusts and passions. Again: as surely as everyone should choose a vocation according to his talents, so truly may a choice both right and good in itself, become a snare to us, if we allow it to take up all our time and thoughts. Our spiri

to take new heights. Indeed he could never speak except in a great room, and with eternity over his thoughts; for his voice had no harmony till it rose, his countenance no clearness, his thoughts no striking perspicuity, till they burned with enthusiasm. Not that the material was first found then, no, if affliction had enriched his soul, reflection had done so too; he was a diligent worker. But he was not adapted to general conversation, he must have it to himself, at all events he must be

do the same. But he proceeded unrelentingly; the lion was out after his prey, she felt herself pursued from all quarters, shut in, and captured;--but that which was seized so vigourously was gently h

High still overspread his countenance. His gaze fell directly and inquiringly upon Petra; and as she looked right

her; the dean spoke a little, but Signe was reserved. If the dean--who was evidently about to bring the recent events into conversation,--gave the sli

e would willingly have left the room, but no one wished to go first. Petra for her part, felt that if she went, it would be for ever. She could not see Signe again, if she might not love her, she could not bear to see the dean

hness. We are kept in suspense because no one says anything, and we tremble lest any one should begin.--They all felt this to be a moment that would never return.--The walls that we build up between each other rise higher, our own guilt and that of

to meet him, but turned so as not to leave the two girls alone,--they heard the stranger talking again, and this time nearer, so that his voice made all three look up, and Petra rose, fixing her eyes on the door,--there was a knock,--"Come in!" said the dean in an agitated tone; a tall gentleman with a light

as powerless even to rise. But while she continued looking at him, two tears rolled down her cheeks. He was very pale, but quite calm and kind;

paired to the study, to take a glass of wine, of which the traveller stood in need. Here he was briefly told the ev

first the women, then the men, slowly, silently. They placed themselves along the wall under the book shelves, opposite the sofa where Odegaard was seated. The dean set chairs, and brought others from

rmon to-day," she said, "it touched upon what we were just thinking about;--for up at Oygarene we have been talking much about temptation lately."--She sighed; a man with a small face and large forehead sighed also: "'Take away mine eyes from beholding vanity, O Lord, and quicken thou me in thy way.'" Then Else, she who had first

n, Satan's

xempt fro

part in J

Christ thu

y the introduction, so he waited as if nothing had been said,

tiously, as if to help the matter forward. But the young man added more strongly: "It is a stumbling block to the young, as it is written: 'And whosoever shall offend one of these little ones, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and he were cast into the sea.'" And Lars continued: "We request therefore that you will send away the instrument, or burn it up, that it may cease to be a stumbling block--" "To your parishioners," added the young man. The dean smoked vigorously, and at last with an evident struggle for self command, he said: "To me music is not a temptation, it is refreshing and elevating. Now you know that that which can make our spirits free, makes us better able to receive and understand high things; therefore I believe most assuredly that music is of service to me."--"And I know there are pastors," sa

his head to one s

eep silence ensued. Then the man ro

y God, I c

in patienc

rich, with w

se of anxi

d blood as f

ke are sha

pastor says; very well then, we know it now!--that all these things connected with idleness and sensuality are elevating and helpful, ... that that which is a temptation is

without temptation?" She would not answer this, but the young man replied: "The curse says: 'In the sweat of thy brow, shalt thou eat thy bread;' labour then that brings us toil and trouble." "And nothing but toil and trouble? No profit for example?"--To this neither would he reply; but the short face felt a calling: "Yes, as much profit as one can get!"--"Then there must be temptation in work also, temptation to too much gain." In this strait, succour came again from the depths: "Then the gain is the temptation and not the work."--"Well, but how is it when the work is carried to excess for the sake of the gain?" She crept in again; but Lars went on: "What do you mea

, while you are thinking," said he; "God must have permitted us to try to make a blessing of his curse, for HE HIMSELF led the patriarchs, led His people to the enjoyment of riches."--"The apostles were to possess nothing," exclaimed the young man triumphantly.--"Yes, that is true; for God would place them beyond

st also pray!" chimed in Else, and folded her hands, as if she remembered that she had too long neglected it.--"Then whenever a man is not working; he must pray? Is any man able to do this? What kind of prayer would it

weary see

name a pea

eet is

s a time w

resting plac

thy ne

has its fruit, and requires its rest: and it is my opinion respecting society, music, singing, and the res

g, and music and dancing, afford no rest, for such excite the lust and desires of the flesh. THAT certainly cannot be the fruit of labour, w

th shame a

tue fain

es that

ingly a

aftily

a pompous

are only rambling."--"Oh well, that m

ill work

words that

ad, cursed

permit him

but everything in its own time."--"Yes, yes, fa

y minute,

, it is

ust beat to

to pray

ght become a Catholic, and go into the monastery--"--"God forbid!"

and dust t

athol

it came peacefully from the shawls: "I was saying that THAT cannot give rest or be the fruit of our labours, that--"--"Now I remember: that there was temptation in,--and then Erik came

.--"Yes, when it is not desponding; but have you never seen that there is a rel

earth till you become an animal, pray till habit makes you a monk, and play till you are nothing better than a doll. But combine them and the mind is strengthened; work prospers, and religion becomes more cheerful."--"Then we hav

hings that disenthral, so that the Holy Spirit can work in us, (for in bondage He cannot work) those things th

, do all to the glory of God,'---but is worldly song, and music and dancing to the glory of God?" "Directly, no;--but may we not ask the same when we eat a

ot learnt to make distinctions. To children, every man they do not know is 'the man,'--to the child's question, 'Where does, this come from, where that?' we answer always: 'from God'; but as men to men we name the intermediate as well, and not God the giver alone. So, for example, a beautiful song may re

ew that he himself had long misunderstood th

here it had been crushed and ground, and now fell out: "Then all sorts of stories, tales, and nonsense,--all the fiction and invention that t

is something that has verily never been, and so it must surely be falsehood?" said Randi thoughtfully.--"No, it has often greater truths for us than that which we see," answered Odegaard. Here they all looked at him doubtfully, and the young man threw out: "I never knew before that the story of Askeladden was truer than that which I see before my eyes."--They all tittered.--"Then tell me if you always understand that which you see before your eyes?"--"I am not learned enough for that!"--"Oh, the learned certainly understand it still less! I mean those things in daily life that give us sorrow and trouble, and that 'worry us

id you must believe in them? They are figures of speech."--"But we are forbidden to use figures and images; for they are the wiles of the devil"--"Indeed;--where do you find that?"--"In the Bible."--Here the dean interposed: "No, that is a mistake, for the Bible itself uses imagery."--All looked at him, "It employs imagery on all sides, as the Eastern people abound in such. We ourselves use it in our churches, in wood, on canvas, in stone, and we cannot conceive of the Godhead except through imagery. And not this alone: Jesus uses figures, and did

New Testament; not of the letter, but of the spirit':--again: 'Where the spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.' And:----'All things are needful unto me,' says Paul further, 'but,' he adds, 'all things are not expedient.'--Now we are fortunate in having a man's life before us, that shows us what Paul meant. That is Luther's. Of course you believe that Luther was a good enlightened Christian?" Yes, they believed that.--"Luther's religion was cheerful, IT was the religion of the new testament. His idea of a gloomy faith was, that the devil was always on the watch behind it; and as for fear of temptation, those that fear the least are the least tempted. He used all the powers God had given, the powers of enjoyment too. Shall I give you a few examples? The pious Melancthon once sat so closely at a defence of the true doctrines, that he did not take time to eat; Luther snatched the pen from his hand: 'One does no

corn than the sickle. Such desolate mountain places ought not to be cultivated, and ought now to be left to tradition, and the grazing cattle. Spiritual life can scarcely flourish up there, it becomes gloomy like the surrounding vegetation. Life is overshadowed by prejudice,-

id Lars; "a good deal of snow has fallen now, and where it has blown off, there are ice-banks."--"Well, my friends, it is wort

me, whate'

l agains

prayer, a

der foot

ut I should have relations up at Odegardene." They all turned to him, even the dean, who had known, it is true, but quite forgotten it. "My name is Hans Odegaard, son

ow is Else?" asked Odegaard.--"This is Else," said Randi, pointing to the fair-haired woman.--"Are YOU Else!" he exclaimed; "you were in trouble about a love affair then; you wanted to have the musician; did you get him?" No one replied. Although it was beginning to darken, he could see that Else turned very red, and the men looked either

go out and get light and wisdom; others remain at home." And Lars added: "It is often hard to make a living at home; if we help one forward, whom we hope may be of service to us, he goes and leaves us."--"There are different callings;

from the town, where he had begun with several things, but had always some misunderstanding with the people. He thought himself called to be something great, an apostle in sooth; but st

hid them, they came forth again, ever higher and higher. There was no track in the deep snow, the trees were

room sounded a live

give to t

scarce is o

give to

g on long

wo unite

and tice

winter

a choir o

their me

ase him ou

rfume of fl

give to th

I

CILIA

ith Christmas, and for another, he had not arrived at any conclusion, whether or not the

were never unexpected; they were the reflection of her being. Petra's voice had all colours, sharp and mild, and every intermediate grade. Signe's possessed a peculiar harmony, but was not changing--except to the father, who understood to distinguish its tones. Petra was with one at a time; if she were with more, it was to observe, certainly not

ke a gentle touch upon his forehead. So carefully she told how Petra had come to them, misunderstood and persecuted, so delicately she added, that the accident of her arr

e was doing just the opposite; for through these letters, Petra's taste for art rose up before him; the key note to her talents, which he had sought for himself in

e also saw Petra in a new light. These moments constantly chasing one another, each one individually felt in full power, but regarded ad infinitum, opposed to each other, what could they be but the foreshadowing of an artist l

saw the enormous abuses, but did he not see the same around him, even in the church itself? Though there were hypocritical ministers, the calling was still the same, great, eternal. If the search after truth wherever begun, gains power in life and poetry, should it not also

e word had been spoken, he could therefore talk freely with her abou

pon the dean's table, and his eye had caught the appalling word: Theatre. This led to a hasty discussion, in the midst of which the dean entered; he had not been present at dinner, having been called away to a dying bed; he was very serious, and neither ate, nor took any part in the conversation; but he filled his pipe and listened. As soon as Odegaard observed this, he joined in the conversation himself, but for a long t

in, there was also a captain, a little swarthy man, with an immense abdomen, and a pair of small legs that went

I name Schleiermacher. ('Hear! hear!' cried the captain, for this name he knew.) The two latter admit dramatic representations to be allowable, and Schleiermacher even thinks that in a private company and by amateurs, a good play may be performed, but he condemns the actors on the stage. As a profession, it presents so many temptations to the Christian, that he MUST avoid it. And is it not also a temptation to the spectator? To be moved by fictitious suffering, to be elevated by a fictitious paragon of virtue, such (which in reading one can better

ave attended the theatre, the devil----" "Fie captain," said a little girl who had come in with them,

by amateurs, it is the same as to assert, that the talents God has given us, shall be neglected, whereas the meaning really is, that they shall be developed to the highest possible perfection; and to this end have we received them. We are all acting every day, when we imitate others in joke or earnest. Where, in any single instance these powers outweigh all others, I really wonder if such a one ceased to cultivate them, if it would not soon be shown that THIS was sin. For he who does not follow his proper calling, becomes unfit for another, leads an unsettled wavering life,--in short becomes a far easier prey to temptation. Where work and inclination fall together, much temptation is locked out. Now if you say the calling is in itself

to see and hear, of taking the models of virtue, and without trouble appropriating th

y enter must be awful!) and so often come face to face with the great, the unexpected, are so often called to be instruments in the hands of the Lord, that they bear in their hearts a fear and longing, a strong feeling of unworthiness; and this we know, that Christ preferred to be with publicans and penitent women. I give them no charter; verily the greater their work, the greater their guilt if their wo

began to speak a

s surely I mus

and as the first melodies of the land, faithful messages from the heart of a great people, had had an elevating effect, and they were now standing in anticipation, Odegaard rose and asked Petra to recite a

get leave t

s weak, his f

increasing a

he with the

ll he can wis

the clouds, as

osts to the

ould pine when

in state afte

the sagas of

work in the Vi

a morning,

most isle by

reakers come

the distant

y in the ea

of the storm

t ice-bound slu

w,--his will

hip, in a st

ter a stor

eemed better i

was bound and

the mast were g

was frothing sc

were having

leep was their

liff they hea

fool they seeme

steer in a st

the rudder;

up to the

of them rose from the mid-day fare, Dow

ang from de

platters,--seiz

e arrows,--wh

e cliff and hi

h grace wilt y

first to striv

such was but

spear was hu

not; and ca

me in the hal

afar the sea

home, or hie

der thee th

o me; so ca

atheredst, to

come, for m

hed from his h

thou indeed

e to be my war

not, I'm a c

and for I k

n never th

answer in va

rang, his eyes

your chieftain

hom Odin his

serve ye the

that his yo

grew the chie

he sea and

t hastily down

up in his s

in saw in the l

was of noble a

s across for n

ried;--"if th

, say that h

brought him a

xed warm on the

back with an

Dragon" snuffe

er champion

scream the mo

d revenge the

stem there

stood on the

dying man sw

gst them his

all when his

a hero so

chieftain,--

white, his str

up as he bre

a place of h

ointed,--at

mmander ma

a stone and t

mound o'er th

he noble deed

ght shall the a

dead must our jo

raised, the s

oon over the

embrance clan

d left in the

elcome rang

ho stood at th

his home was

rushing down

f wonder to

ing Oger's sea

ng sun upon sa

he height by t

steered so n

hey cried: "The s

round with a l

upon them: "No

ffed, stretched himself, and said: "Well I don't know how it is with you; but when I am taken in this way, the deuce take me if--"--"Captain, there you swore again," said the little girl, and held up her finger threateningly; "the devil will come this very hour and t

watch o

uild up

s cause in my pra

ncrease

ants seek

ry out to the d

sunligh

corn fie

ogether there's

labour a

poetic

land if our love

ch and

far o'er

round rise our wat

ensign

furth

in vigour as

future i

three cl

again, shall her

e'er you

needie

river shall tr

navia'

value he

t she is, what sh

ove has

ear home

n of love shall s

w I can, however things turn! Petra, do you not love Odegaard?"--"Heavens, Signe!"--"Petra! I have thought it from the very first day,--and now at last he has come to----All that I have thought and done for you in these two and a half y

were present, till they were about to leave the table, when he tapped on his wine glass, and said: "I have a betrothal to announce!"--Every

was not worthy of her."--The guests here became so embarrassed that no one dare longer look up, and as the girls had not ventured to do so at all, the dean had but one face to talk to, and that was Odegaard's, who meanwhile was enjoying perfect composure. "But now," continued the dean, "now, when I have learnt to know him better, it has

y to her now, but she must first say: "I owe it all to you!"--"No, Petra; I have been only a kind brother; it was a great sin of mine that I wished to be more

ing Odegaard l

ous and took it in to the dean to open. It was from the magistrate in her native town, and re

her mind thereto, which she need not do unless she likes, to fulfil the condition which I have named, which she alone who is the only one who knows it, can fulfil,--that it should pass to Miss Petra, daughter of the said Gunlaug Aamund, that is to say, if Miss Petra thinks it worth

o Oh

icate with your mother respecti

he only one in whom she dare now confide; it contained the information that s

eeling; it seemed as if everything were now putting its

dances, and son and grandson in different ways, by little and little added thereto. The sum was no

r Gunlaug thanked her, but observed, "that each was best in his own place." Then the dean promised to write, and when Gunlaug got his letter, she could no longer contain herself, she must tell her sailors and other acquaintances, that her daughter was going to be something great, and wanted

nsent, which grieved the daughter much. It was expressly promised her on the contrary, both

nd Signe went round and bade farewell to all and everything,--especially to the places they mutually held dear. Then they were informed b

afterwards he would carry out other plans. In this way he would repay he said, some of the debt his father owed to the district,--and his father had promised to come to him as soon as the house was ready

table on a birthday or holiday. It would now soon be shown, he said, whether the time that in prayer for Divine grace she this day brought to a close, had laid a good foundation. No man's life is really perfected before he reaches his right vocation. Our work is revealed to us, and he who comes with truth, and holds himself worthy, will reap the greatest and most lasting harvest. It is true the Lord often makes use of the unworthy also, even as in a higher sense we are all unwor

e there lived a few on whom she could rely; only to know with certainty that they were constantly PRAYING for her,--she would see that it would help!"--After the adieu to Petra, he turned with a welcome to Odegaard. "To be united in love to one an

rl, and all the servants round the carriage, Petra whispered, as for the last time sh

the white pinnacles that

I

SC

ore the curtain rose, all sorts of things were whispered about her; she was said to have been a strange unruly child, and later when grown up, to have been betrothed to six at one time, and to have kept it going for half a year. The town was in such an uproar on her account, that she had had to be conducted out of it by a guard of police; it was r

Ask who through his mother's money had become owner and captain of "The Norwegian Constitution," had in cruising out of the fiord come to sail side by side with a ship bearing the name: "The Danish Constitution," and as Gunnar thought he observed it trying to pass him, such certainly could not be permitted; he put out all the sail he possessed, the old Constitution creaked, and the consequence was, that in his endeavour to scud before the wind as long and as far as possible, he ran the ship aground in a most preposterous place, and was now reluctantly detained in the town while the vessel was being patched up. One day

em sat an old woman with snow-white hair, that rose above her brown face like a crown; sitting higher than everybody, she could be seen from the whole house, and soon every opera glass was directed towards her, for it was said she was the young actress's mother. She who bore a man's name, now also produced so powerful an impression, that sh

died away in the suspense that by deg

; Oehlenschl?ger's "Axel and Valborg" was to be played, and Petra had

one always does when expecting anything personally dear of one's own to be brought forward. It was as if each were a

harmonies, they melted gradually away as in

urtai

TNO

iom, to get a long nose-

are often built on a s

D HOOD, MI

IN

COUNTRY LIF

JERNE B

SLAT

E. HJ

bound, C

MPKIN MARS

UGH: BURNE

OF THE

tractive in Ovind.... There is about it a de

which most of us saw for the first time in the Exhibition of 1862.... Its subdued harmonious tones h

e with many quaint touches of humou

ant boy and a landowners grand-daughter, and introduces in the course of t

writings are thoroughly true to nature, while the sombre scenery of his native land inspires him with a diction

tories we have ever read."--The L

s have also got up the book in a highly creditable manner. Altogether the translation is well worthy

uty which never loses its charm for reade

re it presents of peasant life in Norway that we commend the book to the Eng

unning over with exquisite poetry, suggesting new worlds of beauty lying under every day things.... A pure spiritual beauty, which the author has drawn from the

ted Northern life.... It touches chords lying hidden in the depths of the mysteries of race and language, an

ement, to make it quite worthy of translation and of genera

anslation. It reads as if it had been originally written

Y-MARRIE

JERNE B

D FROM TH

ND E. H

; Cloth

TRüBNE

SI

ING IN H

ed as a

ted from the Norwegian,

by K

sh Singers won the Prize at

the Translators, North

TMAN, 20, PAT

OD, PRINTERS,