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 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSli V OF CALIFORUm 
 
 RIVERSIDE
 
 JORN UHL
 
 THE WORKS OF 
 
 GUSTAV FRENSSEN 
 
 JORN UHL, cloth, i2mo, I1.50 
 
 (Two Hundredth Thousand^ 
 
 DIE DREI GETREUEN 
 
 (The Three Faithful) (/« Press) 
 
 (^Sixtieth Thousand) 
 
 DIE SANDGRAFIN {in Press) 
 
 {Twenty -fifth Thousand) 
 
 DANA ESTES & CO., Publishers 
 Estes Press Boston, Mass.
 
 f fiA/i/in/iAj xj jv^ 
 
 ir^TiT^^ 
 
 JORN UHL 
 
 By GUSTAV FRENSSEN 
 
 Translated by V. S. DELMER 
 
 BOSTON ^ DANA ESTES & 
 COMPANY ^ PUBLISHERS 
 
 LONDON * ARCHIBALD CON- 
 STABLE & COMPANY, LTD. * 1905
 
 Copyright, igoj 
 By Dana Estes & Company 
 
 Entered at Stationers' Hall 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
 JORN UHL 
 
 First printing, April, igo^ 
 
 Second printing, May, igoj 
 
 Third printifig, July, igo§ 
 
 COLONIAL PRESS 
 
 Electrotyped and Printed by C. H . Simonds (Sr* Ce. 
 
 Boston', Mass., U.S.A.
 
 PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 GusTAVE Frenssen, the author of " Jorn Uhl," was born in 
 the remote village of Barlt, in Holstein, North Germany, on 
 October 19, 1863. His father is a carpenter in this village, 
 and, according to the church register, the Frenssen family has 
 lived there as long as ever such records have been kept in the 
 parish. 
 
 In spite of his father's humble circumstances, Gustave 
 Frenssen managed to attend the Latin School at the neigh- 
 boring town of Husum, and in due time became a student of 
 theology. He heard courses of lectures at various universities, 
 passed the necessary examinations, and finally, after long years 
 of waiting, was appointed to the care of souls in the little 
 Lutheran pastorate of Hemme in Holstein. Here within sound 
 of the North Sea, and under the mossy thatch of the old- 
 fashioned manse, he wrote his first two books, " Die Sandgrafin ' 
 and " Die Jrei Getreuen." These two novels remained almost 
 unknown until after the publication of "JdrnUhl" in 1902. 
 This book took Germany by storm. Its author, much to his 
 own surprise, ** awoke one morning to find himself famous." 
 All Germany was asking who he was and where he lived. His 
 homespun and drowsy congregation of rustics suddenly found 
 themselves elbowed out of their little kirk every Sabbath to 
 make room for the curious literary pilgrims that flocked there 
 from all parts of the country to see this man who had so
 
 vi PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 touched the heart of Germany, and the piles of letters that the 
 village postman every day brought to the manse were almost a 
 scandal in the simple hamlet. 
 
 But Frenssen's books had aroused much hostility among 
 the orthodox church party, and in 1903 the poet-preacher gave 
 up his pastorate and retired to the beloved and homely Holstein 
 village of his youth, henceforth a free man, to devote himself 
 to literature. 
 
 Little need here be said about the fierce battles of criticism 
 that have raged around this book. The admirers of the French 
 novel smile condescendingly at what they dub its " deliciously 
 superannuated " style, looking upon its author as a kind of 
 Richardson born by some freak of anachronism into the age of 
 Ibsen and Hauptmann. " But," answer Frenssen's admirers, 
 *' this book has sprung from the deep consciousness of modern 
 Germany and utters the longings, thoughts, and aspirations of 
 the German heart in a way that no other modern book has 
 done. It is a living book ; it is a book so throbbing with real 
 life, passion, and poetry, that we overlook in it those epic 
 liberties of narrative on account of which your pedantic critics 
 so damn it." 
 
 Jorn Uhl, the peasant hero of this book, might stand for a 
 great part of modern Germany, and that by no means the 
 worse part. If Germany has anywhere a claim to autoch- 
 thonous art in her modern literature, it is here. The book has, 
 moreover, appealed to modern Germany in somewhat the same 
 way as Dickens appealed to the England of his day, and it is 
 the first time that this can be said of any German novel. 
 That the impression made on the English reader will be eoually 
 strong is of course hardly to be expected ; yet the translator 
 hopes that the English version of the book will not only prove 
 interesting as a picture of a homelier and, if you will, less 
 pampered culture than that of England, but that it will stand 
 even in a translation as a book of real human worth, as a
 
 PREFATORY NOTE vii 
 
 sincere criticism of life, and a poet's interpretation of the life 
 of man and the wonder of the universe of God. 
 
 A word of warning ought, perhaps, to be addressed to English 
 readers of the book. After the tragic notes struck in the 
 opening chapter there is a sudden and unexpected change to 
 an altogether different key, which to many will no doubt prove 
 disconcerting. The big effects are only reached toward the 
 middle of the book, and needless to say a thorough enjoyment 
 of them, even of the Tolstoi-like picture of the battle of Grave- 
 lotte, presupposes an acquaintance with all the foregoing 
 chapters. A second reading will reconcile us to much that at 
 first glance seemed arbitrary and inartistic in the development 
 of the story It is indeed, as if Frenssen wantonly turns from 
 the theory that a novel should be drama written out in full, and 
 claims the liberties of an epic poet in the treatment of his 
 subject. 
 
 One further remark may be permitted. For good or ill^ 
 throughout the whole book there run punning allusions to the 
 names of the two Frisian families that play a part in the story 
 — the Uhls and the Grays. It must be born in mind, therefore, 
 that Uhl = owl, and Gray = crow. 
 
 Although the Low German dialect is used but very sparsely 
 in the original, the Doric note being chiefly felt in the general 
 style — the primitive use of the tenses, for example — the 
 translator has nevertheless taken the liberty of employing 
 Scotch expressions here and there to suggest the provincial and 
 rustic atmosphere of the story. f. s. d. 
 
 Berlin, tgo^.
 
 • • 
 
 JORN UHL 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 In this book we are going to speak about Life, and Life's 
 travail and trouble. Not the sort of trouble that mine host Jan 
 Tortsen made for himself when he promised to set a wonderful 
 Eider fish before his guests and couldn't keep his word, and 
 then took it so to heart that he grew crazy and had to go into 
 the madhouse. Not the sort of trouble, either, that that rich 
 farmer's son went to, who, for all his stupidity, managed to 
 learn to play ducks and drakes with his father's crown pieces to 
 such good purpose, that he got through the whole of his inher- 
 itance in a single month. 
 
 No, but of that sort of trouble shall we speak which old 
 Mother Whitehead had in mind, when she came to tell of her 
 eight children, — how three of them lie in the churchyard, and 
 one in the deep North Sea, and how the other four live far away 
 in America, and two of them haven't written to her for years 
 and years. And of that labor and travail will we speak that 
 filled Geert Dose's soul with its anguish, when, on the third day 
 after Gravelotte, he could not yet come to die, in spite of that 
 fearful wound in his back. 
 
 But while we have in mind to tell of such things, things that 
 many will say are sad and dreary, we nevertheless go about the 
 writing of this book with a heart full of cheerfulness, although 
 our face be earnest and our lips compressed. For we hope to 
 show in every nook and corner of it that all the labor and 
 trouble the people in it go through are not gone through in vain. 
 
 WIeten Penn, head maid servant at Uhl Farm, had been say- 
 ing that a great gathering of folk would take place there this 
 winter. 
 
 II
 
 12 JORNUHL 
 
 " But the strange thing about it is," she said, " that the people 
 will come as though to some gay festival, and will go hence as 
 though from a great funeral." 
 
 So spoke Wieten Penn. Her mind was of a strange, medi- 
 tative cast, and she went by the name of Wieten " Klook," or 
 " Canny " Wieten. 
 
 Klaus Uhl, the big, stalwart marsh farmer, was standing in 
 the doorway in his shirt-sleeves, and looking away out over the 
 marshes awaiting his guests. A self-satisfied smile lit up the 
 shining good-humored face, for he was thinking of the jollifica- 
 tion and the card-playing to come, and the punch-drinking, and 
 all the spicy jokes they would crack that night. His slight little 
 wife, with her worn, pale face, had just sat down in the chair 
 that stood near the big white porcelain stove, and her eyes went 
 wandering over the great rooms all made fine and gay for the 
 guests. She was now expecting the birth of her fifth child, and 
 was weary with the many things she had had to do. 
 
 The three eldest lads — big fellows who were soon to be con- 
 firmed — Vv'cre standing there, long-limbed and ungainly, near 
 one of the card-tables. Their heads were narrow, and covered 
 with flaxen hair, and they had a peculiar domineering look about 
 them. The youths had taken up a pack of cards that lay on the 
 table, and were arguing in high, loud tones, with now and again 
 an oath, about the rules of the game ; at last one of them 
 snatched the pack out of the hands of Hans, the youngest, call- 
 ing him a young blockhead. 
 
 The door opened and the little three-year-old Jiirgen came 
 running up to his mother. " Mother, they're coming; I can 
 see their carts." 
 
 " Mother," said Hans, who wanted to revenge himself on 
 some one for the affront he had just suffered, " Jorn looks quite 
 different from the rest of us, doesn't he? Why, he looks 
 just like you with that long face and those sunken eyes of 
 his." 
 
 She stroked the little fellow's short-cropped flaxen head. 
 " He's bonnie enough for me,'' she said. 
 
 The little lad laid his hands in her lap, and looked up into her 
 face. " I say, mother, Hinnerk says I'm soon going to get 
 either a little brother or a little sister. I want a sister. When 
 is she coming? As soon as she comes, you'll have to tell me at 
 once, won't you, mumsie? "
 
 JORN UH L 13 
 
 The two big brothers went on with their game, nudging each 
 other and laughing. 
 
 " And what do you think, mother? The stable-boy says that 
 last night the horses couldn't sleep. He couldn't stand their 
 stamping and fright, he says, and got up to see what it was. 
 And when he came into the stable there they were all standing 
 with their heads lifted, and at the far end of the barn there was 
 a clanking noise, as if some one was dragging a chain. And that 
 stupid Wieten Klook has heard about it, and of course wants 
 to make out that there's something in it. Now I'd just like 
 to know what it is that's in it." 
 
 "Oh! for sure there's something in it," laughed Hinnerk. 
 *' You just wait and see! There'll be another horse coming into 
 the stable, and then the oats will be a bit scarcer. Do you see? 
 That's what's in it." 
 
 They cast a sly glance at their mother, and went out nudging 
 each other and trying to stifle their laughter. And now she 
 was alone with little Jiirgen, who had quietly seated himself 
 by her side. 
 
 " It is not a good thing," she said, softly, to herself, " to hap- 
 pen after so many years. The others are grown so big and 
 knowing. They are hard-hearted like their father, and have the 
 same hard way of speaking. They begrudge the little being its 
 life, even before it is born." Her eyes wandered over the tables 
 and the piles of plates and shimmering glasses, and through the 
 rooms with all their gaudy, half-rustic, half-townish finery. 
 And she felt in her heart, not for the first time, that she was 
 out of keeping with all this brave show and all this big, noisy 
 house; and her longing soul took flight and flew far away over 
 the marshes and the stunted dry heather, and home to the old 
 farm on the moors. Yes. yes. That was the place for her. 
 
 There had been four of them under that long, low, thatched 
 roof, that stood midway between the moor and the forest: her 
 father and mother, her brother Thicss, and herself. And father 
 and mother had been such queer, droll creatures, and had 
 roguishly bantered and teased each other their whole life long. 
 On Fridays, when the father came home from market driving 
 his lean-ribbed horses, he used to stand up in his cart while still 
 a good distance off, and threaten her with the whip, shouting 
 out: "Now, for goodness' sake, little woman, do be sensible 
 for once! Inside, I say, not out here in public! " But the little
 
 14 JORN UHL 
 
 woman had never grown " sensible," in spite of the fact that 
 she was over forty. Directly he set foot on the ground, outside 
 there, right in public, so that a man at work on the Haze Moor 
 once saw them, she would throw her arms around his neck and 
 hug and kiss him as if there were no one else in the whole wide 
 world. And then the gaunt little man, with his small, finely 
 cut weaver's face, would just laugh outright. They had never 
 had an angry word, and had always been as loving and cheery 
 as a pair of swallows in springtime. . . . They had both been 
 dead now for many a day. And her brother dwelt there behind 
 the Haze Wood alone. He was unmarried, and had his father's 
 small features and the same droll and kindly ways. But she 
 herself had left the lean heaths of her home and gone down into 
 the fat marsh-lands while still a mere girl, and had become the 
 wife of Klaus Uhl. 
 
 And now chains had been heard clanking in the stable. 
 
 " The three bigger boys will be able to look after themselves. 
 They've already begun to go their own ways, like foals that 
 leave their mother and forget her." 
 
 But what about little Jvirgen and the child whose coming she 
 was expecting? ..." Wieten must stay by the little ones." 
 
 The carts were coming nearer: a string of three or four of 
 them, one after the other, were seen approaching along the road. 
 The sturdy Danish horses kept tossing and lowering their heads, 
 and every time they tossed them the steam rose from their 
 nostrils, and every time they lowered them they made the silver 
 on their harness glisten in the clear air. That was the clan of 
 the Uhls ; they came up once a year at this time and fore- 
 gathered under the old rooftree of their fathers to celebrate 
 the Uhlfest. 
 
 They were not far off now, and Klaus Uhl, with a smile on 
 his face, was just about to go down into the stable-yard that 
 lay below the house, when a clattering, old-fashioned cart that 
 had come from the direction of the village drove up. 
 
 "The deuce! who ever expected to see you here, brother- 
 m-lavv : 
 
 Thiess Thiessen pulled up and laughed. " My old turnout's 
 hardly grand enough for the company that's coming, eh? 
 Neither am I, for that matter, but I'm off again directly. I've 
 been buying a couple of calves in the village, and thought I'd 
 just look in and see my sister and little Jorn."
 
 JORNUHL 15 
 
 The little man was down from his high cart with a tremen- 
 dous jump, and led his horses slowly and deliberately into the 
 barn ; then he went in to where his sister was. She was sitting 
 in the back room with little Jorn, and was delighted to see 
 him. 
 
 " Come," she said, " and sit down a little while. Here we're 
 quite safe. Yes, Thiess! safe from the grand big Uhls!" she 
 laughed. " Come, sit up to the table. And how are the cows 
 getting on? Have you got the big black bullock as leader? 
 Now just tell me all about everything at home, just as if you'd 
 brought the whole Haze farm with you." 
 
 She asked and he answered. They had a good comfortable 
 chat, while from the front room ever and anon came the noise 
 of heavy footsteps and people talking, and the clatter of crockery. 
 
 " I'll just look in and see how they're getting on in the 
 kitchen and in the stable. And Wieten can get me a bite to eat, 
 and the man can show me the calves and foals. I am going to 
 take Jorn along with me. But you must stay here, sister." 
 
 He took the little fellow by the hand and went out. 
 
 In the kitchen doorway a thick-set little youngster brushed 
 against his knees. 
 
 " That's a Cray, I'll be bound," said Thiess. " You can tell 
 it by his big red head." 
 
 " It's Fiete Cray," said Jiirgen. " He always plays with me." 
 
 " Oh ! then of course he'll have to come and sup with us, 
 too," said Thiess, perching himself on the kitchen table. 
 
 They gave him a plateful of meat ; and Thiess Thiessen took 
 it between his knees, and the two children sat beside him. 
 
 " Is this your boy, Trina Cray? " said he. 
 
 The woman turned her hot face from the fireplace toward 
 him. " Yes," she said, " he's the fifth. I've had six." 
 
 " Quite enough mouths at the manger, Trina, for a laboring 
 man \\ ho has to make heather brooms and brushes to keep him- 
 self going in winter." 
 
 " Oh, well," said the woman, " I get all kinds of things given 
 to me at the farm here to keep the pot boiling." 
 
 " You don't go home empty-handed then, eh? " 
 
 II No, not I ! " 
 
 "Who's responsible for that, Trina?" 
 
 " Your sister, Thiess Thiessen." 
 
 " Does me good to hear it, lass; does me good to hear it."
 
 i6 JORNUHL 
 
 " I say, J5rn, did you see," cried Fiete Cray, " what a dip my 
 mother just made into the dripping? A lump as big as my 
 fist!" 
 
 " Trina, that lad has great notions in his head. He's a real 
 Cray; mark my words, he won't end his days under the thatch 
 roof where he lives now." 
 
 " He'll have to go out to service and be a farm-laborer in 
 summer, like his father before him, and then make brushes to 
 keep himself in winter." 
 
 " Who can tell ? " said Wieten. 
 
 "Ha! ha! now isn't that Wieten all over!" said Thiess 
 Thiessen. " But take care what you're saying, Wieten. Prophesy 
 him something good while you're about it. He has sharp eyes 
 in that round headpiece of his, and a lively fancy, too, I should 
 say. 
 
 Wieten Penn was as a rule reserved and taciturn. But she 
 liked having a talk with Thiess Thiessen; for he was full of 
 such a grave inquisitiveness about everything. " Strange things 
 can happen to a man," she said, reflectively. " Once on a time 
 one of the Wentorf Crays left his father's house — a working- 
 man's child he was — and came to the Little People who live 
 underground beneath the pines on Haze Heath. They loaded 
 him with gold, and then led him forth again, and he came back 
 to Wentorf. It seemed to him as if it was only yesterday that 
 he had left home. But people told him he'd been away for forty 
 jears. And he could not but believe they spoke the truth. For 
 w^hen he looked in the glass, he saw that his hair had all turned 
 gray. And, what's more, he died soon afterward. Theodor 
 Storm, who always thought he knew better than 1, used to say 
 to me: This story is meant to show how a man can go away 
 into strange lands, and be so taken up with the fret and fever 
 of life and gold-getting that he can never get back his true peace 
 of mind till it's too late and his life is past. But that's just 
 nonsense. It's simply a story that really happened to some 
 one. 
 
 " Jorn ! " shouted Fiete Cray. " Just look! there goes another 
 lump. I say, Jorn, the king . . . why, the king can eat drip- 
 ping the whole day long." 
 
 " Laddie," said Thiess Thiessen, "just bide still! You say 
 something, Jorn." 
 
 " I know a rhyme," said Jorn:
 
 JORN UHL 17 
 
 ♦"Stork, Stork, Mister, 
 Bring me a little sister, 
 Stork, or bring the t'other. 
 Bring me a little brother.' " 
 
 "Let's sing it all together," proposed Thiess; so they sang 
 it and kicked their heels against the kitchen table, without 
 noticing the while that Wieten had pricked up her ears and then 
 left the room, and also that the kitchen maid was sent off on a 
 message. It was not till Wieten Penn went over to Trina Cray, 
 who was busy at the fireplace, and the latter clasped her hands 
 together over her breast in the way anxious women are wont 
 to do, that Thiess Thiessen noticed there was something the 
 matter. 
 
 "What ails ye, lassies?" he asked. "Is anything wrong, 
 Wieten ? " 
 
 " The stork's here, Thiess, and is standing outside on the 
 chimney-top! " 
 
 "Wha-at!" cried Thiess. He stared at Wieten Penn, his 
 eyes wide with astonishment. " Do you mean to say the stork 
 has come? "... With a bound he was down from the kitchen 
 table; he tore the door open that led into the yard, and rushed 
 away out into the stable. In two minutes he came back with 
 his thin gray-brown old overcoat on, and his foxskin cap with 
 its ear-lappets pulled down over his forehead. " Take good 
 care of my sister, both of ye," he said, hurriedly. " Do you hear? 
 Take good care of her. And I won't look too close at a crown 
 piece or so between ye, in spite of turf and calves being so cheap 
 this year." 
 
 " Won't you wait, Thiess, and hear how things go? " 
 
 " No! no! Give her my love, lass. . . . I've harnessed up 
 and the cart's waiting. . . . I . . . couldna bear the sight of it. 
 ... I wish her luck, wish her luck ! " and he was off. As he 
 walked across the floor of the hall they saw him shaking his 
 head, whether at the world, his sister, or himself, who can say? 
 and the sound of his heavy trampling steps died away over the 
 big dusky room. 
 
 The guests had been eating and drinking, and were now sit- 
 ting at the card-tables. Big, homely faces the picture of health, 
 and some of them proud and handsome enough. The three
 
 i8 JORNUHL 
 
 Uhl lads were standing behind the card-players, looking at the 
 cards; sometimes they were good-humoredly asked for their 
 advice, and would nod knowingly, and join in the laughter, or 
 fill up the punch-glasses afresh for the guests. 
 
 The players began to grow noisy in their mirth, and to tell 
 each other jokes and stories in the midst of their game, and 
 to play more or less recklessly. Little piles of silver coin were 
 pushed backwards and forwards across the table amid shouts 
 of laughter and curses. There were three or four of the 
 men, however, who remained quiet and sober. These were 
 the real gamblers, and they had made up their minds not to go 
 home with empty pockets. Each of them sat at a different table, 
 for they could win nothing from each other. Two of them were 
 by nature shrewd and level-headed men ; they are still living in 
 their pretty, old-fashioned farmhouses under the lindens in the 
 Marner Marsh, but two of them were crafty and bad by nature. 
 They looked into the hands of their careless neighbors, and 
 cheated right and left. One of them, later on, fell into the 
 hands of Hamburg magsmen, who were still sharper and more 
 unprincipled than himself; and the other is now an old man of 
 eighty, and half-blind. He still plays Six-and-sixty for half- 
 pence, in his son's cowshed with the stable-boy, and gets cheated 
 to his heart's content. 
 
 The reckless ones well knew that they were playing with 
 cheats, but of course they were much too grand and good-hu- 
 mored and offhand to make a fuss about it. One of them who 
 had lost pretty heavily could not help remarking, " Look here, 
 now, your eyes are a bit too sharp." But they would soon begin 
 laughing again, and go on with their game. 
 
 Speech-making was scarcely the strong point of the company. 
 They left " spouting," as they called it, to the minister and the 
 schoolmaster. Klaus Uhl, who in his youth had paid a flying 
 visit to a grammar school, was the only one of them who used 
 to hold forth now and then, and was even noted for the jovial 
 bonhomie of his speeches. He began by asking the company to 
 excuse his wife for not having put in an appearance, adding that 
 she had now gone to bed ; but they were not to let that disturb 
 them, but to look to it that each of them went home with a good 
 handful of crown-pieces in his pocket. 
 
 " That's not so easy, Uhl," they laughed. 
 
 " And, what's more, as I'm your host you shouldn't grudge
 
 JORN UHL 19 
 
 me a share of the luck myself. You eat my meat and you drink 
 my wine, and in my house you always get your fill of good vic- 
 tuals and good liquor. As you know, I'm just expecting my fifth 
 child." At this they threw their great broad shoulders back in 
 their chairs, and there was a chorus of shouts and boisterous 
 laughter. 
 
 " Well, your acres are broad enough, and you've plenty of 
 money put by . . . and wheat's going up. . . . Let the young- 
 sters go to college, and as for Jorn, why, he must be our 
 Provost." 
 
 Klaus Uhl laughed, and clinked glasses with his guests. 
 Alick, the eldest son, whose head was muddled with punch, was 
 smiling vacantly to himself. Then Hinnerk, the second eldest, 
 left the room with unsteady steps, and came back carrying little 
 Jiirgen, whom he had brought from his warm bed. He held 
 him aloft, and said, " Look, here's the Provost." He wanted 
 to amuse the guests and make fun of the little lad, this late- 
 born interloper. But they all rose to their feet with tipsy 
 enthusiasm, laughing and shouting, " And a bonnie little chap 
 he is." The child, roused out of his fresh sleep, was poking 
 his little fists into his eyes and looking around him, dazed and 
 bewildered. 
 
 " He shall be our Provost one of these days," they cried. . . . 
 " Here's to his health! Here's to the health of the Provost! " 
 
 Hans, the third eldest, came in from the passage with drowsy, 
 sleepy face, and approached his father from behind. 
 
 " They want to know whether you'll come to mother for a 
 minute," he asked. 
 
 Uhl paid no heed to the question, and the lad went slouching 
 out again. 
 
 " My guests are perfectly right," said Klaus Uhl, and he 
 looked across the table with a knowing tv\ inkle in his eyes. " It 
 stands to reason, I can buy farms for all my youngsters when 
 they're old enough to look after them. But I've had a pretty 
 good schooling myself, and have had quite enough Latin 
 knocked into me to know that book-learning is a mighty fine 
 thing. So I thank you for your good wishes, friends. I'll do 
 what I can, and little Jiirgen shall be the first son of a farmer 
 to sit in the house of the Provost. We farmers can well expect 
 — gad ! I say we can well expect and demand that one of our 
 own class shall govern us one day or other; and if we can
 
 20 JORNUHL 
 
 demand that, then I'd like to know what family has a better 
 right than the Uhls to give us a governor." 
 
 Again the door opened, and again Hans stood there. He 
 stopped in the doorway, and called loudly through the noise: 
 
 " Father, mother says you must come to her." 
 
 " Don't interrupt me just at present, boy. ... By and by. 
 ... As I was saying, he'll have an easy time of it in his youth, 
 always plenty of money in his pocket, and so on ; and then he'll 
 be smart and good-looking, and have his head screwed on the 
 right way. Faith ! he wouldn't be the son of his father if he 
 didn't. And, what's more, he'll take life easy, just as I do. 
 He'll never know what care is, I tell you. Come, friends, let's 
 drink a health to the Provost. Here's to Jorn Uhl." 
 
 " Here's to the health of the Provost." 
 
 " The health of the Provost." 
 
 " Father, the woman that's with mother says that we must 
 have the horse and trap in readiness." 
 
 That startled them. 
 
 " Horse and trap? . . . Why! what's the matter now?" 
 
 " Has something gone wrong? " asked one. 
 
 " Come, let's put the cards away," said another. " It's 
 already after eleven." 
 
 " Come, friends, I'm off," said another. 
 
 " Wait a minute, I'm with you," said another. 
 
 " Don't go yet awhile, friends," said Klaus Uhl. " It's noth- 
 ing but a woman's nervousness." 
 
 " No, we must be . . ." 
 
 " No, it's time to be jogging." 
 
 A few still continued talking about their game, regretting 
 that it had been broken up so suddenly and unexpectedly. 
 
 " I think I'll just look in at ' The Wheatsheaf ' on the way 
 home for a little while." 
 
 " So will I. D'you know what? We'll just step down to 
 the inn together. We can go on foot, and let our carts come 
 on afterward." 
 
 " I'm devilish sorry that I can't come with you, friends, 
 devilish sorry," said Klaus Uhl. 
 
 "If you come with us we won't get home before daybreak 
 for a certainty." 
 
 One of them went up to him and grasped his hand, saying:
 
 JORN U H L 21 
 
 " No, don't come with us; it's better you should stay at home 
 with your wife." 
 
 He went into his wife's room, and found her fairly well. 
 The people around the bed were saying that they hoped to be 
 able to manage now without the doctor's help. Then he went 
 back to the front room and listened through the door, that was 
 still open as the guests had left it. Through the stillness of the 
 night you could hear in the distance their loud shouts and their 
 laughing answers. Once more he went slowly back through 
 the great room, and again returned. Finally he took his cap 
 down from the peg where it hung. It was as though a strong 
 man were taking him by the shoulders and thrusting him out. 
 He passed through the doorway and followed the others. He 
 never wore an overcoat when walking. He had so much vigor 
 and warm blood in him that he did not need it. 
 
 Immediately afterward Alick and Hinnerk entered the serv- 
 ants' room with a full punch-bowl. As a rule, they liked to 
 play the master, and were at constant strife with the servants 
 on the farm ; but on a day like this they assumed a condescend- 
 ing sort of good fellowship, and would fain have hobnobbed 
 even with the servants. 
 
 The head ploughman on the farm, an old gray-headed man, 
 had seen the last conveyance off, and now came in. He let 
 himself drop stiffly into a seat, and drained the glass that they 
 set before him. The stable-boy was hacking at the wooden table 
 with his knife, and anon trying to wrest a coin from the fist 
 of little Fiete Cray. One of the guests had given it to the lad. 
 The boy had fallen fast asleep, with his head on the table, and 
 was holding the money tightly clenched in his hand, and only 
 murmured occasionally in his sleep, " Leave me alone, Jorn! " 
 drawing his hand back. 
 
 The dairymaid now came Into the room. At other times 
 she was gay and sprightly enough, but now she seemed quite 
 dazed, and her eyes were staring wide with fright. 
 
 " Is it true about the noise in the stables last night, Dietrich? " 
 
 The man nodded. " I can't help it, Jule," he said. " I heard 
 it right enough myself, but what it means, I don't know." 
 
 " I can't bear to be in the room there with Wieten. She's 
 white as a sheet, and will have it that something dreadful is 
 going to happen to-night. I won't stay here any longer — not 
 another hour will I stay on the farm if things go wrong."
 
 22 JORNUHL 
 
 She took hold of the edge of the table, for her knees were 
 trembling, and let herself drop into a chair. 
 
 " Hallo! " said Hinnerk, " now just stop that croaking, you. 
 Let's eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we die, as the 
 parson says." 
 
 He pushed a full glass of punch toward the girl, but his hand 
 was so unsteady that he spilt it, and had to fill it up afresh. 
 
 " Come nearer to me, Jule." 
 
 " Thank you for nothing," said the girl ; " at other times 
 you're too proud to know me. I'll have nothing to do with you, 
 and as for your punch, you can keep it for yourself." 
 
 Alick looked up at her tipsily. 
 
 "You sha'n't laugh at me, I tell you; I'm master in this 
 house." 
 
 "You master; you're nothing at all," said Jule Geerts. 
 " You're nothing more than a stupid lout." 
 
 "What! you hussy! I'll make you pay for that! " 
 
 " What did Wieten say to you, Dietrich ? She has been see- 
 ing lighted tapers, hasn't she? Do you really think it's true? " 
 
 She looked at the man with wide eyes full of fear. He made 
 a wTy face. He was '* keeping company," as the servants say, 
 with Wieten Penn, and had half a mind to marry her, but it 
 worried him that people should say of her that she could see 
 into the future and knew the signs of coming trouble. 
 
 "What has she been seeing?" asked the girl for the second 
 time. She was shuddering with fear already, and knew that her 
 terror would only be increased, but she could not help wanting 
 to hear it. 
 
 " A week ago to-night, about nine o'clock, when she had just 
 come back from the village, she saw the shine of lights in the 
 big room. They weren't arranged as they generally are when 
 there's card-playing going on there, but higher, as if they were 
 placed around a coffin, and each candle had a kind of reddish 
 halo around it. She didn't dare to look in, but you may be sure 
 she put two and two together — and there you have the whole 
 story." 
 
 "Stuff and nonsense! All stuff and nonsense!" said Hin- 
 nerk, wagging his head tipsily from side to side. 
 
 Suddenly they heard doors being hastily opened. Jule Geerts 
 started up and shrieked. She remained a nervous woman for 
 the rest of her life, it is said, even after she had had children
 
 JORNUHL 23 
 
 of her own ; and as they grew big and the aihnents of age began 
 to trouble her, she always would have it that the pains in her 
 back were caused by that night, and the fright she got when 
 Trina Cray's white face appeared there in the doorway. " She 
 looked just like a ghost," she would say. 
 
 " Dietrich, harness up quick, and go for the doctor! " 
 
 "Clear out!" cried Hinnerk. "You and your youngster, 
 away with \-ou both from the farm!" 
 
 He gave the little fellow a rough push so that he awoke. 
 
 " The poorest woman in the land is not so utterly deserted 
 as your mother this night." 
 
 Dietrich was already outside. Jule Geerts crept away shiver- 
 ing after him. 
 
 Steps were heard hurrying hither and thither. There was 
 commotion throughout the whole house. In the kitchen the 
 smouldering fire was blown into a blaze. In the big hall the 
 light of the lantern flew like a great red bird backwards and 
 forwards, as if wildly seeking some outlet of escape. Now it 
 would flutter up and down the wooden walls of the stable, and 
 anon fly away over the horses, so that they became restive. Now 
 it leapt up to the great rafters of the roof, and now again went 
 rushing up and down the high-piled hay-sheaves. In the stables 
 the chains of frightened animals were rattling. They heard 
 the big door being dashed open, and the wheels of a vehicle 
 whirling away out into the snowy night. 
 
 The sick woman turned her head from side to side uneasily, 
 listening and asking for her husband. 
 
 " Strangers have to help me in my hour of need. . . . Are 
 the children asleep? Has little Jorn been put to bed? So his 
 father says he's to be Provost, does he? No, let him first grow 
 up an honest and sober man — w-hether Provost or ploughman, 
 it won't matter." 
 
 She had received her first three boys from her husband, im- 
 passively, as his gift, and so they had taken after their father. 
 Then ten years passed by, in which she had drifted farther 
 and farther apart from him, and learned her lesson of self- 
 reliance. She had gradually ceased to look at Life and Human- 
 ity through the eyes of her big, loud-voiced husband. Slowly 
 and hesitatingly, but, as time went on, more and more clearly, 
 she had come to see that her own world and her own way of 
 looking at things was infinitely more beautiful, clearer, and
 
 24 JORNUHL 
 
 purer than her husband's. The four people who had once dwelt 
 over there beliind the Haze on the quiet moorland farm — ah! 
 what good and happy lives they had led there; but as for 
 these, who were living here on the Uhl lands, they all seemed 
 like lost souls wandering forlorn in some trackless wilderness. 
 She no longer had power to prevent it. She had allowed the 
 man at her side to have the upper hand too long. She could 
 not even hope to make her own three children any different from 
 what they were, they had grown so far beyond her control. 
 
 But, after all, she had come at last to her rights. For once 
 more she had borne a child, this time a small, delicate-featured 
 boy, and it was no w^onder she had laughed so proudly and 
 happily to herself w^hen her husband, as he looked at the child, 
 was forced to exclaim : 
 
 " He's a Thiessen all over! " 
 
 And this one, that was to come into the world to-night, was 
 also a Thiessen ; that she was sure of. 
 
 And it is a difficult thing for a Thiessen to make his way 
 through the world. They are an odd and meditative folk. 
 
 " The three eldest boys know how to use their elbows. They 
 will make their way in the world, but my heart is sore for the 
 two little ones if I have to die." 
 
 She tried to fold her hands, and prayed in deep and bitter 
 anguish that her life might be spared, entreating this thing of 
 God, till the beads of sw^eat stood thick upon her forehead. 
 
 " Tell Wieten to come to me," she said. 
 
 The young woman came close to the bedside. 
 
 " Wieten, I may be ill for a very long time, and perhaps I 
 may never get over it. H you would only promise me to stay 
 here on the farm, Wieten Penn. ... I believe it will be better 
 for you, too, never to marry. Don't worry about the big lads, 
 — you wouldn't be able to manage them in any case, — but 
 look after my little ones for me, Wieten. Tell my husband that 
 I have asked this thing of you, and that I begged him to let you 
 have your way with my two youngest children, if I died." 
 
 Wieten Penn, whom they called " Wieten Klook," had fore- 
 seen the coming of many a thing. She had foreseen the hour 
 of joy and the hour of sorrow, but not such a request as this. 
 No one can explain, not even she herself, how she came to de- 
 termine her whole future with such swift decision in those few 
 moments.
 
 JORNUHL 25 
 
 " I will look after the children," she said, " as true as I stand 
 here. V'ou may trust them to me. Mistress Uhl." 
 
 She left the bedside and went into the kitchen and stood by 
 the fireside awhile, silent and motionless. 
 
 Then Dietrich came in and said to her in his simple, dry way: 
 
 " \ ou don't need to stand by the fire all night long. The 
 farm lads are all sitting in the front room; come and sit with 
 us awhile." 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " No! It can never come to anything between us, Dietrich," 
 she said. " Let me go my way in peace, and leave me alone." 
 
 Then he went out of the kitchen on tiptoe; and shook his 
 head at the world for awhile. Rut he soon consoled himself, 
 and has remained a bachelor all his days. 
 
 Then the sudden noise of wheels driving up was heard. The 
 doctor crossed the hall, examined the patient, and made his 
 preparations. He came back to the kitchen once more, and 
 inquired where the husband was. 
 
 " He's down at ' The Wheatsheaf,' " said Fiete Cray, " play- 
 ing cards. We've sent for him twice, but he won't take any 
 notice." 
 
 The doctor scowled, muttering the names of certain animals. 
 Nobody had ever before called the great, proud, jovial man by 
 such names. Then he wrote three words on a piece of paper 
 and sent one of the maids to the inn with it. 
 
 " Run," he said. 
 
 In the dim light of the big hall, as she was taking her shawl 
 down from the peg, Jule Geerts read the word " operation." 
 
 Then, shivering and weeping, she rushed off, and kept look- 
 ing behind her as though evil spirits were pursuing her. 
 
 Toward morning all was over. The grooms, pale and speech- 
 less, were cleaning down the sweat-covered horses in the stables. 
 Wieten Penn was standing near the fireplace with her hand 
 raised to her head. As she gazed into the glowing embers, she 
 saw nothing but live flames there, for her eyes were full of tears. 
 Jule Geerts was sitting near the wash-trough, quite motion- 
 less. 
 
 She felt afraid of Wieten and of every dark corner in the 
 house, but most of all was she afraid of the little dead woman, 
 lying inside there so still and quiet. The doctor had said to Uhl,
 
 26 JORNUHL 
 
 " Had I been sent for an hour earlier perhaps I could have been 
 of use. Why wasn't I sent for sooner? " 
 
 Tiien Klaus Uhl gnashed his teeth and cried out like a wild 
 beast. He lay wailing beside her bed and crying, " Mother! 
 Mother! " As wife she had meant but little more to him than 
 that. She was the mother of his children, and that was all. 
 He had always called her by this name, " Mother." His chil- 
 dren's need cried aloud to him in that one word. 
 
 VVieten stood in the next room, holding the new-born child 
 in her arms. 
 
 " A wee little lass, but strong for all that," said Trina Cray. 
 " One can see already that it has its mother's face, and even 
 her dark hair." 
 
 " It doesn't cry," said Wieten; "surely it's not dead." 
 
 " Give it to me for a moment," and Trina Cray took the 
 baby and gave it two or three slaps with the palm of her hand. 
 
 Then the child uttered a cry. 
 
 " Shall we lay it in my bed ? " asked Wieten. " I have made 
 my room warm. Jorn is lying there already." 
 
 They crossed over to Wieten's room, and found little Jorn 
 quietly asleep in bed. He lay cuddled together like a hedge- 
 hog, all rolled up in a ball. The small face was almost hidden, 
 but one could see his head with its bristly, flaxen hair. And 
 near him lay Fiete Cray, sleeping in his clothes. He had drawn 
 the blanket a little over to his side, and was curled up comfort- 
 ably. 
 
 " The sleepyhead! " said Trina. " Has he stayed here, too? " 
 
 "Just leave him where he is," said Wieten; " I'll put the 
 little maid at the other end." 
 
 And so the children slept that night in one bed — the two 
 boys at the head of it, and the little baby girl at their feet.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 JuRGEN was the name of the brfstly-haired youngster, and 
 the little girl's name was Elsabe. That was what the minister 
 had put in the baptismal register; but the baptismal register 
 speaks aristocratic High German, while all the people amongst 
 whom these children lived speak Low German, and so they 
 call him Jorn, and the little girl in the cradle they call Elsbe. 
 And these are the names they still go by to-day, Jorn and Elsbe 
 Uhl. 
 
 In little Jorn Uhl's eyes the house he lived in seemed a great 
 vast place. When the child stood in the big hall, or trotted 
 through the barn, he could see gloomy, mysterious corners 
 everywhere. Nor did he believe that it came to an end any- 
 where; for him the hall was as big as the whole world. 
 
 And the grown-up people who come in, now through this 
 door, now through that, are always doing such wonderful things, 
 and with such grave faces, and so soberly, without screaming 
 or skipping about or weeping or anything! It is simply mar- 
 vellous! They are all different from him. Only little Snap, 
 who runs along beside him through the huge room, is at all like 
 him. They have their meals together, and sleep curled up close 
 to each other, and from time to time — that is to say, every 
 Saturday — Wieten puts them both into the big wash-tub 
 together, and souses them up to their ears in water. 
 
 They are all so different from him, the horses and the human 
 beings and the cows. He and Snap are the only two creatures 
 that are exactly alike. Once, indeed, he and Snap were in hopes 
 that they had got hold of a real comrade. It was a foal that 
 was grazing near its mother in a neighboring paddock. They 
 could both tell at a glance that the mother was another of those 
 strange, gra\e, grown-up creatures, but in the foal they saw 
 signs of a philosophy something like their own. But when 
 Snap came rather too near the foal it kicked out. My! how 
 
 27
 
 28 JORNUHL 
 
 it kicked. Howling, they both made for the barn-door as fast 
 as their legs would cany them. There they stood gazing with 
 terrified eyes at the foal, both barking. At least, that is how 
 Jorn expressed it. He never said, " Wieten has been scolding," 
 but " Wieten has been barking," so close was his fellowship 
 with his comrade Snap. 
 
 There was not a soul on the whole farm to take Jorn by the 
 hand and explain things to him. Wieten had no time, and the 
 others had no inclination. And perhaps it was just as well 
 that it was so, for now it was a case of Robinson Crusoe. " Up 
 with you, and explore the country, and discover land and water 
 and tools and food for yourself! " 
 
 One sunny day he and Snap were out hunting in the old moat, 
 with loud halloos, trying to catch a water-rat that was swim- 
 ming there. They were both pulled out of the water half- 
 drowned, and both got a thrashing from Wieten, and were 
 both put to bed together, and barked and bellowed themselves 
 to sleep. 
 
 That was one of their voyages of discovery. Then again, 
 neither of them knew what a cellar was. They both thought 
 it was a kind of bottomless pit, with great lizards for beams and 
 uprights. One day, when they had laid a wager as to who 
 would reach the other end of the hall first, and had started off 
 with a rush, there suddenly rose a threatening voice out of the 
 earth in front of them — great beet roots flew^ up right and left. 
 With their accustomed unanimity they flung themselves at the 
 man's head that appeared in the opening. 
 
 Later on, howling and barking, they sat together near the 
 ladder that stood in the stable, and told each other about the 
 dreadful things they had seen. 
 
 And so, between them, they thoroughly explored their farm- 
 house realm, and gained considerable experience. 
 
 But one day this close relation between Jorn and his comrade 
 underwent a sudden change. 
 
 Up to this time they used to go together, three or four times 
 a day, into the back room, to stroke the little girl that lay there 
 in the cradle or sat up in a chair, Snap wagging his tail at her. 
 And then they would run out again, and trouble themselves 
 no further about the child. 
 
 But one beautiful, sunny day, when Jorn had come back with 
 Snap from a run in the meadows, what was their surprise to
 
 J O R N U H L 29 
 
 see this same little girl standing in front of the kitchen door, 
 gazing around her with wondering eyes. Never were two 
 creatures more taken aback than Snap and Jorn Uhl. To think 
 that such a thing was possible! They took the wee mite between 
 them, and went with her along the road to a place where there 
 was beautiful clayey water in the wheel-ruts. There they 
 began to dig moats and build dikes. 
 
 From this time on Snap began to wane in importance. 
 
 Jorn now played all day long with this little sister of his. 
 The dog became less and less of a comrade and more and 
 more of a mere plaything. The little girl became acquainted 
 with her surroundings much more quickly than her brother had 
 done. He had only had Snap for a guide, and Snap was at best 
 but an uncertain and unreliable leader. But the brother knew 
 everything and could do ever\'thing. He led little Elsbe over 
 the whole house, and into the bakehouse, and out to the barn, 
 and even out over the stile into the meadows where the calves 
 could be seen playing about. And one day he said : 
 
 " Come, Elsbe, let's go and climb up Ringelshorn." He took 
 her by the hand. Snap ran on ahead, barking, and so they went 
 along the road till the old hill-land rose up before them. 
 
 "Now for it!" 
 
 Up they go, toiling and panting. The pathway leads steep 
 up through the heather. They have to take a rest on the way. 
 Then an idea strikes Jorn. He will tie the piece of yarn that 
 he always carries in his pocket to Snap's collar, and Snap will 
 have to pull them up the hill. So they go on higher and higher. 
 Now a sand-hole, now heather again, now high thickets of 
 broom, which they can hold on to. Then they rest awhile. 
 
 At last they are at the top, and are just going to cry " Hal- 
 loo " through their hands, when the East Wind, that they had 
 not noticed at all while they were down below, catches hold 
 of them. Up there on the heath he has free play. He rumples 
 the little girl's hair and blows her skirts up, and pushes her 
 rudely, and often topples her over. Jorn makes a dash to help 
 her to her feet again, but Snap misunderstands it all. He is 
 so stupid. He thinks they want to climb down again, and 
 springs away down-hill. That's how it is that Jorn gets entan- 
 gled in the cord, and the three tumble and roll head over heels 
 down the slope, till they find themselves lying in a heap in a 
 sand-hole at the bottom. And up above stands the East Wind
 
 so JORNUHL 
 
 with his cheeks puffed out, bending over the edge of the hill, 
 roaring with laughter at them. 
 
 " Well," says Jorn, after they have howled for a bit, " that 
 was a nice piece of work, wasn't it? " 
 
 They climb the hill again, but the dog refuses to go with 
 them. They coax him, they appeal to his sense of honor, they 
 threaten him with hunger, and pelt him with sand and lumps 
 of earth. He understands it all perfectly well, for he wags his 
 tail, and shivers and barks pitifully for forgiveness. But he 
 hasn't pluck enough. " Let him be, Elsbe, he's a regular 
 cowardly custard." 
 
 They sit down on the hilltop, in the cold wind, among the 
 heather, and look for awhile quietly down on the broad, flat 
 marsh-land and the Uhl buildings at their feet. 
 
 " I say, Jorn," says Elsbe, " why haven't we got a mother? 
 Everybody but us has a mother. What does a mother have 
 to do, Jorn? " 
 
 " What do you mean, Elsbe? " 
 
 " Why, I mean with a child." 
 
 " Oh! she goes like this all the time, to and fro, to and fro, 
 holding it in her arms ; and then she says, ' ]VIy dear little one, 
 my little pops ! ' and all that sort of thing. I saw one yesterday 
 as I was fetching Hinnerk's boots from the shoemaker's." 
 
 " But no mother ought to stay dead. Ought she? " 
 
 " She doesn't, either, only when people don't look after her." 
 
 "Who didn't look after her?" 
 
 " Why, father didn't, nor the others either. There were a 
 whole lot of people in the house, eating and drinking, and they 
 just thought of nothing else but eating and drinking." 
 
 "Father too?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Do you know for certain, Jorn ? " 
 
 " Yes. Fiete Cray told me so." 
 
 Elsbe keeps kicking the earth up with her foot, and is so in- 
 tent on her thoughts that she can hardly get her words out. 
 
 "Are vou quite, quite sure? As true as I stand here?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Why didn't he look after her, then?" 
 
 Jorn springs a little way down, into the heather, and says 
 out loud, with his face turned away: 
 
 " Because he was drunk! "
 
 JORNUHL 31 
 
 Neither knew exactly what the word meant, but at home 
 they had often heard their brothers use such expressions as 
 " The drunken lout," or, " You were blind drunk, too, yester- 
 day." 
 
 They felt it was something dreadful, and spoke no further 
 about it. Presently Jorn said: "Do you know what, Elsbe? 
 To-night in bed, when Wieten comes to us, let's both say 
 together, ' Mother Klook! ' " 
 
 " Yes, and if Fiete Cray comes, we'll say to him, ' Father 
 Cray! 
 
 And then they climbed down Ringelshorn from mound to 
 mound, holding on by the heather. 
 
 As they grow older the evening brings with it a new kind 
 of life for them. They may now stay up for two whole hours 
 after supper. And they sit in Wieten's little room, round the 
 square table, and all the four sides of it are occupied. At one 
 side sits Wieten, Jorn at another, at the third side sits Elsbe, and 
 at the fourth, between Jorn and Elsbe, sits Fiete Cray. 
 
 During the day Fiete Cray cannot come. He has to go 
 tramping far away among the marsh villages, selling brushes 
 and heather-brooms and curry-combs. He has his wares in a 
 little cart drawn by dogs. 
 
 But of an evening he comes over to the Uhl for awhile. He 
 comes every evening. In the winter he is blue with the cold, 
 and in the summer rather tired ; but he's always in good spirits. 
 In winter it is particularly cosy and sociable among this little 
 company. 
 
 It always begins in the same way: Wieten lays a pile of 
 stockings and balls of wool and mending on the table, puts the 
 lamp in the middle, and pushes her mending to one side. Then 
 she sets a great hunch of bread and raw bacon before Fiete 
 Cray, who clutches at it hungrily. Jorn Uhl has never for- 
 gotten that swift, eager clutch, and the thin, frozen, boyish 
 hand that was not always too clean. 
 
 One of the brothers comes in — Hans, or perhaps Alick. 
 
 " Fiete, you must come and play cards with us ; we want 
 a fourth man." 
 
 But Jorn and Elsbe cry " No! No! " and hold him fast. 
 
 Then Hans goes up to the table and says, threateningly: 
 
 ** If vou don't come with me, I'll tell father how you're fed
 
 32 JORNUHL 
 
 up here every night, my young gourmand. Your proper place 
 is in the servants' room." 
 
 And then Wieten will give a sharp look over her spectacles 
 at the gawky, half-grown youth, and point to the door. 
 
 " Off with you! This is my part of the house; and if I find 
 you here again, I'll tell your father where you were last night, 
 you young good-for-nothing. You'll be the worst of the whole 
 lot yet ! " And sometimes she'll raise her hand darkly. " I 
 know all about 3'ou and your brothers. The time will come 
 when you'll seek your bread among the stubble of the fields." 
 
 Then he laughs and goes out with a curse, and they have 
 peace once more. 
 
 " And now Fiete must tell us about his day's doings! " says 
 Jorn. 
 
 " No! " says the little girl, with a grand air of self-im- 
 portance; "first Wieten shall tell a story, and then I'll tell 
 you one, and then Fiete shall tell his." 
 
 " All right, then; fire away! " 
 
 There sits Wieten, turning over the pile of mending, stretch- 
 ing her hand out now and again for this and that piece of cotton, 
 drawing the thread across holes that gape in the stockings, and 
 telling one tale to-day and another to-morrow. And so it goes 
 on. For example, it is Wieten 's turn: 
 
 " When I was in Schenefeld, the farmer's wife used to tell 
 us this story. ' There was once a peasant,' she used to say, 
 ' who had taken a two years' lease of a piece of land from the 
 devil, and the devil said to the peasant, " You will farm the 
 land, but we'll let the dice decide which of us is to have what 
 grows above the ground there, and which of us is to have what 
 grows beneath it." Well, they started throwing dice, and, of 
 course, the devil made the highest throw, and so he was to have 
 everything that grew in the field above ground. So off went 
 the peasant and sowed a crop of beet root, and when autumn 
 came, what did the devil get, think you? why, nothing but the 
 leaves. Very well ! Next year they cast the dice once more. 
 This time the devil naturally took care to get fewer points, and 
 so he was to have all that grew beneath the earth. Off went 
 the peasant and sowed the land with nothing but wheat. And 
 when autumn came, what did the devil get, think you? why, 
 nothing but the roots. 
 
 " ' Then, of course, he abused the peasant to his heart's con-
 
 J O R N U H L 33 
 
 tent; and at last he said, "To-morrow I'll come again, and 
 you and I will have a scratching-niatch." Then the poor 
 peasant got very frightened. But his wife noticed that he sat 
 all day with his head on his hands, looking very worried and 
 downhearted, so she said to him, " What are you brooding over, 
 husband ? " 
 
 "'So he told her all about it, and said, "To-morrow I've 
 got to scratch with the devil.' 
 
 But his wife said, " Just be easy, and don't go worrying 
 about ft. I'll manage him for you." 
 
 " ' Well, now, what was to bo done? She sits herself down 
 and waits, and pretends to he in a great rage. After awhile 
 along comes the devil ri;^ht enough, and, says he, " What's the 
 matter with you, little woman? " says he. 
 
 " ' " Oh, deary me, Mr. Devil," says she, " just look at this 
 here great scar in my beautiful oak table. My husband says 
 he's got a scratching-match with another man to-day, and so 
 he's been trying his nails here, and has torn off this great piece 
 with his little finger-nail." 
 
 " ' The devil gave a look toward the door, and said, " Where 
 is he away to now? " 
 
 W^here is he? " said the woman. " Oh! he's just gone 
 round to the smithy to get his nails sharpened up a bit." 
 
 Then the devil stole quietly out, and made off as fast as 
 ever his legs would carry him.' " 
 
 During this story Fiete Cray and little Elsbe sat quite still, 
 devouring Wieten with their eyes. Jcirn was paying no atten- 
 tion. He was trying to stand one ball of wool on top of another, 
 and kept on trying and trying, and heaved a great sigh of relief 
 when he finally succeeded. 
 
 " My word, if he had come," said Elsbe, " what a scratching 
 the peasant would have given him! Like this! " and she clawed 
 the table with her fingers and tried to look terribly fierce. 
 
 " There's not much in those devil stories," said Fiete Cray ; 
 " but the little Earth Men, they're the sort of people I like to 
 hear about. They're real good and kind, too. They've made 
 many a man rich for his whole life. But the queer thing about 
 them is that I've never yet set eyes on one of them — not a 
 single one. Many's the time I've come through the Heath 
 alone with my dogs, and on past the Wodansberg. And often
 
 34 JORNUHL 
 
 I've left my cart standing while I stole quietly into the wood, 
 but I've never seen anything." 
 
 " They live in the Wodansberg," said Eisbe. 
 
 " I don't believe it," said Jorn. 
 
 " Oh, 30U believe nothing at all," said Wieten. 
 
 " Once," said Fiete, " it was dreadfully hot, so I left the dogs 
 standing in the shade with the cart, not far from the Wodans- 
 berg, where the path turns off to Tunkmoor. I went a little 
 way into the wood, and lay down on some dry leaves, not far 
 from a big hazel-bush, and there I must have fallen asleep. 
 Suddenly I was wakened up by a rustling among the leaves, and 
 just as I'd got my eyes open it seemed to me that three or four 
 little people, a bit bigger than squirrels, ran oft and hid them- 
 selves in the hazels; and a moment afterward I heard voices in 
 the bushes. It sounded as if they were saying, 'Sleepyhead! 
 sleepyhead ! ' I sat up and looked around me, and turned all 
 the leaves over, but not a sign of gold was to be seen." 
 
 Wieten looked at him distrustfully. Fiete Cray's stories 
 always caused her a certain amount of uneasiness. He invariably 
 contrived to give them such a practical turn — that was charac- 
 teristic of the Grays. He was not content that such and such 
 a devil should be out-devilled, or that some man or other, in 
 olden times, should have got a share of hidden treasure, but he 
 himself, Fiete Cray, was always expecting to get hold of money 
 in this way. He lay under every bush and lurked behind every 
 tree, expecting the glittering gold to appear. 
 
 Jorn looks up doubtfully from his play, and says, suspiciously: 
 
 " They were squirrels, of course ; and as for what you heard, 
 it was nothing more than some field-mice squeaking." 
 
 Fiete Cray shook his head disdainfully. 
 
 "If only I knew," he said, " how they could be got at." 
 
 " The woman in Schenefeld," said Wieten, " where I was in 
 service when I was young, she used to say that the fairies had 
 all taken their bag and baggage, and wives and children, and 
 had wandered off together into another country." 
 
 " Is that it? " said Fiete. " Where did they go to, then? " 
 
 " Well, I can't exactly say. I fancy they moved to the 
 Vaalermoor and round about Milstermarsh. Maybe they even 
 crossed the Elbe. But Theodor Storm alw^ays made out that 
 they had come to Dittmarsh,"
 
 JORN UHL 35 
 
 " Theodor Storm! You're always talking about him; who 
 is he? " 
 
 " Who is he? He used to say he was a student. He often 
 used to visit us at Schenefeld — he and a man called Miillen- 
 hoff. They wasted God's precious hours, lolling about in all the 
 villages, and were happiest when listening to some old story or 
 other. lliey had their eye on me in particular, because they 
 knew that my mistress had a store of such tales; but she 
 wouldn't tell them any, and so they came to me. Every eve- 
 ning, when I went to the reed paddock to milk the cows, the 
 two of them would be standing there waiting to hear stories. 
 And while I was talking they'd go and drink half a bucket of 
 the milk." 
 
 " What did they have to talk about, Wieten?" 
 
 " I've told you already. They thought they knew everything 
 better than I did. There wasn't a single old saw that Storm 
 couldn't give you in some different way, and he used to tell 
 all these stories differently from what I do. He used to say he 
 was going to write a book about them. Many a time I've called 
 him a young blockhead, and left him standing where he was, 
 and marched off, milk-pails and all." 
 
 Fiete Cray looked knowingly at her through his half-shut eyes. 
 
 " What was his idea about where the little Earth Men are? " 
 
 "What was his idea? What's that got to do with me? I 
 don't care a snap for him and his ideas. My mistress in Schene- 
 feld used to tell the story this way : ' One night the ferryman 
 at the Hohner Ferry was called up out of his bed, but when he 
 gets outside he can't see a living soul, so he thinks he must have 
 been dreaming, and goes back to bed. Presently some sand or 
 earth is thrown against his window, so up he gets again and goes 
 out, and there, from his house down to the water's edge, the 
 ground was nothing but a mass of tiny, little gray people. One 
 of them, with a long beard, says to the ferryman he must put 
 them across the Eider, as they couldn't stand the noise of the 
 church folks' singing and the pealing of the church-bells any 
 longer. So they were going to emigrate to the Marsh-land. 
 There were no churches there in those days. 
 
 The ferryman let go the ropes, and they all came trooping 
 down to the ferry-boat — men and women and children, beds 
 and pots and pans, and dishes of silver and gold ; all thronging 
 on one another's heels, till the boat was packed full. And so it
 
 36 JORNUHL 
 
 went on the whole night long, to and fro, load after load, and 
 they never seemed to come to an end. When at last they were 
 all over, and the ferryman was on the return journey, he looked 
 back and saw that the field on the other side was full of thou- 
 sands of lights. They had all lit their little lanterns, and were 
 moving on toward the west. 
 
 " ' But next morning, when he went down to the ferry, what 
 does he see lying on the edge of the jetty but thousands of little 
 gold farthings. Each of the little men had laid his fare down 
 there.' 
 
 " Storm used to maintain that they had knocked at the 
 window, but I said they threw sand against it. We had a 
 great argument on that point. So I left him standing where he 
 was, and took no notice of what he called out after me." 
 
 "What did he call out, Wieten?" asked Elsbe. 
 
 " He wanted to tease me, and so he kept on singing out, 
 ' Don't waggle like that! Don't waggle so, I tell you! ' But 
 when one has a yoke to carry, with two great big full pails of 
 milk, and the yoke and pails both bound with brass-work, it's 
 little wonder if one gets a heavy tread." 
 
 " Where is this man Storm now? " asked Fiete. 
 
 " Where is Storm ? I fancy he said he wanted to become 
 Provost. He a Provost! He's never come to anything! " 
 
 " Hasn't he written the book, either? " 
 
 " What, he? He was that lazy, that once he lay the whole 
 afternoon, stretched full length in the meadows, from one milk- 
 ing-time to the next, and said he did it because the wood looked 
 so fine in early leaf. It's safe to say that he's never written 
 a book, and hasn't become Provost, either." 
 
 " Jorn isn't listening at all! " said little Elsbe, and gave him 
 a poke. " Jorn, listen, I tell you! " 
 
 "Just look!" said Jorn. He had built a bridge from the 
 work-basket to the table with three pairs of scissors and Wieten's 
 spectacle-case, and was pressing his hand down on it to show 
 how strong it was, and looked around at the others with pride 
 in his eyes. 
 
 " I say, Wieten, what did Storm have to say about our Gold- 
 soot?^ Did he say the same as you, or something different?" 
 
 " I can see," she said, as she looked sharply at Fiete Cray, 
 " you believe Storm sooner than me. You're always after some- 
 ' Low German soot — a spring, a well.
 
 JORN UHL 37 
 
 thing new. As to the Goldsoot, I knew nothing about it in 
 those days. I first heard of it after I had come here and seen it." 
 Fiete Cray leaned his head on his hand and gazed at Wieten. 
 His round, boyish eyes, that generally looked out on the world 
 so archly and impudently, were now dreamy and far away. The 
 Goldsoot lay not far from the village in a hollow on the edge 
 of the Geest. It was his one great, secret hope. 
 " I say, Wieten, do tell us it over again! " 
 "Will you believe me or that lanky Holsteiner?" 
 " Oh, you," said Fiete Cray, and struck the table with his fist. 
 " Well, just listen, then. It was like this. It's said that 
 here in the neighborhood there once lived a very rich man, who 
 died without having any children. But one dark night, before 
 his death, he went to the hollow near the Geest slope, and threw 
 all his money into the well. Now they say that if one pokes 
 about it with a stick, it has a hollow sound, and some even say 
 that if you look down into it you can sometimes see a little gray 
 man sitting there, wearing a cocked hat. That's so. And once 
 upon a time three men started ofif in the night, and without 
 making a sound they dug down in the well, till suddenly they 
 came upon a big copper kettle. Then they laid a crowbar across 
 the hole, and fixed ropes through the handles of the kettle, and 
 wanted straightway to pull it up. Presently a huge load of hay 
 drawn by six gray mice came up from the marsh and galloped 
 past them, tearing away up toward Ringelshorn. They shut 
 their teeth together and didn't say a word, but kept on pulling. 
 At last they had the kettle almost at the top, when a gray man 
 on an old gray mare came by, riding up from the marsh. He 
 bade them a good evening, but they managed to keep cool, and 
 didn't utter a word. Then he pulled up his mare, and asked 
 them whether he had a chance of catching up with tlie load of 
 hay. Then one of them got angry, and said : * llie devil ! It's 
 old cloven-hoof.' At the same moment the crowbar broke, and 
 down fell the kettle to the bottom of the well, and the gray 
 man vanished." 
 
 "Fiete got some gold from the witch lately," said Elsbe; 
 " you know, the witch that lives in the Hooper firs." She felt 
 In her pocket and produced a shining coin, and laid It on the 
 table in front of them. Fiete Cray stared at the money, and 
 then turned slowly around, like a criminal some one takes 
 by the shoulders, and looked Wieten in the eyes.
 
 38 JORNUHL 
 
 She raised her hand, and said : 
 
 "If you carry on with any more nonsense, you'll feel these 
 stockings about jour ears, and good-by to your bread and butter, 
 once and for all." 
 
 He fixed his eyes on the table in front of him, and was for a 
 moment crushed and silent. Then he began to show Elsbe the 
 contents of his pockets. Soon they begged him to show them 
 some of his tricks. 
 
 Jorn pushed all his toys aside, string and scissors and bits of 
 wood, and said : 
 
 "Now for them, Fiete! " 
 
 "A trick?" said Fiete Cray; and while his quick fingers 
 were still working under the table, two bright-colored pebbles, 
 that he had found as he came along by the sand-pit, began to 
 fly backwards and forwards over the corner of the table. 
 
 " And now another! " 
 
 "Another trick?" said Fiete. He held up his empty hands, 
 and put them under the table again, and directly afterward 
 a little gray animal with a long tail slipped, jump, jump, over 
 the corner of the table toward Elsbe, so that the little thing 
 drew back with a frightened face. But as it began jumping 
 across for the second time, Jorn stretched his hand out for it, 
 and held it up, laughing and saying: 
 
 " It's only Elsbe's old pocket-handkerchief! " 
 
 " Well," said Wieten, " we've seen enough tricks for one 
 evening. Now off to bed with you! " 
 
 Without further ado the three went into the corner where 
 the bed stood, and the two little Uhls began to undress them- 
 selves; and Fiete had to help little Elsbe to undo her clothes 
 and to take off her stockings for her, and relate the while all 
 that had happened during his day's travels — whether the big 
 dog had been on the farm, and whether any one had given 
 him any dinner, and whether the boys in the marsh villages had 
 teased his dogs and pelted him with stones. 
 
 He told them with repressed rage in his voice how the boys 
 in the marsh had again refused to let him go by in peace. 
 
 "Couldn't you defend yourself?" said Elsbe. 
 
 "No; they were just coming out of school, and suddenly 
 they stood in a ring around my cart." 
 
 " Were they Uhls? " asked Jorn.
 
 JORNUHL 39 
 
 " Of course, every man Jack of them — from Dickhusen and 
 Neudeich, and all about there." 
 
 " Couldn't you make a run for it? " asked Elsbe. 
 
 " The reins had got tangled, and so the dogs couldn't get 
 away." 
 
 " What did you do then? Did they hit you? " 
 
 " They didn't dare come right up to me, because my dogs 
 would have sprung on them. They'd have bitten them, I can 
 tell you, if they'd touched me. But, all the same, it was pretty 
 bad for me; the stones were just Hying about my head." 
 
 " Poor old Fiete. Whatever did you do? " 
 
 " I suddenly thought of a plan. ' Boys,' I said, ' did you 
 ever hear that story about the owls and the crows? '^ 
 
 " ' No,' they said. 
 
 " So I said : * Well, listen, then. There were once four 
 crows that sat in an ash-tree, near an old farm-house. It 
 wasn't long before the owl that lived there looked out of his 
 door under the eaves of the loft, and said to them: 
 
 " ' " Good day to you." 
 
 " ' " Good day," answered the crows. 
 
 " ' " Have you got any spare time? " asked the owl. " Then 
 I can put you in the w ay of earning an honest penny." 
 
 " ' " Right you are! " answered the four, for the snow was 
 lying old and thick over the whole country, and there wasn't 
 much to be earned. 
 
 " ' " My old comrade, old Tom Malkin, is dead," said the 
 owl. " Now, I was thinking you might carry him to his grave. 
 When my old friend was alive, he often used to say to me: 
 'Jan Owl,' he u ould say, ' you must give me a decent burial. 
 A respectable life deserves a respectable funeral,' he used to say, 
 for he was a highly cultivated man. Now, look here, you four 
 have good black coats on, and are honest people — " 
 
 " ' " Come along, then," said the crows, and crept in through 
 the owl-hole after him one by one. 
 
 " ' Now, it was pretty dark in the loft, and the thatched roof 
 was low, but they could see old Tom IVIalkin where he lay. 
 He was lying in the hay, stretched at full length, without a 
 move in him. The owl took up his post at his friend's head, 
 
 ' The pun on the Uhls and the Grays (the owls and the crows), which 
 lends point to this story in the original, must be taken for granted by the 
 English reader. It recurs throughout the book. — Translator's Note.
 
 40 JORNUHL 
 
 and the crows hopped along, all askew, just as they do in windy 
 weather among the young wheat. 
 
 Many's the mouse we've caught in this loft together, old 
 Tom, that you well know," said the owl. " We've always been 
 good friends, and many's the spree we've had with one another. 
 But that's all past and gone now. Oh, Tom! Tom, old fellow! 
 How you'd rejoice, and what a spring you'd make, if you were 
 only alive and I said to you, ' Tom, four stupid black crows 
 are standing round you.' " 
 
 Then up sprang the tom-cat, and there was a crow-hunt, 
 the likes of which you've never seen. 
 
 " ' The first, he lost an eye, 
 The second lost a leg, 
 The third, he got his coat all torn, 
 And the fourth flew out of the owlet's hole. 
 
 And that's me,' I said. I'd got my ropes straight, so I jumped 
 on my cart and of^ I went." 
 
 " Well," said Wieten, " and now go home, Fiete." 
 
 Then Fiete Cray stole out of the kitchen door and away 
 down the path, and crept into his father's humble cottage. 
 
 And then Wieten, too, goes to bed. 
 
 Toward midnight, or a little later, the father and the big 
 brothers come home from their wild carousing in some inn. 
 But the children have been asleep these three hours.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 When Dominie Peters cast his eye over the hundred children 
 of St. Mariendonn sitting there at his feet in two rows of 
 benches, — the boys on the right, the girls on the left, — and 
 when about three in the afternoon it began to grow dusk, as 
 it always does in winter, then, 1 say, it used to strike the old 
 schoolmaster that there were two distinct sorts of human beings 
 at the Donn. The roof of thatch drooped like tired and heavy 
 eyelids over the windows, and the light came through into the 
 schoolroom in slanting meagre rays. In this silent slanting 
 twilight you could spy, here and there among the children, a 
 sprinkling of round red heads, with freckles so intense and hair 
 so fiery red that they seemed to emit a kind of light. And this 
 halo-gleam of hair grew brighter, and this dull sheen more vivid, 
 when these eyes, shrewd and quick, or furtive and restless, 
 began their play; it was like so many kittens gambolling in 
 sunshine. Those were the Grays and their kin. 
 
 But you also saw scattered among the round red heads others 
 not so numerous — bo\'s and girls with narrow faces and fair 
 skin, and with hair as fair as fields of rye just before the reap- 
 ing; faces of strong and often noble lineaments, with steady, 
 clear, proud eyes. When one of these light-haired children left 
 his seat, his gait revealed a small, well-knit frame, full of lithe- 
 ness and strength. Those were the Uhls and their kin. 
 
 Pastor Petrus Momme Lobedanz, who had the care of souls 
 in St. Mariendonn some hundred and fifty years back, used to 
 w^onder even in his day at this marked distinction. For on the 
 last pages of a baptismal register, which he had filled with 
 names, he has written down certain thoughts and observations 
 as follows: 
 
 "The little thorps that are built along the sides and on the 
 slopes of the Geest are nearly all called by the name of Donn. 
 In order to distinguish them one from another, however, cer- 
 
 41
 
 1.2 JORNUHL 
 
 tain of the thorps are called after the wealthy villages which lie 
 in front of them ; others, again, whose existence dates further 
 back, and which have a church of their own, are called after 
 Catholic saints. Thus this village is called St. Mariendonn. 
 
 " To the right and left of the village the dune rises steep 
 and unbroken, covered thick with heath and bracken, but at the 
 spot where the village stands it is all scooped and hollowed out. 
 It is as if multitudes of children had been playing there, and 
 had undermined the sand-hills. It is the Grays who have thus, 
 in the course of centuries, burrowed and scooped out this 
 mighty sand-hill, and have built their dwellings into it and 
 worn it down. For the Grays are a restless race. 
 
 " And since the land where they dwell is so light and sandy 
 that sometimes in dry weather their gardens are blown like 
 driven snow against their house-walls, and they are thus pre- 
 vented from gaining sustenance from the soil, and since, more- 
 over, they have little opportunity and still less inclination for 
 steady work as hired laborers, they have come to be a race of 
 wandering pedlars and dealers, known in all the country-side. 
 
 " Every Monday morning, when the sun rises, I stand on 
 the Ringelshorn and look over toward St. Mariendonn, and 
 watch the Grays taking flight. Some, with bundles and baskets 
 on their shoulders, wander up toward the villages on the Geest. 
 With backs bent double you see them plunging the long staff 
 on which they lean into the sand in front of them. Others go 
 down into the marsh villages with their little carts drawn by 
 dogs. The wealthiest among them will harness some stiff- 
 jointed, rough-haired jade of a horse to a ramshackle cart, and 
 disappear. Toward the end of the week they all fly home to 
 their nests again, and have always sold out their wares, nay, 
 have mostly purchased something fresh into the bargain. One, 
 who went out with haberdashery, comes back with a spavined 
 horse ; another, whose cart departed stiff with the bristles of 
 brushes, returns with a load of basket-willows; a third, who 
 drove down to the Watt to the crab-fishing, has got hold of an 
 old chest from some one on his way through some marsh thorp 
 or other. 
 
 " But they are sturdy folk, and I won't hear anything said 
 against them. I have been intimate friends with many a one of 
 them, and am so still with some. I won't hear them run down ;
 
 JORNUHL 43 
 
 for I myself, on the side of my grandmother, who was a Nuttel- 
 mann by birth, have Cray blood in me. 
 
 " 'Tis said of them, I confess, that away from home they're 
 not such strict and God-fearing folk in their dealings as they 
 are at home among themselves on Sundays. Here in their own 
 village, especially, they are honest, sober people enough, and 
 even pique themselves on their fear of God and their regular 
 church-going; and they will boast to me of their lively interest 
 in God's word. But I, alas! I am but a weak man, and do not 
 like to tell the boaster straight to his face: * Man! don't you 
 know that the whole country-side has a saying, " As honest as a 
 Cray on Sunday? 
 
 " Folk about here say that a Donn Cray has never yet been 
 known to buy hay and oats for his horse; they just let their 
 beasties graze in lonely spots by the roadside and in the pasture- 
 lands, while they themselves are taking their noonday nap be- 
 neath the roof of their wagon. And when a Cray is summoned 
 before a court, it's always a court outside his own parish, and he 
 is always the accused and never the accuser. But when such a 
 one comes to me, to get his baptismal certificate in order to 
 prove his identity before the court, and I ask him what it is 
 he's accused of, he is sure to allege either the maliciousness or 
 the error of the accuser as the cause of all the trouble. 
 
 " And when the accused doesn't come home after the trial, 
 but mysteriously vanishes for several weeks, as if the earth had 
 swallowed him up, and I meet his wife at church and I ask her, 
 'Antj' Katrien, where is your husband?' then she'll look me 
 straight in the face, and say, ' Oh, he's just away to Hamburg, 
 minister, doing a little shopping! ' Then my weak nature shows 
 itself again, and I don't venture to say anything to her. In 
 the marshes, though, they have a jest about a man serving his 
 time in gaol, and say of such a one: 'Oh, he's just away to 
 Hamburg doing a little shopping! ' 
 
 " These are things that weigh heavy upon my heart, et animi 
 semper <fger sum. But it's the more unpleasant to me, because 
 they've got a report abroad in the marshes that I have pledged 
 my word never to tell the Crays of their dishonesty. And in 
 return, I am said to get tithe of all the profits they make on their 
 peddling excursions. And they have a saying, too: * " Let's skip 
 that," as the minister of St. Mary's said, when the youngster 
 at school was going to recite the seventh commandment.'
 
 44 JORNUHL 
 
 " Now, what is the origin of such anitni rectio? where do 
 they get such a disposition ? Roundabout here it's said to 
 come from the Grays having gipsy blood in them. Their an- 
 cestor, it is said, was a strong devil-may-care fellow, and a great 
 boaster to boot, and is said to have picked up with a gipsy girl, 
 whose troop had camped during a sand-storm near the Haze 
 Wood pines, on the edge of Woden's Heath. 
 
 " In the marriage that followed — that is, if there was any 
 marriage — it is said that this gipsy spouse was too much for 
 him, and that he led a henpecked and troubled life. He had 
 to live in a cave with her, because she couldn't bear to live in 
 a proper house. Whilst she went gadding about through the 
 marsh villages, fortune-telling, haggling, and begging, he had to 
 cook the food, feed the goats, and mow heath for the winter 
 firing. She used always to call him her ' pet lamb,' and must 
 have thoroughly tamed him down. It was from this strange 
 couple, then, that folks say the Craj^s are descended. 
 
 " But I always maintain that this statement of the case is due 
 to the folly of the marsh-folk, and is naught but the hooting 
 and clamor of the Uhls. For as long as ever folk can re- 
 member, the Uhls have looked down on the Grays. 
 
 " I think it's much more likely that the Grays are descendants 
 of the Wends, who are said to have carried their invasions right 
 into our country in olden times. The following facts have led 
 me to this conclusion: first, the round, red-haired heads, and the 
 oblique eyes, which almost all of them have; second, that at the 
 western end of the village, toward Woden's Heath, below 
 Ringelshorn, there lie three houses apart from the rest — 
 namely, the school, the old farmhouse of the Uhls, and the 
 cabin of Simon Gray, and the three together go under the name 
 of Wentorf, which one can easily see might mean thorp of the 
 Wends. Last and third, that near Wentorf, close to Ringels- 
 horn, there lie old earthen ramparts, the remnants of fortifica- 
 tions, — ?nea opinione, — around which the children of the 
 Grays and the Uhls still have their fighting-grounds. 
 
 " Of the Uhls, there's not much to be said, except that they 
 dwell in the marshes on their broad acres, and have hair as light 
 as rye-straw, which in the case of their women often looks 
 beautiful enough, and that they are a long-limbed, sturdy, and 
 arrogant race. Quite recently, one of them got into a brawl 
 in the inn at Wentorf on market-day, and when some one said,
 
 JORNUHL 45 
 
 'Oh, yes, you are an Uhl! You are an Uhl! You can do 
 anythinjj; you like, can't you? ' There he stood in the middle of 
 the room, and slapped his hand on his breast, and cried, ' Yes, 1 
 am an Uhl! An Uhl, 1 say! And 1 thank God for it! ' 
 
 " The Uhls despise the Grays, and the whole year round 
 salute them neither with nod nor bow. Only once in the year, 
 at Shrovetide, when the whole country-side gives itself up to 
 woful buffoonery and heavy toping — then do the Uhls harness 
 up their horses, pack flitches of bacon and pots of butter into 
 the straw in the bottom of their carts, and drive over to St. 
 Mariendonn, some with their wives, others without them, and 
 carouse with the Grays, and are hail-fellow-well-met with them, 
 going arm and arm with them from house to house. They call 
 that ' yorting.' For a whole week, St. Mary's rings with shout- 
 ing and singing. And they're all so good-humored and brotherly 
 with one another, that it's often a hard task for me not to join 
 them, and sometimes I've turned the corner and gone in for a 
 little frolic together with them, in finibus pastoratibus. But on 
 the seventh or eighth day their cudgels come into play, and a 
 terrible row begins. The last fight is always at Ringelshorn ; 
 from thence the last of the Uhls are driven back down into the 
 marshes. Then the Grays can call St. Mariendonn their own 
 again. 
 
 " I cannot bear the Uhls. I tremble every time one of them 
 comes up to the manse, and I am glad that there are not such 
 a great nuniber of them in my parish. Every minister that 
 dwells in the marshes complains about them. But I, quamquam 
 saepe ab his colleg'is vexatus, rejoice when I look down from 
 my pidpit, of a Sunday, and see these red roundheads, this folk 
 of dealers in rags and brushes and brooms, this Gray folk, all 
 seated in front of me." 
 
 Thus far the baptismal register. Goncerning Pastor Petrus 
 Lobedanz's reliability and judgment, there is nowadays nothing 
 further known. 
 
 Fritz ^ Gray seldom went to school. His father, Jasper Gray, 
 had always some excuse or other ready. Sometimes he said he 
 couldn't do without the lad to help him, sometimes he said 
 Fritz had no boots. So it came about that he hardly went to 
 school at all, except in winter, when Wieten would come run- 
 
 ' Low German : Fiete.
 
 46 JORNUHL 
 
 ning over to the Cra5's' house of a morning, while it was still 
 dark, saying: "There's so much snow on the ground that I 
 can't let the children go alone. Fiete must go with thein to- 
 day." Then Fiete would jump out of bed, put on his old patched 
 jacket, and begin with much kicking and stamping to pull on 
 his big boots. But the old man would growl: " I tell you, I 
 can't spare the lad to-day." "You can't, can't you?" Wieten 
 would ask, viciously. . . . "Then I suppose FU have to buy 
 him out, as usual." She laid the three pennies on the table, 
 which she had ready in her hand all the time. According to 
 an old compact between them, the son got one, and the father 
 two. So she went with the lad to the Uhl. 
 
 The three trudged off through the snow; Fritz Cray ahead 
 as pioneer. At almost every step he turned around. He turned 
 around so often that, counting the whole way, he must have 
 gone further backwards than forwards. So much did he have 
 to say. 
 
 Now they were all there: a hundred children, and Dominie 
 Peters stood behind the school-desk. The singing and the 
 prayers were over. And school was to begin. But at this mo- 
 ment there arose a disturbance at the boys' end of the room, just 
 where a number of Crays shone in a compact reddish glow. 
 
 "What's the matter there?" asked Dominie Peters. 
 
 " He's twisted hisself." 
 
 " What's that you say? " 
 
 " It's Tonjes Cray from Siiderdonn, who was looking out 
 the window, and can't get his head straight again." 
 
 " Come, come, now! " 
 
 The lad sat there, with his head all askew, and pulling a most 
 pitiful face; he kept opening his mouth wide and then shutting 
 it again. 
 
 It must be noted that his mother had last night been telling 
 him of a boy she had known in her young days, whose tongue 
 used at times to loll from his mouth, like that of a dog exhausted 
 by running in the dry east wind, and he had only been able to get 
 it back into its place by catching himself by the throat and pull- 
 ing downwards. This strange lad had naturally been a Cray. 
 
 Dominie Peters is not a man to be joked with; he had his 
 eye on the youngster at once. 
 
 " My lad," he said, threateningly, " turn your head straight."
 
 J O R N U H L 47 
 
 But the boy sprang straight upright, and kept gazing with head 
 askew at the window, and bellowing, " 1 can't, sir! I can't." 
 
 Peters shakes his head at this fresh Cray enigma, and looks 
 around helpless. 
 
 Then he notices that Fiete Cray, whom he hasn't perceived 
 before, is standing up in his seat. " I can! " says Fiete. " What, 
 you, Fiete? Well, my lad, then go over to him." 
 
 Fiete Cray left his seat. All eyes were directed toward him. 
 He was wearing a sort of satinet suit, grayish brown, and 
 patched all over, and his trousers weic stuck into his heavy top- 
 boots. He placed himself in front of his cousin, as though he 
 were going to speak to him very solemnly. But of a sudden he 
 raised his hand and dealt him a smart box on the ears, so that the 
 head — willy-nilly — made a movement of fear, and became 60 
 movable that its owner could take it in both hands, and howl and 
 weep. With measured heavy steps Fiete Cray went back to his 
 place. 
 
 Fiete Cray was by no means a shining light of learning in the 
 school. What he gathered of experience on his peddling ex- 
 cursions through the marsh and Geest was coarse-grained, real- 
 istic ware, and hardly of much use to him in school work, which 
 concerns itself with the realm of the ideal. What he heard of 
 an evening from Wieten Klook was old fantastic folk-lore, a sort 
 of wisdom for which Dominie Peters — who was a practical 
 man, with some money saved and put out at interest — had no 
 sympathy. And, besides, the folk-lore that Fiete Cray imbibed 
 had come to have a wild, romantic Indian touch about it, in 
 keeping with the true Cray nature. But as he used all his 
 practical experience with a sort of paternal benevolence for the 
 good of oppressed justice or endangered discipline, the gaps in 
 his book-learning came to be overlooked, and, in spite of his 
 irregular attendance at school, he had got a certain reputation 
 with teacher and scholars alike. 
 
 The big pupils were sprawled over their slates, tapping 
 gently, whispering, reckoning, and writing down figures. 
 
 "Third class! We'll now have sentence-building. . . . 
 Who'll make the first sentence?" 
 
 A little Cray stands up: " On our farm we have one cow." 
 
 " Repeat together! " 
 
 They all say it in a loud, shrill voice, each syllable distinct.
 
 48 JORNUHL 
 
 Those who have no cows say: " On our farm we have none." 
 So it goes on. Poverty says " None." Well-to-do says " One." 
 
 Jorn Uhl soon noticed that he always said " one," and never 
 " none." Nay, when the son of Peter Wick, one of the Uhls, 
 made the sentence, " We have no stallions," and all repeated 
 it, then he, Jorn Uhl, the only one in the whole school, big as 
 it was, was able to say, — and he said it loud and clear, — " We 
 have a stallion . . . and a bull." The clause he added, un- 
 fortunately, somewhat spoilt the effect. For many others had 
 bulls. But it none the less caused great excitement, especially 
 as Lorenz Cray's little girl, whose father had a large family, 
 immediately afterward made the sentence: "We have no flour 
 in the bin." Hereupon the teacher proposed they should take 
 another kind of sentence. " We have read in the Bible about 
 a king called David. Now, what's the name of our king? " 
 
 Then the little girl Cray, Lorenz Cray's girl, stood up again, 
 — the little blockhead, — all eager to answer, and said : " Our 
 king's name is Klaus Uhl." 
 
 The stallion had won the day for the Uhls. The bigger 
 scholars laughed, the younger ones were dumfounded. But 
 nobody had anything against it. The sentence was repeated in 
 the usual way by the class. 
 
 But when Dominie Peters turned around and was going away 
 up the passage the children called out: "The Provost is up." 
 Sure enough, there was Jorn Uhl standing in his place, with 
 indignant face. 
 
 "What is it, Jiirgen?" 
 
 " My father is not a king." 
 
 " Very well, we must allow you to know," said the old man. 
 When the children left the room, he saw that the little dark- 
 headed mite, Elsbe Uhl, remained sitting on her form, and that 
 she had laid her head upon the desk, and was sobbing as if her 
 heart would break. He went up to her and asked, " What are 
 you crying about, Elsbe?" After many attempts to speak, she 
 said, " My father is a king." As he was turning away from 
 her, smiling, he saw Jorn Uhl standing near with angry eyes. 
 He caught hold of the lad by his stiff flaxen hair, and said, 
 " Tell me, why did you say your father wasn't a king? " 
 
 " Often he can't stand straight." 
 
 " What's that? He can't stand? " 
 
 " No, because he often gets drunk."
 
 J O R N U H L 49 
 
 The old man bit his lips and looked at the boy with com- 
 passion. "So that's it! So that's why he's not a king? liut 
 hark, laddie, you mustn't say that to the other boys. But do 
 you know what? You must make up your mind to grow up 
 hard-working and sober." 
 
 The children's yearly festival was a great day — a much 
 greater day than Christmas. All the Uhls in the parish always 
 looked forward to it with greatest zest, and the Grays, too, 
 were by no means indifferent to its delights. 
 
 Who has ever taken part in those children's feasts at St. 
 Mariendonn, I say? Uhl or Cray, let him stand up and confess 
 that he has never seen the like of them for splendor and gran- 
 deur in any other place in the whole of merry Germany. 
 
 Now P'ietc Cray had first of all asked Anna Seemann to 
 walk with him in the procession through the village to the king's 
 dance, as it was called ; but afterward Trina Biesterfeld of 
 Siiderdonn had heard that Fiete Cray would, on that day, be 
 wearing a real line suit of clothes, which his father had picked 
 up second-hand at some farmer's. So she offered Fiete Cray 
 a threepenny bit if he would jilt Anna Seemann and walk with 
 her. He agreed — that is, after she had given him a two- 
 bladed penknife, which she happened to have, into the bargain. 
 And, besides that, she had to promise to make him a blue sash 
 for the festival. But after managing his own affairs so satis- 
 factorily, Fiete Cray began poking his nose into other people's 
 business, too, as was always the way with him, and wanted 
 to arrange about a sweetheart for his mate and neighbor, Jorn 
 Uhl, too, and made a great mull of it. Both parties would have 
 nothing to do with him. At playtime he spoke to fat little Dora 
 Diek, and promised her she should have " smart Jiirgen Uhl," 
 and hinted, moreover, that he expected a few pence as prize- 
 money if the matter came off. But she said no, she'd rather in- 
 vest her money in lemonade than in sweethearts. And she stuck 
 to her decision, in spite of all Fiete Cray's persuasive arts. 
 
 In after years, when she was twenty, she looked at the com- 
 parative worth of things from an entirely different standpoint. 
 She visited all the fairs and dances of the country-side, seeking 
 for the sweetheart she could not find. 
 
 But Jiirgen Uhl didn't answer to the helm, either. For the 
 first time he flatly refused to obey his leader's orders, and tolJ
 
 50 JORNUHL 
 
 Fi'ete, with remarkable decision in his tone, that he wasn't going 
 to let sweethearts be palmed off on him ; he would choose one 
 for himself. 
 
 He stood three evenings, one after the other, in the pouring 
 rain, under the eaves of the schoolhouse, and waited for little 
 Lisbeth Junker, Dominie Peters's grandchild, to come out. It 
 was she he was going to ask. 
 
 On the third evening she really came, and ran swiftly through 
 the rain across the street to the store. Her short skirts flew up 
 as she ran, and her blue garters could be seen. When she was 
 on her way back, she caught sight of him from a distance, and 
 cried over to him: "What are you standing there in the rain 
 for, Jiirgen? Have you been kept in?" 
 
 " No," said he, " I've just been waiting for you. I wanted to 
 ask you something." 
 
 She came bounding toward him, and nestled close up to him 
 so that she shouldn't get wet. And she pressed so close to him 
 that she had to cling to his arm, and to look up into his face 
 when she spoke. 
 
 A stranger was driving up the street, and saw the two chil- 
 dren standing there, and thought what a pretty sight it was, 
 and made his horses go slower as he drove past them. 
 
 " What was it you wanted to ask me, Jorn? " 
 
 " Oh, about the pigeon-shooting, you know. We're soon 
 going to have pigeon-shooting again; aren't we? " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Why . . . and then I must have some girl to walk with, 
 and . . . and I don't know about whom to take. Of course, 
 it's all the same whom I take. What do you think, Lisbeth ? " 
 
 " Oh, and that's what jou wanted to ask me about? I don't 
 know about that, Jorn. It's not so easy to say. You're so big. 
 . . . Do you know what? Take Trina Siem, or — let me think 
 — take Jule Uhl. Or take , . . No, but she's too little for you." 
 
 " Whom are you thinking of? " 
 
 " Oh, it just occurred to me; but she's really too little for 
 you. 
 
 " Just out with it, Lisbeth. It's all one, little or big, even if 
 she were as tiny as you. Now tell me whom you're thinking of?" 
 
 " Oh! I've forgotten," said she. 
 
 And as she spoke, she let go his arm and sprang out into the 
 rain, stopped and looked back once in her flight, and then turned
 
 JORN U H L 51 
 
 as though some one had taken her by the shoulders and spun 
 her around, and ran away home. 
 
 He was mad after Lisbeth Junker, and was in fear and 
 trembling lest some one should come before him in her favor. 
 And he hadn't the courage to ask her, for he thought she would 
 laugh at him, and say, " No, Jiirgen, do you think I'd do that? 
 I'll never go with you to the king's dance." And thus he let 
 the opportunity slip. A few days before the festival, as he and 
 shy little Dierk Dierksen were at the schoolhouse for private 
 lessons. Dominie Peters said: " Dirk, my lad, I'd like Lisbeth 
 to take part in the procession the day after to-morrow. I think 
 she might walk along with you in it." Dierk Dierkson got a 
 cuffing from Jorn Uhl when they were outside; but that didn't 
 alter the matter a jot. 
 
 And so he was left without a sweetheart, and on the day of 
 the festival had to walk beside a freckled little Cray, whom 
 nobody else had cared to ask. His father, who was walking 
 near the procession, looked at him with contempt, and his three 
 big brothers laughed at him maliciously. Jorn walked with 
 lips compressed, and proud face, and remained silent. The sun 
 was shining, and a light wind came in puffs from across the 
 heath. Flecks of bright yellow light pierced through the leafy 
 linden-trees, gambolling and flitting about the streets, and 
 playing on the streaming hair of the maidens. And the linden 
 blossoms fell on them as they passed. 
 
 Who has ever taken part in those children's festivals in St. 
 Mariendonn ? w^hether he be Uhl or Cray, let him stand up and 
 say now: Whose hair was it that gleamed and shimmered 
 brightest? Hair that was dark and fair by turns, according as 
 the lights fell on it, and her figure in the white dress looked 
 beautiful and tall, and her face white and red, as though a drop 
 of blood had fallen into whitest snow. That was Lisbeth 
 Junker. And she walked in the procession in front of Jiirgen 
 Uhl, and now and again looked around and smiled to him. 
 And he said : " There's ever so many linden blossoms fallen 
 into your hair, Lisbeth." 
 
 Who is the little brunette, that is such a madcap over there, 
 so restless and happy — a little too short, though, a little too 
 broad, a little too wild, a little too noisy? That is Elsbe Uhl. 
 and she is walking in front of Fiete Cray, and now and again 
 she looks around, laughing and nodding to him. But to-day
 
 52 JORNUHL 
 
 she is not speaking to him; for to-day she is a rich yeoman's 
 daughter, and he only a poor man's son. And by her side walks 
 her partner, Harro Heinsen, one of the Uhls, too, a big, strap- 
 ping fellow. He is already over fourteen, and is beginning to 
 look down a little on the children's festival. He commences 
 every sentence with, " As soon as I'm confirmed," for at con- 
 firmation boys are put into long trousers, and their voices have 
 changed. So Harro entertains his little companion with all sorts 
 of would-be wise talk. 
 
 Who, I say, has ever taken part in those children's festivals 
 in St. Mariendonn? Be he Uhl or Cray, let him stand up and 
 answer, What course did the procession take? — why, it passed 
 through the lower village street. There is a good marsh soil, and 
 on both sides of the way stand sturdy young linden-trees, whose 
 tops almost touch from side to side. And who went on ahead 
 of the procession? Why! a drummer and a fifer. The whole 
 country-side knows both men well. For they usually hawk 
 red-herrings. 
 
 Who was that walking by the side of the procession? That 
 was Dominie Peters, with his white hair, a lank and gaunt and 
 grave figure. Who were the people walking by the wayside, 
 under the linden-trees? Those were the grown-up Uhls, with 
 festive faces red with wine. And if their sins against their 
 wives and their children and against themselves have been 
 grave and manifold enough, in this, at least, lies something to 
 their credit, that if they indulged themselves with frequent fes- 
 tivals, neither did they begrudge such days to their children. 
 And who were the people walking on the other side of the road? 
 Those were the Grays, husbands and wives, all alike proud of 
 their children. 
 
 And who was it that was standing in front of the inn, you 
 know the old thatch-roofed inn, as the procession came up? It 
 was Ernst Rapp, the host of the Wheatsheaf, and he was stand- 
 ing there calling loudly through the door to his son, in a mixture 
 of Saxon and Low German (f(jr he was not a native of those 
 parts), " Fritz! come down-stairs. The farmers are coming! 
 You must blow 'em a tune! " And out sprang the fat and 
 stalwart Fritz, and blew a merry melody on his trumpet. So 
 they all proceeded to the great dancing floor. The children 
 leading, then came the Uhls, then the Grays. 
 
 Up in the corn-loft over the stables the children were in the
 
 JORNUHL 53 
 
 mazes of the dance, and, as happens every year, the girls were 
 once again a h'ttle anxious and frightened; for there has been 
 a rumor for the last twenty years, at least, that the corn-loft 
 floor is weak, and inay collapse any day. 
 
 I'hc two sellers of herrings are hard at it, with drum and fife. 
 
 How the feet are going . . . tripp, trapp, trapp. . . . 
 
 The lads stamp three times on the floor, with heavy top-boots. 
 The girls cry out of a sudden, appealing to their partners: 
 " Don't you hear it? There's something cracking. You 
 mustn't come down so heavy with your feet." 
 
 How the hands are going . . . klipp, klapp, klapp. . . . 
 
 Oh! that's the Grays, they've got great hobnails and iron 
 clamps on the soles of their boots. They're shod like horses. 
 
 The girls lift up their fingers, and in their innocence don't 
 know what they are singing: — 
 
 "Laddie, if thou wilt, 
 Laddie, if thou wilt." 
 
 How the feet are going . . . tripp, trapp, trapp. . . . 
 
 " No! " say the girls; " the lads mustn't stamp so with their 
 feet, or else we'll run away. The floor'U be giving way, and 
 we shall be falling through on the horses." 
 
 " It's the Crays who are doing it." 
 
 " We do as we please," says Fiete Cray. " What does it 
 matter to us what the Uhls think?" 
 
 How the feet are going . . . tripp, trapp, trapp. . . . 
 
 There is a groaning and cracking all over the building; bits 
 of mortar fall from the wall. 
 
 Lisbeth Junker comes running the whole length of the floor 
 up to J(')rii Uhl. " Do you think it will give way, Jiirgen? " 
 
 "Oh! rubbish!" he says, with a grand air; "come, let's 
 have a reel." 
 
 Now they dance together, — a good long dance, — and have 
 neither eyes nor cars for anything else in the room. At last they 
 get so hot that they have to stop. 
 
 "Oh! you can't think how hot I am," says she, and fans 
 herself with her white pocket-handkerchief, and shakes herself, 
 standing there in her short white dress, and laughing. 
 
 " I'll go and buy you something to drink," says Jorn. 
 
 They go hand in hand through the throngs of dancers to
 
 54 J R N U H L 
 
 where Fritz Rapp is posted behind all sorts of glasses, and Jorn 
 buys her a bottle of lemonade, which they share together. In 
 return she presses a few peppermint drops into his hand, and 
 eats some herself. And all the while they both keep wiping 
 their hot faces with their handkerchiefs. But now their hands 
 were so sticky. " No," she said, " that won't do at all; just 
 feel them! Our hands almost stick together, and if you put 
 your arm around me, my dress, too, will get dirty." She took 
 her pocket-handkerchief, spat into it with pouting lips, and 
 scrubbed first his and then her own hands clean. Then she 
 showed him how he was to keep the handkerchief under his 
 hand when he took hold of her. " Now let us dance again." 
 So they again danced with each other till she was quite tired, 
 and stood still panting and leaning on his arm a little. That 
 was always the crowning point of good-fellowship. 
 
 He looked at her with quiet, deep eyes full of tenderness and 
 happiness, and said, " Do you like dancing with me? " 
 
 " Yes," she said, " the others I don't know so well. But I 
 know you, Jorn, because you always come to grandfather for 
 extra lessons. You are the sharpest and best of them all." 
 
 He grew red, and said, " You are the best of them, that I 
 know for certain." 
 
 " Look! " she said. " Do you see Elsbe? Elsbe is so wild, 
 and that I don't like." 
 
 " Yes," he said, " with Harro Heinsen. That sort of thing 
 doesn't suit me at all. That's why I can always get on so 
 well with you, Lisbeth, because you're always so quiet and 
 sensible." 
 
 So the children go on dancing with one another, till the 
 grown-up youths come up into the loft, and gradually oust the 
 others from it. By ten o'clock it was quite dark, and the chil- 
 dren had retired from the field. Lisbeth had left some time 
 before with her grandfather. Jorn turns to Fiete Cray. 
 
 " I am going home. Wlicre is Elsbe? " 
 
 "Where's Elsbe?" says Fiete, angrily. "Why, she's stolen 
 away somewhere with Harro Heinsen." 
 
 They went through the skittle alley as far as the entrance 
 to the garden, where all was as dark as pitch, and called her 
 name; but not a leaf stirred. Then Fiete Cray said, in a low, 
 but perfectly clear voice, "If you don't come at once, Elsbe, 
 I'll say out aloud that you're in the garden with Harro Hein-
 
 .TORN UHL 55 
 
 sen." Then stealing footsteps are heard, and a moment after- 
 ward Elsbe appears, and says, with assumed nonchalance, " Oh! 
 Is it you? I thought I heard some one calling." 
 
 " Yes, it's we, and you must come home with us at once." 
 
 Then Harro Heinsen came out from among the trees. 
 
 " We're coming over to Ringclshorn next Sunday afternoon ! " 
 says he, threateningly. " Then you Grays shall get the hammer- 
 ing that you deserve after to-day's doings." Before he disap- 
 peared he again shouted back his threats through the dark, and 
 they heard something, too, about " Keep the ring safe! " Then 
 he was gone, away along the track behind the house, and the 
 three others started for home. 
 
 " What! has he given you a ring, then? " asked Fiete Cray. 
 And then, in a tone of commiseration, " Let us have a look at 
 it, Elsbe, dear! Is it silver? " 
 
 " What's that to do with you? " says she, haughtily. 
 
 " Oh, but you ought to let me have a look, Elsbe! " 
 
 "It's gold. Do you see?" 
 
 " Oh, sweetie, and such a ring! Do you think it's real gold, 
 though? What would you say the thing's worth? Not much. 
 Fivepence at most." 
 
 " There you're out of it by a long chalk," said Elsbe. " Why, 
 it's worth ten shillings." 
 
 " What a donkey, to go giving you a ring. Why, what do 
 you want with a ring? If he'd given you a pair of rabbits, now, 
 it would have been something like. I say, Elsbe, have you seen 
 my two young rabbits? You know, the two gray-blueys? " Then 
 in her fear she runs over to Jorn's side: " Jorn ! Fiete wants 
 to swap with me again." 
 
 The whole afternoon, while the children were dancing, the 
 two clans of the Uhls and the Grays had, according to their 
 old custom, remained sitting in two separate rooms, which were 
 divided by a wide door. But when the children had gone home, 
 and the punch the Uhls had drunk, together with that which 
 they had sent over to the Grays' room, began to take effect, the 
 most venturesome of the Grays took his glass and went over 
 into the other room where the Uhls were, and sat himself down 
 among them. 
 
 This year Jochen Gray was the first to go. He came in w^'th 
 high-flushed face, and cast defiant, lordly glances over the Uhls.
 
 56 JORNUHL 
 
 Then he sat down mute and stiff by the side of his neighbor 
 Klaus Uhl, putting his glass down with a bang on the table. 
 
 " I am going to sit here a bit! " he said. 
 
 The Uhls laughed, and one of them shouted out, " The first 
 Cray has taken flight." One by one the others followed, and 
 now they were all sitting in sociable confusion, Uhls and Grays 
 together. 
 
 Once a year, on this special night, namely, do the Uhls and 
 Grays sit side by side, and call each other " Thou," and " mien 
 lewe Nahwer,"^ and love each other like brothers, singing their 
 old songs together, and even at times embracing. That will 
 last some three or four hours. 
 
 But then comes a disturbance. Some Gray or other will 
 begin to give his dear neighbor " a piece of his mind about him," 
 and soon all the Grays are busily engaged, with their glib, sharp 
 tongues, in rooting up every shady story they can get hold 
 of about the Uhls; like oxen that mouth about wantonly 
 among the fresh oat straw put into their mangers. They ease 
 their minds of everything that's happened between them and the 
 Uhls during the year ; and unburden themselves of all their 
 stored-up grumblings and grievances, which are by no means few 
 in number. Goarse, subtle, general, particular, their remarks are 
 everything by turns. They demand a reckoning from every Uhl 
 for every shortcoming during the whole year. One they'll gibe 
 about his wife being a skinflint, who'll haggle two hours about 
 the price of a heather broom and a reed mat; another they'll 
 show that he hasn't driven a single shrewd bargain the whole 
 year around, either on his farm or at the market; a third they'll 
 remind of old ridiculous things he's done, so that the blood flies 
 into his cheeks with shame; and finally they prophesy the down- 
 fall and decay of the Uhls and all their belongings. " Not a 
 man of you will end his days on his own farm. You'll squander 
 and guzzle yourselves out of house and home, as true as our 
 name is Gray." 
 
 Then the Uhls jump up; the Grays, too, spring from their 
 seats. Fritz Rapp, seeing the storm brewing, has already put 
 the glasses and punch-bowls away into a place of safety, and 
 looks sociably on from his vantage-ground behind the counter 
 upon the battle. 
 
 But what's the good of it all? Next morning the Grays ask 
 
 ' My dear neighbor.
 
 JORNUHL 57 
 
 themselves: Where are we to sell our heather-brooms, and 
 halters, and currycombs? And the same man, who that feast- 
 ni(;ht had been so loud-voiced anti bitter in his gibes, now stands 
 once more with most grave and humble face in the wide halls of 
 the Uhls, and modestly offers them his wares. And although at 
 first he gets growled at here and there, he is sure to come again. 
 And gradually the brawl between them is forgotten. Only one 
 or another, perhaps, will avoid a certain farm for a year or so, 
 because the owner has struck his fist too hard on the table, and 
 sworn that, " If that scoundrel comes here again, by heaven! 
 he'll fling him, dogs and all, into the old moat."
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 It was Wieten Penn's voice calling in shrill tones across the 
 farmyard : " The children want to go over to Thiess Thiessen's 
 again." 
 
 Klaus Uhl, who was sitting in his cart, about to drive into 
 town (which he did every afternoon), laughed, and said: 
 
 " Let 'em go where they like! If they'd rather be out there 
 on the hungry moors than here on the fat marsh-land, then let 
 'em go, Wieten, don't stop 'em." 
 
 " Now, children, you can at least wait until I have cut some 
 bread and butter for you." 
 
 They stood first on one foot, then on the other, they were so 
 impatient to be off. At last Wieten came in with the bread and 
 butter. 
 
 " Fiete! " said she, " come over here to me! " He came up 
 close to her, and she shook her clenched fist in his face and 
 said to him, in a whisper: " You just take care, now, and don't 
 go telling the children any of those make-up stories of yours." 
 Then she stuck the bread into Jorn's pocket. " You're the most 
 sensible one, Jorn. When you get there, tell your uncle Thiess 
 he's not to go carrying on with you in such a silly way, and 
 that he's to send you home in good time." 
 
 " Well," said Fiete, " now we're off at last! " He stuck his 
 two fingers in his mouth, and gave a shrill whistle to the two 
 girls who had gone on ahead, and were already on the rise of 
 the road that goes to Ringelshorn. And one of the girls looked 
 around and waved her hand, and that was Elsbe Uhl. But the 
 other went on steadily plodding up the hill, taking care that her 
 skirt didn't get dirty, and that w^as Lisbeth Junker. 
 
 She went to school with the other children, but kept some- 
 what apart from them, and always spoke High German. Fiete 
 Cray did not like to have her with them. " She's too prim. If 
 I happen to let out an oath, she'll pout and say, ' Fie, for 
 
 58
 
 JORNUHL 59 
 
 shame, Fiete, how can you say such things! ' She's always 
 frightened lest her hands should get dirty, or the wind should 
 tousle her hair." 
 
 But Jorn liked her and wanted her with them. She was not 
 quite so old as Elsbe, and was always getting into some scrape 
 or other. Then she used to cry out in a shrill but sweet voice 
 for Jorn to come and help her: more than likely that was the 
 chief reason why he liked her so well. 
 
 "Oh, there you are! " said Elsbe, as the lads came up over 
 the edge of the hill and stood by her side on the heath. " Which 
 way do we go now, Fiete? " 
 
 " Follow your noses, girls," said Fiete. " We'll make for 
 that tree yonder." And he pointed to a tree right away on the 
 horizon. 
 
 It's a puzzle for them, and it's Fiete Cray's great claim to 
 glory, how they always come out at Thiess Thiessen's, who lives 
 somewhere away over there on the moors behind the woods; 
 and they come out there, no matter what haphazard path they 
 take across the trackless heath and through the wood, which they 
 enter just wherever they happen to strike it. 
 
 Goodness! what if they should come upon cannibals! or fall 
 in with one of those robbers' dens that are still to be found in 
 the northern part of the wood! , . . Twice on his peddling 
 excursions has Fiete Cray come across such a den, and once, sure 
 enough, the witch Black Margaret met him. She had caught 
 sight of him, and had made the sign which should pin him to 
 the spot where he stood forever. But he had fortunately known 
 the spell which could cross her power. " You must say it thrice," 
 he said, and he said it thrice. It was a very coarse expression. 
 
 " Fie, for shame, Fiete ! " cried Lisbeth. " How can you say 
 such things? " 
 
 Fiete made a vague apologetic gesture with his hand. 
 
 " The wild woman of the forest then fell into a great rage, 
 and pelted me with stones. Just come and see ! it isn't far ; the 
 place is just over there! I can show you the stones still lying 
 there." 
 
 But Lisbeth wouldn't go with them. 
 
 " You can all come. You needn't be afraid." 
 
 Wide-eyed with fear, they followed him, Lisbeth farthest 
 behind. 
 
 " I'm not going any farther," said she.
 
 6o JORNUHL 
 
 Jorn turned back to her, and drew her along by the hand. 
 
 " \ ou twitter like a little bird, Rain-tweet," said he. 
 
 " I don't like you at all to-day," she said, " I'm going to turn 
 back." 
 
 " Just stay here, Lisbeth," he said, " we'll be back in a 
 moment." 
 
 She sat down on a little mound, and the others went on; and, 
 just as Fiete had said, half-hidden in the heather they found 
 a heap of stones, which sun and wind and rain had bleached 
 for many a day. 
 
 " Well," said Jorn, " at any rate, she must have had a pretty 
 tolerable fist if she could throw those stones." 
 
 Just then there came a gust of wind out of the woods. 
 
 " Away! " cries Fiete, and they all scamper off as fast as they 
 can go through the heather, and arrive panting at the mound 
 where Lisbeth Junker is standing half in terror, ready to run, 
 too. Then they all laugh at Lisbeth, and lie down against the 
 mound. 
 
 " What was that about old Margaret? " asked Elsbe. 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Fiete, " it's a couple of years since then. I 
 was over to Kuden and Bokholt with my dogs and the cart, 
 selling brushes and clothes-pegs, and evet.ing came on before I 
 got back. So I went quite softly along the edge of the pines. I 
 didn't venture to go through ; for between the tree-trunks 
 it w^as all black, it kept going backwards and forwards between 
 the trunks, as long and thin as crowbars, and as slow as the 
 minister when he goes up to the altar. So at last I came to the 
 big sand-pit; you know, not far from Grossenrade, there where 
 the minister stands." 
 
 " What's that ? " asked Elsbe. " What minister ? " 
 
 " Oh! do you want to hear that first? Then I'll just have 
 to tell the other afterward. . . . Well, the minister in Kuden 
 was to administer the Last Sacrament to a man in Grossenrade. 
 But when he'd got as far as the sand-pit, he happened to turn 
 and look around. From there you can see a great way, as far 
 as Hamburg. Why, once when it was clear weather I made 
 out what o'clock it was by the Hamburg church-tower. Well! 
 the minister looked around, and what do you think he saw? 
 His house in flames, burning like mad! Now, he's got books in 
 his house that can't be bought anywhere in the wide world. I 
 dare say you know there are books full of the secrets how men
 
 JORN UHL 6i 
 
 can get tremendously wise and rich. The minister had books 
 h'ke that. There he was, you see! Sliould he turn back and 
 save his books, or should he go on and give the dying man the 
 Sacrament. Well, he thought too much of his books, and 
 turned back home and saved them, and the man died without 
 the Sacrament. From that day forth, however, the minister 
 couldn't get to sleep any more, and soon died, and went to hell. 
 But the devil wouldn't have him there, and put him in the big 
 sand-pit instead. 
 
 " Well, as I was saying, I came close up. I felt a bit eerie, 
 I can tell you. First a crow that sat on a pine screamed Ma-rk! 
 Ma-ark! but I saw nothing special to mark. Then an owl 
 that sat on a birch, you know, — one of the little ones, — it 
 cried, shrill and loud, Heed! Heed! But I thought to myself 
 I must get past somehow. Then a cat cried ; it was sitting 
 on a gate-post, and said Ow! Ow! But I thought to myself, 
 Let come w-hat will! And right there stood the minister, up 
 there by the sand-pit. He kept changing feet, and when he 
 stood on his left leg he looked toward Kuden, and when he 
 stood on his right leg he looked toward Rade." 
 
 Fiete Cray looked from one to the other. 
 
 " But you were going to tell us about the old woman? " 
 
 "Oh! I'll tell you that another time," he said. "Honor 
 bright ; we must now be off again, else it will be too late 
 when we get to Haze Farm. But where shall we strike into 
 the wood? Through we'll have to go. But whereabouts?" 
 
 It was always the same thing. Whenever they had to go 
 through the wood he always managed to work them up to such 
 a pitch that the girls entered it in terror, and so that even Jorn 
 was somewhat shaky. Crouching close together, they hurried 
 through the forest. Fiete Cray's eyes spied left and right into 
 the gloom, as though he were every moment expecting a troop 
 of demons to burst forth. Elsbe had clutched his hand, and kept 
 looking up at him with frightened eyes. Lisbeth Junker came 
 so close behind, and kept peering so anxiously around on all 
 sides, that she several times trod on the heels of those in front. 
 Jorn came last. He was inclined to distrust the truth of Fiete 
 Cray's stories, or at least to look on them as grossly exaggerated. 
 But he didn't venture to say so, for he didn't feel himself 
 a match for Fiete Cray's stock of words and experience. But 
 he wanted to show his disdain, all the same, so he said to Lis-
 
 62 JORNUHL 
 
 beth: "You go in front, Lisbeth! I'll go last." But he often 
 looked behind him of a sudden, clearly hearing steps behind him. 
 
 At last the light of open fields glimmered through the trees. 
 " Now run for it ! " said Fiete. And as fast as ever they could 
 they ran on between the pine trunks, reaching the open track, 
 saw the Haze Farm lying below in the moorland, and screamed 
 and shouted and waved their caps and handkerchiefs. 
 
 An earthen mound winds like a great snake down between 
 the fields into the moor. It's bad walking on it, for clustering 
 heath and broom and blackberry bushes have grown lush and 
 thick all over it. But just for that very reason the children 
 prefer to walk along on top of it, following it down into the 
 moor. At last, when walking grows too difficult, they risk a 
 leap into the bushes, and spring down from the mound, — Lis- 
 beth with Jorn's help, — and make toward the piles of turf 
 which lie alongside the broad black ditches. And there in the 
 grass lies Thiess Thiessen, in the shade of a pile of turf, his 
 cap over his face and his gun lying beside him. 
 
 They steal up to him on tiptoe and stand around him. " He 
 has been going to come to meet us," whispers Elsbe, " then he 
 has thought he'd just lie down a few seconds, and has fallen 
 off to sleep. He's one of the seven sleepers, and does everything 
 different from every one else." 
 
 " Let's all shout out together of a sudden," says Jorn, " then 
 he'll get no end of a shock! You just see! " 
 
 "Hollo ... oh!" 
 
 Like a frightened hare that leaps from its form, Thiess 
 bounded from the ground. 
 
 " What's that! " he almost screamed. 
 
 "Thiess!" cried Elsbe, "do try and pull a different face. 
 That one's too funny." 
 
 Then he picked up his gun, and managed to find his tongue 
 again. " I was going to come and meet you ; but this place 
 downright invited me into it. ' Thiess,' it said, ' come and have 
 a lie down. They won't be coming yet awhile.' " His dry, 
 shrewd face beamed with smiles, and his little bright eyes 
 twinkled and glittered. " Fiete, man, it's just splendid that 
 you've all come." 
 
 " Is the boat finished, Thiess? " 
 
 " She's all ready," said he, " and right as a trivet. . . . There 
 was once a time when I thought I was cut out for a sailor,
 
 JORNUHL 63 
 
 children. But I got seasick from merely standing on the Dikes 
 and looking at the Elbe. Tlien I went as 'prentice-boy to 
 Klausen, the shipwright, in Brunsbi.ittel, and everything would 
 have gone splendidly, and I would have had a shipyard of my 
 own and been a rich man by this if it hadn't been for these 
 dash'd sleeping- fits. Don't you be laughing, now, Fiete, you're 
 too stupid to know what I mean. I can quite understand that 
 story about the Sleeping Beauty, how all of them fell asleep 
 for a hundred years; I can sing you a song about it, too. And, 
 besides, in those years I didn't grow gradually, as a youth ought 
 to, but shot up, lanky and slim, for all the world like a crow- 
 bar, as if my sole object was to touch the ceiling. As long as 
 we were laying the keel we got on tolerably well, and I managed 
 to keep awake. But as soon as the first plank was laid, when 
 the plank made that curve, you know, Fiete, it seemed to me 
 as though it w'ere laying itself out so invitingly, just for my 
 sake, and saying to me, ' Come and have a lie down, Thiess 
 Thiessen.' In a word, I was no good for a shipwright, I mean 
 in those particular years, not the slightest! I have still the 
 document at home, children. Master Klausen's certificate: ' On 
 account of chronic sleeping-fits, etc.,' that's how it runs. So I 
 was sent home, and before I reached this old thatch-cottage, I 
 slept over there in the Haze Wood thirteen hours at a stretch 
 beneath the blackberry bushes. Later on I thought I'd like to 
 go to the grammar school ; for, by hook or by crook, I wanted 
 to see the world. And I thought to myself, ' A good scholar 
 has the whole world open to him ; ' if you go to school you'll 
 learn Latin, and that's as handy as learning to swim. Done, 
 then! Not quite so fast, though! First came the private les- 
 sons from the old minister. That went fine. For he knew my 
 failing, and put the lessons between six and eight of a morning 
 and four and six of an evening, when I was least sleepy. I 
 really learnt something, as you know. There's many a Latin 
 word I can still say." 
 
 " Adsum," said Fiete Cray, " that's I." 
 
 " There's no need for you to poke fun, Fiete. Do you mean 
 to say that's the only Latin word I know, then ? . . . But 
 afterward, at school, ^'ou children never knew old Professor 
 Chalybeas, did you? Chalyheas means iron, Fiete. Many a 
 time he'd say to us, ' There's no gumption in you Ditmarshers,' 
 he'd say. But when he came to talk about me, Fiete, he's say,
 
 64 JORNUHL 
 
 ' Oh, there's gumption enough in Thiess Thiessen. It's all 
 dormant, though.' Well, to make a long matter short, children, 
 it wouldn't do at all. I tell you, people have got quite a wrong 
 idea about book-learning and all that. They think it's a — 
 what shall I call it? — a kind of road where the farther you 
 go the more light you get. Nothing of the sort. Just the 
 opposite, in fact. It seemed to me a kind of underground tunnel, 
 a kind of fox's burrow. You go in like a ferret, but you don't 
 know where you'll come out, or, indeed, whether you'll come 
 out at all. So I beat a hasty retreat. ' It's so much less weight 
 to carry,' as the fox said, when he left his hind leg in the trap 
 and limped away on three feet. I got another document that 
 time; I still have it. It's pretty well blank, I may say. 
 
 " There I was, then, back at Haze Farm again, and some days 
 I used to stand in the kitchen doorway, and others I used to 
 dream away under the east wall, planning voyages around the 
 world and through strange lands; but my father had had 
 enough of it. He took me by the back of the neck and put a 
 flail in my hand, and set me by the side of our old farm-hand, 
 Klaus Suhm, who was just setting about the threshing of the 
 long oat sheaves that had grown in the moor paddock ; and 
 whenever I spoke of travels after that, my father held his 
 clenched fist before my nose. That was the end of my plans 
 for travel then, and I, a man who would fain have made a 
 tour through Russia on foot to Bangkok by way of China, have 
 sat here all my life on Haze Farm, and haven't yet seen Ham- 
 burg; I haven't even seen Rendsburg. I made up for it, as far 
 as possible, with reading. I bought a big atlas and Fenimore 
 Cooper's and Gertstacker's novels, and all sorts of books on 
 travel, and mapped out on the whitewashed walls of my bed- 
 room all my imaginary voyages. You have seen it, haven't you, 
 children, he? " 
 
 " Now just leave off talking, uncle! " said Elsbe, " and let's 
 go over to the fox-hole." 
 
 "Oh, the fox-hole! Well, hurry up, children! we haven't 
 much time, though. Trina must have dinner ready by this. 
 There's dumplings and pig's-head." 
 
 In the embankment Thiess found the two fox-holes, half- 
 hidden in the heather, burrowed into the yellowish sand. 
 
 " Shoot right into it," said Elsbe. 
 
 "That's throwing powder away, child!"
 
 JORNUHL 65 
 
 " It's all the same," she said, and looked at him angrily ; 
 "shoot into it, I tell you! " 
 
 Thiess Thiessen, I am sorry to say, had always to do what 
 little Elsbe bade him. Twenty years before he had stood at the 
 bidding of her mother in just the same fashion. So he put 
 the muzzle of the fz;un into the hole. They all stood and watched 
 the yellow sand, anxiously waiting for the shot. Lisbeth drew 
 back a little. Jorn, who always kept an eye on her doings, 
 teased her, ran over to her, seized her hands and tried to pull 
 her back to the others. But she, thinking to divert him from 
 his intention, laid her arms beggingly around his neck with a 
 pretty little gesture, and kept quite still and held him fast. He 
 didn't know what to do, feeling her bosom pressed so close to 
 him. He laid his arms awkwardly about her and looked at her. 
 
 Often in the playground at school, when boys had caught 
 hold of her, she had screamed and torn herself away in fear. 
 He had never yet touched her in that way. 
 
 '' When we're here with Thiess, \ou're always so different," 
 she said, nodding her head at him ; " at home you're often so 
 grave and surly, but here you're in good spirits. I do like you, 
 though, to-day." 
 
 She pressed close against him. He didn't use his whole 
 strength by a long way; but he wondered that she had so much 
 force in those delicate limbs of hers, and he was embarrassed at 
 her approaches, and held her firm and gently, and said : " I am 
 always going to call you Rain-tweet now! " 
 
 'I Why? "she asked. 
 
 " Because you've such a high, tweety voice, like the bird we 
 call Rain-tweet, 3 ou know — some people call it plover. That's 
 the way you go, tweet-tweet." 
 
 They were still holding each other fast and smiling, when 
 a titmouse on a neighboring tree suddenly began to whistle. 
 It whistled with such a shrill, terrified note, that they all heard 
 it and began searching for it. It was sitting on the topmost 
 branch of a small lir, jerking its head up and down, and eyeing 
 something on the ground. And when they looked in that direc- 
 tion they saw^ a brownish-yellow mass crouching in the dry, 
 light-colored grass. Two burning eyes were gazing, with a 
 look of infinite cunning, out of that three-cornered head upon 
 the fox-hunters w ho were standing there open-mouthed. Thiess 
 held the gun away from him with a stiff arm and his face
 
 66 JORNUHL 
 
 all pursed up, and fired wildly into the sand-hole. Fiete Cray 
 pulled off one of his heavy iron-clamped boots and flung it after 
 the fox with all his might. 
 
 " By Jove! " said Thiess, " that fellow had a mighty tail! " 
 Elsbe slapped her hands together. " And you say that now, 
 uncle! But that's always the way when we're here; every- 
 thing you lay hands to, goes wrong." 
 
 " Come, children," said he, " we'll be off! Dinner must be 
 ready by this." 
 
 The house in which Thiess Thiessen had spent almost his 
 whole life, and the head which Thiess Thiessen had on his 
 shoulders, bore an undeniable likeness to each other. It must 
 remain an open question for all time, which of the two had 
 taken after the other, whether Thiess's head had in the course 
 of years grown like the dear old house, or whether the house had 
 taken after Thiess a little. 
 
 Thiess Thiessen's house was long and narrow; the high, dark 
 thatch roof hung deep down over the little blinking windows; 
 in front there was a small audacious kind of gable. Thiess 
 Thiessen's head was very long and narrow, and the long, dark 
 hair hung deep down over his ears and forehead almost into his 
 shining, blinking eyes. His nose was small, and though not 
 exactly audacious looking, was at least a little perky — a deli- 
 cate arched nose it was, in the middle of a little, weather-beaten, 
 dried and wrinkled face. 
 
 Elsbe often used to say to him: 
 
 " Uncle, your face is just like your house." 
 
 " It can't very well be otherwise," he would answer. " We've 
 been more than forty years together now, the old house and I, 
 and have always been by ourselves." 
 
 They were all seated at the round table in the big room with 
 the white tiles on the walls, the room where twenty years hence 
 they were to spend a Christmas Eve of such sorrow and re- 
 joicing. 
 
 " Children," Thiess said, " there's nothing to beat a walk on 
 the heath, and then home to Dittmarsh, dumplings, and pig's- 
 head ; I tell you, it's the best thing in the world." 
 
 He laid the first piece on Elsbe's plate, nodding and smiling. 
 
 " That's only your idea," said Elsbe. " But Dominie Peters
 
 J O R N U H L 67 
 
 knows better than that. He says the best thing In the world 
 is love; and I believe it is, too." 
 
 Thiess Thiessen's fork remained poised in the air ; his little 
 eyes opened wide with astonishment, and his eyebrows vanished 
 under his long front hair. He thought to himself: That's 
 exactly what her mother used to say, when she was twelve ; 
 she, too, had her ideas about love. And love has cost her dear. 
 . . . "Love?" said he. "Love of whom?" 
 
 Elsbe hadn't thought of anything definite. But, sharp as a 
 needle, she at once answered, " The love of God." 
 
 He was quite nonplussed. " '^ es! jes! " he said, rocking his 
 head backwards and forwards, " I am afraid, Elsbe, you can't 
 make much out of that. Eove of God? How would you set 
 about it? Do you think He's sitting here beside you?" 
 
 " The meaning's plain enough," said Elsbe. " We must love 
 what's good. That's what it means." 
 
 " This pig's-head is good, Elsbe," he said, " I quite agree 
 with you." As he spoke his eyes had an honest look in them, 
 like small, clean, shiny windows in the morning sun. 
 
 " Jorn," he said, " tell us what you think about it. Fiete Cray 
 has nothing to say, because pig's-heads and heath-brooms and old 
 witches that throw stones are the only things that interest him. 
 But you, Jorn, you're a brooder, a thinker. Yes, you're a 
 brooder, Jorn. Not exactly, perhaps, to such an extent as the 
 Indian fakirs who sit in a corner and gaze at their stomachs until 
 they see all sorts of mad visions. Speak, Jorn." 
 
 " The best thing in the world is work," said Jorn. 
 
 Thiess let his fork sink, and looked uneasy. 
 
 " Jiirgen Uhl ! " he said, " that was the last thing I should 
 have expected 3'ou to say. Work? . . . why, what does the 
 second page of the Bible say? I mean after they had been driven 
 out of paradise. What was the doom that overtook these two 
 poor wretches like flashes of lightning? 'Thou shalt eat thy 
 bread in the sweat of thy brow.' Is that a blessing, Jorn, or 
 a curse? Work, Jorn, work is a curse. And you say it's the 
 best thing in the world. I have all my life wished for nothing 
 more ardently than that I had been born on the Pesander 
 Islands, or on Surnaci, away in the Molucca Seas, where work 
 is simply forbidden. Prohibited, Jorn ! Because otherwise too 
 many bananas would grow there. And I thank God every day 
 that I've got Haze Farm, and that I can manage, so to speak,
 
 68 JORNUHL 
 
 to escape the curse; but of course when the hay-making is on 
 and when we are baking turf, I have to lend a hand, too. And 
 then you go talking about work being the best thing in the 
 world." 
 
 They none of them had a word to say, now that he began 
 quoting Scripture at them. 
 
 But presently Thiess Thiessen grew more venturesome, and 
 left the firm soil for marshy ground. " Children," he said, 
 " as long as I can remember, I have read the Itzehoer News. 
 Do you know what makes me so curious every time that Peter 
 Siemssen comes around the corner, and opens the door, and 
 cries 'Paper'? Well, it's because I'm so anxious to see if 
 there's less work being done, or if work is going to stop alto- 
 gether, or if there's a chance of us getting rid of the curse of 
 work once for all! That's what I'm curious about now." 
 
 " Oh! " said Jorn, laying his hand on the table, " that would 
 be a nice state of affairs! But go on, though," 
 
 " Just think of all the inventions there's been. And every 
 invention has made work less. Think of the spinning-jenny. 
 I can still see my old mother, how she used to sit through the 
 long winter days behind her spinning-wheel. And the thresh- 
 ing-machine^ too. I tell you, Klaus Suhm and I have beaten the 
 floor in with our flails. And it's no exaggeration to say that 
 Klaus Suhm must have smashed at least a score of threshing- 
 floors in his time. Now the machine comes along for a day, and 
 thrashes and winnows the whole crop, and it's done with. And 
 then railways and telegraphs. A few years ago it used to be, 
 ' Where are my top-boots, Liza? ' ' Put the horses in the cart, 
 Patrick ! ' I tell you for a fact, work's growing less, children. 
 Klaus Suhm used to get up at two in winter, and used to knock 
 at my w^'ndow at three. Where does that happen nowadays? 
 But I can't help wondering sometimes; it's a real puzzle to me 
 how it is that work doesn't grow less and less and die out alto- 
 gether." 
 
 " Well, and what then? " said Jorn, bending forward. " Sup- 
 posing it did grow less, what would you do in your spare time? " 
 
 " Every one could arrange about that as he pleased," said 
 Thiess Thiessen ; " for my part, I'd vote for a good long sleep, 
 in the shade of a stack of turf." 
 
 "Oh, would you?" said Jorn; "and others," said he, 
 ** others" — he hesitated and was a little embarrassed — "would
 
 JORNUHL 69 
 
 lie about all day in the public-house." He shook his head. " But 
 you're too stupid for anything, Thiess. Do you think that 
 Adam and Eve never used to work before the fall ? ' They 
 tilled the Garden of Eden,' it says in the Bible, and played 
 with each other. We'd work, too, and have grand games to- 
 gether, wouldn't we, Lisbeth? But the fact is that many people 
 are wicked and bad, and so we have all got to go to school, and 
 later on to work. And as for you, Thiess, you ought to go 
 right away and put the bay gelding into another paddock. Up 
 there by the pines there's no grass left for him." 
 
 This conversation had been above little Lisbeth. While it 
 was going on she liad kept tapping J5rn's shoulder with the tips 
 of her fingers. " See his eyes! " she said, " how foxy they look, 
 and his hair's all standing on end like the quills on a porcu- 
 pine! " And she came running up to him from behind and laid 
 her head close to his. And her hair matched his for fairness. 
 
 "Come," said Elsbe, "just be quiet, uncle; I've had quite 
 enough of your speechifying." 
 
 " It always does me good when you children come, Ficte. 
 It's like getting a push from behind. We really must go and 
 bring the gelding down from the pine paddock. But first of all 
 I must show you what a splendid journey I've been making 
 these last few weeks." 
 
 They followed him to his bedroom, a big, bare room with 
 whitewashed walls, in which there was nothing but Thiess 
 Thiessen's bed, a clothes-chest, and a couple of chairs. The 
 walls were covered with heavy lines in blue pencil, represent- 
 ing the five continents and the two hemispheres. A pile of 
 books lay upon the chairs. It was here that Thiess Thiessen 
 undertook his long voyages and stilled his yearning for strange 
 lands. He told them how in the past week he had sat by many 
 a bivouac-fire on a journey through Central Africa, along w ith 
 Livingstone, and what trouble they'd had in getting dried goat's 
 flesh to eat. He took up the book and read out to them a most 
 thrilling passage, where the English missionary and explorer 
 concludes a treaty of peace w ith a fierce and barbarous negro 
 
 But It was of no use. Elsbe's thoughts were of? again. "If 
 we stay here gabbling like this," she said, scornfully, " we won't 
 get a thing done all day! " 
 
 They went out and brought the bay horse down into the
 
 70 JORNUHL 
 
 lower paddock. No sooner was that done than they were on 
 tenterhooks to see Thiess's new boat. 
 
 " It's a fine boat, children. She's the best and biggest craft 
 I've ever built." There she lay on the brownish moor-water, 
 made fast with cables to the shore as though she were a three- 
 decker; she bore, it must be confessed, a distant resemblance 
 to a pig's trough, and you could smell the pitch that had been 
 poured into her seams ten paces oft. In the middle a mast 
 soared aloft, flying a streamer of yellow silk that had been cut 
 out of granny's shawl, and on the deck stood four cannon made 
 of old rifle-barrels soldered together by the village smith, and 
 with polished touch-holes. 
 
 It was simply splendid! And they all praised Thiess, and 
 said that this time he'd really done something worth talking 
 about. Jorn was overjoyed, and was for going on board 
 immediately. Little Lisbeth was the only one to eye the gay, 
 many-patched thing with distrust, craning her neck from a safe 
 distance, and assuring them she wouldn't venture into it. 
 
 Jorn was going to catch hold of her once more, feeling as if 
 he wanted to have her hands in his again, but she stepped back, 
 and shook her head with such a grave and pretty gesture that 
 he at once desisted. By this Thiess was again in high glee with 
 himself. He wasn't going to let his glory be diminished in any 
 way, and so he said he was going to make the first trip by 
 himself. He stepped rather gingerly into the crazy vessel, and 
 seated himself cautiously in the stern, so that his outstretched 
 legs rested under the deck about midships. 
 
 Elsbe was perched on a willow stump that hung over the 
 water, and began to poke fun at him. " What if you should 
 tip over, uncle? There you'll hang, head downwards, and your 
 feet will stick in the boat." 
 
 " No fear, not I ! " 
 
 " I say, Thiess, she's all lopsided ! " 
 
 " Thiess, you know what an unlucky beggar you are." 
 
 "Lopsided? There's nothing lopsided about her!" He 
 searched in his waistcoat pocket, and laid three black-looking 
 matches on the deck in front of him. 
 
 " Now, Thiess, don't be trying to show off! You're sure to 
 come to grief if you do! " 
 
 Thiess raised himself a little from his seat. There was a 
 sticky, glutinous sound. The children burst out laughing, cast-
 
 JORN UHL 71 
 
 ing roguish glances at each other. Fiete Cray, who clearly fore- 
 saw the approaching catastrophe, was bent double with laughter. 
 " Thiess, you'll capsize as sure as a gun." 
 
 With two cautious thrusts Thiess pushed safely off from the 
 bank into the darkish water. He laid the oar very deliberately 
 down in front of him, and stretched out his hand for the 
 matches. The boat gave a slight roll, as though inclined to 
 settle down into a different position. Thiess tried to strike the 
 matches on tiie main deck, but they would not light, and then, 
 as was his wont, he raised his leg in order to awake the slumber- 
 ing fire, in the correct and accustomed spot. The trough gave 
 another roll. The match blazed up. To the touch-hole with it! 
 Another roll. 
 
 " Children, this was the way we fought at Eckenforde on the 
 5th of April."' There was a flash and a bang, and the boat 
 lurched terribly as he tried to jerk himself out of the way of 
 the muzzles. But the pitch held him fast. Another bang and 
 a lurch, and in the midst of smoke and the smell of sulphur 
 and powder the boat turned over, and Thiess Thiessen with it. 
 
 Jorn Uhl stood up to his knees in water watching the spot. 
 Fiete Cray said, "It's still fizzling." Elsbe said, "What luck! " 
 and Lisbeth ran away crying. For a moment there was not a 
 sound ; the moor, and all of them held their breath. Then the 
 water began to boil and bubble and whirl. Out of the depths 
 came a something, all slimy and black, like the back of an 
 immense fish. Sputtering and groaning, and panting and cough- 
 ing, it crept ashore on all fours. 
 
 Thiess tried to clear his eyes. He shook himself and stamped, 
 and pitched his coat and boots aside, the children standing 
 around him with big, anxious eyes. Fiete was rolling on the 
 ground, screaming with laughter. Lisbeth, who had just stopped 
 in her fright, ran still farther off. 
 
 " Well, well," said Thiess, spluttering, " this is a thing that 
 happens to the best of ships: a capsize under normal conditions 
 with the whole crew providentially saved. Besides, she was 
 built on quite a new plan, Jorn. She must have been a bit 
 narrow in the beam, though. Well, at any rate, we've seen 
 and experienced and learnt something fresh to-day." 
 
 " I'd like to know what you've seen! " said Elshe. 
 
 He looked toward the water where the boat lay floating like 
 a great turtle.
 
 72 JORNUHL 
 
 " You're quite right there, Elsbe," he said, still spitting. 
 " It's frightful down below there. Everj thing quite dark, and 
 I lost my bearings completely. I had to think pretty hard 
 before I found which was the way to the top, I can tell you. 
 You must bear in mind that I had all four elements to contend 
 with, first fire, sulphur, and pitch, and then earth and water. 
 All these were present in too great abundance. And, lastly, air, 
 and of that there wasn't enough. Otherwise, of course, I 
 wouldn't have come up so quickly, for you can't imagine what 
 strange contortions 1 had to go through down below in order 
 to get free from the boat." And thereupon he spat once more, 
 and went home to change his clothes. When he had disappeared 
 through the kitchen door, Jorn said, " It's always the same, 
 whenever we come, something funny's sure to happen." Then 
 he caught up with Lisbeth, seized her by the hand, and talked 
 about all sorts of amusing things, till he made her laugh again. 
 
 But she still felt afraid, and wanted to go home, so he took 
 her back to the others, and told them. 
 
 " That's always the way," said Elsbe, " Lisbeth always wants 
 to go home too early." 
 
 " She mustn't come with us any more," said Fiete. " I'm 
 always telling you that. She's too little and too prim. But you 
 will always bring her." Lisbeth stood by Jorn's side crying. 
 
 " I'm going home with her," said Jorn, " straight away. You 
 others can do as you like." 
 
 But they made up their minds that they w^ould rather all go 
 back together. So they waited till Thiess returned, and he 
 escorted them through the wood to the edge of the heath. For 
 a long time he stood gazing after them, shading his eyes with 
 his hand, till at last the setting sun, whose light had been soft- 
 ened by clouds and mist, came out and dazzled his eyes. The 
 children no longer turned to look back at him; in silence they 
 hurried on over the heath, toward Ringelshorn.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Klaus Uhl was in the habit of prating to everj' one about his 
 youngest boy. His boy was to be a scholar, he said. " Jorn 
 shall go to the University; faith, and that's the end of it." And 
 when he was half-tipsy and in his best vein and beginning to 
 brag, the old grand ideas about Jorn's future would return to 
 his mind. " He shall be Provost some day," he'd say; and the 
 farmers and dealers sitting with him at the table would laugh 
 and exclaim: "He'll turn out a grand fellow like Provost 
 Lornsen von Sylt. That's the sort of man he must be! Provost! 
 Here's to the health of Jorn Uhl, the Provost." 
 
 All this had been repeated many a time, and it had become 
 a matter of honor with Klaus Uhl. But although he often met 
 teachers from the High School at the inn in town, he never 
 asked them for counsel or direction. For his conscience failed 
 him. He feared to hear that a clever, shrewd head was wanted 
 for such a life, and that the lad would have to go to school at 
 once; and he feared lest there should be other unpleasant ques- 
 tions to solve. He didn't want to be disturbed in his loose 
 living and easy-going ways. Only on one occasion, and even 
 then in the most casual fashion, did he mention the matter to 
 Dominie Peters, with the characteristic indifference of the 
 peasant. And when the latter offered to give the lad a little 
 extra teaching and prepare him for the High School, the offer 
 was accepted, and Klaus Uhl was glad that for the present he 
 was relieved of this impleasant responsibility. 
 
 So we find Jorn Uhl, with his short-cropped, stiff, fair hair, 
 sitting by old Dominie Peters on the sofa. His deep-set eyes 
 peered like foxes from their holes into the English book in front 
 of him, eagerly devouring the wisdom they found there. For it 
 was Dominie Peters's creed that an acquaintance with English 
 is the stepping-stone to all knowledge and to every high dis- 
 tinction in life. Sometimes, when they had a few moments to 
 
 73
 
 74 JORN UHL 
 
 spare, the}- would do a little Latin, but this practice was soon 
 discontinued. 
 
 It was a beautiful summer's day. The village street lay silent 
 in the white sunlight, shimmering with heat between the lines of 
 green trees. The lindens along the footpath cast their shadows 
 upon the windows. The room was full of a quiet dark-reddish 
 
 " Jiirgen," said the old man, " I must just pop out and see 
 what the bees are up to. Go on translating by yourself a little, 
 laddie; I'll be back in a minute." 
 
 So Jiirgen went on with his translating awhile. A bee came 
 in through the open window, buzzed about the room, saw that 
 it had made a mistake, buzzed more and more angrily, till at 
 last it found the window and flew out again, taking the boy's 
 thoughts with it. Lost in day-dreams he gazed into the green 
 shadow and air of the garden. Jorn was now at a time of life 
 when the wonder of the world filled him with its mystery and 
 aroused an intense spirit of curiosity in his mind. His love of 
 books increased, especially of such as give a clear, firm con- 
 ception of things, and later on he took to those, too, that soberly 
 and demurely speculate upon life and its problems. He used 
 to say to Fiete in those days, " I want to understand the whole 
 world." And in the course of his life he really came to under- 
 stand a good deal of it. Fiete Cray used to reply, " For my 
 part, I'll be content when I have twenty thousand pounds, then 
 I'll buy the Uhl for myself and live there till I die." And now 
 they were both trying to realize their dreams. Fiete Cray, who 
 had been confirmed, and was in service at the Uhl as stable- 
 boy, pulled hair out of the horses' tails in the stable and sold it 
 for good money; he carried on a small trade besides on his 
 own account in currycombs and whip-lashes. Jiirgen Uhl, how- 
 ever, pored over his English book and wondered mightily how 
 human beings could speak such a queer tongue. 
 
 The windows were wide open. Birds were singing in the 
 lindens, and bees were humming in the golden, shadowy air 
 between the lindens and the window. Light steps were heard, 
 as of some one walking on tiptoe along by the house wall, and 
 Lisbeth Junker's fair, flaxen head appeared above the window- 
 sill. 
 
 "Is that where jou are?" she said. "Come out here." 
 
 "What are you doing, Lisbeth? Fishing?"
 
 J O R N U H L 75 
 
 " I've caught ten big, fat fellows already. They've just 
 bitten the worm off. Do come! Grandfather has forgotten 
 you long ago." 
 
 " What a look your hair has! " says he. 
 
 "What? Is it rough?" She wondered at his finding fault 
 with her, hut suddenly she understood his meaning. " Oh, you 
 mean with the sunlight on it." She turned her head around 
 quickly. " Do you see, Jorn ? There's a little sunbeam coming 
 through the linden and making straight for my head as if it 
 wants to shoot me. Do you see? But it's pretty rough, too. 
 I can see it in the window. I've scrambled through the hedge 
 three times this afternoon." 
 
 " I'd have thought you'd been scrambling through the sun." 
 
 " You needn't mind coming out, Jorn. You'll easily learn 
 that little bit another time. It can't be as difficult as all that 
 to become Provost." 
 
 So he left his book and went out to her. He was always 
 happy to do her bidding, and could refuse her nothing, for she 
 seemed to him so refined and ladylike and cleverness itself. In 
 his dealings with her he was gentle and considerate, as every 
 good and sensible man is when he has a comrade he feels to 
 be better than himself. He was so anxious lest he should dis- 
 please her, that he had never again ventured to call her " Rain- 
 tweet," although it struck him over and over again as something 
 peculiarly sweet about her that she had such a full, clear voice. 
 It sounded like pure siKer to him. A rather loud and vulgar 
 tone prevailed at that time among the village children, and in 
 his father's house he heard much that was rude and coarse. It 
 was specially fortunate for him that he was brought into con- 
 tact with this child in those critical years of his life. For she 
 awakened and strengthened everything that was good and fine 
 in him. 
 
 They crept through the fence and down to the pond. Now 
 that he was thirteen, he was properly too old to go fishing for 
 sticklebacks, but she took things as such a matter of course that 
 he could never say no. And he was always happy, too, when 
 he did anything that gave her pleasure. And ever>'thing that 
 gave her pleasure and everything that she asked of him, he could 
 do with a good conscience. Although she sometimes wanted 
 things that required a slight sacrifice of his boyish dignity, her re- 
 quests were never at all silly, which could not be said of Elsbe's.
 
 76 JORNUHL 
 
 They were sitting side by side in the grass under a bush, talk- 
 ing softly together. She was asking him about Elsbe and Fiete. 
 
 " What is Fiete going to be, Jorn ? will he be a hawker like 
 his father and the other Grays?" 
 
 " No, he doesn't want to." 
 
 " What, then ? " 
 
 " Oh, sometimes he thinks of going to the California diggings, 
 and sometimes he thinks he'd like to be coachman to the Provost, 
 I think." 
 
 " You mean your coachman. He had much better do that 
 than go gold-digging. . . . It's frightfully hot to-day." 
 
 For a long time they were silent. The sun shone and the 
 birds sang, and gradually, gradually, her rod shpped deeper 
 and deeper into the water, her head nodded and sank on to his 
 shoulder, overpowered with coming sleep. 
 
 It seemed as though a spell of enchantment was over every- 
 thing. As though those were not real houses whose walls and 
 doorways peeped out here and there between the lindens, as 
 though they were not real lindens at all, with their deep shadowy 
 green and silent leaves, but as if houses and trees and the sur- 
 face of the pond, and the children with their rods along its 
 banks, all belonged to some wonderful painting where one ought 
 to keep as still as a mouse. For it is not customary for people 
 to move about in a picture. And it was all clearly and finely 
 and most lovingly painted, with a touch of plain, rustic honesty 
 and rough, hearty fruitfulness in it, and it hung in God's best 
 chamber. 
 
 The fishing-rod lay deep in the water, and the maiden rested 
 upon his shoulder, and the boy gazed with thoughtful eyes far 
 into the picture of which he himself was a part, and felt her 
 hair upon his cheek and her light, beautiful breathing, and did 
 not stir. 
 
 From far off a light vehicle was approaching along the village 
 street, and stopped in front of the schoolhouse. The slumbering 
 maiden was wakened by it. Dominie Peters came hurrying 
 from somewhere among the trees in the garden and went up 
 wonderingly to a gray-haired, bent old man who was already 
 standing in the gateway, and said: 
 
 "Will you come inside, sir?" 
 
 " I think we might remain in the garden," said the Provost, 
 " and walk up and down a little. I have a message for you
 
 JORNUHL 77 
 
 from my wife. She would like some more of the winter apples 
 that we had from you last year." 
 
 They talked awhile about this matter, then the visitor sud- 
 denly chanj2;ed his chatty tone and said, in a low, grave voice, 
 " But my coming; has another object. I have known you now 
 for many years, and can rely on your judgment of people and 
 things. V ou judge discreetly, like a man who is by nature of 
 a sober and quiet disposition, and who, pursuing his vocation 
 in contact with the people, has gathered a great deal of expe- 
 rience and a little property in the course of jears." He smiled 
 softly. " The latter I take to be a fact of some importance," 
 said he. " I wouldn't care about having the advice of a man in 
 economic affairs, who has not himself a small stock of self-con- 
 densed diligence, /. e. money out at interest. 1 would like to ask 
 you about the marsh-farmers here — I mean the Uhls." 
 
 The old schoolmaster, a little excited by the honor done him, 
 and delighted at the chance of being able to do a good work, 
 gave his information in a reserved voice. " Klaus Uhl is the 
 worst of them. He sets an example which corrupts many of 
 the others. In spite of a benevolent and peaceable nature, he 
 is a fool out of sheer arrogance. The children on the playground 
 imitate his way of looking the people of the poorer families up 
 and down. ' Don't act the grand like Klaus Uhl,' they say, 
 when any one's proud. And it's said that he always pays poor 
 folk their wages out of his waistcoat pocket, even when it's 
 hundreds of marks." 
 
 So the two men walked up and down the garden path, con- 
 tinuing their talk. 
 
 " What can the farms produce, then, if the owners live in such 
 a fashion? Everything is only half-done. The servants sleep 
 and dawdle away their time, the animals are neglected, and the 
 soil becomes impoverished. But the worst of it is that the 
 children, who are growing up, witness the dissolute life of their 
 parents, and take this slovenly management to be the proper 
 state of affairs, and rush into poverty as hungry calves rush 
 against a wall." 
 
 "And the women, what about them?" 
 
 " There are some who urge their husbands, as soon as he gets 
 a little tired of it, to return to his wild hte, and take part in it 
 themselves. There is one woman, mother of eight children, 
 who told me without a blush that seven times, night after night
 
 78 JORNUHL 
 
 last week, she was at parties until daybreak ; and I know another 
 who drove through the farmyard and had her six-year-old child 
 lifted up into the cart to her, saying in the presence of the farm- 
 hand, veiling her braggadocio under the form of regrets, * I 
 haven't seen the poor little brat for eight days. In the morning 
 when I get up he's already off to school, and of an evening when 
 he comes home his mother has flown away again. What's one 
 to do, though ? One invitation after another ! ' As you well 
 know, sir, when women once give way to foolishness, their 
 foolishness knows no bounds. Of course there are other women, 
 too, who sit at home, silent and worried, doing their work and 
 looking after the farm, full of forebodings for the future." 
 
 " There's one thing more I want you to tell me! Unfortu- 
 nately I can't prevent a man from bringing himself and his fam- 
 ily to misery. But I've learned from private information that 
 several investors or agents, of doubtful reputation, have been 
 attracted by the ill odor of this parish, and are here trying to 
 decoy our people into ' Ultimo gambling.' " 
 
 The old schoolmaster looked thoughtfully on the ground. 
 " I recollect now that Klaus Uhl at our last savings-bank meet- 
 ing had a conversation with Karsten Rievedl about a number of 
 different kinds of scrip, and that the word ultimo was men- 
 tioned. What is this ' ultimo,' Provost? " 
 
 " Well ! when a farmer begins speculating, he soon loses his 
 money, doesn't he?" 
 
 "Yes, invariably! Jochen Mill lost one hundred and fifty 
 thousand marks in three weeks." 
 
 "There you are! And the point is that when a man plays 
 Ultimo he can afterward say quite exactly when he lost his 
 money, that's the only difference. But what's that you said 
 about Jochen Mill? In three weeks, did you say?" 
 
 " Yes. He sold his farm and went to Hamburg. In three 
 years he said he would be ten times richer than he was already. 
 He fell an easy prey to them. All the sharks that infest the 
 exchange after one single stupid peasant! They used to stand 
 outside in crowds waiting for him, and help him down from 
 his horse, for he was far too grand to go on foot. Every time 
 he came, it's said, there was quite a fuss made over him. Some 
 overdid it, taking off their coats and offering to lay them on 
 the steps, so that his feet shouldn't touch the earth as he en- 
 tered the hall. But he didn't see through all this mockery.
 
 JORNUHL 79 
 
 He thought onl}- of ' the honor! — the honor of it ! ' At the 
 end of eiglit weeks he was without a penny. His relatives 
 bought him a small public-house near Hamburg, where he now 
 sells ' half and half,' as they call it." 
 
 " Come," said the Provost, " now we will go into the orchard 
 and feast our eyes for awhile." 
 
 " There's not much to see this year, sir; the codlin-moth has 
 made great ravages among the apples." 
 
 " Well, well ! . , . And yet it soothes one to get away from 
 them and their mistakes and come into contact with Nature; to 
 see how bravely and unostentatiously she undergoes misfortune 
 and fights against it, just like some honest, energetic soul who 
 fights his way manfully through life up to the very last." 
 
 They went down into the orchard. 
 
 " Well," said Jorn, as he laid the rod aside, " it's time for 
 me to go in now and finish my lessons. There's a fearfully 
 difficult bit in that piece of English." He forced his way back 
 through the bushes, went into the room, and opened his book 
 again. Soon afterward the carriage drove away, and the old 
 schoolmaster came in again. 
 
 " What ! are you still here, Jorn ? Have you been here all 
 the time at the open window? Did you hear us talking?' 
 
 " No, I've been sitting with Lisbeth." 
 
 "Where, then?" 
 
 " Dow'n by the pond. We've been fishing for sticklebacks." 
 
 " Oh, that's what you've been doing! " 
 
 He walked up and down, looked out of the window and came 
 back again. 
 
 " Jorn, do you know what? A lad must be able to hold his 
 tongue else he'll never make a man." 
 
 " I know how to hold my tongue, too, if need be," said Jorn 
 Uhl, staring with hard eyes into space. 
 
 "And, Jorn, . . . since it just occurs to me I'll tell j'ou 
 something. It can do you no harm to hear it. When I was 
 a boy, old people who've been sleeping in their graves this many 
 a year have told me how your great-grandfather used to leap 
 over the ditches with a great ditch-pole he had, and come straight 
 across the fields to church. He was a tall, gaunt man with bent 
 shoulders, and used to wear a high black hat, as was the custom 
 in those days. He was the Jorn Uhl who entertained the then
 
 8o JORNUHL 
 
 King of Prussia for two days as his guest. Have you ever heard 
 the story? " 
 
 " \'es, I have heard about it from Wieten." 
 
 " Not from your father? Did jour father never speak of it? 
 Well, the king and Jorn Uhl stayed up half the night discussing 
 the state of the district, and Jorn Uhl is said to have made use 
 of some very hard expressions. ' Sirrah,' said the king, * you 
 forget that you are speaking with your sovereign.' Jorn Uhl, 
 however, answered in a loud voice, ' If you were a true sov- 
 ereign you would uncloak all such frauds and not suffer such 
 worthless fellows to be in your service.' The king defended him- 
 self, saying, ' The kingdom is too big, Uhl, I can't look after 
 everything.' But the old man replied, ' The summer dikes are 
 big, too, and yet I know every drift and channel of them, and 
 every ox that grazes on them.' In short, next day there was 
 an inspection of the Civil Service arrangements of the dis- 
 trict, and three officials, who had used their office for their own 
 ends and grown wealthy, were hunted out in dire disgrace. 
 Your great-grandfather was given supervision of the matter. 
 It was on the occasion of this visit, too, that he persuaded the 
 king to undertake the construction of new dikes, and advanced 
 him thirty thousand thalers. For his Majesty had no money 
 of his own for the purpose. That all happened exactly as I've 
 told you, Jorn. 
 
 " After a few years, this hard-working, good king died, and 
 the next that came to the helm didn't take his duties as ruler 
 nearly so seriously. The state fell behind, and to make matters 
 worse a long war ensued. Thus it came about that your great- 
 grandfather got no interest on his money, and soon remarked, 
 for he was a shrewd, level-headed man, that his capital was also 
 in danger. So he quickly made up his mind, and set out for the 
 city where the king lived. 
 
 " Now what follows I am not quite clear about: I can only 
 tell you the story as the old people here used to tell it to me. 
 Your great-grandfather — his hair was already quite white with 
 age — goes to the king's castle and asks to see the king. The 
 servant looked at him rather disparagingly, and told him the 
 king wasn't to be seen ; but he replied that his name was Jorn 
 Uhl of Wentorf, and demanded that he should be announced. 
 But the servant still showing no signs of haste, the old man 
 gave a few tremendous puffs from his meerschaum pipe, and
 
 JORNUHL 81 
 
 lifted his stick, and at last found himself before the door of the 
 king's chamlx-r, and was announced to his Majesty. While he 
 was putting iiis pipe and stick away in a corner and preparing 
 to enter, he saw the king coming toward him, dressed in a new- 
 fangled thing called a dressing-gown, and holding the big 
 shiny star of some order in his hand and smiling benignly. In 
 a trice Jcirn Uhl had turned around and was gathering up his 
 things from the corner. But when the king followed him in 
 spite of that, he held his pipe and stick up before him as if in 
 self-defence, crying, ' It's my money, not decorations, that I 
 want,' and made off down the stairs as fast as he could go. 
 Then he went to the king's ministers. He lost a good deal of 
 the money, for the w hole state was bankrupt, but he didn't lose 
 nearly as much as many another. 
 
 "His son, then, your grandfather. . . . H'm! . . . Well, 
 a good-humored, kindly sort of man he was. But that's all 
 you can say about him, Jorn. And it's not much, is it? It's 
 a bad state of affairs when you can't say anything to a man's 
 credit except that he was good-humored. His speech was soft 
 enough and didn't go very deep, and the same could be said 
 of his ploughing. I used to know him well. 
 
 " And then your father got the farm. . . . Well . . . your 
 father . . ." 
 
 The lad suddenly raised his head and looked the old man 
 straight in the face, as though to say: " I know well enough 
 what you'\e got in mind. But I am not going to let you see 
 that I believe it." 
 
 But the old man did not continue after seeing the boy's 
 glance. He kept passing his fingers through his long gray 
 beard, as though he were going to pull those venerable thickets 
 away by the roots. At last, resuming the stiff, loud tone of 
 the schoolmaster, he said : " What does the great poet Goethe, 
 the herald of the century we are living in, say? 'All that a 
 man inherits from his father must be earned afresh by him if he 
 means to possess it.' . . . Now go home, Jorn. I must be oft'. 
 I've got a savings-bank meeting to attend." 
 
 Early next morning, just after the stars had vanished from 
 the blue-gray sky, the lad got up and went singing and whistling 
 and banging doors through the w iiole house, and came into the
 
 82 JORNUHL 
 
 stables. Wieten was standing in the passage with the milk-pails 
 in her hand. 
 
 " Laddie, what's come into your head ? " she asked. " Why, 
 it's not four o'clock yet." 
 
 He laughed, and said ingenuously that he didn't want to stay 
 in bed, it was too hot for him. " Where's Fiete? " he asked. 
 
 " I've managed to get him to turn out," said she. " I've still 
 power over him, at least." 
 
 He went whistling up and down the dairy, and then went 
 back to Wieten Penn and asked where the milkmaids were. 
 
 " I am afraid, laddie, the hussies are still in bed. You're 
 not going to go and wake them, are you? " 
 
 "You've got the management of the house, haven't you? 
 Why don't you bid them get up? " 
 
 " That's easier said than done," said she. " They're on too 
 intimate terms with Alick and Hinnerk, so they sleep it out a 
 bit longer, and I can say nothing." 
 
 He went along the passage to the servants' quarters, and as 
 he passed flung a few pieces of wood that were lying near the 
 kitchen against the door of the girls' bedroom, and sang and 
 whistled so that his fresh boyish voice rang through the early 
 stillness of the house. He sang like a thrush that sings in the 
 orchard when the day is young, proud of its song, and at the 
 same time very shy. 
 
 Then he went out so as to pass along under the windows, 
 and to his astonishment saw his brother Hans, who had been 
 confirmed three years before, coming over the fields from toward 
 the village. He went to meet him, his whole face beaming, 
 and called gaily to his brother, " Hans, old chap, I thought 
 you were still in bed. Have you been to the mill so early, or 
 was it to the smith? " 
 
 His brother came up to him and struck him. *' You young 
 lout! " he said, with thick, drunken voice, striking him a blow 
 on the chest and driving him into the stable. He tried to repeat 
 the blow, but missed, and had to lean against a horse. It grew 
 restive and began to stamp the ground. Fiete came running out 
 from among the horses with the currycomb in his hand. 
 
 " What's going on here? You've been hitting Jorn. Don't 
 touch him, I'd advise you, or I tell you the two of us will give 
 you such a hammering that you won't be able to stand." 
 
 That afternoon, as the farmer was preparing to drive into
 
 JORNUHL 83 
 
 town as usual, Jorn offered to harness the horses and bring 
 them around to the front door. He did his task quickly and 
 correctly, and came smartly trottinj^ around the corner of the 
 house with the two spruce bays; then he jumped down and 
 stood in front of the horses, holding the leader by the reins 
 and tipping him on the nose now and again, and each time he 
 did so he hunuiied the words, " Ultimo is madness." 
 
 Klaus Uhl, who was in the big room, said: " Do you hear 
 the little sneak, Wieten? What's he got in his head now?" 
 and he laughed. 
 
 " He's been singing all the morning," she said. 
 
 And he was still singing away, " Ultimo is madness." 
 
 " What are you singing there? " shouted Klaus Uhl. 
 
 " Oh! " he said, complacently, " the Provost was at Dominie 
 Peters's house yesterday, and I chanced to hear him say, ' All 
 who play Ultimo go bankrupt.' " 
 
 " Do they, really? " He got into the cart, laughing heartily. 
 *' I say, youngster," said he, " my advice to you is, then, never 
 to play Ultimo." 
 
 Jorn burst into loud laughter and his father drove away. 
 You still heard that hearty young laughter of his that welled 
 forth so free and joyous. Although at this time he was growing 
 so fast, and getting up early was such a difficult thing for him, 
 he got Fiete Cray to wake him every morning, and went, as it 
 were by chance, through kitchen, stables, and fields, becoming 
 a sort of restless, wandering conscience for the others. 
 
 Once when two horse-dealers were standing in the stable, 
 and, in the absence of his father, bargaining with Alick, the 
 eldest son, he stood by and listened. One of the dealers said, 
 " I say, my lad, just go to the yard and see if our horses are 
 all right." And he went. Afterward the one said to the other, 
 " Strange how the eyes of that youngster disturbed me. He 
 looked at me as if I were a horse-thief." The other laughed. 
 " It struck me, too. he held us with his glance. I had to keep 
 looking at him. Just watch it, he's the only one of Klaus Uhl's 
 boys that'll come to anything. He's a shrewd customer." 
 
 And another time, when the brothers were weighing out some 
 loads of hay for a purchaser, he was again there, and at last 
 pointed out a mistake in the weight. " He's getting too much," 
 he said. The brothers, who were tipsy, and the purchaser, who 
 had a shrewd relish for a joke, laughed ; but when the latter
 
 84 JORNUHL 
 
 noticed that the lad was In earnest, he complained in a tone of 
 offended dignity that he couldn't put up with such remarks, 
 especially from a raw youngster; such a thing had never hap- 
 pened to him before. Then the brothers got into a rage, and 
 hunted him from the barn with their hay-forks. He went into 
 the lields and walked for hours and hours beside Fiete Cray, 
 who was ploughing. 
 
 That autumn Elsbe and Lisbeth Junker had sewing lessons 
 together, and a little French from old Grandmother Peters. 
 She was a kindly old woman who, for more than forty years, 
 had shared her husband's joys and sorrows, but in the matter 
 of foreign languages the two had never been able to come to 
 an understanding. In her youth the wife had learnt French 
 and praised and taught this language. Her husband, however, 
 had got on so far in English that he could read a not over- 
 difficult book in that tongue, and then, besides, he had now and 
 again a chance of speaking with English sailors. Each of the 
 old people had tried to learn the other's language into the 
 bargain, but had had to give it up. And so one might often see 
 this kindly old couple, sitting each in a window nook, plodding 
 away at French or English, and interrupting and teasing each 
 other at times in Low German, each anathematizing the other's 
 language and the people who spoke it. 
 
 Elsbe Uhl, who had cost her mother her life, was full of 
 excessive vigor and jollity, as is often the case with people who, 
 though born of tall, strong parents, have themselves remained 
 short of stature. She was small for her eleven years, but she 
 was full of sap and strength and lithe as a young ash. Her 
 elder brothers took no notice of her whatever, but she was hand 
 and glove with her brother Jiirgen and Fiete Cray. Often 
 when she was on her way from the village over the meadows of 
 an afternoon, the two would stand by the stable door and look 
 out for her. And she would raise her school-bag high above her 
 head and wave with it, and sometimes, when the fancy took her, 
 she would make a haughty face at them and turn her head aside, 
 out of mischief. She called that the " side- face view," for Fiete 
 had said she looked better from the side, especially from the 
 left side, than she did from the front. The whole of her tiny 
 person was in motion, her feet slipping and sliding, her dress 
 beating against knees and hips, her arms swinging as though 
 she was fighting her way through the high reeds instead of
 
 J O R N U H L 85 
 
 through the blustering w itul. And when she came to the plank 
 over the ditch she vvouKl shout through the roar and swish of the 
 wind in the trees, " Shall 1 walk nicely, or shall 1 jump it? " 
 
 " Jump it! " the boys shout back. 
 
 The kitchen window would fly open and Wieten would cry, 
 " Don't let those stupid boys be leading you into mischief, 
 Elsbe!" 
 
 " Does it worry you when I jump, Wieten? " 
 
 " No, not at all, God forbid ! Do as you like," and she slams 
 the window. 
 
 The books fly over first, then follows Elsbe with a short, 
 swift run. She would jump it, but her knees would give way 
 a little. Then she'd cry, " Wasn't that a fine jump, now? " 
 
 Fiete nodded with a sly wink, and sent Jorn away to the 
 kitchen to fetch their supper. When he was gone he whistled 
 softly to himself, gaxing into space. " Do you know what, 
 Elsbe, many a time I've carried you along this path In my arms, 
 when you were so big." 
 
 "That's a lie, Fiete!" 
 
 " But if I tell you you've caught a nice old cold and have 
 got both your feet soaking wet, there'll be no lie about that." 
 She laughed. " Don't tell Wieten. Wait, I'll be back in a 
 
 mmute." 
 
 After awhile she returned. " I've got the stockings all right 
 without her noticing it. I'll put them on here in a jiffy." 
 
 She went into an empty horse-stall, changed her stockings, 
 and came out again. " Now keep your eyes open," she said. 
 She took a wild run as she had done before at the ditch and 
 leapt into his outstretched arms, hanging around his neck and 
 dangling hands and feet, and shouting with laughter. And he 
 held her fast. 
 
 " Lassie, little Whitey," he said, " you're just for all the 
 world like a wild bee." 
 
 " Sst! let me go, Jcirn's coming." 
 
 He quickly let go of her, and when Jorn came along the path 
 with the slices of bread they looked as if nothing had happened. 
 
 It was a good thing for this lusty, lively girl that the first 
 pride of nascent manlmnd awoke next year In her friend, Fiete 
 Cray, and that he held the child, " little Whitey," as he called 
 her, somewhat at a distance, and gave his heart to the maid 
 that worked under Wieten in the kitchen, a spruce, red-cheeked
 
 86 JORNUHL 
 
 girl who was of the same age as himself, and returned his 
 affection. He was a rogue, being a Cray, and didn't altogether 
 break with little Elsbe. 
 
 About All Saints' Day, she one day came back from her 
 sewing lesson, and found Fiete and Jorn in the stable. 
 
 " Dominie Peters, who pokes his nose into everything, was 
 saying to-day that it was liard times for many people just now, 
 because they have to pay interest that's due now. I'm just 
 wondering whether any one'll come to us and bring father 
 interest." 
 
 Jorn's eyes shyly scanned the faces of his companions. Fiete 
 whistled. 
 
 A few minutes later, w'hen they had finished their supper, 
 a little, old man, quite straight and stiff, with short, iron-gray 
 hair and a shrewd, clean-shaven face, came across the courtyard 
 up to the trio, and asked whether the farmer was at home. Elsbe 
 said that he had gone to the village and would soon be back. 
 
 " I want to see him," said the old man. The three looked at 
 him, and as he seemed tired, Fiete said, good-humoredly, " Go 
 inside for a little, till the master comes back." 
 
 The two children accompanied him across the hall and were 
 about to show him into tiie parlor when Hinnerk and Hans 
 came out of the kitchen. 
 
 "Who have you got there?" asked Hinnerk, and they 
 looked at the stiff little man disdainfully. He had on a long 
 blue coat of home-made stufF, such as people wear to-day on 
 the Geest. His boots were gray with sand, and he had his 
 supper tied up in a red-checked handkerchief. 
 
 The children said that the man wanted to see their father. 
 
 " Well," said the two elder ones, " that's no reason why you 
 should take him into the good room. Let him go into Fiete 
 Cray's little room." 
 
 The old man went with the two children into the servants' 
 room, sat down there, and asked, in a kindly tone, " Are you 
 Klaus Uhl's two youngest children?" "Yes," said Elsbe; 
 " I'm twelve and Jorn's fourteen." 
 
 "You're kind children," he said; "your brothers judged by 
 my coat, and saw that I'm a Geester. I always fetch my supper 
 with me from home, then I don't need to go to the inn and 
 squander money."
 
 JORNUHL 87 
 
 Jorn said, with ^rcat earnestness, " We two, Elsbe and I, are 
 always quite homelj', and don't intend ever to go to the inn." 
 
 " But u hen there's a ball we will," said Elsbe. 
 
 " I never shall," said Jorn; " not as long as I live." 
 
 " That's right," said the old man, smiling, " then you won't 
 need to live in poverty in your old age, and you can live in 
 peace on your interest." 
 
 Jiirn became suddenly silent, turned around and left the 
 room. He ran like a hunted hare across the hall, and knocked 
 against his father, who had just come home with flushed and 
 jovial face. 
 
 " There's a little man from the Geest here who wants to 
 speak to you. He's in the servants' room." 
 
 "W^hat? In the servants' room?" He crossed the hall 
 hastily toward the room. As Hans got in his way he gave him 
 a cuff on the ear that sent him staggering against the wall ; then 
 he stepped into the little room. It was years since he had 
 been there: for what did his servants or what Fiete Cray 
 concern him ? There sat the old man, and Elsbe was standing 
 close in front of him. and they were just telling each other 
 stories about Thiess Thiessen, whom tliey both knew well. 
 
 "Get out of this! " said Klaus Uhl. " I'm sorry. Martens, 
 that these stupid youngsters should have brought you in here." 
 
 The old man waved his hand as if to say it didn't matter. 
 I haven't come here in order to be made a fuss over, but 
 to give you notice that I'm going to call in my eighty thousand 
 marks. My daughter's going to get married." 
 
 Jiirgcn had run back across the hall and come into the 
 kitchen, and was standing near Wieten, who was about to wash 
 up. He had caught hold of her apron as little children are 
 wont to do, till at last she said, " Laddie, what are you think- 
 ing about? Run away from here." But he looked at her in 
 such a way that she said no more, but stroked his fair hair and 
 said, " Yes, it's a good thing, laddie, that your mother's no 
 longer alive." 
 
 She said this or something like it every time anything un- 
 usual happened in the house. He didn't quite understand it, 
 but he felt that his mother was opposed to the spirit that pre- 
 vailed in the house, and although it gave no distinct picture of 
 his mother, and he himself was but scantily endowed with
 
 88 JORNUHL 
 
 imagination, it distinctly seemed to him as though his mother 
 passed through the house with dead face full of grief. 
 
 He pictured her to himself hig and tall, while she was in 
 reality short and rather stout, just as Elsbe was later on. 
 
 This evening when his father returned to the Uhl, earlier 
 than usual but also more tipsy, Jiirgen met him in the hall in 
 his shirt-sleeves, with a hay- fork in his hand, — he had just come 
 from the stables, — and said, in a faltering voice, " Father, if 
 we have so many debts, I suppose we'll soon have to sell the 
 farm," and burst out crying. But his father struck him and 
 drove him away. He ran into the servants' bedroom, and slept 
 there with Fiete Cray. 
 
 From this day forward he went away by himself whenever 
 he heard his father's careless laugh. And when he didn't 
 know where else to go to, he would creep into the barns and 
 into the gardens which lay near the big paddock ; and they found 
 him sometimes poring over his English book or the school read- 
 ing-book, leaning up against some corner, or sitting on a tree or 
 a beam. He persuaded Wieten to let him continue to sleep in 
 Fiete Cray's room, which looked out on the apple-orchard. 
 
 In that room he dwelt for the next eleven years, that is to 
 say, till his marriage, not counting the two years which he 
 served as a soldier, and the year that he was in the field fighting 
 against the French.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Near the foals' stall, not far from the stable door, there stood 
 a big old-fashioned chest that was now in use as a chaff-bin. 
 It was made of oak, and the front was ornamented with designs, 
 carved in a strangely noble and simple style, representing scenes 
 from the life of the Prodigal Son. On the left the youth, richly 
 clad and with a heavy purse in his hand, is in the act of taking 
 leave of his father, who stands in the doorway; on the right, 
 he is returning home clad in rags and tatters. Above these 
 scenes, and divided into two parts by the iron lock-plate, stood 
 the words, " The blessing of the Lord maketh rich without 
 labor." And below them, " Klawes Uhl: 1624." 
 
 Three hundred years ago, this chest had been the proudest 
 and most highly prized piece of furniture in Klawes Uhl's 
 household. But times had grown better and taste worse. It 
 had had so many coats of paint, one on top of the other, that 
 the delicate finish and expression of the figures had gradually 
 become blurred and lost. At last it had fallen completely into 
 disrepute, and had been turned into a feed-box. In this humble 
 capacity it was never repainted, and, little by little, the thick 
 layer of color had come off till the solid wood became visible 
 again. Nobody, however, had any idea of its worth. 
 
 If only this old chest had been able to speak! It must have 
 had a heart, for it had lived so long among men and had seen 
 so much of the world. But, alas! it had no mouth! It was on 
 this box that the Wcntorf children used to sit, forging mighty 
 plans for their future careers, during the two years Fiete Cray 
 spent in service at the Uhl after his confirmation. Their voices 
 and laughter rang through the stables clear as the strokes of the 
 smith's hammer on the anvil. 
 
 " Fietc, come here," cried Elsbe, " here's Jorn with the sup- 
 per." Jorn laid his book on the chest, and, after putting the 
 pile of bread beside it, sat down himself. Elsbe was perched 
 
 89
 
 90 JORNUHL 
 
 up there already, dangling her feet impatiently. Fiete put his 
 stable-bucket away and came with a bound and seated himself 
 beside them. 
 
 "All right!" he said, using an English expression that he 
 had picked up somewhere. 
 
 " Well, that's all settled, then," said Jorn. " If I leave home 
 now, you're to stay here and look after things on the farm, 
 else I'd have to give up all idea of being Provost." 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Fiete Cray, in deep, masculine tones, and 
 with the greatest deliberation ; " it has been a hard job for me 
 to make up my mind, but I'll promise to do it. I'll stay. When 
 I was young, why, I dare say I had all sorts of schemes in my 
 head, and was particularly keen on California, for instance; but 
 we get wiser as we grow older. So I'm going to stay here." 
 
 " Yes, you'll have to stay on here as stableman for a year 
 or so," said Jorn, " and by that time your father will be getting 
 pretty old. Then you'll go and live at home and choose a wife 
 for yourself, and come over here every day to work, and manage 
 the whole estate for us. It won't do for you to go about selling 
 brushes and brooms as your father does. You must just give 
 up your whole time to the farm and only work for us. Have 
 you made up your mind about a wife yet ? " 
 
 "Oh, there's no hurry about that! There's w^omen-folk 
 enough in the world." 
 
 They munched their bread in silence for awhile, drinking the 
 fresh buttermilk by turns out of the big brown dish that stood 
 between them. 
 
 " It's not so sure yet, Jorn, whether they'll accept you at the 
 school ; you have to know such a lot before they'll take you," 
 said Elsbe. 
 
 "Oh! I'll manage that all right," said Jorn, with a de- 
 termined look. " I can't tell you how I'm looking forward 
 to it. I don't want to be a farmer at any price. But I 
 wouldn't mind working at books forever and ever. There's 
 only the one great drawback, the thought that things may not 
 be going right here, and that's why Fiete must stay." 
 
 Fiete wiped his mouth, and set the empty bowl down em- 
 phatically on the chest. 
 
 "You can go and be made Provost without the least fear; 
 I'll stay here and look after the whole business for you. Make 
 your mind easy on that score."
 
 JORNUHL 91 
 
 Jorn took up his books and walked away into the garden, 
 deep in thouglit. 
 
 " Now we're by ourselves, Fiete," said Elsbe, " and what do 
 you think! I've seen Harro Heinsen. He's still in the third 
 class. He hasn't been put up, so he says he won't go to school 
 any more. We walked a bit of the way together, and you can't 
 think what a lot of things he told me. He knows a thing or 
 two, I can tell you." 
 
 " Don't you have too much to do wMth him," said Fiete, " you 
 know how things stand between you and me? Don't you? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, of course 1 do." 
 
 " Don't you believe it'll ever come to anything, then. See, 
 Jorn will be Provost, and will be out of our way. Alick's 
 soon going to get married, and then he'll live on some other 
 farm. Hinnerk is a soldier already, and next year Hans will 
 have to put on the red coat and join his regiment, and every- 
 body says, besides, that when the old king dies, there'll be war. 
 Then it's safe to reckon that one of them will be shot, and 
 the other will be sure to start farming somewhere else. And 
 just tell me who'll be left then, little Whitey? Who'll be left, 
 eh? Only you, not another soul. By that time I'll be overseer 
 on the Uhl, and j'our father w^ill be old, and he'll say to us: 
 ' Children, you must marry, so that 1 may have peace in my 
 old age.' That's my plan, and it'll come true, you'll see." 
 
 She nodded absent-mindedly, and began talking about Harro 
 Heinsen again. 
 
 " His sister's engaged already, and she's only eighteen. When 
 I'm six years older, I want to be engaged, too; if you're not 
 ready to marry me by then, I'll take some one else." 
 
 " Don't go listening to all the yarns that Harro Heinsen 
 likes to tell you, Elsbe; he's a regular blockhead." 
 
 " Oh," she said, stretching her limbs and yawning, " I'd 
 rather you'd talk to me about something interesting. Harro 
 Heinsen always has such heaps of things to tell me, all about 
 grown-up people and the things they do. Just fancy, Lischcn 
 Wiederhold danced at the ball on market-day, and she's not 
 sixteen yet. When I'm old enough, I really believe I'll dance 
 myself to death. I'll dance till I drop. When we're husband 
 and wife, Fiete, you'll have to take me to every single dance." 
 
 "Of course I will," said Fiete Cray; "you needn't trouble 
 yourself on that head."
 
 92 JORN UHL 
 
 " First we'll put the children to bed, and then we'll go it.'* 
 
 "My word! Won't we?" 
 
 She laughed and drummed \v ith her feet against the old chest, 
 rocking herself to and fro. " What a life of it we'll have," 
 she said. 
 
 " Now, run away, little Whitey," said Fiete Cray. " I've 
 got a lot to do yet. I'll have to look smart about my work 
 so that I may soon be head-man here." 
 
 As soon as Elsbe had disappeared, he went, whistling softly 
 to himself, into the chaff-room, which was lit by means of a 
 small, high window. There he sought out a comfortable seat 
 and thought to himself, " Little Elsbe shall be my wife, as true 
 as Fni sitting here, but catch me staying here a single day after 
 I've got her. I'll either start a big business or I'll take her 
 and her money with me and go out into the world — to Ham- 
 burg, perhaps — and I'll buy an hotel or something like that for 
 myself. When one's got money, everything's possible. The 
 silly little lass! But she's not as bad as Jorn, for all that. A 
 pretty notion, for me to have to work all the days of my life 
 on the Uhl, here, as his man! " 
 
 He shook his head, got up and took down from the window- 
 sill a thick, well-thumbed volume that some farm-hand or other 
 had left behind, years ago, in the servants' room. He sat down 
 again, in the soft chaff, and read what the book had to tell about 
 storms and floods, and the ancient Germans, and the Black 
 Death, and wars, and all sorts of supernatural occurrences. For 
 it was a thorough-going, honest old book, and d^alt with a 
 multitude of questions. The cover had got lost, but the title- 
 page still remained, and on it was written, " The Gnomon, by 
 Klaus Harms." 
 
 The animals in the stables were now beginning to grow 
 restive, and the calves were crying out for food. . . . Fiete 
 Cray had laid his book aside, and was sitting, crouched in a 
 heap, running his fingers tiirough his light, red hair, turning 
 over weighty thoughts in his mind, muttering to himself as 
 he racked his brains to know how he might carry out one or 
 another of his many deep-laid schemes. 
 
 Klaus Uhl spent most of his time at the inn, or at the houses 
 of his boon companions, cracking jokes, talking politics, and 
 playing cards.
 
 JORN UHL 93 
 
 The few hours he spent at home were passed in jesting, or 
 In roaminf^ restlessly over the homestead, and in a constant 
 hankering after the scene of his carousings. He had taken 
 no interest whatever in the education of his youngest son, and 
 had no idea how he would fare in his entrance examination. 
 Jle shunned the mere thought of it. For he dreaded nothing 
 more than the fear of putting himself into a ridiculous position. 
 lie lived in such an atmosphere of self-deception that it gave 
 him a shock when Jorn, one day, said to him: " Dominie Peters 
 got a letter to-day to say that I'm to be examined the day after 
 to-morrow. But the school doesn't begin till after Easter. Can 
 1 go with you to town the day after to-morrow, then ? " Klaus 
 Uhl looked very doulitful for a minute, but suddenly his face 
 brightened up. " Do you know, youngster, what I've been 
 thinking? I've been thinking that Thiess Thiessen might drive 
 you in. He'll enjoy it immensely." 
 
 Two days afterward Thiess Thiessen drove up to the farm 
 in his lumbering old cart. It had two seats in it. " Jorn," he 
 said, " you must sit on the back seat, so that you can meditate 
 a bit on the way. Have you got all your book-learning and 
 that in shipshape order? We'll drive around by the sand-road, 
 so that none of it may get spilt. I always go that way myself 
 when I'm carting dry turf to market." 
 
 " Now's no time for talking nonsense," said Wieten, curtly; 
 " when a man's fifty, it's high time he had some sense in his 
 head." 
 
 Thiess said no more, but looked at his horses, whilst Jorn 
 climbed up behind him on to the back seat and laid his books 
 on one side of him, and on the other two pots of butter that 
 Wieten handed up to him. 
 
 " It's a burning shame," said Wieten, " that his father him- 
 self doesn't go with the boy. I know well enough why he 
 d>. >> 
 oesn t. 
 
 Jorn knew, too. He keenly felt the difficulty and serious- 
 ness of his whole position and the mortidcation it entailed. It 
 seemed natural enough to him that his father, this grand man 
 with his gay manners, should not wish to associate himself 
 with him. Later on in life, when he was a man, he thought 
 differently about his father's absence. Even when he was a 
 man of forty, he blushed for his father, when he remembered 
 this hour and its disgrace.
 
 94 JoRNUHL 
 
 He sat, silent and dejected, just behind Thiess. Trina Kiihl, 
 Fiete Cray's sweetheart, was standing at the kitchen door, and 
 the two dairymaids canie out and laughed at Thiess. Looking 
 at Jorn, they said to each other, " He'll get on right enough." 
 They all liked him in spite of his stii¥, taciturn way, admiring 
 his love for books, and considering him something of a genius. 
 Fiete Cray was standing at the stable door, brandishing a hay- 
 fork in the air, and shouting, "Good luck to you!" Elsbe 
 stood at the cart, laughing at the tall dark brown top-hat that 
 Thiess was wearing, and saying: "Thiess, you do everything 
 wrong. People only wear a hat like that to funerals." 
 
 " And in the Provost's honor, too, child. I tell you, in this 
 hat I am the owner of the old original form of all the funeral 
 hats in all the shops and cupboards between the Elbe and Kings- 
 mead. Where other hats are round, this one's real circular, 
 and where others are angular, this one's right-angular. My 
 head's a trifle oblong, that's why I wear a piece of elastic under 
 my chin." 
 
 " Now just stop," said Elsbe, " you're beginning with your 
 bragging again." 
 
 " Yes," said Wieten, " you'd better be off, so that the hubbub 
 may stop, and let us get back to work again. . . . Good luck 
 to you, Jorn, laddie! I have a feeling as though to-day has 
 something good in store for you. . . . But I don't know . . . 
 there's something in it, though." 
 
 Just below Ringelshorn, as they were turning up to the soft 
 sand-road, they saw Lisbeth Junker making a short cut across 
 the heath from Ringelshorn, and waving to them. " Thiess, 
 stop! stop for a moment, Thiess! " 
 
 "What's the matter, then, little Princess?" 
 
 " I only w^anted to give Jorn something," she said. " It's 
 nothing to do with you." She sprang daintily up on the step 
 and pressed a big rosy apple into the pensive Jorn's hand. 
 " That's the last apple in the whole house," she said ; " I always 
 get it, but this time you shall have it." She sprang quickly 
 down again, and stepped away into the heath on the left, 
 raising her hand threateningly, with a somewhat confused 
 though roguish look. " Now, just wait till you're Provost, 
 Jorn. . . . Oha! . . . Good-by, Thiess! " 
 
 They drove in a slow trot through the deep sand of the heath. 
 It was by no means a triumphal procession. In front sat Thiess
 
 JORN UHL 9? 
 
 gazing at the backs of the horses. In his shrewd little eyes, 
 and in his little thin face beneath the tall, stiff undertaker's 
 hat, beamed and smiled tlie sort of wisdom which says to sor- 
 row, " I will softly laugh at you," and to joy, " I will softly 
 weep over you ; " the sort of wisdom which confesses that the 
 lite of man is a mj stery not to be unravelled. " Stoop your 
 head to the storm, little bird, but have no fear, for everything 
 is in the hand of a great God." And behind sat Jorn in all 
 the freshness of his youth, and in the midst of his riches, pots 
 of butter to the left, and knowledge to the right, and looked 
 as serious and meditative as though he were going to have this 
 dark brown undertaker's hat in front of him till the very end 
 of his life. Gradually the old church ahead of them got higher 
 and higher, then came the wooden bridge over the Winder- 
 bergerau, and then came the multitudes of houses, ever so thick, 
 with their pointed, bright red tile roofs. 
 
 The inn where the turf-farmers, with their home-made blue 
 and gray coats, always put up, Thiess found closed for repairs; 
 so they had to drive into the lower town, and came to an inn 
 which only the wealthy marsh farmers frequented. The two 
 of them had to wait a couple of weary hours in the big empty 
 barroom. Jorn stood and looked out of the window; Thiess 
 walked up and down, sipping now and then at a penn'orth of 
 schnapps that he had ordered, and twice filled his pipe out of 
 the tobacco-box which, according to an old custom, stood upon 
 the counter for the free use of the guests. Then they went 
 through the little, silent, winding streets to the High School. 
 
 It was Thiess's custom, out of sheer modesty, never to go 
 into a house by the chief entrance, but always to find out some 
 side door, that generally brought him into a kitchen or a stable. 
 So on this occasion, too, he made a shy detour past the big 
 school entrance with its staircase, and found a little side door, 
 which fortunately brought him into the basement where the 
 school-attendant had his rooms. This man was a cobbler, and 
 was sitting at his bench, and in front of him stood his morning 
 coffee, and the morning sun touched up his iron tools with its 
 glimmer, and made the glass balls sparkle that hung from the 
 ceiling, and gleamed on every grain of the fresh white sand 
 with which the white boards of the little room were strewn. 
 A pleasant fresh smell of pitch, leather, and coffee filled the 
 room and rejoiced Thiess Thiessen's lonely soul.
 
 96 JORNUHL 
 
 " I have brought a recruit for you," he said, in a friendly tone. 
 " Dominie Peters, master of the art of reckoning at Wentorf, 
 has coached him. The English language he has already mas- 
 tered, as well as his native German. Everything else that's 
 necessary, the other foreign lingoes and style in general, he 
 wants to learn here: for he's got the provostship in his eye." 
 
 The cobbler looked at Thiess over his spectacles, and said: 
 " I'll take him up to the rector at once; they've already begun." 
 
 " Well, Jorn, laddie ; I wish you good luck. You know what 
 good things dumplings and pig's-head are, especially when you 
 have a good serviceable suit for summer and winter, and a solid 
 rain-proof roof over your head. Those are all good things, Jorn, 
 and they'll all be yours as long as you live, if you become 
 Provost." 
 
 The two went up-stairs, and Thiess shifted his chair into the 
 sunlight, laid his hat carefully on his knees, and waited, hoping 
 to have a pleasant crack with the cobbler. The latter soon 
 returned, put his coffee aside, and began to work. 
 
 " Just tell me, Meister, how long does it take for a lad to 
 get through the school course, till he's finished? " 
 
 " Hm! ... It all depends whether he's got to begin low 
 down in the school, or whether he can skip a few classes." 
 
 "I think," said Thiess, "he'll skip a few; for in the first 
 place he's had two years' teaching with Dominie Peters, and 
 in the second place he's the son of Klaus Uhl." 
 
 "Klaus Uhl of Wentorf?" 
 
 " Yes, him. The teachers will guess that he won't be par- 
 ticular as to a few glasses of grog and a few flitches of bacon. 
 And I myself, though it's neither here nor there, won't mind 
 bringing a load of good black turf in, now and again. My 
 name's Thiess Thiessen. People generally call me ' Thiess 
 behind the Haze.' What's your idea on the matter? " 
 
 " Well, you see, Thiessen, the thing's this way. Just lately 
 when my cousin, the youngest son of my mother's brother . . . 
 Her maiden name was Ehnerwolsen, she's from Wentorf, you 
 know, one of the Cravs of Suderdonn." 
 
 "I know," said Thiess, "old Heinrich Cray! His second 
 wife was deaf of both ears and heard nothing that she didn't 
 want to." 
 
 " Right, that's the one I mean. My cousin \ised to be a 
 CX)bbler, but now he's a coachman. Well, there were four
 
 JORNUHL 97 
 
 cobblers at the christening. And how many of them, do you 
 think, have stuck to the shoemaking? " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Why, not one of the four. They gave it up, and took 
 another trade, and every one o' them's doing well. . . . Now 
 that's just the way with the High School. Of every five that 
 enter, not more than one of them ever brings it to anything." 
 
 " Jorn Uhl will go througli with it," said Thiess; "he sits 
 all day up to his eyes in books, and neither hears nor sees a 
 thing. He's got it into his head that he's going to be Provost." 
 — There stood Jorn in the doorway, his long, narrow face a 
 little pale and his fair hair standing straight up, as if every 
 individual hair were anxious to see how astonished Thiess would 
 look. 
 
 " It's all one to me, Thiess, w^hether I'm Provost or not. 
 But I mean to learn something!" 
 
 In his amazement Thiess was holding his hat gripped with 
 both hands, as though expecting some one to put a penny in it. 
 
 " Do you mean to say they can't teach you anything more 
 here?" he cried, "Are you going straight away for the 
 provostship? " 
 
 Jorn shook his head, so that the sunlight glittered in his hair. 
 " It's all been wrong. I ought to have been learning Latin 
 all this time. . . . How old are the boys in the lowest class?" 
 
 " You'll be the biggest of them," said the cobbler. 
 
 " Do you see, Thiess? The lankiest boy in the lowest class! 
 That's what comes of it! He's been driving into town every 
 day, but he's never once asked whether it was Latin or English 
 I needed. But I'll be Provost in spite of it. I've told them 
 up-stairs that I'm coming back after Easter." 
 
 "Jorn, laddie, what will Lisbcth say, and Fiete Cray, too?" 
 
 " It's all the same! It's all the same to me! I'm coming 
 back after Easter, when school opens. I'll begin at the bottom 
 and sit among the youngsters. Let's be ofif, Thiess." 
 
 Thiess stood up slowly, shaking his head. 
 
 " Jorn, laddie, it's a bad business; Elsbe will be saying again 
 that everything I touch goes wrong, and your brothers will 
 grin at us. But what's the good of talking? You can't make 
 English into Latin. So come. Jorn." 
 
 They went down the street and entered the inn again. Thiess 
 emptied the glass of schnapps that was still standing on the
 
 98 JORNUHL 
 
 counter. Then he filled his pipe, for the third time, from the 
 tobacco-jar, put his tall hat on with great deliberation, and 
 asked how much he owed. But the landlord, who was half- 
 angry, half-amused at the small quantity of liquor and the large 
 quantity of tobacco he had consumed, said, " You've smoked 
 yourself free, Thiessen," and refused to accept any payment. 
 So they drove back over the heath, scatheless, at least, as far as 
 their pockets were concerned. But this time they sat close 
 together, side by side. They had little to say, except that Jorn 
 would now and then remark, " It's all the same, I'll do it yet." 
 
 As they turned around the bend out of the alder-lane and 
 drove up to the farm, Elsbe came out of the kitchen door, her 
 eyes all red with crying, weeping so violently that her breast 
 and shoulders heaved with her sobs. 
 
 When Thiess Thiessen saw any one in misfortune he became 
 excited, his eyes opened wide, and his arms and legs began to 
 work. Least of all could he bear to see Elsbe shedding tears. 
 " Come, tell me, little Whitey, what's the matter? Who's been 
 ill-treating you?" But she couldn't speak for sobbing. 
 
 Presently Wieten came around the corner and said : " Just 
 think, her father happened to go into the stable, and there he 
 sees Elsbe and Fiete Cray, sitting arm in arm, on the feed-box, 
 and the rascal was telling her how he'd marry her, and how 
 he'd then become master at the Uhl. And while the lad was 
 in the middle of his speech, Klaus Uhl caught him by the collar 
 and gave him a thrashing and then flung him out of the stable 
 door. Just at present he's sitting in his bedroom, gathering his 
 odds and ends together, and Trina, the maid, is howling." 
 
 Jorn stared down at Wieten with open mouth. 
 
 " Will Fiete have to leave the farm now? " 
 
 " Of course he will," said Wieten, " and that at once, the 
 impertinent young rascal. Where he gets hold of such notions, 
 I can't think." 
 
 Just at this moment Fiete Cray came out of the stable door, 
 his Sunday suit wrapped in a check cloth beneath his arm. " I 
 got them from you," he said, bellowing; all manliness had 
 forsaken him. " And now I must be turned off like this, 
 with hardly a stitch on my back, and go to Hamburg, and I 
 don't even know which direction the town lies in. You've 
 always been telling me your stories about ' Hans in Luck ' and 
 about chests of gold and the brushmaker who became king."
 
 JORNUHL 99 
 
 Thiess had got out of the cart. " Come down, Jorn, what 
 are you sitting up there for? Come, Elsbe, come; cheer up, 
 little lass." 
 
 But she tore herself away and ran down the road after Fiete 
 Cray, and caught hold of his arm, crying, " He sha'n't go away! 
 I'm so fond of him! He sha'n't go away! " 
 
 But Fiete Cray pushed her away from him, and roared and 
 whined. " \'ou'll see, all of you. . . . I'll come back some day, 
 and live on the Uhl in spite of you, I will! I'll start a big 
 brush-binding factory there, and have it worked by steam! " The 
 little bundle had slipped from his arm. He stooped and picked 
 it up, and then went across the road into his father's house. 
 
 Wieten Klook was dumfounded at the youth's words. She 
 clasped her hands together, turned around and went into her 
 room and sat down to work, full of rage and shame. In many 
 a twilight hour she had told these stories to wondering children, 
 with hushed voice, as the wisdom of a world which, though 
 hid from others, had been to her partially revealed. She had 
 thought that these olden things were worthy of being repeated 
 in order to fill the soul with fear and horror, love and joy. But 
 this lad had made use of them as spade and cleaver-staff, and 
 shouted them out in broad daylight across the farmyard. She 
 let her sewing sink into her lap, and gazed vacantly at the table ; 
 and while she sat there so motionless, an invisible hand laid one 
 picture after another before her, and the pictures spoke of travail 
 and misery and death among the people she had once known; 
 and each picture was sadder than the last. And then she saw 
 Fiete Cray going out into the world, without guidance and full 
 of these motley thoughts. Then she looked around her in the 
 room, and when she saw that she was alone, she hid her face in 
 her hands and quietly wept. 
 
 When it was dark, Fiete Cray came out of his father's house, 
 his bundle with his work-day clothes under his arm. His 
 mother sat behind the stove crying. " Fiete," she called after 
 him, " you're only seventeen. It's too far for you to go." 
 She thought of the other Crays who had flown away so far that 
 they had never come home again, to America, and God alone 
 knows what lands besides. She had been among the last pupils 
 of old Stiibel, who had had a certain reputation as a trousers-
 
 loo JORN UHL 
 
 cutter, but not as a teacher. And then she had alwa)S had a 
 hard, Stubborn head. 
 
 " Not if it were as far as the end of the world," answered 
 Fiete Cray. " He struck me with his dog-whip, the miserable 
 hound." He began to weep aloud again with rage, clenching 
 his fist at the big old house, and shaking it at the high barns 
 whose mighty straw roofs lay so dark and silent in the midst of 
 the high poplars and ash-trees. 
 
 If Klaus Uhl had witnessed this weeping and rage, he would 
 have burst into loud and hearty laughter, and would have 
 pranked the story out a bit and told it with his own additions 
 in all the inns of the neighborhood. 
 
 Jasper Cray had come with his son as far as the door. " It 
 doesn't matter a straw where you go to," said he, " so you can't 
 lose your way, and that's something in itself, — not to be able 
 to lose one's way, — neither have you much of a bundle to 
 carry ; if need be you can cut straight across country, and that's 
 another advantage. Look to it that you turn out a good man; 
 if you go to the bad, don't show your face here again ; but 
 when you've done something for yourself in the world, then 
 come back and see how we're getting on." 
 
 He was already on his way, and almost hidden in the dusk. 
 " You can depend upon it, father, I'll come back again." 
 
 As he was turning around again to proceed on his journey, 
 he saw Jorn Uhl standing in front of him. 
 
 " Thiess is waiting with his cart up there by the pines," Jorn 
 said, in a low voice; " to-night you are to sleep at his place 
 at the Haze." 
 
 They walked together along the foot of the hills, till they 
 came to a little gully on the left, covered with heath and 
 bracken. It led up steep between the two hills, and was broad 
 and deep enough for a good-sized farmer's house to have stood 
 in it. Toward the top it grew shallower and narrower, till it 
 at last ran out on the Heidefeld. 
 
 Fiete Cray went on ahead, walking in silence, except for a 
 sob from time to time that shook his whole body. 
 
 Half-way up the gully, hid between low oak-scrub, and not 
 far from the narrow track which led to the top, lay a circular 
 pond, not much bigger than a cart-wheel, and filled to the brim 
 with fresh, clear water. That was the Goldsoot. A spring 
 from somewhere in the hills above kept it always full, and the
 
 JC)RN UHL loi 
 
 overflow waters disappeared with much soft whispering and 
 nuirniuriiiG; into tiie undergrowth below. Two or three stars 
 that stood above it in the sky lay reflected there, and two or 
 three leafless branches that hung over the edge were mirrored 
 in it like sharp, slanting spears defending the entrance to the 
 waters. A wind came up from the sea and passed away rustling 
 through thickets, \\ here the ground was covered with last year's 
 crisp, dry leaves. There was a constant murmur as of soft 
 voices below and above and around it on every side. 
 
 B'iete stood still, gazing meditatively at the water. " I should 
 like to know," he said, his voice broken with an involuntary sob, 
 " what the bottom's like, and what sort of a feel it has." 
 
 Jorn tried to comfort him, and said, by way of faint en- 
 couragement: "Won't you go and try the Steinberg by the 
 Haze, that you were always telling us about? You said there 
 were heaps of gold there, some of the pieces as big as children's 
 heads." 
 
 Fiete Cray shook his head emphatically; for these children's 
 heads were creations of his own fancy; he had considerably 
 widened the field that Wieten had so diligently labored at many 
 an evening in the lamplight, and he had done so with such 
 intense delight in his inventions, and with such warmth of 
 imagination, that often he could not tell how much of the story 
 was due to Wieten and how much to his own fancy. But this 
 night there was a sifting asunder of truth and fiction, and the 
 lumps of gold as big as children's heads were classed among the 
 fiction, (joldsoot, on the other hand, belonged to what was true. 
 
 He gazed into the water yet awhile; then he went on slowly 
 up the hill. At the top, on the brink of the Heidefeld, he said 
 to Jorn : 
 
 " Now, go back home. I want to walk on alone." 
 
 Then Jorn turned around and went away, without handshake 
 or good-by, back over the heath. 
 
 Fiete Cray, however, remained standing up there in the dry 
 heather. J(')rn looked around after awhile, and saw him stand- 
 ing like a dark post against the horizon. 
 
 Fiete Cray turned slowly around and went down into the 
 gully again ; laying his bundle down near the water, and draw- 
 ing off his coat, he stretched himself full length in the grass, and 
 reached as deep as he could into the water. In this wa\ he 
 searched around the margin, but found nothing. He then un-
 
 I02 JORN UHL 
 
 dressed hastily, and when he was stripped caught hold of some 
 overhanging branches, and let himself cautiously into the cold 
 water, and found bottom. It reached up to his breast. He 
 stepped guardedly about, but felt no trace of anything hard. It 
 was all soft sand and decayed leaves. Then he dived three times, 
 and searched along the edges, but there was nothing there but 
 the smooth clayey sides, overgrown with water-weeds. 
 
 Then he gave it up. He drew himself out of the water and 
 remained standing awhile, before beginning to dress. He stood 
 erect and motionless, feeling nothing of the cutting cold that 
 was scourging him as with thin icy rods. He stood looking into 
 the water, and the water looked back at him with a calm, sad 
 eye, as though it sorrowfully held its secret fast. 
 
 Gossamer and spider-webs go flying all over the land, and 
 thistledown and scent of flowers are carried into every neighbor's 
 garden. And at times a shrewd and meditative eye may chance 
 to see Fate, great and beautiful and terrible, sitting upon the 
 everlasting stone, with head on hand and frowning brow, tracing 
 in the sand that labyrinth of lines and confusion of paths that 
 we mortals have then to tread. Fiete Cray had his adventure 
 that April night, by the lonely Goldsoot, not for himself alone. 
 
 It happened about this time that there was a certain young 
 girl in the village, a farmer's daughter. She was tall and good- 
 looking, and much courted by the young folk thereabouts, 
 but up to her twentieth year she had refused all their advances. 
 Seldom was she seen at a dance ; and when she went, it some- 
 times happened that she would leave the room, scowling, after 
 the first dance, put her horse in the cart, and drive home alone 
 through the darkness. Among the younger girls she had no 
 close friends ; she had, however, this winter, attached herself 
 to a young, newly married woman, who had charmed her with 
 her fresh and simple grace. She had come there wnth her 
 husband, a stranger like herself, and purchased a house in the 
 village, and was now expecting the birth of her first child. 
 Sometimes she would come and sit with the young wife in the 
 quiet hours of twilight ; and one day she asked, with the greatest 
 delicacy, how her friend could have brought herself to be a 
 man's wife, and to give herself so entirely up to him. When 
 the other, surprised and embarrassed by this question, could 
 give no immediate reply, she said, with tears, that she had in
 
 JORN UHL 103 
 
 her heart an affection for some one, but that she could not 
 conquer her disinch'nation to respond to his love. She had, she 
 said, an invincible reticence in this matter; being a farmer's 
 daughter, and having grown up in the country, she well knew 
 what marriage entailed. The joung wife comforted her with 
 gentle, hesitating words, and tried to convince her that love, 
 when it is real, causes everything painful to be forgotten. But 
 in spite of this conversation no change took place in her de- 
 meanor when alone. She w^pt and bewailed her unhappy 
 nature, which had made of her neither a nun nor a real woman, 
 and which had caused her lover, and, through him, herself, to 
 be so unhappy. 
 
 After some time had elapsed, it happened that on that very 
 April evening when Fiete Cray left the Uhl, a ball was again 
 being given in the town. It was just past new moon. For 
 several days she had been low-spirited, but as she now felt her- 
 self quite well and fresh again, on the day before the ball she 
 thought she would take advantage of this happy, almost gay, 
 frame of mind, so as to banish her disinclination. She therefore 
 made up her mind to drive in to the dance. She made up her 
 mind to be friendly toward all who were there, to suppress her 
 aversion to dancing, and to be particularly friendly to her lover 
 if he happened to dance with her. 
 
 When she entered the room she at once saw him standing 
 near the window. He seemed to have been waiting for her ; his 
 frank and honest eyes beamed with love as he looked at her. 
 They both belonged to the better class of farmers, and both 
 were naturally distinguished by a chaste and loyal soul. With 
 a deep feeling of gladness she noted his bright, neat looks, and 
 resolved afresh to show him that she was deeply attached to 
 him. 
 
 But when the music began and a troop of young suitors 
 hastened toward the row of maidens, and, beneath her lowered 
 eyelids, she rather felt than saw that her lover was approaching, 
 she conquered her feelings so far as to consent to dance with 
 him. But when he spoke to her in the interval between the 
 dances, he saw that her face was pale, her lips trembling, and 
 her cold, haughty glance was fixed straight before her, so that 
 her beautiful young face seemed as though suddenly frozen. 
 Deeply hurt, he led her silently back to her seat ; she left the 
 room immediately afterward and drove home.
 
 I04 JORN UHL 
 
 On the way, alone in her trap, in the far silence of Nature 
 and the night, her face at first wore the same look as it had 
 done in the ballroom. On both sides of the road there ran low 
 embankments, and the flat fields of humble heath stretched out 
 mile on mile. She was high above Nature. She sat upright in 
 her seat, and showed b}'^ her imperious expression how proud 
 she was that she alone of all these maidens possessed this high 
 chastir\'. 
 
 While the vehicle was driving on so noiselessly through the 
 deep sand away into the night, she suddenly heard a bird in 
 the distance wailingly call to his mate. The approaching wheels 
 must have frightened it out of its deep sleep. Immediately 
 afterward there came from close at hand a comforting cry in 
 response. Closely following each other the two birds flew 
 whirring over the roadway, uttering a tender note. 
 
 As the girl turned her eyes from the birds back to the road, 
 she seemed for the first time to notice how terribly desolate the 
 landscape was, and the air seemed full of a dead, empty dark- 
 ness. 
 
 Her solitariness, of which she had been so proud till now, 
 made her shudder with fear. She felt how much easier it was 
 to act like her sisters than to set her face against what Nature 
 urged upon her, with such a smiling and anon such a grave 
 and almost threatening mien. Giving herself up to vhis feel- 
 ing, she bowed her head and began softly to weep. Her fall 
 was deeper because her pride before had been so high. The 
 image of her lover, which lier previous haughtiness had robbed 
 of every charm, had now, once more, those kindly, honest 
 features. His noble nature, which found expression in his whole 
 demeanor and in each dignified movement, now possessed her 
 whole heart; and her heart cried aloud for him. With knitted 
 brow she began to brood over what manner she should adopt 
 to overcome her shyness toward him whom she loved so well. 
 She turned over all sorts of strange plans in her mind as to 
 how she could, so to say, outwit herself. At last she hit upon 
 the idea of waiting in front of his gateway till the approach of 
 dawn. His farm lay isolated enough for such a purpose. Nor 
 was it impossible that he might return home soon after she had 
 left the room, and then, when he came up, — he usually went 
 on foot, — she would go to him in spite of herself and speak to 
 him. She would ask him to forgive her for being so shy, and
 
 JORN UHL 105 
 
 tell him she loved him more than everything in the whole world. 
 With this resolution she drove forward on her way, intending 
 really to carry out her purpose. 
 
 But she had not gone far, whilst still trying to think out 
 more clearly the position she would be in, before she remarked 
 that her old spirit of defiance and aversion was again conu'ng 
 over her. She tried in vain to wrestle with it, and was on the 
 point of entirely succumbing to it. The brightness in her beau- 
 tiful eyes had already died out, when she suddenly came to that 
 part of the road that overlooks the little gully, where, not twenty 
 steps below her, the Goldsoot lay directly beneath her. There, 
 in the half-light of the little valley, near the silvery disc of the 
 water, she saw the white figure of a man. He was standing 
 motionless, gazing into the water. In her fright she jerked 
 the reins, thinking to rouse the fiery young mare with the accus- 
 tomed call into a sharp trot. But her heart was in her throat 
 and her voice failed her, and so the mare understood this mute 
 jerk of the reins as an order to stand, and kept just as motion- 
 less as the gleaming figure of the youth by the mirror of the 
 pool and as the panting maiden on her seat. 
 
 Then like a revelation there came over her the brave, en- 
 lightening thought that this apparition was not there by mere 
 chance, but in order that she might be healed by a return to 
 Nature. She saw the lithe, proud, strong frame, how as in some 
 harmonious temple one part stood free and strong upon the 
 other, rising to the knees, then growing broader in strong and 
 youthful power to the hips, then strong and rushing, like a cry 
 of delight, up to the breast and the head, which was bowed down 
 in thought; and as she looked only for a moment, her inmost 
 soul told her that here pure truth had her dwelling, here, where 
 God and Nature are housed together in sweet, pure union. She 
 felt that the man there was the comrade of her innermost being, 
 with whom in giving and taking, each with his especial gifts, 
 would round off his own incomplete nature to a nature full 
 and whole. A feeling of deepest gladness streamed through 
 her limbs. Her eyes filled with tears so that she saw nothing 
 more. And noticing her tears, she could not help laughing 
 softly to herself. The mare started on at the sound, and the 
 youth by the pool started up in fear. But another, too, had 
 heard the laughter — one who was walking along the road be-
 
 io6 JORN UHL 
 
 hind the vehicle, and who had so far gone along with ej^es fixed 
 on the ground, for his thoughts were full of melancholy. 
 
 He heard the sound of laughter and immediately recognized 
 it. He walked quicker, and soon caught up with the vehicle. 
 " You are driving very slowly," he said. 
 
 She laughed again softly, and said, roguishly, " I wanted to 
 drive slowly, so that you might catch up with me. Of course 
 you had to put on your coat." 
 
 He did not pay any closer heed to her remark. He thought 
 that as she had left the room she had seen him getting ready to 
 fetch his overcoat; but he clearly heard from her voice that 
 now at last her hour was come, and was more than rejoiced, 
 and his heart laughed within him. 
 
 He laid his hand upon the railing of the cart and walked 
 beside her, and said, " Why did you drive off so early? " 
 
 " Guess! " she said. 
 
 " I think it was so that we might meet here." 
 
 "If that's what you think, you're a clever fellow, and you 
 mustn't keep on walking beside me any longer. Come, spring 
 up. 
 
 She pulled in the mare and he unfastened the leather rug 
 that was over her knees. But before jumping in, it occurred 
 to him that it would be good for him to show a little pride. 
 This was the opportune moment for such a thing, he considered, 
 if he wanted to prevent her coy nature from afterward being 
 dashed by the thought that her lover had never had dignity 
 enough to check her for her frequently repulsive demeanor. 
 So he said, very calmly and deliberately, as though speaking 
 of a matter of course: 
 
 " I don't wish to see the face again that you showed me in the 
 ballroom to-night, li you promise to be good, then I'll drive 
 with you." 
 
 She nodded and smiled. " Get up into the cart," she said, 
 " and you shall be treated as you deserve, dear friend." And 
 she laid her hand on his shoulder. 
 
 With that he got up, and took the reins into his hands. She 
 submitted, and leaned back in the cart, and said, "Drive slowly." 
 
 "W>?" he asked. 
 
 " Are you so shrewd, and yet don't know that much? " 
 
 " I know," said he, " it is so that we may be a long time 
 together on our way."
 
 JORN UHL 107 
 
 And then he laid his arm around her and kissed her, and 
 from that hour forth she was his good wife. He held the reins; 
 and she told him when she wished that he should drive slower 
 or faster. 
 
 The poor youth by the pool had hastily put on his clothes, 
 and had quickly climbed up to the edge of the heath, where 
 the vehicle with these two happy young lovers had just vanished 
 into the dark. He turned once more and looked toward the 
 village. The wide sand-downs, that his ancestors had hollowed 
 out and under which they had lived, gleamed faint in the dis- 
 tance. He didn't turn again, but walked straight across the 
 heath in the direction of the two oaks that stood, broad and 
 squat, near the cross-ways. Under one of them stood Trina 
 Kiihl, the milkmaid. She had a bundle under her arm, like 
 him, and in her black confirmation dress, that was now too short 
 for her, was w^aiting for him. "Where have you been?" she 
 said. 
 
 He didn't answer, but straightway asked, " Do you really 
 and truly want to go with me? " 
 
 "Yes," she said, "why not? Klaus Uhl is charity officer, 
 and so he either keeps my wages in his pocket, or puts them into 
 the parish poor-box, because I grew up in the workhouse. And 
 then they expect me to be grateful into the bargain. If you'll 
 take me with you, Fiete, I'll go and look for a place for myself 
 in Hamburg. But I don't know jet where it lies. I must pack 
 my things a little better, though." 
 
 She knelt down, untied the bundle, and laid her working 
 dress and the three chemises and the three pairs of stockings 
 and a pair of leather slippers neatly together. Then they 
 walked on side by side over the rise. The wind came driving 
 up behind them, and sand and withered oak-leaves flew whirling 
 around them. 
 
 On the other side of the rise, where it was sheltered from 
 the wind, they found Thiess Thiessen's old cart waiting. Thiess 
 had taken the winkers off the horses, and they were browsing 
 along by the embankment below; their master was sitting, 
 doubled up, on the high, comfortable seat, fast asleep. 
 
 "Thiess," said Fiete Cray, "wake up! Trina Kiihl is here, 
 too, and wants to go with me. Don't go talking to us about
 
 io8 JORN UHL 
 
 things, Thiess; what's the use! Just wait till we get to Ham- 
 burg and see how we get on." 
 
 Some days after Easter, shortly before school recommenced, 
 Hinnerk Uhl, who was the smartest of the brothers, and there- 
 fore his father's favorite, said : 
 
 " I say, father, that youngster, Jorn, talks the strangest stuff 
 you can imagine. It seems he doesn't want to go to school, 
 but thinks of staying here at home with us. It won't do at 
 all for him to turn farmer, too. Where will you get farms for 
 us all? You'll have to have a talk with him." 
 
 Jorn was summoned before his father, and at once said he 
 wanted to stay at home and work. His father scolded and 
 stormed, and at last struck him with the whip ; but he could 
 not alter him. Jorn did not say what were his reasons. But 
 that evening, as he lay in bed in the little room which Fiete 
 Cray had once shared with him, Wieten Klook came in to 
 comfort him, and asked him to tell her what had made him 
 change his mind, after having been so terribly eager for book- 
 learning. At first she could not get a word out of him, so 
 violently did he weep. But after awhile he unburdened his 
 heart to her. It was what she had already divined: "There 
 would have been no one," he sobbed, " who would have looked 
 after the foals this week if he himself had not done it. And 
 the groom would make all the horses wild and spoil them with 
 kicking them, if he didn't go into the stable now and again. 
 The bay cob had a wound on the knee already. Even Fiete 
 Cray had often not looked after things properly, but after he 
 had gone away, if he (Jorn) were to go away, too, everything 
 would go to rack and ruin." When she tried to soothe him, 
 and stroked his bristly hair, saying, " Now, it's all right, laddie; 
 don't take on so about it, dearie," his weeping burst forth afresh, 
 and between his sobs she heard, " Do you think . . . that I 
 like . . . doing it, Wieten? . . . Now I can't learn anything 
 at all. I'll never have time to take a book in my hand. And 
 I'll be as stupid as all the rest." 
 
 Next morning, when he rose, Jorn Uhl put on the blue 
 linen stable-jacket that Fiete Cray had thrown aside. 
 
 Thus it was that this whirlwind came upon the Wentorf 
 children, tearing away the one that wanted to stay, and thrust- 
 ing him out into the world ; slamming the door in the face
 
 J CRN UHL 109 
 
 of the one that wanted to depart; settinj^ the laborer's son down 
 upon the bald, desolate heath, and filling his vivid fancy with 
 pictures in the shadowy distance, of all the treasures of the 
 world and the glory of them, and then disdainfully casting an 
 old blue stable-coat before the rich man's son.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Next morning Jorn Uhl had put on the stahle-jacket that 
 Fiete Cray in his rage had flung against the wall. 
 
 From this hour forth he had no longer any inclination for 
 the school, for it had nothing to offer him. The instruction 
 he got in religious dogma in the confirmation class bored him, 
 because he could not understand it. These doctrines of sin 
 and grace were incomprehensible to a hard-headed, practical 
 mind like his, whose whole world of interest lay centred in 
 the Uhl and its village. Sin came to him too late, and for 
 grace he was not yet ready. For sin only began with robbing, 
 thieving, and killing, while grace came much too soon, namely, 
 when any one liked " to cast his sin upon the Lord." God 
 seemed to him to be a kind of unpractical bookkeeper, who kept 
 his accounts in good enough order in his own office, but was 
 grossly deceived by his servants abroad. 
 
 As for J5rn, the farm-hands liked him, regarding him as 
 their equal. A difficulty, however, arose when he began to 
 show that he meant to be above them. He wanted them to 
 willingly respect him, and to be a little more diligent about 
 their work when they knew he was looking at them. Thus 
 it came about that while they liked him well enough for 
 sharing their lot and their work, they looked askance when they 
 saw him eying a ploughman resting at the end of a furrow 
 in some distant field, or a milkmaid that had forgot her milking 
 as she sat in the cow-stall gossiping with some neighbor. Then 
 he'd come striding straight across the field with some laughing 
 remark, as though it were some chance errand that had brought 
 him that way. Then they would refer to him among them- 
 selves as the Provost, and others again called him "the field-spy." 
 But he paid no heed to their raillery. It troubled him not a 
 jot so long as the land and the cattle on the Uhl got fair 
 treatment. He had no cares and no interests beside that, and 
 
 no
 
 J R N U H L III 
 
 this concentration of his will and soul upon one great object in 
 early youth was a gain for his whole life. 
 
 It was for this reason, too, that in the two years following 
 his confirmation the old farmer, Wilhelm Dreyer, held such 
 a high place in his eyes. Lx)ng years ago this man had begun 
 with little or nothing, had led a diligent, thrifty life for two 
 score years, and was now, a man of over seventy, living in a 
 fine old house of his own in the village street under the lindens. 
 For many a year he had been estranged from Klaus Uhl, and 
 had neither glance nor greeting for the elder sons of that family. 
 He had always observed the world with keen, shrewd eyes, and 
 well knew that the life they were lerding, with its stupidity 
 and frivolity, its cowardice and its evil conscience, at last ends 
 in poverty, wickedness, and despair. But when the old man 
 saw this lanky Jorn working in the fields, he'd come leaping 
 and limping over the ditches with his shrewd, clean-shaven face 
 and his long, iron-gray hair, and stand by the youth at his work, 
 asking him questions and imparting to him all sorts of farm- 
 lore that he had gathered in the experience of his long life. And 
 Jorn would listen as seldom a man listens to his minister in 
 church. In those years it was like a gospel for him. To work 
 hard, and to be sober, and to manage his farm with shrewdness 
 and thrift, those were the " good tidings " that the old evan- 
 gelist Dreyer had preached to him. 
 
 When, long years afterward, his way once led him past the 
 fields of the Uhl, and one of his sons was walking by his side, 
 he raised his stick and pointed to a piece of ploughed land. 
 " See, laddie," he said, " there, in the third land from the end, 
 that's where old Dreyer taught me to turn the head of a fur- 
 row." And another time, " See, laddie, down there, where the 
 beans are in blossom, that's where I cut my first swath of corn ; 
 and not far from there, by the ditch, I learnt from old Dre}er 
 how to sharpen a scythe. I wasn't quite seventeen then. The 
 wheat was ready to fall from the ear, and hands were not to 
 be had to reap it. The old man came over to the Uhl, and 
 said : ' Jorn, you must just tackle it yourself.' And as soon as I 
 had started he came over himself with his scythe, — which 
 was rusty, I remember, — and we mowed together till the 
 sun went down. By then his scythe was bright enough, I'll 
 warrant you. Afterward he laughed, and said, ' I didn't 
 want to let thee beat me, laddie.' And I laughed back and
 
 112 JORN UHL 
 
 said, ' And I didn't want you to beat me.' I have never since 
 slept so sound as I did that night." 
 
 Jorn grew more and more disliked by his brothers. He was 
 a sort of evil conscience haunting them. That uncertain judg- 
 ment with which boNs of sixteen regard the grown-up members 
 of their family prevented him from showing them any manifest 
 contempt. He rather held himself shyly aloof from them, 
 answering not a word when they railed at him, and blushing 
 when they found him doing a task that they had neglected. 
 He blushed both for himself and for them. But it was just 
 this modesty and stillness in his demeanor that exasperated them 
 the more. It was as if they felt in it some tacit condemnation 
 of their conduct. 
 
 Sometimes when he went backwards and forwards between 
 the house and the stables, with his gray-blue working blouse 
 flapping around his gaunt limbs, his father, sitting in his cart 
 ready to drive into town, would raise his whip and point out 
 his youngest son to the elder brothers, crying out with his 
 full, soft, jocund voice, "There's a bright specimen for you! 
 Gad! what a Provost he would have made! I wouldn't let 
 the fellow ride beside me into town for a five-pun' note. Do 
 you mean to tell me that he's been bred on the Uhl? " 
 
 After his father had driven off, Hans would say: '' I say, 
 youngster, I am going to do my best to be the master here 
 by and by. You don't like girls, and will run all your life in 
 single harness. You're cut out for a lackey and a drudge. So 
 just stay here with me on the farm! I'll see you have every- 
 thing you want, and will look after you when you've worked 
 yourself stiff." 
 
 But Hinnerk said straight out, " We want to do without a 
 stableman next j'ear, so that we can have his wages to have a 
 good swill with." 
 
 Of an evening Jorn and Elsbe sat with Wieten in the room 
 by the middle passage. In these last years Wieten had grown 
 quieter and more pensive, especially since that day when Fiete 
 Cray shouted his reproaches to her across the farmyard. She 
 had such a retentive memory and such power of imagination 
 that all the events which she had ever heard or seen in her 
 past life seemed present to her, and stood around her like pic- 
 tures that never paled or lost their vividness. Earlier, when 
 she was still young, the courage of youth had helped her to get
 
 JORN UHL 113 
 
 the mastery over these pictures that thronged her imagination, 
 and to put aside the gloomy and sad ones, and bring forward 
 the brighter and kindh'cr ones. But gradually, with approach- 
 ing age, the darker pictures haunted her more and more per- 
 sistently. She would sometimes gaze mutely before her for 
 hours at a time, with still, sad face. In such hours her fancy 
 moved through the days of the past, from picture to picture, 
 seeing now some tragic deed that in a single day had wrecked 
 some family's happiness, anon some heavy sorrow weighing for 
 years and years upon a house, anon bright, loving eyes wet with 
 idle tears, anon some stern, hard face, flushed wild with rage. 
 So she was drawn on frcjm image to image, against her will. 
 Much later, when she had grown very old, and lived in serene 
 peace of mind upon Haze Farm, the pictures grew faint, and 
 her worry from them ceased. 
 
 Of an evening Jorn used to sit there, almost inanimate, dead 
 tired after his heavy work. He would say little, and go early 
 to bed. 
 
 That was bad company for the sprightly little Elsbe, in whom 
 the thought was growing stronger, warmer, and clearer, that 
 she had once uttered when a child, " I must have something 
 to love." 
 
 Now and again the big brothers had company in the front 
 part of the house. Girls were found w illing to share in their 
 festivit}'. And whenever the loud shouts of the revellers or 
 the suppressed sound of girls' laughter was heard coming across 
 the great corridor to the little room in which the silent Wieten 
 and Jorn sat, Elsbe would raise her fair dark head with its 
 mass of hair and its soft, fresh lines of budding womanhood, 
 and look restlessly toward the door. And Jorn would noisily 
 change his posture, and say something to divert his sister's 
 thoughts from the door. But she would get up restlessly and 
 go toward the window or the door. Sometimes she would open 
 the door and look out. Then she would hear two anxious 
 voices calling from the table: "Elsbe, stay here!" "Elsbe. 
 shut the door!" And she would return sullenly to the table, 
 sajMng to herself, " Oh! If I were only grown up! Oh! if I 
 were only grown up! " 
 
 During the whole Sunday forenoon Torn used to work in the 
 stables, and look every now and again where his sister was. 
 Not till evening, when she went to see some girl friends of her
 
 114 JORN UHL 
 
 own age, did he get three or four hours entirely to himself. Then 
 he would either sit quietly in his own room, or go over the 
 way to Jasper Cray's humble cottage. Jorn Uhl! who was it 
 that shaped thy mind and character in those days, when the 
 heart of man is soft as wax beneath the seal? Who was thy 
 guide in the days when parents can no longer hold us, and other 
 folk will not touch the reins that trail behind us in our mad 
 career down that road that leads to the Vanity Fair of life, 
 to that great market-place where Fate asks solemnly of each 
 of us, "What art thou worth?" For thus it is, at all times 
 in our life we have our special advisers and guides, parents, 
 school, and laws, experience, wives, trials, and sorrows; but 
 in those years when one spring gale after the other comes 
 rushing over the tops of the young and all too slender trees, 
 we are left unsupported and helpless. Ho! how the branches 
 cracked ! how the leaves whirled and flew ! We have scars 
 to show j^et on our souls from those wild storms of spring. 
 
 Old Dreyer was Jorn's teacher in all practical knowledge; 
 but it was Jasper Cray who led him out into the broad, path- 
 less fields of the wisdom of life. Klaus Uhl sat in the inn, 
 talking his shrewd things, for what was there he did not know 
 and understand? His son had to go over to little curly-headed 
 Jasper Cray, and there, under the little thatch roof, he was 
 first led to think for himself, and there got his first knowledge 
 of life. The importance of those hours was the greater as 
 manhood and boyhood were here met together; and as each 
 thought highly of the other, it came to many a warm, straight- 
 forward argument betw^een them. Where did we learn most? 
 In the schools, and in the auditoriums of universities? We 
 learnt most, I say, when we went abroad into the fields for 
 ourselves, and tried to soar as best we might. 
 
 Like all the Crays, Jasper, too, had an interesting past. He 
 had been down south in Germany in those tumultuous years 
 when the German people so vehemently demanded a larger 
 share in the government of their land. Jasper Cray of Wentorf 
 had not been able to remain a silent spectator. It is not in 
 the nature of a Cray to be neutral. A little hot in the face, a 
 little out of breath, a little discomposed — in short, like one 
 who has been violently thrown out of a dancing-room, and 
 looks about him and then goes on his way as if nothing had 
 happened ; that's the way he came back to Wentorf.
 
 JORN UHL IIS 
 
 If he had not taken a wife, or if he had postponed his niar- 
 riaj^e, he would probably have left home a^ain and would have 
 undertaken this and that, and would perhaps have grown rich ; 
 but while still under the nightmare of his miserable liome- 
 coming, he determined to marry, and in his hasty, unclear desire 
 to put bit and bridle on his inclinations, he chanced upon a 
 girl of the most modest wits imaginable, and one who, besides, 
 grew homesick as soon as she could no longer see the chimney- 
 pots of her parents' house. Children came, and sickness, and 
 all the daily worries of poor folk. He was a day-laborer at 
 the Uhl, and had known now for many a day that he would 
 never be anything better. In winter, when there was no work, 
 he made heather-brooms, brushes, and currycombs; as far as 
 appearance went he seemed exactly like his comrades. 
 
 But sometimes his old restlessness broke forth afresh. At 
 each annual festival of the children, toward midnight, when 
 he had given his neighbor Klaus Uhl a " piece of his mind," 
 and prophesied the decay and downfall of him, he would begin 
 singing the old song he had once sung behind the barricades 
 at Frankfurt; and in still later years, when the time of the 
 parliamentary elections came around, he would hover about 
 seven or eight houses where politically ignorant or indifferent 
 people lived, and teach and rouse them. 
 
 To outward view he was like the rest of them; but in his 
 heart there still slumbered the fantastic thoughts and dreams 
 of old. And as these dreams were in such striking contrast 
 with the modest, anxious reality, he had the choice of either 
 looking at the world as one whose life had been embittered, 
 and thus embittering it still more for himself and others, or 
 of bantering himself good-humoredly for his errors, and riding 
 over the fields of his neighbors, telling each landholder how 
 badly his farm was managed. 
 
 Sitting under the eaves of the humble cottage many a Sun- 
 day evening Jorn and he talked about the world and its wiys. 
 His wife sat inside behind the open window; the children 
 returned from their games on the Ringelshorn and went quietly 
 to bed. The eldest, Gottfried, who was slow of speech and 
 very backward at school, sat on a chair by the door in the 
 midst of numbers of fine white shavings, cutting clothes-pegs, 
 a business he drove on his own account. He had his mother's 
 limited intelligence, and showed no interest for the things his
 
 ii6 JORN UHL 
 
 father used to discuss with Jorn Uhl. Since his confirmation 
 he had never been to church, nor had he ever looked at a book 
 or a newspaper. His intellectual life was bounded by what he 
 had received from his ancestors, and by what he heard and 
 saw along the country-side as a hawker. But although thus 
 sparing of mental effort, and although his single concern was 
 for what lay around about him and happened within a radius 
 of ten miles or so, while everything else, religion, politics, news, 
 remained a matter of indifference to him, he nevertheless slowly 
 acquired a shrewd insight into what would further his modest 
 ends, and bravely supported himself and his family later on; 
 and without becoming wicked or godless, outflew many of his 
 comrades at school, who had learnt a great deal, but scattered 
 their energy by running after every novelty that was mentioned 
 in the newspaper or in the village street. 
 
 " Jorn," said Jasper Cray, " what does it say in the New 
 Testament? Of course, you don't know! No; you Uhls 
 don't know. It says that every fifty years all property must 
 be divided and allotted afresh. You Uhls have been too long 
 there on that land of yours; we Grays ought to have a turn 
 on your broad, flat acres. I tell you, we would manage matters 
 a bit better on your farms than you would if you had our 
 sand to deal with. You Uhls ought to become sand farmers 
 for awhile, Jorn; just picture to yourself how your father 
 would look driving his little cart, drawn by dogs. Why, he 
 couldn't do it to save his life! Then he'd come to me. ' Mr. 
 Cray, one moment! Mr. Cray, how do you do this?' Then 
 I'd look him up and down a bit haughtily, and say, ' I've got 
 no time to spare, Uhl, for such things. Go to my wife.' " 
 
 His wife cried out from her room, " You're just skiting, 
 Jasper ! " 
 
 " Whisht, Trina! . . . Look, Jorn, if you open your mouth to 
 the west wind and gulp in as much as you want to live on, 
 there's not a soul will say to you, ' Hey, be off, there, that's 
 my wind.' But if you set yourself down somewhere or other, 
 and in the sweat of your brow begin turning over as much 
 land as you need in order to fill the bellies of yourself and 
 your children, then men will say, ' Be off from there, that's 
 my land! ' Both lungs and stomach, Jorn, have got from God 
 the right to be filled. So when you've enough to eat, and 
 clothes to put on, be content. And if any one is clever and
 
 JORN UHL 117 
 
 hard-working enough to accomplish more for himself, nobody 
 should hinder him, say 1." 
 
 " That's too hard a matter for me to think out," said Jorn. 
 Too hard? You don't say so! and yet you've got such 
 a long, meditative nose, too. Look you. Isn't there land 
 enough in the world, and isn't the government a strong man? 
 How much land is there badly ploughed here in Schleswig- 
 ilolstein alone? Why, it would bring in twice as much if it 
 were in the workmen's hands! " 
 
 " Don't make too sure about that," said Jorn ; " all workmen 
 wi.uldn't be such hard v\'orkers and so sober and thrifty as you 
 think. Have you forgotten how you treated your twelve hun- 
 dred marks, then ? " 
 
 "Laddie, who's talking about old times?" 
 
 " I am," said J(")rn, and slapped his long hand on his knee. 
 " If 1 were to get ten thousand marks to-morrow, do you think 
 I'd waste a single i)criny of it in spite of my seventeen years? " 
 
 " Just be still, Jorn," said Jasper Cray, " and talk about 
 something else." 
 
 A muflled, threatening sound, like the mutter of a thunder- 
 storm toward evening, came from the direction of the bed in 
 the little room, and Trina Cray appeared, leaning out of the 
 window in her bedroom jacket. " I'll tell you exactly how it 
 was, Jorn." 
 
 " Now you'll hear something," said Jasper Cray, with a wink. 
 
 " Well, when Aunt Stina died, she left us twelve hundred 
 marks. Her sister, old Trina, is still alive. We went and 
 drew the money ourselves from the procurator. I reiiiember it 
 all as if it happened jcstcrday; Jasper had tied up the bright 
 gold pieces and the silver crowns in a handkerchief. Near 
 Gudendorf we sat down in the heath and counted it over 
 again, for when the man counted it out to us at the office it 
 was all of a dazzle to us. 
 
 " Well, at first he was quite sensible, but after a few days I 
 saw that he was losing his appetite, and he'd leave his work 
 half-done and come home and tear the drawer open so as to 
 count the money again. And of a night he couldn't sleep. 
 
 " That lasted eight days or so, and he kept getting worse. 
 He'd sit up in bed for hours at a time, at last he'd get up 
 and sit on the drawer that held the money. I'd fall asleep 
 again, but when day began to dawn and I opened my eyes,
 
 ii8 JORN UHL 
 
 there he would be sitting half-dressed, and had got the big axe 
 between his knees. 
 
 " You can picture to yourself what a fright I'd get. I was 
 afraid he was going crazy, and persuaded him to take the money 
 to the savings-bank. Then he would no longer need to worry 
 about it. I told him they had an iron chest there with seven- 
 teen locks to it, and I don't know what else besides. At first 
 he wouldn't hear of it, but at last he took it to them and got a 
 sort of little yellow book for it. 
 
 " But now things grew even worse than before. What I had 
 to put up with from that man, Jorn ! He was everlastingly 
 reading in his bank-book, and saying that one sentence spat in 
 the face of the other. The whole thing was clearly a swindle, 
 he said, and if they'd been decent, honest people the book ought 
 to have been at least five times as thick, something like a psalter 
 — not such a rag of a thing as it was. At last, one night, when 
 he got up to look for the book and couldn't find it immediately, 
 what did he do but turn on me and say I had stolen it. So 
 I advised him to draw his money out again, which he did. 
 
 " Now, Jorn, what do you think? He began drinking, Jorn. 
 He gambled, he brawled, he quarrelled with me, with Uhl, and 
 with Dominie Peters about the children. There was nothing 
 but a constant hubbub in the house. Do you remember how 
 you stood on the dung-heap at the Uhl brandishing the fork 
 and shouting at the top of your voice, ' I'm Jasper Cray of 
 Wentorf'? Yet nobody had touched him. And do you re- 
 member how you came back from town, bringing a chest of 
 wine, and wanting to hold political meetings? Fancy us and 
 wine and politics! And do you remember how you stood over 
 there, striking the post with your purse, and crying, ' Jasper 
 Cray has money ' ? That was a year, Jorn ! While it lasted 
 no one was so w retched as I. Afterward, when the money was 
 all gone, and he had no longer any anxiety about it, and knew 
 that he had to go to work again, he looked after his wife and 
 children like a Christian once more, and I got on all right with 
 him again. Fiete was five years old then; oh, dear, oh, dear, I 
 wonder where Fiete is now ? " 
 
 She shut the window. 
 
 " I'll bet you," said Jasper Cray, " that if any one said to 
 her, here's twelve hundred marks, and here's the story of the
 
 JORN UHL 119 
 
 twelve hundred marks, take your choice, she'd choose the story. 
 Sometimes I'm a bit hoity-toity, Jorn, and 1 can't say I think 
 much of my wife Trina Cray's brain power, but when I think 
 of this story, and especially when she freshens it up in my mind, 
 I'm a humble man. That money came too sudden. And there 
 was too much of it — twelve hundred marks. I wasn't 
 prepared for it. When the other aunt dies, and she's about 
 eighty now, then jou'll see how fine 1 can take care of money." 
 
 " Just you wait," said Jorn, " then you'll be worried out of 
 your life again by it, and you'll never rest till you've drunk 
 yourself poor again." 
 
 "Wha-at!" said Jasper Cray, looking at Jorn with wide, 
 reproachful eyes; "do you mean to say that a man doesn't 
 get sense into his head in his old days? " 
 
 " Many do," said Jorn, " but not all, by a long chalk." With 
 dark thoughts in his mind he glanced over toward the Uhl 
 which lay in the shadow of the poplars and ashes on the other 
 side of the road. 
 
 Many an evening they talked together. They were like an 
 ill-matched pair of hounds crossing a field. Jasper Cray always 
 ahead, his nose even where, yelping loudly; Jorn Uhl behind, 
 growling, and constantly exhorted to caution and circumspection 
 by the rashness of the other ; and cautious and circumspect 
 Jorn Uhl remained throughout his life. 
 
 Then when it grew dusk the head-servant used to come 
 from over the way, bringing the two girls with him. His 
 name was Harke Sim. He became a railway porter in later 
 days, and was the man who prevented the accident near Ham- 
 burg by running toward the train with his coat on fire, so that 
 the engine-driver pulled up just before he came to the broken 
 rail. This Harke Sim used to bring his concertina under his 
 arm, and they always made room for him on the bench under 
 the eaves, although he hadn't too much elbow-room there. The 
 girls sat down in the green grass by the roadside, and Harke Sim 
 would play, and beat time with his head so stolidly, and looking 
 so stupid with his half-shut eyes the while, that no one would 
 ever have given him credit for an act requiring swift resolution 
 and presence of mind. 
 
 After that they spoke about neighbor So-and-so's corn, and 
 neighbor What-d'you-call-him's daughter. After that, about the
 
 I20 JORN UHL 
 
 village schoolmaster and the minister; after that about Ham- 
 burg; after that about the icing, and last of all about Death. 
 By this, the moon hung low among the poplars, and a weasel 
 would cross the road from time to time. 
 
 At the same hour one evening in a high street in Hamburg, 
 close to St. Peter's Church, a young man was sitting in a 
 bookseller's shop, waiting there as senior apprentice to serve 
 any late customer that might drop in. He was the son of a 
 clergyman somewhere on the ed;;e of the Liineberger Heath, 
 and, having grown up in the open air, had come to logger- 
 heads with Latin at an early stage in his career. But despite 
 this distaste for Latin, he liked reading books in his own lan- 
 guage, and the more fantastic they were the better they pleased 
 him. So his father had got him a place in this shop beneath 
 St. Peter's Church, where he was surrounded by books to his 
 heart's content. He was delighted to get the situation ; but it 
 soon turned out that he had by no means obtained his ideal of 
 life as yet. There were plenty of books there, and he might 
 peer into them, and even now and again take one that pleased 
 him home with him to read. But he felt that these books wanted 
 a different setting, so to say — the great wide heath and the hay- 
 stacks full of shady places and the old sand-pit ; and poignant 
 homesickness filled the young 'prentice's heart. 
 
 So he was sitting that evening in the back part of the shop 
 in the little recess under the staircase, reading a book called 
 " The Chronicles of Sparrow Alley," written by a certain Wil- 
 helm Raabe, and he read, and read, and was no longer in Ham- 
 burg, but was far away from St. Peter's Church, playing near 
 the straw-thatched manse again, and climbing the birch-tree by 
 the old wall, and looking out over the wide land for the nearest 
 church spire. Suddenly the shop door opened, and a young 
 workman about his own age, a sturdy, thick-set youth in a gray 
 jumper and with a round, fresh face and enterprising eyes and 
 reddish hair, stood at the counter looking at him. And as the 
 Luneberger slowly got up, the customer laid a little pile of 
 silver on the counter, and said, " I want to buy some books 
 with this." 
 
 " Books? " 
 
 "Yes, books! Have you ever heard whether a certain 
 Theodor Storm has written a book?"
 
 JORN UHL 121 
 
 "Storm? I should think he had. He's written a host of 
 little novels." 
 
 " Novels? I don't know what that is; but it doesn't sound 
 the right thing. I'll tell you straight what I mean, I carry 
 out parcels for a business here in Herman Stra^se, and I've 
 waited till I got a chance to speak to you alone. It's like this. 
 On our farm at home we had an old servant who was properly 
 called Pcnn, but she was so mighty shrewd that people always 
 called her VVicten Klook. Well, this Wieten Klook used to 
 make out that a certain I'heodor Storm and a man named 
 MiJllenhoff were going to write a book together. She herself 
 hadn't much of an opinion of them and their projects; but if 
 they by any chance really have written a book, I'd like to have 
 it; and there's the money, six Prussian dollars." 
 
 The 'prentice in the shop under St. Peter's sat on the ac- 
 countant's stool looking at this strange customer with eyes 
 wide with astonishment. "Storm and Miillenholi! What's 
 the book about, then?" 
 
 " Well ... to put it short . . . about how a man is to 
 grow wise and rich. That's what I want to know." 
 
 Then the 'prentice from the Liinebcrger Heath stood up 
 and said, emphatically: "There's no such book to be had. 
 Bless me, anything else but that! What! get wise by reading 
 a book! I tell you you can grow stupid from many a book; 
 and there's books'Il drive you crazy. Othcrs'l! make you sad, 
 and some'll make you laugh, perhaps. And others may teach 
 you this and that, it's true, but as for making you wise and 
 rich — tush ! There are no such books. . . . You ask what 
 Storm's written? Just wait a moment. . . . See, here's one. 
 This is a book he wrote. There arc stories in it about good 
 and decp-natured men and all sorts of dreamers. He's one of 
 our greatest poets." 
 
 The purchaser shook his head, biting his teeth together, 
 and gazing at the counter. " Then Wieten must have been 
 right after all when she said he'd come to no good." 
 
 The youth from the I.iineberger Heath pushed aside the 
 books that lay before him. " My opinion's this. Look, now, 
 these books, from the lowest to the topmost shelf, row above 
 row — you can read 'em all through, and be as stupid and even 
 stupider after it than you were before. One doesn't grow wise
 
 122 JORN UHL 
 
 from books, but from the life one lives. Do you come from 
 the Liineberger Heath?" 
 
 " No, from Dittmarsh." 
 
 " It's all the same. If I wanted to give you a piece of advice, 
 I'd say: ' If you wish to grow wise and rich, then go to some 
 place where there are no books.' . . . Books, indeed! why, if 
 I hadn't my father, and if mother wouldn't cry her eyes 
 out, I'd go straight to America. By George! I would. And 
 woe betide the man who put a book under my nose after that." 
 
 " So that's your idea," said Fiete Cray, reflectively, as he 
 picked up his money and put it back in his pocket. " My father 
 and mother don't trouble a scrap about me. I've made up my 
 mind to be rich. It's all the same how. I've heard both good 
 and bad of America. Never of a cross between the two. I 
 believe I'll do it." 
 
 " Do it, man ; and if you've time and inclination, and if 
 you get on, just write a line to the senior 'prentice in Herrold's 
 bookshop. What's your name?" 
 
 " Fiete Cray of Wentorf."
 
 CHAPTER Vril. 
 
 The harvest had been gathered in and the lindens were full 
 of yellow blossoms, when Jorn, one summer's day, walked past 
 the old schoolhouse, carrying a ploughshare over his shoulder, 
 on his way to the smith's. Suddenly a gooseberry flew out 
 of the garden and struck his cap. Turning around he saw 
 1/isbeth's fair head peeping out from among the bushes. He 
 could do nothing but stand there and stare at her, and he felt 
 not a little embarrassed when he saw her quickly making her 
 way through the shrubs. She stood at the fence, and called 
 over to him in a shy voice, " Jiirgen, come here for a moment." 
 
 He glanced hastily around to see if any one were looking at 
 him ; but it was noon, and it seemed as if the village street, 
 and all the houses in it, were fast asleep. So he took off his 
 cap and walked over to her. During the last year he had but 
 seldom seen Lisbeth, and had always passed her by with a 
 brief "Good day." He had been hard at work; but she had 
 been at school in the town. He had been ploughing all day 
 long for months in the lonely fields, plodding through the loose 
 soil, while she had been tripping daintily along the smooth and 
 narrow footpaths of the town. He had changed for the worse 
 and had grown cloddish and rough; while she had grown more 
 refined in appearance, as well as in character and knowledge. He 
 had felt all this in a vague way, and had shunned meeting her. 
 
 And to make matters worse Dame Nature had been playing 
 her old, everlasting game with them. In the school orchard 
 and on Ringclshorn the two children had been playmates and 
 comrades, but she had loosed their hands and led them far 
 apart from each other into new, strange lands, and had conjured 
 up for each the most diverse and magic dreams, looking upon 
 them the while with her wise, sweet smile. That is always 
 her way. Afterward, after long years, when in solitude and 
 silence she has brought them to the flowering season, she leads 
 
 123
 
 124 JORN UHL 
 
 her children together again, no longer as playmates, but as 
 representatives of their sex. . . . Jorn Uhl and Lisbeth meet 
 to-day once more, but it will be a mere outward and unhappy 
 meeting, for they are both still immature, no longer boy and 
 girl and not yet man and woman, and each is still dwelling 
 in his own strange land. 
 
 Leaning against the fence she told him with a wise air what 
 long holidays she had this time. The town school, she said, 
 was to be broken up, and it would take a long time before 
 another would be established. And did he know that she was 
 going to be a governess? 
 
 No; he didn't know. He had never even heard that there 
 were such people as governesses. He asked shyly whether she 
 would soon be coming to visit Elsbe. 
 
 " Oh," she said, with a toss of her head, " Elsbe is a year 
 older than I am. They are all quite different from me. There 
 isn't a soul I can be friends with. It's dreadfully dreary." 
 
 He said that she really should come. It would give Elsbe 
 so much pleasure. 
 
 " Do you really mean it? " she said, doubtingly. " I thought 
 Elsbe didn't care about me any more. Just fancy, one evening 
 when it was already dusk — it's not so long ago — she was 
 standing near my window, and I heard her say to some one 
 that I didn't understand a thing yet, and was just like a child. 
 Will you be there, Jorn, if I come and call at the Uhl?" 
 
 " No," he said. " I have to work all day, and you mustn't 
 come in the evening, or Elsbe will be taking you home after- 
 ward, and that doesn't do." 
 
 She bent her head as if she were meditating something. Pres- 
 ently she said, " Then, couldn't you come over to us, some- 
 times? " 
 
 He got a shock to think that such a thing should be expected 
 of him. " No," he said, " I can't do that." 
 
 " But you don't need to come into the house, only into the 
 garden. You can go around the back way. Grandfather and 
 grandmother will be inside reading," 
 
 He took a quick glance at her. She seemed to him so un- 
 speakably charming and refined. It was wonderful to think 
 that there could be anything so dainty and neat in the world. 
 But he didn't see how he could possibly feel comfortable talk- 
 ing to her. He certainly had a strong inclination to be with
 
 JORN UHL 125 
 
 her, but against that he knew that it would make him infinitely 
 uncomfortable, liut slie insisted upon his coming;, and took it 
 as such a matter of course, and seemed so eager about it all, that 
 he had to agree to it. 
 
 The whole afternoon he wondered how things would go 
 with him that evening. He thought it not impossible that she 
 nu'ght find him tedious and send him awny again. And it 
 almost seemed to him that among the many possibilities this 
 was the most attractive. Hut again he thought that it might 
 not be altogether out of the question that he might by chance 
 be able to entertain her and win some approval in her eyes. 
 The idea struck him that he might think out beforehand a 
 siJiject to discuss with her, and he went over certain topics. 
 He said to himself that a girl like Lisbeth would set most store 
 by learning, and tried to remember certain conversations that 
 Dominie Peters had had with the minister when he had been sit- 
 ting by at his books. His range of knowledge was small, but he 
 managed to get together a few subjects that he fancied might 
 come in handy. He thought he would begin by speaking about 
 a new line of steamers to Denmark, and afterward about agri- 
 cultural schools that were just starting at that time, then about 
 a newly invented incubator, and last of all, if the worst came 
 to the worst, he could say a word or two about the practice 
 of burning widows in India. He had read something on this 
 subject in a piece of newspaper that a shopman in town had 
 wrapped some goods in. His idea was to broach one of these 
 subjects in some such casual way as — perhaps she had read . . . 
 or what did she think about ... or did she know anything 
 about . . . and then he would unfold the treasures of his 
 wisdom. 
 
 He started an hour too early, and went wandering along 
 beside all the ditches and peering into them as though he were 
 seeking a stray sheep, and at last reached the neighborhood of 
 the orchard. There was a ditch there, full of clear, running 
 water, and over it slanted a short willow-stump whose thick 
 poll bristled with short, straight twigs, like hair. She was 
 sitting on the tree-trunk almost hidden by these rods, and was 
 dangling her feet over the water. She was looking very grave, 
 and gave him a pensive nod as he politely raised his cap. 
 
 His heart was thumping so, that instead of clearing the 
 ditch at a bound as he had intended, he half-stepped across if
 
 126 JORN UHL 
 
 with a long and very clumsy stride, and nearly got stuck In 
 the bogg}' soil. He took a hasty look at her, and was almost 
 certain that there was a smile in her eyes, but her face imme- 
 diately resumed its grave look, so that the Indian widows in- 
 voluntarily occurred to him, and he had luck with them. She 
 told him she had just been reading about very serious things, 
 and he asked hesitatingly was it necessary that she should do so. 
 He thought she ought rather to read something amusing. 
 
 " Oh, no," she said, " one must know something about the 
 sad side of life, too." 
 
 Then she inquired as to the exact shape of the funeral pyre, 
 and whether the women took their ornaments with them when 
 they went to be burned. She considered it, on the whole, a 
 good thing, and declared that she would be quite willing to 
 be burned if her husband should die, because she would only 
 marry for love. And then she began to talk about jewelry 
 again, and, as chance would have it, she had a brooch and a 
 watch-chain in her pocket, and a watch had been promised her 
 for Christmas. 
 
 So far, all had gone well beyond expectation, but somehow 
 or other the conversation now began to flag. They gazed 
 into the running water and said nothing. She felt unfriendly 
 and defiant toward him, and thought to herself, " He's a down- 
 right yokel." 
 
 For his part, he was wishing he was a hundred miles away. 
 He tortured himself to find something to say; but not an 
 idea occurred to him that he thought would do. She was 
 just as much a stranger to him as if she spoke a different 
 language, and were quite another kind of being. 
 
 Finally he began telling her in a diffident voice about the 
 two foals that had been born at the Uhl a few days before. 
 But she had no desire to hear anything about them. 
 
 "What's that got to do with me?" she said, laughing, and 
 her face had suddenly become quite girlish and happy and 
 natural. Her lips parted and shovv^ed her teeth, her hair hung 
 down over her ears, and all at once he recognized " Rain- 
 tweet. 
 
 " Just so," he said, " but what shall we talk about, then? " 
 
 So she told him what her schoolmates talked of. 
 
 " To begin with, we discuss the teachers and the girls who 
 don't happen to be by, and often we talk about boys. I don't,
 
 JORN UHL 127 
 
 though. I don't think it's becoming at all. But see, Jorn, 
 jour foot's In the water." 
 
 He pulled It out with a jerk, as if lie had been burnt. But all 
 at once she saw how unhappy he was sitting there. 
 
 " Come," she said, " let's get up and go for a little walk. 
 That's another thing they do in town. Some of them go for 
 walks with the big boys, even." 
 
 He got up as she had bidden him, and watched her making 
 her preparations. First she gave him her gold brooch and chain, 
 and then the book. Next she put her dress right, though It 
 seemed to him quite unnecessary, and then she said, " Shall I 
 jump into your arms? " 
 
 " That's what you did that time when we wanted to catch 
 the fox." He placed himself with arms outstretched and feet 
 apart, as if to catch a runaway horse. 
 
 ■ She laughed at him merrily. " I don't think I will, after all," 
 she said ; " you might crush me to death." And she got down 
 decorously, and was extremely careful about the hem of her 
 dress. 
 
 They walked up and down the narrow path under the low 
 branches of the apple-trees. " Do you remember how you 
 wouldn't go to the Children's Festival with me? " 
 
 " H your grandfather had only said to me, ' You'll have to 
 walk with Lisbeth,' Fd have gone with you willingly, but I 
 didn't venture to ask you yourself." He drew a deep breath 
 when he had said it, and looked at her expectantly. 
 
 " Just tell me, supposing there was a dance now, would you 
 dance with me? " 
 
 " Wouldn't I? From start to finish! " he said, and glanced 
 at her, and In his eyes lay all his frank, simple-hearted ad- 
 miration for her. 
 
 " Well! " she said, " now Fll tell you something. This time 
 It's I who won't dance with you." 
 
 He hung his head and was silent. He found it quite natural 
 that she shouldn't wish to dance with him. 
 
 Then her mood changed again, like April weather, and she 
 laughed and said, winningly, " I didn't mean it so seriously, 
 you know, I believe I would dance with you, after all, but you 
 would have to hold me quite loosely, as they do in town, 
 where they're so polite. But now j^ou must go away again, 
 ril come with you as far as the willow and we'll say good-by
 
 128 JORN UHL 
 
 there. And come again on Sunday. I'll be sitting on the 
 tree waiting for you." 
 
 When he reached the meadow on the other side of the water- 
 course, they said good-by to each other and separated. 
 
 And this was how his little playmate crossed his path again. 
 With her kindly help it seemed as if Jorn Uhl's transition from 
 boyhood to youth was to be completed in the most natural and 
 loveliest way. It seemed as if his life, as far as love was in 
 question, was to run a smooth and even course. If only the 
 sand-carting hadn't come eight days later. 
 
 But for the sand-carting Jorn Uhl would have been able to 
 say when he came to die, "The sins of youth? What are 
 they? Work and Want I have known in my youth, but never 
 Sin." He would never have had to knit his brow in remem- 
 brance of the faults of his j'outh, like Jasper Cray and every 
 one else. But as if it were a thing inevitable, as if every mortal, 
 even the best, must needs get dust on his boots and spots on his 
 coat, this sand-carting came, and Jorn's fair robe of honesty 
 got a mighty rent in it. 
 
 Unsuspicious of any danger, he was driving with his sand- 
 cart, toward evening, along below Ringelshorn. A fresh sea- 
 breeze was blowing; the sky was full of driving clouds, gray and 
 white and blue all mingled together. It was the sort of weather 
 to take in great, deep breaths, and rejoice that one is alive to do 
 it. Jorn Uhl did so, too. He sat on the foot-board of his cart, 
 dangling his legs, humming a tune into the wind, and looking 
 dreamily across the silent, level fields, and was just the very 
 picture of a peaceful, contemplative farmer's lad. No one 
 would have thought it possible that this long-limbed, long-faced 
 fellow should this very evening, trembling in all his limbs, look 
 Nature herself in her beautiful and terrible eyes with their dark 
 and bottomless depths. 
 
 When he had driven around Ringelshorn, he saw Telse 
 Dierk, whom people thereabouts called the Sand-lass, standing 
 not far from her house on the edge of her sand-pit. She was 
 gazing after a loaded cart which was just going around the 
 curve of the road, and was leaning lightly on the long-handled 
 shovel, with which she had been helping to load the sand. 
 When she heard the rattling and creaking of Jorn's cart, she 
 turned around and called to him: "So late, Jorn Uhl; but 
 come along. It just suits me that you've come. I've not the
 
 JORN UHL 129 
 
 slightest inclination to knock off work yet awhile." She stood 
 in front of the yelhnvish-uhite sand-bank, v\hich reached hij^h 
 above her head, her intelli5j;ent eyes sparkling. She was bare- 
 footed, and her cheeks looked as rosy as though she had just 
 arisen from a refreshing sleep. For ten years she had looked 
 just the same; she stood there slim and lithe of body, full- 
 breasted and bright-eyed, with fresh, untiring vigor in her 
 whole bearing. 
 
 Ten years ago, when she was quite a young thing, she had 
 had a bosom friend, the only daughter of a neighbor who had 
 his little farm up at the top of the valley in which the Goldsoot 
 lay, not far from the edge of the plateau. One day this friend 
 of hers became engaged to a young farmer from the Geest. 
 The two young people, as often happens among the Geest folk, 
 had been " cobbled together," as they say; that is, their parents 
 and some aunt or other, with a bent for match-making, had 
 persuaded them that they ought to marry, pointing out how 
 wonderfully well suited they were for each other in person and 
 age and circumstances. 
 
 The bridegroom-elect let them have their own way. He was 
 still a young man, his heart still uniouched and fanc)- free. 
 So when they introduced his bride to him at the next village 
 fair, he took it as a matter of course, and found her quite 
 passable. What weighed most with him was the consideration 
 that his brother, to whom he was deeply attached, would now 
 be able to take over their father's farm without their dividing 
 it, which would not have been the case if he himself had 
 married a portionless wife. And a division of the farm was 
 hardly feasible, seeing how small it was and how poor its soil. 
 
 It was the mysterious will of Fate that Telse Dierk, dwell- 
 ing by her sand-pit down in the marsh, should never have met 
 the man her friend was engaged to before the wedding. The 
 young bride to be, however, would often come down through 
 the Goldsoot valley and talk to her about her lover's looks 
 and ways, and about his eyes and his hair and his walk, and 
 how he held this or that opinion which pleased or displeased 
 her. Telse Dierk liked to listen, and once said in jest, " It's a 
 pity that I never knew him. I believe he'd just have been the 
 very man for me." 
 
 " Oh," said her friend, " isn't that strange? I've often 
 thought exactly the same thing. He's so like you in lots of
 
 ISO J O R N U H L 
 
 ways, and often has ideas strangely like yours. He's always 
 wanting to get to the bottom of things, you know, just as you 
 are. He'll talk as long and as earnestly about a hen's egg as 
 about Holy Baptism." 
 
 Fate willed it, too, that this fresh, hearty girl, who had 
 never been ill in her life, had to remain at home with a severe 
 cold during the days of the wedding; but on the ninth day 
 after the wedding she went up the valley to visit the young 
 wife in her new happiness. The two then saw each other 
 for the first time. They were both tall and stalwart figures, 
 such as are often seen in that part of the country — he of a 
 dark, sun-browned complexion, with dark, curly hair; she quite 
 fair, with hair as yellow as corn. They now looked upon each 
 other for the first time, and started as if they had seen a ghost. 
 The young bride had a great deal to talk about, and prattled 
 and gossiped about the wedding. These two, however, had 
 not a word to say. 
 
 When the twilight came and the sky began to fill with 
 clouds and rain, Telse's friend, proud of having such a husband 
 to do her bidding, asked him to escort her friend into the 
 valley. Without a word he took down his cap and followed 
 the guest out-of-doors. As they went down the hollow, the 
 rain fell in streams. They had almost reached the Goldsoot, 
 he walking behind her along the narrow, clayey path, when she 
 slipped and almost fell backwards; and he caught and held 
 her. And, as each believed that the darkness muffled and hid 
 everything, they now gazed frank and full into each other's 
 faces. But there were rents in the driving clouds, and the 
 moon and ^ the stars had suddenly appeared, throwing their 
 spears of light from eye to eye, so that each saw the unveiled 
 soul of the other; and in that moment both knew that they 
 were fated to love each other, and no one else in the world, as 
 long as ever they lived. Then they parted and fled, because 
 they feared each other. 
 
 Years went by. It was a time of bitter anguish. 
 
 She worked from morning till night in the house, and would 
 often of her own free will help to load the carts with sand, so 
 as to tire herself out and have rest. And of an evening she 
 would sit by her window behind her pinks and geraniums and 
 look out into the marsh, in the direction where Ringelshorn 
 could not be seen. She had refused one offer of marriage, and
 
 JORN UHL 131 
 
 treated the young men who would fain have spoken a word 
 witli her so harshly and coldly that they ceased once for all to 
 trouble her. 
 
 But he, like her, was famishing for love. His wife had been 
 brought up as an only child by foolish parents. Her every 
 word had been gaped at and admired, and so, despite her 
 shallow mind, she had acquired a certain pertness of speech. 
 Her husband, on the contrary, was a clear-headed, thoughtful 
 man, and carefully weighed everything he said; he therefore 
 found it the more irksome that his wife should have so much 
 to say about everybody and everything. After they had been 
 married some years she bore a child. She never recovered from 
 the great strain this put upon her weakly frame. All her 
 youthful bloom fled, and thenceforth she was constantly ailing. 
 Ere long the child died, and the marriage remained barren. 
 
 Years went by. The two lovers had tacitly resolved to 
 avoid each other's house, and even to shun each other if they 
 should by chance meet anywhere. But when they actually 
 happened to meet, each thought to himself that no one would 
 begrudge them the poor satisfaction of a swift, shy glance at 
 the other's face. There slumbered, however, in both their 
 breasts the unuttered hope that they would one day belong 
 to each other. Neither of them dreamed, however, that this 
 thought was in the other's mind ; they hardly realized that it 
 was in their own. Yet it was this hope that kept their passion 
 within bounds. 
 
 Telse Dierk's father had fallen on the field of battle, and 
 now her mother, too, died. Her mother had been a strong, 
 capable woman in her time, but after her sudden bereavement 
 her mind had always been subject to fits of restlessness, and 
 this grew worse with her as she neared the fifties. Sometimes 
 she would wander aimlessly around and around the house and 
 about the fields. She liked to listen to the wind howling; and 
 when her headaches got very bad she used to go up to Ringels- 
 horn, and, standing there, on the bleak edge of the plateau, 
 would find relief in exposing herself to the keen, cruel blast. 
 
 Some weeks after her mother's death, the lover came down 
 to her one morning in broad daylight. He had first looked out 
 from the hillside to see that no sand-carters were coming. She 
 came out and confronted him f)n the threshold of her house, 
 asking him harshly what he wanted there. It was an autumn
 
 132 J R N U H L 
 
 day with a fresh wind blowing. He asked what was to be- 
 come of them both. Still keeping her outward calmness, she 
 said in an even voice that things must remain as they were, for 
 she could not trample God's commandments under foot, as 
 though they did not exist, and she hoped he could not, either. 
 
 She took up a basket of washing, and stepped forward with 
 dark, resolute face, and he was obliged to give way and go out- 
 side again. But he told her that he could not think that God's 
 will was to crush him and all his joy to death with His com- 
 mandments. He had begged his wife to sell their property, 
 and move somewhere else; but she must have guessed his reasons, 
 and had laughed at him and mocked him. 
 
 She looked at him darkly, as though it roused some deep 
 repugnance in her to have to listen to what he was muttering 
 there. Without getting another word from her, he had to turn 
 back home. 
 
 Some time afterward he again spoke to her, as she was pull- 
 ing up the bean-sticks in her garden and tying them in bundles. 
 He spoke beseechingly, saying he could no longer bear it; 
 begging her even to go away from Ringelshorn, since he could 
 not. Then she had begun to weep bitterly. After this meeting, 
 he found it easier to contrive to meet her every evening toward 
 dusk near the Goldsoot. They both came to the pool with 
 buckets in their hands, looked at each other long and earnestly, 
 spoke a few words with each other — commonplace words, or 
 sometimes even shy, burning words of affection; but they did 
 not touch hands, but separated and went their ways again. He 
 deceived himself into thinking he would be satisfied with these 
 nightly meetings, and had besides put iron bands upon his 
 desire; but she saw clearly that every day, with every look and 
 movement, he was drawing her nearer to him. It seemed to 
 her as tliough some irresistible Fate were dragging her toward 
 him, and she felt her resistance growing feebler and feebler. A 
 thousand persuasive voices spoke within her. She was in terror 
 like a man whom some voluptuous madness is urging toward 
 the brink of an abyss; her fear was such that she often trem- 
 bled as though smitten by fever. Her single resource, the hard 
 work that brought fatigue and sleep, now failed her. In her 
 distress she hit upon a device which was as strange as it was 
 dangerous; she determined to try if she could not deceive her
 
 J O R N IT H L 133 
 
 heart and her senses with some other lover, to whom she could 
 belong without sin. 
 
 For several years she had taken no part in the social gather- 
 ings of the farmers around about. Young men seeking wives 
 avoided her, despite her healthy beauty. For in the farmyards 
 a report had got about that she was on too intimate a footing 
 with the husband of her friend. Whilst she was fighting against 
 this passion of hers, for which there were so many excuses, as 
 bravely as any one in the land, men's tongues had already found 
 her guilty and passed summary and cruel judgment. 
 
 About this time Jorn Uhl came four or five times of an 
 evening, after farm work was over, to get sand, and it pleased 
 her to see him so grave and silent. He looked at her as though 
 to say, " \'ou are just as lonely and as full of cares as I." 
 Gradually she got to think more aiul more about him, and at 
 last persuaded herself that she loved this fresh-cheeked youth. 
 And she was glad of her delight in him, and of an evening 
 would laugh aloud and say to herself, " Now you are rid of 
 the other one, and have a bonnie young lover out of the every- 
 day run of men." And when he, in his shy, uncertain way, 
 grew a little brighter and looked at her with kindly eyes, and 
 now and then ventured a jest, she laughed in her heart and 
 thought: " It's a quiet and seemly way of being loved; with- 
 out danger, but with a charm of its own for all that." 
 
 When he came the fourth evening, and they had both filled 
 the cart, she invited him, in her fulness of heart, to come into 
 the cottage and have a chat for awhile. She took a scat oppo- 
 site him at the table just as she was, with her dress loose at 
 the neck and with sleeves tucked up, leaning on her elbow. 
 Smiling kindly upon him, she asked him about one thing and 
 another, and appeared to be delighted and full of curiosity as 
 to whether his quiet nature would thaw a little. And when 
 he didn't answer she made things worse by saying, with a merry 
 gleam in her gray eyes, " You're a bonnie lad, Jorn. You have 
 such thoughtful eyes, as if you were always seeking for things 
 that are hidden away ; and you have such a strong-willed face, 
 as though you were always determined to get your own way. 
 That's what girls like. When you're three years older or so, 
 j^ou can pick out whoever you like for a sweetheart, and be 
 sure she won't say you nay." 
 
 He could say nothing, but only looked at her.
 
 134 JORN UHL 
 
 She began afresh, asking: " What'll she be like, the girl 
 you'll love — eh, Jorn ? " 
 
 Then he stood up, and she got up, too. And thinking that 
 he was offended — her own feminine vanity was hurt, too — 
 she came up to him and said, quietly, and with a smile on her 
 lips: " So in me you can find nothing to admire — I'm not even 
 worth an answer, am I ? Must you go away in a mood like 
 that? Won't you take just one kiss from me along with you 
 on your way? " 
 
 His heart stood still with the shock of her words, and he 
 did not move. A moment afterward, however, he caught her 
 to his breast with such a billow of wild passion that, in spite 
 of her terror, she tore herself away from him with the greatest 
 effort. She had wished to awaken a soft, mild flame, and had 
 stirred up a furious blaze. She pushed him violently away and 
 bade him go. 
 
 On the following evening, toward midnight, he stood at her 
 window and knocked, begging her to let him in. She pre- 
 tended not to hear him. She lay quite still, her hands beneath 
 her head and tears running down her cheeks. She felt herself 
 the unhappiest of women. Three or four nights he came in 
 this way.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 About this time the farmers' sons had arranged to have the 
 so-called " bachelors' ball," and Jorn, too, received the usual 
 invitation. Had it come fourteen days earlier, he would have 
 put it aside as a thing that had no meaning for him. Why 
 should he go to a ball? He would only have made himself 
 ridiculous in his own eyes. But the experiences of these last 
 eight days had stirred his soul to its depths. These eight days 
 had played havoc in his young blood. It was like a garden 
 that lies still at eventide — not a leaf moving, every branch 
 covered thick in fairest leaf, and all the pathways clean — till 
 toward midnight a storm sweeps over it, and rages till break of 
 day. And next morning everything lies there dishevelled, dis- 
 ordered, and desolate. Rest and peace had turned into misery 
 and cruel disquiet. His brothers laughed and jeered at him 
 when tliey heard that he was going to the ball. But Elsbe 
 greeted the news with a shout. " I'm glad," she said, " that 
 you're getting a little life into you at last. You were such a 
 tiresome fellow, Jorn. And you've got a nice new suit, too. 
 You can dance with me first, so as to break the ice. And then 
 afterward you'll have to dance with Lisbeth, won't you?" 
 She wagged her head roguishly at him, and had a dance around 
 the table by way of rehearsal ; she danced so long for him, in 
 fact, that at last she fell against the door and slipped upon her 
 knees and burst out laughing. He looked at her and thought: 
 " Faith, she's a pretty little thing, all fire and life; and she's 
 always straightforward and truthful and kind." He went to 
 the dance by himself, shyly, as though he were going on some 
 evil errand. 
 
 He got away into a corner near the counter, and stood there 
 for hours. Many who were present didn't know him at all, 
 for he had never yet been in a public-house. They were puz- 
 zled, and asked who he was. And when they heard that he 
 
 1 35
 
 136 JORN UHL 
 
 was Klaus Uhl's youngest son, they wondered, and said: 
 " That's the one that's said to be a dreamer." Some of the 
 girls made up their minds to dance with him. They said to 
 themselves, " Heigh, heigh! but he's a bonnie lad. How serious 
 he looks with those eyes of his. How fine they'll look when 
 they're laughing." 
 
 He stood there, unable to shake off his heavy thoughts. He 
 felt vexed at times, and looked in the faces of the passers-by 
 to see if they were observing him. And when any one looked 
 at him for a moment he imagined to himself what he must 
 be like in their eyes — a lank, ungainly figure; or, again, he 
 thought he could read in some faces that his intimacy with the 
 Sand-lass was known to them. Then, again, his glance grew 
 proud when he thought, " If you only knew that that braw, 
 lithe-limbed lass has kissed me!" He had often heard his 
 brothers and Elsbe criticizing and discussing girls, but he had 
 never taken the slightest interest in such conversations. Within 
 the last eight days all that was changed. He now remembered 
 all these expressions of theirs, and attentively observed the girls 
 dancing past him, finding one handsome and another the reverse. 
 
 As he stood there doing nothing, his own room flitted before 
 his imagination, looking just as he was wont to see it when he 
 was in bed. And he imagined himself there, lying in bed 
 again, with that feeling he had so often had, of being so young 
 and yet so full of cares and anxiety. Then he saw the girls, 
 in all their fresh bloom, go dancing past him again, saw the 
 beautiful movements of their limbs and their happy faces. His 
 ej'^es sought among the crowd for Lisbeth, and he made up his 
 mind to win her. And this thought now drove out all others. 
 He pictured to himself how he would take her home, then 
 under the silent lindens he would take her in his arms, just as 
 he had taken the Sand-lass. She shouldn't escape from him 
 as she had done recently in the orchard. Then he caught sight 
 of Lisbeth coming across the room. She sat down near Elsbe, 
 who had gone bounding toward her. He gazed and gazed at 
 her. It seemed to him that he had never really seen her before, 
 such a difference had these few days worked in his nature. His 
 eyes followed the blue bow she was wearing on the left shoulder 
 of her white dress as she danced. He bent forward so as to 
 see her whole figure, and the wish grew more and more ardent 
 within him to clasp her to his breast to-night. But something
 
 JORN UHL 137 
 
 held him back, a fceh'np; that he must not venture to approach 
 her in this fashion, and lie could not summon up courage enough 
 to ask her to dance with him. 
 
 Some of the couples were already passing him on their way 
 to the front rooms to drink wine together. They greeted each 
 other, and teased each other, and talked over which room they 
 were going to sit in, and walked by holding each other's hands. 
 
 He saw Elsbe among them, coming his way. She let go the 
 hand of a young farmer, and came up to him. Her girlish 
 face was lit with pleasure, and her heavy dark hair had fallen 
 over her dress. Her full little figure was all agog with the 
 excitement of the dance. " I say, Jorn, Harro Heinsen isn't 
 here. He couldn't get leave of absence. I'm with Hans Jarren. 
 He's still almost a mere boy, but that's no matter. We're going 
 to have a bottle of wine between us. Go and get Lisbeth, and 
 come and join us." 
 
 He answered, moodily, " I don't want to dance." 
 
 " That's because you haven't enough pluck, my boy. Drink 
 a few glasses of punch; that'll cure you." 
 
 She was off; and for a wonder he did as she advised, ordering 
 a glass of schnapps for himself, and then another, and yet an- 
 other; and when he had drunk four glasses of the fiery liquor, 
 he found courage to go over and speak to Lisbeth. 
 
 She had not danced much as j'et. She had such a graceful, 
 dainty bearing, and was wont to speak so few words, and so 
 quietly, in her high, sweet-toned voice, and look as she spoke 
 at the person she addressed with such strange wondering eyes, 
 that most of the young men held aloof from her, being at a 
 loss to know what to talk to her about. Her hair was ex- 
 ceedingly fair, and lay smooth and glossy, like raw silk, about 
 her dainty head. Her dress was fresh and delicate as white 
 blossoms, and seemed, like her face, to have the delicate hue 
 of flowers. Slie looked so virginal, so pure and dewy, like a 
 sunny, peaceful Sunday morning, when one's mind is free from 
 care. 
 
 He felt out of place by her side. Eight days ago, despite his 
 awkwardness, he could have stood there proudly, but now he 
 was no longer a comrade for her. When they began dancing, 
 and he found it difficult to get into the measure of the dance, 
 he looked at her with a peculiar laugh, and when she hesi- 
 tatingly asked, "What's the matter with you, Jorn?" he said,
 
 138 JORN UHL 
 
 " I can't see any good in dancing. It's a stupid, humming-top 
 sort of business. Let's go in with the others and have some 
 wine. You must learn that, too." 
 
 She drew back in terror of him, and said, " I never do that! " 
 
 " Oh, don't be so prudish." He tried to drag her away with 
 him by the arm, but she tore herself free with eyes full of fear. 
 
 " Well, stay where you are," he said, " you little ninny." 
 
 Some who stood by saw and heard this, and laughed. He 
 left her standing where she was, and went back to the counter, 
 and sat down again and drank and gave himself up to a feeling 
 of sullen defiance, gazing contemptuously on all around him. 
 
 Some who were by nature indifferent to feminine society, 
 and indulged the other passion, that of drink, and others who, 
 like him, had had their requests refused, came and joined him; 
 and soon he was the centre of a wild group, shouting and sing- 
 ing. He sat silent among them, scowling before him. Then he 
 would laugh mockingly to himself and drink again. His brother 
 Hans, who was already drunk, and only looked truth honestly 
 in the face when he was in this condition, — when sober he 
 was a great braggart and self-deceiver, — this fellow came up, 
 threw himself into a chair by his brother's side, and began to 
 weep aloud, 
 
 " I thought you would remain a sober and honest man, Jorn. 
 I've always been proud of you, though I have behaved as if I 
 despised you. But now I see you're a good-for-nothing like me 
 and our brothers, and our father, too." Then the younger 
 brother started up as though he had been lying behind a hedge 
 waiting for the word " good-for-nothing." He struck his fist 
 on the table, drank and shouted at the top of his voice, and was 
 the worst of the whole company at the table. " y\ll Uhls are 
 good-for-nothings," he said. " It's no good fighting against 
 nature. The son of Klaus Uhl can't help but be a drunkard." 
 Then he would strike the table again, and cry, " Who can beat 
 the Uhls?" and try to join in a drinking-song that had been 
 started, but of which he knew neither the words nor the tune. 
 
 A group of the more sensible ones, who were just then com- 
 ing by, noticed the noise, and one of them said, " Isn't that 
 Jorn Uhl? Up to this he has always been a Simple Simon, and 
 couldn't say boo to a goose, and now he's grown the worst 
 of the lot." Rut one man was there, Otto Lindemann was 
 his name — the same man who afterward fought at Gravelotte.
 
 JORN UHL 139 
 
 He has been police magistrate now for many a day, and is a 
 member of Parliament. Even in those days he was a good 
 judge of character, and took a keen interest in all he saw. He 
 gave Jorn a slap on the shoulder, and said, " No, Jorn Uhl, you 
 can shout as loud as you like. \ou're not cut out for a good- 
 for-nothing. Any one can see you're out of your element here. 
 You've got the makings of a good man in you yet, Jorn Uhl," 
 and he shook him by the shoulder so that the glasses danced on 
 the table. 
 
 Toward morning he staggered home to the Uhl, and slept 
 on till midday. 
 
 Wieten came to his bedside, and looked at him with eyes 
 full of sorrow. *' For your sake and for Eisbe's," she said, 
 sadly, " I have stayed on here all these years. For Elsbe I 
 have always been in fear and trembling, but I had set my hopes 
 on you, Jorn." She sat down on the edge of the bed and 
 began to cry. " I have had nothing but misfortune all my 
 life," she said. " When I was but a mere child, I saw the whole 
 house I lived in go to rack and ruin around me. I might well 
 have hoped after that that I had had sorrow enough to bear 
 for one life. But now when I'm growing gray, I have to wade 
 through all this cummer and grief, and am fated to be a woman 
 who has no hope left on earth. I shall leave the world with 
 empty hands, and nothing to show for my life's work. I will 
 have to hold out my empty hands to God, and say, ' Dear God, 
 all that I loved has been lost to me on the road, and has fallen 
 into the dirt.' " And so she went on wailing, wringing her 
 hands in her lap, and crying bitterly. 
 
 He listened with closed eyes, and by and by she went out 
 again. He remained in bed till toward evening, keeping his 
 eyes shut for very shame. When it got dusk he got up and 
 walked up and down the room. And when night came, he 
 stole out and walked hastily toward Ringelshorn, to the house 
 of the Sand-lass. He went to her window and called her name. 
 For a long time there was no answer, and he stood there wait- 
 ing. And suddenly tlie remembrance of his conduct flashed 
 through his mind and broke down his dogged restraint of shame 
 and defiance. The thought of the misery of the whole affair 
 overwhelmed him, and he cried and sobbed like a boy that has 
 been thrashed. At the sound of his sobbing, she got up and 
 opened the window, and accused herself with hard and bitter
 
 I40 JORN UHL 
 
 words. " I have heard how you carried on last night, Jorn. I 
 am an unlucky and wretched being. Everything I touch turns 
 to misfortune, and so I am going to leave this place. To-day 
 I have sold my house and what is in it, and to-morrow at dawn 
 I am going aw ay and will never return." 
 
 "Oh! take me with you! I cannot go back home again; 
 I cannot. I can never show my face to the servants on the 
 farm again. I'll rather drown myself. No, you must take me 
 with you." 
 
 She tried to soothe him, begging him to remember that he 
 was still a youth, and that what had happened would soon be 
 forgotten. He would be astonished, she told him, how fast 
 wounds heal that people get when they are so young. Just those 
 very people who had seen him so noisy and drunken must be 
 shown that he had something better in him. It was wretched 
 enough that she should have to leave her home and go among 
 strangers. But he was stubborn, and maintained that he already 
 could hear his father's laughter and his brothers' jeers; and 
 that Wieten despised him, and everybody was saying that Klaus 
 Uhl and all his family were going to the bad, and that he, the 
 youngest, was the worst of them all. And therefore he would 
 do the same as Fiete Cray had done, and go off into some 
 foreign country. 
 
 She comforted him with all sorts of good advice, and spoke 
 of her own misfortune, which he would make unbearable if 
 he did himself any wanton injury or left his home on her 
 account. But he persisted in wishing to go with her, and she 
 gave way so far as to say he might wait for her on the 
 top of Ringelshorn, early to-morrow morning, before daybreak. 
 " And you shall come with me as far as the Haze and there 
 we'll say good-by." 
 
 It was a sad night for both of them. In the light of her 
 little lamp she went to and fro in the house, packing the few 
 things together that were to be sent after her, and standing 
 still at times as though distracted, and then returning sorrow- 
 fully to her work again, while big tears ran down her cheeks. 
 
 Jorn had gone home and put on his Sunday clothes and tied 
 up his work-day things in a cloth, and then sat silent by the 
 dark window, trying in vain to grasp the meaning of these 
 hours. At one moment he would be making plans for the 
 future, the next he would feel inclined to go into Wieten
 
 JORN UHL 141 
 
 Klook's room and tell her what he was going to do, and cry 
 his heart out at her bedside, and hear her say, " Stay here, 
 laddie, everything'Il come right again u ith time." 
 
 Before daybreak he went (nit by the back door, across the 
 foals' meadow and up over the heath, and sat waiting on a 
 wayside stone till she came. She came with a firm, fresh step, 
 and her eyes were bright and full of quiet happiness. 
 
 "That's right," she said. "I've got over everything else, 
 and left it all behind me." She pointed to where the house 
 of her lover lay, at the end of the heath. " And now it's your 
 turn, Jorn, and I sha'n't find that such a hard job as the other. 
 But I'm not going to send you away just yet. I'm going to 
 give myself the pleasure of being with you a little longer." 
 She spoke so decidedly and with such gay serenity that he didn't 
 dare to contradict her. But he made up his mind to go with 
 her, all the same, if it were to the very ends of the earth. 
 
 Up to the present he had had nothing he could reverence. 
 His teacher had not understood how to make religion a real 
 thing to him. It was religion that had painted over the fresh, 
 gracious, noble figure of the Saviour, and spoilt it in his eyes. 
 And he had no mother. Thus it came about that this warm- 
 hearted lad had no one to love. But when a youth is of a 
 quick, emotional nature, he will seek after an ideal, just as a 
 man who has a good gun in his hand and likes shooting will 
 seek for something to aim at. Then this girl came in his way, 
 one who possessed everything that appeared desirable to one 
 of his age — before all courage and a sound judgment, moral 
 purity and great goodness of heart. In addition to this, there 
 came the dark, mysterious spell which woman in her full 
 bloom casts upon youth — a feeling in which something of ado- 
 ration mingles with healthy young sensuousness. 
 
 She spoke kindly to him, just as she had done the evening 
 before, looking at him and nodding to him pleasantly. " I'm 
 glad that you're coming with me as far as Haze Wood, so 
 that I can have one more good look at you. You'll make a fine 
 man yet, Jorn, see if you don't. Don't be afraid that you'll 
 fall into your brothers' evil ways. \ ou've such a firm mouth 
 and such deep, grave eyes, and you're already tall and lithe. 
 When I look at you I picture to myself what you'll be as a 
 man. It's a pity. If j'ou were five years older I'd say, ' Come 
 with me! ' but that won't do now. For if vou went with me
 
 142 JORN UHL 
 
 now, and afterward came to full manhood and had manly 
 tiioughts, then you'd think me too motherly, and wouldn't like 
 to have me at your side. Probably you'd even think, * She 
 had her wits about her that time at Ringelshorn, when she took 
 me with her. She wanted to have a young husband as long 
 as she could.' One thought's as dreadful as the other. But 
 you don't understand all this now, but you will believe me, for 
 you are fond of me and know that I speak the truth." 
 
 Haze Farm lay still, a black mass beneath the dark gray 
 sunless sky. But gradually the clouds were tipped with pale 
 red from far-off hidden fires, and as they went on farther, talk- 
 ing in this way, mighty spokes of golden light pushed their way 
 up behind the forest, mounting high aloft in the sky. And not 
 long afterward a great red-glowing axle moved above the forest 
 path. 
 
 " Whatever people may say about me, you must never be- 
 lieve it, Jorn. I am as pure as you are. If we had remained 
 together, I should have sunk in your eyes. But if I go away 
 and you never hear of me again, you will keep me in kindly 
 remembrance. Yes, Jorn, you will even place me higher than 
 I am. I will seem to you more beautiful and purer as time 
 goes on, and it will make you proud and strong to think that 
 such a girl loved you when you were still so young. 
 
 " You mustn't go thinking that these experiences of the last 
 few days will spoil you for good. It seems as if we human 
 beings cannot go through life guiltless, as if such a thing were 
 not to be. Fate does not rest till it has made us guilty. The 
 great thing is, Jorn, for you to cling fast to your faith in what's 
 good, in spite of the past, and not to give up your love and 
 true-heartedness. For to be guilty and then give up the fight 
 for what's good means death, but to be guilty and yet go on 
 struggling for the good, that's what gives human life it's real 
 worth. You have a strong wnll in you, Jorn, that's why I 
 like you so much. What you have lived through in these days 
 is nothing more for you than a storm is for a sturdy young tree. 
 The storm will go on sweeping over you for a few weeks 
 longer. You will feel unhappy and unsettled, and men w'ill 
 jeer at you, no doubt. Then it will be over, and you will see 
 how much stronger you are and how much firmer you stand 
 on your feet, and how much farther you can see." 
 
 This was the way she talked to him — in a quiet, decided
 
 JORN UHL 143 
 
 voice, walking beside him briskly and cheerfully, as if she had 
 not a care in the world. They looked at each other as they 
 went along, and her hair that was as fair as his was ruddy 
 with the morning light of the sky's fires. He felt that this 
 was one of the great hours of his life, and that he would never 
 again have moments full of such joy and such sorrow; for he, 
 too, now knew that they must part. Beneath her firm, earnest 
 words the deeper worth and the deeper necessity of tiiis bitter 
 separation had become clear to him. 
 
 She pointed to the sun now in fierce, silent battle with im- 
 mense, gray, jagged clouds. " Look, Jorn, it's all like a great 
 gray house on the outside. But there's a glow of light in it, 
 and the gleam of the fire is streaming out at windows and doors. 
 The master's in his smithy, and the glowing iron lies broad and 
 thick on the anvil. Jorn, lad, I have no fear for you. Some- 
 where or other happiness must be waiting for us yet. . . , 
 
 " Now, go. Go quickly, Jorn. Don't let us torture ourselves 
 with long good-bys." 
 
 He stood with quivering lips, looking at her. 
 
 " It's not easy, laddie." She kissed him affectionately and 
 impetuously. " Be a real good man, Jorn." She took another 
 long look at him; her eyes had a cheery brightness in them. 
 " I've no fears for you." And then she went on her way, with 
 light steps, as though she were going to a festival, and he saw her 
 pass down the woodland path and disappear among the hazels. 
 
 For awhile he stood there with bated breath and eyes full of 
 tears; then he walked away with long, swift strides. He 
 found his bundle by the hedge, w^here he had left it, and put 
 on his working clothes under the shelter of the embankment. 
 Then he ran, with long leaps, straight across the heath, sprang 
 down the slope and brought the horses from the paddock. At 
 a quick trot he came riding into the farmyard, without stopping 
 to go into the house, harnessed up the horses, and then went off 
 and worked the whole day out in the fields. 
 
 But he was not to get off so easily. Next day his brother? 
 saw him, and jeered and laughed at him for having been such 
 a simpletfin as to let tlie schoolmaster's girl get the best of him, 
 and for having afterward behaved as if he had taken leave of 
 his senses. 
 
 By the afternoon, when he rode back to the farm to change 
 horses, they had heard everything. They told him that he had
 
 144 J O R N U H L 
 
 everlastingly disgraced himself and his whole family. It would 
 have been better, they said, if he had gone right away with 
 the girl. For the whole village was just buzzing with this 
 unheard-of story; people said that he had been five nights with 
 this hussy of a woman. How could they show their noses in 
 the village after that? But as for him, why, he was ruined 
 once for all in the eyes of the whole country around. 
 
 And that evening, when he was taking a lonely walk through 
 the field in order to be out of the way of the people in the 
 house, a red head popped up in a ditch by the wayside, and 
 Gottfried Cray, who was cutting grass for his goat, called to 
 him, " I say, Jorn, father says I'm to tell you that one man's 
 weakness is women, and another's is money. And he says he 
 doesn't believe that you've chosen the best of the two, neither. 
 That's what I'm to tell you, Jorn." 
 
 That night he had a strange dream. He dreamt he was 
 once more sitting on the stone by the highroad on the heath, 
 where he had been sitting yesterday morning. And three people 
 came along the road. In the middle was an old, venerable man, 
 and to the left and right of him were his children, a young 
 man and a young girl. The girl was the one he had walked 
 with yesterday. The young man he had never seen in his life. 
 He looked like a farmer serving as a soldier, had a firm, free 
 step and a noble face, with eyes full of courage and goodness, 
 and indeed bore a close resemblance to his sister who was walk- 
 ing on the other side. 
 
 As the three went past him, they stopped and began to talk 
 about him as people talk in the presence of one who is asleep. 
 The girl said, " Shall I waken him, so that he may go with 
 me? " The old man, with a strange, deep look into his breast, 
 said, " You can go as far as the edge of the forest with him. 
 Show him the stars in their courses, and show him how the 
 sun rises, and what birds those are down in the hazel thickets." 
 The young man said, " If I may, father, I would fain go with 
 him, too, for he is my brother." 
 
 " Not yet," said the old man, " As soon as he comes into the 
 wood and it grows dark, then you can go with him. Take 
 good care of him, children, so that he may reach home safely, 
 for he has got his best clothes on." The girl said, " Shall we 
 fetch Lisbeth? He's very fond of her." " Not yet," said the 
 old man, " for he doesn't know how to plough properly yet."
 
 JORN UHL 145 
 
 The son said, " Shall we take his father with us? " " Not yet," 
 said the old man, " he must carry him a stafje farther. He 
 must go straight on, pretty slowly for awhile, and quite alone, 
 and keep on shovelling till the cart's full." He heard all this 
 like one who comes out of sleep and who has not yet his wits 
 about him. The old man went away. He clearly heard his 
 steps get fainter along the road. The young man and the girl 
 remained standing near him by the stone. He forgot them, 
 however, for of a sudden it \\ as VVieten's voice he heard saying, 
 " I would never have thought it possible that our dear Lord 
 God should be walking in broad daylight on the Wentorf Heath 
 road. He looks like a Dittmarsh farmer, but you can see who 
 it is by His walk." 
 
 Thereupon he thought he could fall asleep again with good 
 conscience, and he did so. 
 
 He slept till VVieten woke him and said to him, " Jorn, 
 laddie, if you want to get the ploughing of the fallow land 
 over to-day, it's time for you to be up. 1'he sun's already over 
 Ringelshorn."
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The experiences of those few days affected him for years and 
 years. 
 
 Tliey affected him as a bitterly keen winter, with wonder- 
 ful nights full of stars, does a young tree. Smitten to the very 
 core by the frost, it withdraws all its life into itself, and goes 
 on living in a silent world half-way between wake and sleep, 
 between weird terrors and sweetest dreams. Little by little, 
 when the sun flatters it, and comes and lays his cheek caress- 
 ingly against the cold bark, it gradually thaws and grows 
 cheerful again. So, too, did this youth lock up in his own 
 breast all the beauty and all the sadness that had passed into his 
 soul that early morning yonder in the Haze Woods. He closed 
 both eyes and lips so as to be undisturbed within. He grew 
 quiet and taciturn. Some, who were fools, said that he was 
 stupid. But those who met him in those years, and looked into 
 those shy, deep-set, earnest eyes, knew, if they were men of any 
 insight or fineness of feeling, that they were looking as it were 
 into an old country church, with its dim twilight and darkness, 
 and golden shafts of light striking sheer down through high 
 windows; and right at the back they saw high, silent tapers 
 burning upon the golden gleaming altar. 
 
 He was without friends and without books, thrown quite 
 upon himself. Thus did he come to deck out the chamber of 
 his soul with manifold strange forms, after his own heart. 
 
 Just as Jan Reepen did, who was Volkmar Harsen's man. 
 He was a philosopher or a poet, or may be a good-for-nothing, 
 who knows? He painted the whitewashed walls of his bare 
 room from top to bottom, finally lying on his stomach or 
 standing upon a chair, with everything, as he said, that there 
 is in the world — of every species one. There stood man and 
 every kind of beast. He even attempted to portray the ele- 
 ments, and the heavenly bodies, and the good and wicked angels, 
 
 146
 
 JORN UHL 147 
 
 and the Holy Trinity. And for each and everything he found 
 a distinctive form. It has never been clearly found out what 
 was in him, for he died of Intlanimation of the brain, after 
 talking about his pictures, all that last night. In wild and 
 beautiful phantasies. 
 
 And In the same motley did Jorn Uhl now fit out the cham- 
 bers of his mind. 
 
 And many a farmer's son there Is in Germany who has to 
 go through college and university in obedience to the will of 
 some austere father, and finds it bitterly hard to have to leave 
 the old farm when the vacation Is at an end! It will even 
 happen that the farmer finds his great son blubbering to him- 
 self In some remote corner of the stables, and that he has to 
 use the whip to rid the farm of him. Back at school, sitting 
 at his desk, for days he Is present only In body; his spirit is 
 still wandering among the great barns and halls of the home- 
 stead. The grumpy tones of his religious Instructor — for 
 many religious instructors are grumpy when they ought to be 
 cheery — make him prick up his ears and think of the good 
 fat swine at home; and when the rector thumps the desk to 
 show the measured beat of some Latin ode, he'll think on the 
 beat of the flails on the threshing-floors In winter. If Fate 
 means well by him it will set him down afterward in some 
 place where he has the country near at hand, and where he can 
 take a walk of a Sunday with his son's hand In his, and stand 
 at the hedge-gate, and in winter go through the full stable of 
 some farmer friend, who despises his talk about farming, and 
 will think to himself, " Why didn't my father let me be a 
 king? As it is, I have to be a mere servant." 
 
 But If Fate is hard on him, If he must earn his daily bread 
 cooped up between the high walls of some great city, he will 
 try in his distress .to start a little farm for himself, and begin 
 with a couple of pigeons, and then buy a hutch for a few 
 rabbits, and at last he'll come home with a goat, and get into 
 hot water with the landlord and have all sorts of worry. 
 
 There are farmers' sons again — and In this DIttmarsh land, 
 and up here among this broody race of Frisians and Saxons, they 
 are not so rare — who have a strong impulse toward learning 
 and knowledge, but are obliged to follow the Iron will of their 
 father and stay at home to plough. These youths are almost 
 unhappler than the others. " Father," says the lad, " I want
 
 148 JORN UHL 
 
 to study." But the farmer replies, " You shall study farming." 
 For the father is frightened of the expense of sending his son 
 to college, or he thinks, perchance, that a farmer's life is the 
 best thing in the world ; or else he thinks it's a boy's whim that 
 will pass by like a wearisome rainy day if you give it time; or 
 he has a grudge against books. "Tut! lad! What are you 
 thinking about? Wishing to moon over yon books all the day? 
 Hold your tongue, I say, and go over to the smith's and just 
 ask if the ploughshare's ready." 
 
 And so the lad has to grow up on the farm, in the stables, 
 and behind the plough; to-day with a hay-fork, to-morrow 
 with the reins in his hands the whole day long. 
 
 And during his work his restless spirit begins to fret and 
 fume and drive him to and fro. Like some captive panther, 
 full of the remembrance of its forest freedom, that paces with- 
 out a moment's peace up and down, up and down, behind the 
 bars of its cage, comfortless in its vain despair, his soul knows 
 no rest, gazing ceaselessly between the palings of the fence that 
 imprisons him, gazing and longing. Left without a teacher or 
 guide, his mind muses and broods, and hutches with the most 
 strange and crack-brained fancies. This race of Frisians has a 
 peculiar gift and bent for philosophy and mathematics, and it's 
 not long ere the adventurous skater comes to smooth, bare ice, 
 and likely enough finds places where under the dark transparent 
 covering yawn green and immeasurable depths, in which he 
 sees multitudes of forms he can neither master nor explain. 
 Then he'll go on a shy, unwilling errand to the bookseller's in 
 the town, and ask for a book about " Mankind, how did it 
 have its beginnings, and what's to be the end of it?" or 
 " Whether there's a book about the calculation of all sorts of 
 dimensions and the construction of the universe." Then he'll 
 sit late into the night poring over the book by the dim light 
 of the stable lamp, and puzzle his brain, and think he under- 
 stands it, living in chaotic worlds of thought, and getting deeper 
 and deeper into the bog. Those who live round about him 
 don't understand him, and his own brother calls him " the 
 Latin-smitten ploughman." He has no ej^es for the girls who 
 are coming into blossom around him, and who cast their 
 glances on him, or if he puts out his hand to catch one of them 
 some day, he is as awkward about it as a puppy that has got 
 into a fowl-yard. His eyes are turned more and more to what
 
 JORN UHL 14^ 
 
 is within him. For there he can see such stranp;e things. At 
 last he sees there clearly written in staring red, the words, 
 " Seek Death. Thy place is not here among men." Then 
 people bring the body of the farmer's son to the grave with 
 much funeral pomp, according to the size of his farmer's farm, 
 and neither trouble themselves nor wonder much more about 
 him, but sa\', " lie just went clean daft wi' thae ideas o' his! " 
 And while still in the churchyard they begin talking about 
 rents and the price of wheat again. 
 
 A stranger had come to the Uhl, asking after remnants of 
 antique furniture. He chanced to see the old chest standing 
 in the stable, and made an offer for it, but was sent away. 
 Jorn, who had noticed what covetous eyes the dealer had cast 
 upon the box, now examined it for the first time in his life, 
 and as he liked the carvings and workmanship of it, he cleaned 
 it up one afternoon, put the lock in order, and brought it into 
 his room and laid his Sunday clothes in it. He also kept his 
 psalter in it, and a well-thumbed old reading-book of Klaus 
 Harms, as well as another old book with yellowed and tattered 
 cover — Littrow's " Wonders of the Heavens." This book had 
 come from Ha/.e Farm with Jorn's mother, and was a kind 
 of popular astronomy. Nothing else was kept in the chest. 
 
 When Jorn had finished work for the day, he would sit in 
 the old Saxon armchair with its straw-woven seat, and put his 
 legs up on the chest and light his short pipe, and look around 
 his little room with its bare, whitewashed walls and little 
 looking-glass, and gaze through the window into the apple 
 orchard and puff away at his pipe, drawing a very long, grave 
 face the while, lor was he not at work completing the building 
 and fitting out of his soul? 
 
 He had no thoughts of marrying. Tut! Tut! all that was 
 now past. He had gathered more experience than many an 
 old man in that branch of wisdom. He thought to himself, 
 though, that it must be a beautiful thing to win for one's self 
 one of these remarkable creatures with their melting eyes and 
 loose, lithe limbs; but such a thing was not for him. He was 
 just a strange and wonderful exception. It was sad to confess 
 it, but it was true. For had it not been confirmed by his 
 experience? The girl who had been his comrade in his boy- 
 hood was now a stranger to him ; she had looked down patron-
 
 ISO JORN UHL 
 
 izingly on him, and had run away from him with fear in her 
 eyes, when she had read in his face the feelings that the other 
 had aroused in him. But this other one, before whom he had 
 stood in such wild commotion, full of hot, new-born desires, had 
 turned into a saint. His blood rushed to his face with shame 
 when he thought of these two girls. And he resolved never 
 again to sue for a woman's love. He made up his mind never 
 again to enter that specially woful domain of human life ; he 
 would remain a bachelor all his days. " Thiess is one, too," 
 he said. " It runs in the family." 
 
 So that was done with, then, once for all. The daughter 
 of a neighboring farmer sometimes came by with the milking 
 yoke on her shoulders when he was out a-field with his team. 
 She always wished him good day, and would fain have loitered 
 for a word or two with him. Of a Sunday afternoon she 
 would come to see Elsbe, and pass through the apple orchard 
 underneath his window and nod to him, and look at him with 
 kindly, sensible eyes. She was a comely, cheery lass. But 
 when he saw her coming he would knit his brows like one 
 who has hard and knotty problems to think about, or like a 
 man of threescore years or so who has no time and no interest 
 for girls. And yet at times it would occur to him : " Strange, 
 what a firm brisk step she has; " or, of another girl, " She is tall 
 and slim, and quick and sprightly as a three-year-old mare;" 
 or of another, " Bonnie she looks, with her hips a-swing beneath 
 the milking yoke." But not a jot farther. Away with the 
 thought, away with it from his breast! Those are the creatures 
 that bring a man nothing but unrest and loss of time, and the 
 jeers of his fellows. 
 
 But once or twice this happened to him — both times it was 
 on a Sunday. He had spent the whole afternoon doing noth- 
 ing, and toward evening had gone for a walk across the fields. 
 And somehow his thoughts had got out of his control, and 
 made off to the Sand-lass. He lived through it all again. He 
 was so deep in his dreaming and saw the beautiful, tall form 
 and her serene eyes and heard her deep voice all so clearly, 
 that he didn't come back to reality till he all of a sudden 
 heard his own voice and noticed that he was speaking to her 
 with swift, persuasive words. He was standing leaning against 
 a hedge, and had no idea how he had got there. He pulled him- 
 self together, and the blood rushed to his face. For the rest of
 
 JORN UHL 151 
 
 the evening, however, his peace of mind was gone. He jumped 
 on a horse and rode to the Foreland after the foals that were 
 grazing there, and came back, and walked through the apple 
 orchard, going from tree to tree, feeling the trunks and scraping 
 moss from the bark and looking up into the branches and 
 smiling; and then he felt himself unhappy again, and wanted 
 something, and knew not what, and felt ashamed of himself, and 
 thought of going away out into the wide world and plunging 
 into some great whirl of life, into some task or fight, that he 
 might escape from this thing which was bringing him into such 
 turmoil and discord. 
 
 And in the night he could not tell whether he was dreaming 
 or awake, the girl came into his room in the full splendor 
 of her beauty and strength, as she had bent over the table to 
 him that night, and just as then, she now again came close to 
 him, and v\ as tender and loving, and told him of her lo\e and 
 longing for him. Then he kissed her, in a kiss so long and 
 vehement, a kiss more and more glowing and sweet, till the 
 excitement woke him. Then he felt full of shame of himself. 
 For days he went about his work \\'ith scowling face, and spoke 
 with no one and was specially unkind in his manner toward 
 Elsbe. 
 
 And one day when he had brought a load of corn into town, 
 and was on the way through the street to the dealer's office, 
 he saw, in a paper shop, a small picture of two young women 
 sitting right and left on the side of a marble well. They were 
 tall and powerfully built, and even the one that was almost 
 naked had a fine and good-natured face. There was something 
 high-bred and noble in their looks, and he could not understand 
 how they had come to let themselves be painted in this guise. 
 Under the picture he saw written in Latin letters, " Sacred and 
 Profane Love," by Titian. For a long time he stood looking 
 at it, and then made up his mind and went into the shop, 
 where to his no slight embarrassment he found a young woman 
 who asked what he wanted. He assumed a proud and careless 
 look and pointed to the picture with the end of his whip, and 
 finally purchased it for a few shillings. He hid it carefully, 
 as a great treasure, between his coat and vest, and took it home 
 and put it away right at the bottom of the old chest ; and of 
 a Sunday afternoon, when he sat smoking and thinking in his 
 room, he would take it out and place it on the lid of the box
 
 152 JORN UHL 
 
 opposite where he was sitting, and gaze at it untiringly, and 
 was always in fear lest some one should come in and discover 
 his secret. 
 
 Jorn Uhl was done with women-folk then, but he found it 
 no such easy matter to be done with the world. For the world 
 is a lady a man cannot turn his back upon so easily. He may 
 turn away, but she is still there; he turns in the other direction, 
 and there she is again. He may shut his eyes, but she'll buzz 
 and screech in his ears; he may close his ears, but she'll play her 
 pranks and cut her capers before his eyes. He must choose 
 which side he'll be on, whether he'll keep peace with her or 
 pick a quarrel with her. As for Jorn, his age and his mood at 
 this time, as well as the argumentative stock to which he be- 
 longed, impelled him to take sides against her. 
 
 " Good dame," he said, " you're old and you're ugly. Every- 
 thing about you, from the crown of your head to the sole of 
 your foot, is cracked and crazy. I'd have you know that I'm 
 Jorn Uhl of Wentorf." . . . He had drawn his eyebrows down 
 into such a scowl that he couldn't see the greatness and wonder 
 of things; and carried his nose so high that he lost sight of 
 all their beauty. 
 
 No living thing, whether it crept or flew, whether it pranked 
 in gay robes or sat in mourning, whether it wore coat or 
 petticoat, whether it was round or square, escaped his judg- 
 ment. There was not a thing in the world, be it bird or 
 beast, roimd or square, grave or gay, male or female, that could 
 escape his stern and righteous censorship. And therefore he saw, 
 looming in the distance, the time when he would have to con- 
 fess that the world had no place in it for such as he. A clean 
 separation once for all between him and the world he resolved 
 was the only thing possible. In the solitude of his own room 
 and of Wieten's quarters, he made up his mind to be a servant, 
 for the present to his father, then afterward to his brothers, but 
 to make them pay him a yearly wage. What he earned in this 
 way he was going to put into the town Savings Bank, of which 
 he had heard said it was thoroughly safe. Afterward, when he 
 was old, he would buy a lonely little farm and live with Wieten, 
 far from the turmoil of the world, till he died. 
 
 Now, if the world and all the arrangements of Nature and 
 of man found no favor in Jorn's eyes, it could not be expected
 
 J R N U H L 153 
 
 that He who had made the heavens and the earth would get off 
 lightly either. 
 
 Granted that Jorn went to church. He had done so for the 
 last six months; for he saw that the thrifty, the sober, and 
 the people who were a little old-fashioned did so, and he had 
 made up his mind just to be a man after that style, too. Old 
 Dreyer went to church, and he, as every one knew, had begun 
 as a farm-laborer, and was now a wealthy man. And Reder, 
 the old plumber, went to church, though he had the name of 
 being hard-hearted and miserly; but it was to his credit that 
 he still wore the coat he had gone to the sacrament in fifty 
 years before. And Thomas Lucht's wife, who left the com- 
 mon bedroom in which she and her children slept, when her 
 husband came home from his wild drinking and card-playing. 
 She, too, sat every Sunday with tight-pressed lips in her family 
 pew. These and others like them, venerable and thrifty folk, 
 went to church. Hut the young people, and the wild spirits, 
 and those wiio liked to show off, did not. Jorn Uhl wished to 
 feel himself among the decent folk, and he wanted to show it 
 somehow in outward form, that's why he went to church. 
 
 He went to church, but found it mortally weary. In the 
 first place he took offence, and could not get over it, at the 
 fact that the man who preached in the church on Sundays was 
 known in all the country round as a hard drinker and in- 
 veterate card-player. Although Dreyer had said to him, " It 
 doesn't matter about the man, Jorn, or the sort of life he leads, 
 so much as whether he preaches God's word truly or not." 
 But Jorn couldn't persuade himself to believe it. Apart from 
 that, however, it was this so-called Gospel that the sturdy little 
 pastor proclaimed that went rigiit against the grain with him. 
 For tlie preacher said : " All that we do and all that we say 
 is evil from our youth up, and whosoever puts his faith in his 
 life and his works is everlastingly damned." And " Glory be 
 to the Trinity for ever and ever," and " God's Son, born from 
 everlasting," and " Only believe and thou shalt be saved." That 
 was about the contents of the sermons he gave. 
 
 Jorn Uhl listened attentively from his seat, and failed entirely 
 to discover any connection between these doctrines and the 
 wild doings in the village, or his own ploughing and harrowing. 
 He wondered to himself that God's word could be so thoroughly 
 unpractical. According to his idea, it would have to run, one
 
 154 JORN UHL 
 
 verse after the other, something like this: "A farmer who 
 doesn't weed the docks and thistles out of his land shall not 
 be saved." " He who by hard work and an honest, sober life 
 doubles his property, will come out top." " For every evening 
 that a young man wastes at the public-house, he must lose a 
 year in heaven." And so on. That's the way he would fain 
 have rewritten the Bible. 
 
 Sometimes when the little parson read from the altar or 
 from the pulpit the allotted portions of Scripture, in a chant- 
 ing, wavy sort of voice, Jorn seemed to hear something different 
 from what he heard in the sermon that followed. He seemed 
 to be listening to some old deep wisdom and great strong 
 thoughts plucked right out of the heart of human life. He w^as 
 like a man lying on the edge of a forest surrounded by the 
 humming and twitter of birds and insects, and hearing far off 
 in the depths of the wood a fountain flowing with its full, clear, 
 heavy note of waters. And with the unwisdom of his youth 
 and his natural heaviness of mind it never occurred to him to 
 read through St. Mark or St. Luke and see whether the little 
 parson wasn't suppressing one part of the gospel or adulterating 
 another. 
 
 " You must always sit in the same seat, Jorn ! " old Dreyer 
 had said. " For sixty years I have every Sunday sat in my 
 place in the third row, not counting the year I was away on 
 service in the Danish war." 
 
 So Jorn Uhl sat there every Sunday in the same place. And 
 so also it came about that the only reason why Jorn thought 
 anything of God was because it seemed to him that God had 
 something old-fashioned about him. 
 
 In the spring of the following year, however, something took 
 place that was like a refreshing fall of dew upon the world 
 within him. And it was good that it was so. For his finer 
 nature was in danger of perishing of drought, like young pas- 
 tureland in April when the east wind has been blowing for four 
 weeks at a stretch. 
 
 It happened in this way: 
 
 At the time when the fields were being emptied of their corn, 
 certain hounds went wild. Their owners had neither been 
 sober nor clever enough to bring up even a dog. And so these
 
 JORN UHL 155 
 
 dogs passed their time wild in the fields, and the farmers to 
 whom they belonged passed theirs at the inn. 
 
 It soon became known that sheep had been torn to pieces 
 and fowl-yards harried. The workmen's children who had to 
 go along the Kirchensteig on their way to school walked to 
 and fro in fear and trembling. One day one of them came 
 breathless and terror-stricken into the village, saying the dogs 
 had been after her. Nothing was done, however, to put a stop 
 to the evil ; the owners of the dogs laughed, and nobody ventured 
 to take action against them, for they were the foremost people 
 in the village, were members of the Savings Bank committee, 
 and could repay both good and evil that was done them. Thus 
 it happened that one Sunday morning the Kamp children, who 
 were going along the Kirchensteig, saw the dogs worrying a 
 calf belonging to one of the Kamp workmen. The workman's 
 children began to weep and cry, saying that they had nothing 
 but this one calf, and got two big lads to go with them to 
 call the dogs off. But the boys were afraid. So the two 
 little children, in their terror lest their calf should be killed, 
 advanced alone, thinking in their childish way that their father 
 would beat them unless they saved the calf. When the children, 
 sobbing with fear, came near them, the hounds did not make 
 of^, but came toward the little girl who was trying to get near 
 the calf and kept on clapping her hands and calling to it with 
 terms of childish affection. When the two big boj's saw this 
 their courage left them and they ran away, shouting, toward the 
 village, which was a long way off. The two children, however, 
 stood there alone, and the dogs began to play with them. They 
 crouched, sprang forward, and then drew back and crouched 
 again, and tugged at the children's clothes till one of the 
 children fell and something terrible seemed about to happen. 
 
 Just then Jorn Uhl came out of a neighboring bean-field in 
 his Sunday clothes, and caught sight of what was taking place. 
 He clenched his teeth and thought, "These cursed louts! 
 Has it come to this, that the village children are to be eaten 
 by their dogs?" His face flushed with anger and his eyes 
 were on fire. Running with long strides he hurried to the spot. 
 One dog made off. The other in fury, with hair bristling with 
 rage, showed fight, and got the full force of Jorn's foot in its 
 side. Howling, and with foaming mouth, it sprang at him, 
 just as he was stooping toward the child. The brute struck
 
 156 JORN UHL 
 
 him just as he was straightening himself, and, as he had no 
 good hold on anything, its weight and impetus brought him to 
 his knees. With a iirm grip of his big, bony hands he pressed 
 the furious brute to his breast, and with the utmost effort kept 
 it from his throat, which it was wildly struggling to reach, 
 contorting its body fearfully and foaming at the mouth. Jorn's 
 face was white, and it was only with extreme difficulty that 
 he held his own. As soon as he felt himself firm on his knees, 
 he uttered a wild cry, clutched the hound's throat with a chok- 
 ing grip, bending his whole body forward, and, in his rage, broke 
 its neck. For many a year afterward this deed was talked about 
 by the villagers. He himself, too, in later years, when happier 
 circumstances had brought the genial Thicssen side of his nature 
 to light, was fonder of speaking about this adventure near the 
 bean stubble than about that other terrible experience — the 
 day when he stood bent over the gun-carriage, hurling pieces 
 of jagged iron against people who, as he added in a softer 
 voice, had done no harm to him personally and were no worse 
 than himself. 
 
 When the story was brought to the farm, next day, by the 
 school-children, he noticed with what eyes of wonder the milk- 
 maid looked at him. And the stableman related that the lads 
 in the school playground had had a great argument as to how 
 Jorn had managed to kneel and clutch the dog as he had done, 
 and everywhere groups of boys were standing around one of 
 their fellows, who was on his knees, showing the others the 
 grip. And the teacher had had some trouble in saving his 
 yellow-haired Fido from their clutches. 
 
 A week later he again went across the fields to the Kirchen- 
 steig, and, walking toward the church, he overtook the Kamp 
 children, who were also on their way. They stepped aside from 
 the path into the grass and looked up at him. But the little girl 
 whom he had saved put her hand mutely into his, and went 
 trotting along by his side as far as the church door without 
 saying a word. He went in and heard a sermon about faith, and 
 how so-called good works and a so-called honest life were 
 mostly suspicious things, a mere brilliant sort of vice. 
 
 As he was leaving the church, Rose, the old tailor, a man 
 renowned for his gift of silence all over the country-side, came 
 hastening after him. He limped along at Jorn's side, for he 
 was already very old, made a few remarks about the weather,
 
 JORN UHL 157 
 
 then pulled up suddenly, and began, in his shy way, to fumble 
 his soft fingers, tailor-fashion, over the front of his companion's 
 coat and vest. 
 
 " Bring the jacket in to me, Jorn," he said, " you can see the 
 marks of the beastic's claws still on it. I'll put it to rights 
 with a little silk. I'll do it for nothing, Jorn. . , . But, bless 
 me, what was it I v\as going to say, Jorn? It doesn't so much 
 matter about the jacket, I was thinkin', Jcirn, as about the 
 heart that beats under it, and that must just belong to (lod." 
 
 Jorn Uhl did not know what to say to this; for where do 
 mere laymen, I'd like to know, talk about such things in our 
 country? I'o talk about God and the soul is the function of 
 the parson in his pulpit. 
 
 " I wanted to help the children," Jorn said, " I was so furious 
 with those accursed dogs." 
 
 " You must just do everything in God's name, Jorn, laddie, 
 for His service." 
 
 That was beyond Jorn Uhl's comprehension. " To tell you 
 the truth, I only thought of the little mite that was standing in 
 the Held screaming like one possessed." 
 
 " This time ye did what was right on your own hook, laddie, 
 and that was fine. But if ye want to do what's right and 
 good your whole life long, ye'll have just to shake hands wi' 
 the Almighty, and do it out o' love o' Him. Ye must not do 
 it out o' anger wi' the dogs, or because ye can't bear to see the 
 children's terror, but because God was standing beside ye and 
 looking at ye and sayin', ' Lend a hand, Jorn Uhl,' ' Save the 
 child! ' * Grip thae dogs, Jorn Uhl.' " 
 
 " Oh, yes. . . . But it seems to me all one whether I do 
 it with or without God." 
 
 " Not by a long way, Jorn. . . . For see here, now: If ye 
 do it on your own responsibility ye'll be proud, and fancy your- 
 self, and become cocked up and perhaps a bit of a fool. Neither 
 will ye always do what's good nor just hit on what's right, 
 neither. And ye won't have any real joy o' what ye've done, 
 because ye haven't done it for His sake, but for your own and 
 other folk's. But if ye put yourself on God's side and do every- 
 thing for His sake, then ye'll be fine and humble, and ye'll 
 laugh and rejoice and know for certain when yc're doing what's 
 right, and ye'll have understanding for everything, and will be 
 able to defy and to rejoice at the whole world. Our hearts
 
 158 JORN UHL 
 
 on God's side, and our hands against the dogs, and against 
 everything bad i' the world ; — that's Chreestianity." 
 
 '' Well, there's some sense in that," said Jorn, " to stand by 
 God and do good ; it's not a bad idea, it seems to me ; but . . ." 
 
 " It's what the Saviour did, always on God's side and always 
 against the dogs. Only that at last there were too many dogs 
 against Him, and they dragged Him down and tore Him to 
 pieces. What else did He try to do all His life long, Jorn, than 
 to be on God's side and fight for the good through thick and 
 thin?" 
 
 " That's the thing," Jorn assented, " so to say in league with 
 God." 
 
 " For faith and loyalty's sake, Jorn." 
 
 " Just so, for faith and lo3'alty's sake to take sides against 
 everything bad, against dogs and idlers, against drunkards and 
 bad ploughmen." 
 
 " Right, laddie, and first of all against one's own short- 
 comings." 
 
 " That's clear," said Jorn Uhl. 
 
 " D'ye see? " said the old man. " And bring your packet in 
 to me to-morrow, Jorn, and I'll do it for nothing." 
 
 He nodded his head to Jorn several times, and went away 
 limping along the church path, still nodding. 
 
 It suddenly occurred to Jorn Uhl : " That's the man you 
 should ask what he thinks about the sermons that are preached 
 in there." He turned around. But the old tailor had settled 
 into a gentle trot and was just disappearing around the end 
 of the churchyard. 
 
 When Wieten Klook next morning asked for Jorn's clothes 
 to brush them as usual, he told her how the old man had offered 
 to mend the coat for nothing. 
 
 " That's a strange customer, yon. What did he have to 
 say? " she asked. 
 
 Jorn looked puzzled and was gazing into space. " It was 
 a bit windy at the church corner; if I understood him properly, 
 he said something about the best way to lead one's life being 
 to pull the chestnuts out of the fire for other people." 
 
 " He's a queer fish, Jorn. God be with us! the old man is 
 goin' completely daft." 
 
 " Why do you say that, Wieten? " said Jorn. " He's hard- 
 working and sober; nobody can say a word to his discredit;
 
 JORN UHL 159 
 
 he is always cheerful and kindly, and you know how he made 
 little Dirksen's confirmation suit for him for nothing;," 
 
 " Yes, but what's the good of all that ? The man has never 
 put by a penny for himself. He works the whole day. But 
 has he got any property or anything else to show for it all?" 
 She thrust the bundle into his hands, and said, " And now clear 
 out of this, you and your jacket." 
 
 In the corridor he thought: " Now that's three different 
 ways of looking at things. What's preached in church no 
 sensible man can bclie\e in. What the old tailor says has 
 sense in it. But what Wieten says has sense in it, too. The 
 tailor says, Work for others in God's name. Wieten says, 
 Work for yourself in your own name." 
 
 But suddenly he stood still, turned around, and returned to 
 the kitchen. She was standing with her back to the door, work- 
 ing. " I say, Wieten," said Jorn, " you make out the tailor 
 talks rubbish. Well, just tell me then how it is about your own 
 case? Here you are, working for nothing from morning to 
 night, in this lonely, dreary house, where three drunkards have 
 everything their own way, and you have to plague yourself 
 with the stubborn girls from morning to night. How does 
 that fit in with your argument? " 
 
 She turned around sharply and looked at him with aston- 
 ishment. He now for the first time spoke like a man who 
 thinks for himself, and this change in him came as such a sur- 
 prise to her that she could not for the moment realize it. 
 " Laddie," she said, " don't begin prating. Don't fash yoursel' 
 about other folk's business, and don't try to be too knowing." 
 
 So he walked away, thinking these matters over to himself. 
 
 His outer life was in truth one of continual toil. His father 
 would say: ''There's too much of the Thicssens in him, and 
 he'll never be anything better than a hired servant for his 
 brothers." One day ploughing, next day sowing, another work- 
 ing hard at home, that was how his weeks were spent. The 
 first to start work of a morning and the last to stop at night, 
 w ith never a holiday and hardly a Sunday to himself. His eyes 
 would shut of themselves every evening as soon as supper was 
 over, and he would go to bed early and sleep without a 
 dream. 
 
 His figure shot up tall and gaunt, and his walk grew stolid
 
 i6o JORN UHL 
 
 and heavy from following the plough in the heavy land. His 
 sinews grew strong as iron. It was no trouble to him to go 
 between the handles of his plough with his four horses all day 
 long, turning furrow after furrow without a pause for rest. 
 Although he was not quite eighteen yet, he could at wheat- 
 harvest pitch three sheaves without trouble instead of one, if 
 his fork happened to catch hold of them. His shoulders grew 
 broad, widening out from beneath the armpits as if set up with 
 bastions, and his face grew bronze with the sun and the salt 
 sea breezes. His manner and speech had that slow decisiveness 
 and plod in them which is peculiar to slow and brooding minds. 
 His church-going became less frequent; but every second and 
 third Sunday he still put on his blue, well-fitting suit, and 
 walked silently and proudly, with head upright, to church. 
 
 That autumn's events had a good effect upon him. For many 
 a year now he had thought, " Be diligent, sober, thrifty, and 
 follow your nose till you die — that's the whole of the joke, 
 nothing more." But the conversation with the tailor, and the 
 reflections and comparisons that followed it, had made him open 
 his eyes a little, and look at things a little more closely. He 
 discovered all of a sudden that the matter wasn't quite so simple. 
 There were other things that were good to have besides honesty 
 and money. His heart opened out a little, and he became 
 gentler and less harsh. 
 
 He conceived a quiet affection for some of the workmen's 
 children from Kamp, and would sometimes of a Sunday 
 afternoon sit with them on the bank of the Au and whittle 
 willow twigs into whistles for them, and help the smallest of 
 them to make chains out of the stems of dandelions. In win- 
 ter, however, he would keep apples stored away in straw at 
 the bottom of his box, and laugh at the devices of the children 
 to draw his attention by coughing or louder talking when they 
 passed the farm on their way to school, for they didn't venture 
 to make a direct request to him for the fruit. He looked to 
 them so tall and earnest. Sometimes, of a wintry evening, he 
 brought out his Littrow, and looked at the maps of the stars 
 in the appendix, and went out into the apple-garden on starlight 
 nights, seeking out the different stars and noting their names. 
 But when he discovered that he was becoming absorbed, and 
 more greedy for knowledge, and when he noticed how the 
 delight of learning began to go to bis head like wine, he drew
 
 JORN UHL i6i 
 
 back terrified, and put the book away again in the box, right 
 at the very bottom under the straw where the apples lay. 
 
 He sealed up and stored away the discoveries he had made 
 about men and things, as the shipman stores away his cargo in 
 the dark hold of the vessel. Jorn's cargo of experiences, too, 
 seemed non-existent, without importance and v\ithout a pur- 
 pose, but it was only hidden away. It had enriched his soul 
 and lay there as part of his wealth, and made the ship sail 
 deeper and safer. 
 
 Thus one experience followed the other, one being after 
 another came into his life. They approached him, gave him 
 a portion of their knowledge and experience, and went away 
 again.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 In the following spring, with the astuteness of an older man, 
 he came to the conclusion that it would be best to offer him- 
 self for service in the militia without further delay; he would 
 then have a free path before him, after he had served the pre- 
 scribed time in the army. The general looked with satisfaction 
 at the big, broad-shouldered youth standing naked before him 
 for examination, and asked, good-humoredly, " Horse Guards 
 or Artillery?" Jorn bethought himself a moment, and said, 
 " Artillery." The members of the examining commission were 
 greatly astonished. "Why?" asked the general. " I'm better 
 suited for it." "Why?" asked the general again. A shrewd 
 look came over Jorn's face, and he said, " It seems to me that 
 the Artillery are a more homely sort of men, and more necessary 
 for the country into the bargain." The general nodded ap- 
 provingly, and dismissed him. 
 
 Bailie Eisohn — the same man who used to drink and gamble 
 with the farmers, and whose only child had afterward to go 
 begging and died in poverty — assumed a knowing look, and 
 said, " He's one of the old stock of the Uhls, but he's a poor 
 specimen of them, general. There's no gumption in him." 
 "Nonsense," said the general; "I'll answer for that fellow. 
 I'm a fair judge of faces, Mr. Bailie, and have a very good 
 idea how different people have turned out after all my expe- 
 rience in times of peace and two campaigns." 
 
 So that autumn, as soon as the harvest was in, Jorn went to 
 Rendsburg. Geert Dose, the son of old Dose who used to live 
 at Dingerdonn, was told off to the same battery as Jorn, and 
 went with him. 
 
 Rendsburg was at that time still a quiet country town. And 
 even had it been as full of life as Hamburg and the finest city 
 in all the land, what would it have mattered to these farmers' 
 sons? What concern had they with the world? As for Jorn, 
 
 162
 
 JORN UHL 163 
 
 he was there to learn what was to be learnt, and to obey what- 
 ever orders might be given him, for three years. In his spare 
 time he could do what he liked. Then his thoughts Hew away 
 home to the fields and the stables of the Uhl. 
 
 He made capital headway in his military work. There could 
 not have been a better soldier. He was hardy, shrewd, and 
 obedient. A corporal fresh from the Military School, who 
 was always talking about the " unlicked stockish Holsteiners," 
 would fain have made Jorn Uhl into a footstool for the mag- 
 nificence of his young authority. But on the fourth or fifth 
 day Lieutenant Hax, whom his men called " Long John," 
 happened to get wind of the corporal's intention, and had a short 
 talk with him, and that was the end of it. 
 
 Next day, when Long John was passing through the stables, 
 he met Jorn Uhl carrying two buckets of water. " Uhl, where 
 in the world do you get that long, heavy step of yours? I've 
 never seen such a young fellow with a walk like that all my 
 born days. Looks as if you were carrying heavy iron rails." 
 
 Jorn set the buckets down with a clatter and stood there stiff 
 as a poker. " I've had to work hard ever since I was a child," 
 he said. 
 
 *' Commenced ploughing when you were a two-year-old, eh? " 
 
 " Yes, and it's heavy land down there." 
 
 " I come from near Itzehoe," said the lieutenant, " know those 
 parts well, and have been in VVentorf, too. Your father has 
 a big farm down there, I fancy ? " 
 
 " At vour service, sir. But I've had to work." 
 
 "Oh, so the old chap didn't?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 "Nor your brothers, either? Eh?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " You've got such a — what shall I say ? — such a grave look 
 on your face, Uhl. Can't understand it in a young fellow 
 like you." 
 
 " It'll go ill with the ploughing, down at the Uhl, this 
 autumn," said Jorn. 
 
 Lieutenant Hax frowned slightly, but said nothing. From 
 that day forth he treated Jorn with consideration and esteem, 
 and showed it by expecting more work from him than from 
 any other man in the battery, and by always entrusting him 
 with the most difficult tasks.
 
 i64 JORN UHL 
 
 Jorn's comrades at first showed a certain dislike to him. 
 They had heard that he was the son of a big marsh farmer, 
 and were inclined to take his quiet, reserved way for pride. 
 And, as a matter of fact, he was not without a touch of stolid 
 yeoman's pride. And this feeling of reserve was enhanced at 
 first by a certain coarse tone that prevailed in the mess-room 
 to which he belonged. This was due to the presence of two 
 or three braggart fellows, who had succeeded in getting a name 
 among their comrades as " men of the world " by dint of con- 
 stant prate about their experiences and adventures. As a village 
 boy and son of a farmer, Jorn was indeed not unacquainted 
 with a great deal of what these two heroes talked about; cer- 
 tain other facts he had already dimly guessed at ; and more- 
 over there was a strongly sensuous side to his nature; but all 
 these things lay hid in the most secret depths of his soul, and 
 guarded with most scrupulous conscience. It was intolerable 
 to him, and caused him pain, almost physical, to hear these 
 braggart fellows discussing these holy secrets of nature, amid 
 their bursts of hilarity. And as he listened to their talk, 
 moreover, it became clearer and clearer to him how deeply and 
 hopelessly his brothers at home were enmeshed in passion and 
 licentiousness. 
 
 So while such jests were going around, he used to sit there 
 with the same expression on his face as that with which he had 
 listened to his brothers' speeches, and making no concealment 
 of his disgust and contempt. 
 
 One evening the two heroes tried to bring him to book for 
 this demeanor. But with the astuteness of one w^ho has all his 
 life had to do with Nature, Jorn had foreseen some such quarrel, 
 and had made sure of getting his old schoolmate Geert Dose 
 to stand by him in case of need. So the two heroes, who had 
 only reckoned on having one opponent to deal with, found 
 themselves confronting two, and got a very sound thrashing. 
 From that time forth, although the mess-room tone remained 
 rough, it lost its downright coarseness. 
 
 Jorn's comrades did not like him at first. They mistook 
 the zeal and diligence with which he carried out his work from 
 day to day for toadyism, as if he were merely striving to gain 
 the favor of his superiors. But they soon found out that his 
 zeal was nothing more than simple honesty. They saw that 
 he was thoroughly reliable, and that he was no self-seeker;
 
 JORN UHL 165 
 
 and when they heard from Geert Dose what a hard time he 
 had had in his youth, they loolvcd up to him with respect, as 
 young sailors do to the comrade who has made the longest 
 voyage. He became a kind of arbitrator and umpire among 
 them, and many a mother's son of them found in him and his 
 sharp, terse decisions a good helper in times of distress. 
 
 " I say, Uhl, have you heard the news? Riiclcert has bolted, 
 and has been caught again." 
 
 " What does the fellow want to bolt for? When a horse is 
 drawing the plough, it mustn't kick; that's clear. What does 
 he want to bolt for, if he's a real soldier? Discipline is dis- 
 cipline." 
 
 Uhl, you're a real sensible chap, but you're a bit too sen- 
 sible." 
 
 Jorn Uhl sucked at his short pipe, and said, " I don't know- 
 how it is that I can't laugh like other folk. It seems to me 
 as if my face has been frozen stiff sometime or other, and I 
 can't get it into working order again. But when you others 
 laugh, I like listening to jou mightily. Come, tell us a story, 
 one of you. You, Geert, tell us a yarn about Lanky Sott." 
 
 " I say . . . you know Plank, don't you . . . he's in his 
 third year now, he's gone and got that little fair-haired girl into 
 trouble — you know, the one in service at the doctor's. She 
 was turned away from there yesterday, and she's been to the 
 canteen wanting to speak with Plank. But he shammed illness 
 and . . . Do you know him, Uhl?" 
 
 " He's a lout," said Jorn; " if he's ridden the little mare too 
 deep into the horse-pond, he'll have to get her out again. We 
 mustn't let him have a moment's peace till he confesses he's 
 engaged to her, and invites us to the betrothal. Let's tell him 
 we've clubbed together and are going to shout a cask of beer 
 the night we congratulate him. When he hears that, he'll get 
 an idea of what we think about the matter." 
 
 Geert Dose was often the butt of the mess-room jests; it 
 was said he had learnt next to nothing at school, and, besides, 
 he could look as if he were a regular simpleton. But his 
 mother was one of the real, genuine Grays, a daughter of the 
 well-known crook-backed Stoffer Cray. 
 
 Stoffcr Cra>', it must be explained, was not a crook-back 
 by birth. In his youth he had done a lot of smuggling and 
 had often led the coast-guardsmen a dance, by disguising him-
 
 i66 JORN UHL 
 
 self as a hunchback. At last it happened that one of the 
 coast-guardsmen came by his death down there in the Fens, and 
 folk said that Stolfer Cray had decoyed him there and pushed 
 him into the water. From that time forward he gave up 
 smuggling, and grew into a silent, close-fisted man, and grad- 
 ually, from being erect and straight as a young ash, he got the 
 carriage and gait of a hunchback. For many a year he w^as 
 a familiar figure in the villages, as he trotted along by the side 
 of his dogs and their little cart. This old man was Geert 
 Dose's grandfather, and it was from him that Geert had got 
 his quick wits. 
 
 He had been in service at the house of a big farmer in the 
 !Marsh, a man who was very sleepy, stupid, and inclined to 
 grumble. The youth managed to ingratiate himself with his 
 master through his kind and obliging ways, and had made the 
 most of the farmer's good-will toward him. So he had passed 
 a pleasant time in his service and had played many a merry 
 trick at this dull-wn'tted loon's expense. His comrades would 
 sometimes get him to tell them one or other of these tricks for 
 the general amusement. 
 
 He sat on the edge of his straw mattress, cast a glance around 
 the room, and began : " I remember a yarn about a Geest-carl. 
 . . . Do you know what a Geest-carl is? Well, a Geest-carl 
 is a man who, toward winter or so, quits his hungry village 
 up there on the heath and goes down to the marsh and threshes 
 corn for some farmer and comes back home in spring. And 
 with these Geest-carls Farmer Sott was never out of difficulties. 
 
 " One day one of them came along, a little gray fellow, as 
 brown and dry and angular as a block of turf, and with a 
 forlorn look in his eyes, like a man that's lost his way in the 
 woods. He kept wagging his head backw^ards and forwards. 
 'Ah!' said I to myself, when I saw^ him, 'there's some fun 
 brewing again.' ' Farmer,' said I, * just mark my words. 
 We'll have some trouble with that fellow.' 
 
 " Well, the gaberlunzie chap went to bed and got up next 
 morning, and as he's sitting eating his porridge and sour butter- 
 milk — we used to have sour buttermilk every morning and 
 evening, sometimes at midday, too — in comes old Sott as it 
 were by chance, and wants to examine him a bit, quite cau- 
 tiously, so to say, like a dog tackling a porcupine. And by 
 his hanging jaws and wide-staring eyes you could see that he
 
 JORN UHL 167 
 
 was ready to expect anything. ' I just thought I'd like to 
 know what's your name and where ye hail from,' he said. As 
 soon as he was asked his name, the man's eyes began travelling 
 all over the room, around and around and up and down. \ ou 
 would have thought his name was a wasp circling around his 
 head and trying to sting him. 'My name?' says he, and his 
 eyes went wildly around the room once more. Farmer Sott 
 bent over the table gaping with astonishment. I sat quite 
 still, enjoying the fun. I put an old two-shilling piece that 
 had gone out of date on the table before me, and said to myself, 
 ' Next Sunday I'll put that in the plate, extra, just for the 
 sake of this joke.' 
 
 "Well, what do you think? Sure as a gun the Geest-carl 
 had forgotten his name. He'd had it yesterday, he said, but 
 last night he must have either forgotten it or lost it somewhere. 
 He said that such things often happened to him. 1 asked 
 whether I hadn't better go and look among the straw where 
 he'd slept, it might be lying there still. I must have been 
 grinning, for of a sudden old Sott leant o\er the table and 
 caught me a spank that made my head rattle like a pane of 
 glass, and I wasn't long getting out of the room. 
 
 " So far everything had gone fine and smooth. The Geest- 
 carl had lost his name and couldn't find it for the life of him, 
 although we all helped him to look for it. He said he had a 
 dim notion that his name was a pretty long one and had some- 
 thing or other to do with eating. More he couldn't remember, 
 said he. We made all sorts of guesses at it, but he shook his 
 head and would have none of them. He said it was quite an 
 odd out-o'-the-way sort of name. Old Sott hit upon the bright 
 idea of sending him to the minister, and the minister was to 
 read him a whole host of names out of the Baptismal Register, 
 and if he heard a name that sounded like his own the gaber- 
 lunzie was to nod his head. But he never nodded once. He 
 knew a thing worth two of that. He only kept on turning his 
 eyes up and down as a girl does playing catchers. 
 
 " At last he said he believed his name was a pretty long one. 
 H he could only hit upon a part of it, perhaps he'd remember 
 the rest. ' Yes,' said Sott, ' but how's that to be done? ' ' Oh,' 
 said the Geest-carl, ' he supposed the best way would be to 
 . . . that is, if Farmer Sott had nothing against it.' ' Of 
 course,' said Sott, with eyes as big as an ox's, he was that curious.
 
 i68 J O R N U H L 
 
 * Well,' said the Geest-carl, ' he knew his name had something 
 to do with eating. So the likeliest way would be for him to 
 get the same food to eat as he dreamed about of nights. At 
 least for a time, by way of a trial. That would be pretty certain 
 to have some connection with his name, and when he had 
 thoroughly dreamt through and eaten through the whole of 
 his name it would be pretty sure to occur to him again.' 
 
 " Well, the farmer agreed, and off he started. For six nights 
 the carl dreamt of butter, and got it, too, and ate huge quan- 
 tities of it. Next he said he had dreamt of still greater piles 
 of butter. The farmer's wife grew angry, but old Sott says 
 it's no good grumbling, we must just get to the bottom of the 
 matter. And for six days the carl ate his fill of butter again 
 for all he was worth. Well, after awhile, what does he do 
 but go and dream of pans of milk. ' What sort of milk? ' asks 
 Sott, while the goodwife leans half over the table, glaring at 
 him anxiously. ' Skim-milk? ' asked Sott. ' No,' said he, ' the 
 milk I dreamed of had thick cream on it.' So they started 
 on the milk, and we always had a big bowl full of sweet new 
 milk on the table, and all of us took good care to get our 
 share of it. And so the carl ate his way through the winter 
 and throve mightily. Till one day about the middle of March, 
 when everything's just beginning to sprout and get green in 
 the fields, in the evening he got them to pay him the money 
 he'd earned. As soon as he'd got it, off he goes to his room 
 and fetches his things, and a moment or so aftei-ward there 
 he is outside the farmer's window, and says he, ' I've eaten my 
 way through my name,' says he, ' and now I know what it is.' 
 
 * What! ' sings out old Sott, springing to his feet. ' Yes,' said 
 the carl, ' I mind me of it now. It's John Stoffer Buttermilk.' 
 'Buttermilk!' screams Sott, 'why didn't ye dream that at 
 once, eh? That would have come a lot cheaper.' 'Yes,' said 
 the carl, with a self-satisfied laugh, and rolling his eyes again 
 as he'd done of before. ' That's always the way with me. I 
 can never dream anything but the separate parts.' Sott puts 
 a good face on the matter. ' Well,' says he, cajolingly, ' just 
 step inside, then, for now you have buttermilk for a week to 
 come.' But the carl gave himself a shake as if he felt a dozen 
 or so cold eels squirming down his back. ' That's just what 
 was the matter, master. The missus always used to set butter- 
 milk before us for meals, and I couldn't stand it three times
 
 JORN UHL 169 
 
 a day.' And with that off he went, and we never saw him 
 again. ... Of course, 1 had to bear the brunt of it. For as 
 I was going to my room that night, there stood old Sott in 
 the passage, just where it's a bit dark, waiting for me, and 
 makes out that I had hatched the whole plot with the winter- 
 carl, and that lie was going to dust my jacket for me; which 
 he did, for it was a quiet spot." 
 
 " He hit the right nail on the head," said Jorn, laughing. 
 And the others, too, agreed ; saying, " You well deserved all 
 you got, Geert. . . . But this yarn wasn't quite such humbug 
 as some you've told us. At any rate, give us another." 
 
 " Oh," said Geert Dose, ..." if you want to make out 
 that I'm telling lies . . ." 
 
 " Geert, you'd better begin straight off, or else look out for 
 yourself. If you haven't been telling lies this time, you've 
 done it often enough before. So look sharp and make a start, 
 unless you want to catch it." 
 
 Geert Dose looks at Jorn Uhl, as much as to say: "Jorn, 
 you and I are the only two sensible ones among all these chil- 
 dren." But as they are now standing up and threatening him 
 with their fists, he begins again in an injured tone. 
 
 " Well. . . . You fellows talk about volunteer Kiekbusch's 
 mighty appetite, but we had a winter-carl at our farm — I 
 mean at Burly Sott's. He thrashed the whole winter there 
 with us. He used to eat at the same table as us at first. 
 But we soon saw that that game wouldn't answer. He used to 
 have everything put away before we caught a glimpse of it. 
 Just as we'd be thinking about pegging in properly, the bacon 
 dish'd be empty. So old Sott said they'd have to take the 
 big boiler for him, for he was determined to give the chap 
 enough to eat, even though he had to mortgage his farm to do 
 it. Well. . . . The big boiler w^as brought into action, and 
 he really ate himself full out of it. But it took a good time, 
 pretty close on two hours, before he got the pot empty. Think. 
 then . . . what was to he done? Sott comes along to the 
 barn and says, ' I say, Geest-carl, just tell us straight out, how 
 did you manage to eat enough when you were at home, and 
 yet have any time left over for work? We want to do the 
 right thing by you, if we can, if you'll just tell us.' So the 
 Geest-carl opens his mouth and tells them how he had managed 
 it. His wife, it seems, had nailed a broom-handle across the
 
 170 JORN UHL 
 
 calves' trougli, and then he had to stand close up to the kitchen 
 door and get fed at it. 
 
 " ' Man,' said the farmer, ' you're not in your right mind. 
 You don't mean to say that's the way they did it? Well, by 
 George, well do as much for you, too. We'll do as much 
 for you, see if we don't.' And, sure as a gun, they started it 
 going. Sott says to me, ' Geert,' says he, ' you'll have to do it, 
 you've got a good head on your shoulders, and you'll soon 
 get the hang of it.' ' Of course I will,' says I, ' for I wasn't 
 behind the door when brains were being served out. I'll 
 manage it somehow or other.' And blest if we didn't do it, 
 and brought the fellow through the winter splendid. 
 
 " When it was getting on toward spring his wife came to 
 fetch him home, and said her husband had never yet been 
 with such nice people before. ' This time,' said she, ' he's put 
 on fat properly.' She felt him all over, nodding with satis- 
 faction, and cracking up old Sott. He likes to hear that sort 
 o' thing. In summer she said her husband never eats nothing 
 to speak of. 
 
 "'What!' cried Sott. 'What's that you say? In summer 
 he don't eat nothing to speak of? Do you mean to say he 
 lives on his own extra fat? ' No, the woman says, that wasn't 
 it exactly. But . . . good Lord . . . why, men alive ! . . . 
 just imagine it! . . . She actually made out that her husband 
 was, so to say, a kind of animal that chew'd the cud." 
 
 " Geert Dose, you're lying," the others yelled. " He's going 
 it a bit too strong; whack him." 
 
 But Jorn Uhl laughed, and kept them off. " Leave him 
 alone," he said ; " it's all true that he's been telling us, and if 
 it's not true, why do you come listening?" 
 
 Geert Dose sat quite quiet, as though it were all no con- 
 cern of his, and looked quite innocent. He glanced at them all 
 reproachfully, and said at last: "Do you hear? What Jorn 
 Uhl says is always true." 
 
 "Well, go on with your yarn; but if you put it on too 
 thick, \\ e'll thump you all the same. So fire away." 
 
 " Oh, fire away, you say. It's as easy as falling off a log, 
 according to you. Well, I remember once . . . but if you 
 say it's only humbug . . ." 
 
 " That's all right. Now, start again." 
 Well ... I was going to say, when the winter is coming 
 
 ((
 
 JORN UHL 171 
 
 to an end, it's often a bad matter for the farmers. It's then 
 that they all get more or less strange in their ways, especially 
 the grass-farmers. Some get hot blood, others again freeze. 
 Some will get their attack as early as March, others about 
 the time when the cattle go back to pasture, so to say, about 
 the beginning of May. There are some that, about the time 
 when they get this cranky fit, go off to the asylum for four 
 weeks of their own accord. The doctors in Holstein have 
 special arrangements for them. Well, that was the time o' 
 year when Burly Sott always used to get a kind of frozen, 
 glassy look about him. He looked as lifeless as a dead hedge- 
 hog. Well, so much for that. 
 
 " Once, about March it was — cold, wet, icy weather, and the 
 whole farm lay waterlogged in fog and wet, and icicles hung 
 from the eaves like fork-handles. It was then, as I was saying, 
 that his wife had a real bad time of it with him. Once he 
 came and stood in the kitchen, talking all sorts of nonsense 
 to her; then gradually his words came slower and slower, till 
 at last he fell over and lay in a heap in the turf-box. And 
 as he was in the way there, the farm-girls scolded, and gave 
 him a stinger now and again with the sole of their wooden 
 clogs. At last they managed to rouse him, and he went out ; 
 they were glad to get rid of him. But the strange thing was 
 that he didn't come in again, even when it was dark. We 
 looked for him everywhere, but we couldn't find him. His 
 wife said: ' I'm just curious to see what he's been up to this 
 time.' But I was quite quiet, and thought to myself. He's 
 been and dumped himself down somewhere in the hay, in one 
 of the barns, and hasn't woke yet. 
 
 " Well, next morning, when we were all sitting around the 
 porridge, the kitchen-maid says all of a sudden: 'I saw 
 master again last night. He was standing under the eaves of 
 the house, below the icicles, and looked all shiny and slippery.' 
 And when I took a look through the window, sure as anything, 
 I saw long, thick icicles hanging down from the roof. It 
 didn't take me long to put two and two together. So I said 
 to Sott's wife and the others, ' I've got a pretty good idea 
 where to find the farmer. Come along with me.' 
 
 " We all went out. And, sure enough, he'd put himself 
 under the spout behind the barn. He'd been looking out over 
 hi? meadows to see if there were any signs of green sprouting
 
 172 JORN UHL 
 
 as yet, and had fallen asleep as he stood there. For he was 
 alread}' so cold and glassy that he didn't notice the water trick- 
 ling down him and turning to ice on him. And so, little by 
 little, he got coated all over with ice. He was ice from head 
 to foot, face and all, and on his head he had a kind of dunce's 
 cap of ice, stiff and straight, and the point of it reached right 
 up to the roof. 
 
 " Well, we broke him off and carried him into the kitchen. 
 It took four men to do it, and the trouble was to get a grip 
 of him anywhere, he was that slippery. We'd no sooner brought 
 him in, than his wife began abusing him. But he made no 
 sign he noticed her, except to give me a wink with his left eye 
 right through the glass — a thing he always did when she 
 scolded and I was by. One of the lads proposed that we 
 should leave him as he was and take him with us to Meldorf 
 Market, and put him on show at so much a head ; but the 
 youth only got a sound box on the ear for his pains. 
 
 " Well, what was to be done? To make a long story short 
 — we first stood him away in a corner while we finished our 
 meal comfortably in peace. Seeing us eating he got a mighty 
 hungry look into his eyes, and now and again he would put 
 out his tongue and give the ice a lick, and every time he did it 
 his wife let out a screech at him. Then we put the ice-man, 
 as we called him, just as he was, into the big bean-cauldron 
 that hung over the fire. We put him in upside down at first, 
 for his wife vi'anted to get at him with her slipper, and then 
 gradually we got him melted. But it took a good half-ton of 
 turf. And then we softened him with soda and ammonia." 
 
 At that they all fell upon Geert Dose, and Jorn Uhl could 
 not save him ; but still he managed to prevent them from 
 carrying the joke too far. After that there was a lull, and the 
 barrack-room became silent. Dose went away to bed, and Jorn 
 fell to thinking. The others talked in a low voice about the 
 day's work that lay behind them. 
 
 In the third j'ear, when Jorn had mastered his duties as 
 a soldier and everything went smoothly, he spent a great 
 deal of his spare time in the house of a subordinate muni- 
 cipal officer who was a good ten years older than himself. 
 Both this man and his wife came from the neighborhood 
 of Wentorf, and as a boy he had visited Thiess Thiessen at 
 Haze Farm, and had known Fiete Cray. He was a dapper
 
 JORN UHL 173 
 
 little man. His hair was always smooth and his shirt-sleeves 
 snowy white. He was diligent, thorough, sober, and thrifty, and 
 had a few more good qualities besides. He found fault with 
 Thiess Thiessen's management of the farm, and he found fault 
 with the town council that had appointed him for the way it 
 managed municipal affairs. He found fault with Fiete Cray 
 for having been sitting straddle-legs on his little cart the last 
 time he saw him. He found fault with the plans of the govern- 
 ment, as well as with the words of the king. He found fault 
 with everything. He praised nobody but himself and — some- 
 times — his wife, who on rare occasions, and very shyly, ven- 
 tured to repeat things he'd said. But whenever he praised her, 
 he always added: "It was I called her attention to it, and now 
 she knows what's right." 
 
 H the illness from which this very model man was suffering 
 had been contagious, his companionship would have been a 
 dangerous thing for Jorn Uhl. But this is a disease that does 
 not infect others ; it has its origin in the nature of some special 
 individual, spends its strength in him, and then perishes with 
 him, to reappear, perchance, in some quite different place, in 
 some other individual. Those who have to do with the sick 
 man listen to his boasting patiently, and then jeer at him as 
 soon as his back is turned. And when one of his convivial 
 acquaintances is tempted, perhaps, by some favorable oppor- 
 tunity, and begins to brag, this disease of his neighbor will all 
 of a sudden occur to him, and he'll shut his mouth and so escape 
 making a fool of himself. 
 
 Jorn Uhl was twenty years old. He failed to see how 
 terribly empty and shallow his friend's heart was. He found 
 this everlasting self-praise somewhat obtrusive and tactless, but 
 reconciled himself to it by thinking, "Oh! it's just his way." 
 So he had little to say on his visits there, and indeed seldom 
 got a chance to speak at all. He would sit on the soft, warm 
 sofa and never say a word, smoking and listening, and feeling 
 himself not a little honored that this self-important, smug little 
 man should devote so many words and so much wisdom to 
 his benefit; in short, he felt quite at home in this spick-and- 
 span little household, in this quiet, childless family. But one 
 Sunday afternoon when he called, the dapper little man was 
 lying full lenp^th on the sofa, and could not say a word for 
 toothache ; so he entreated Jorn to entertain him a little. This
 
 174 JORN UHL 
 
 was the first time that Jorn Uhl had talked at any length in 
 that room. He spoke — of what else could he speak? — of 
 the Uhl and his years of labor there, how such and such a 
 field had been improved by his wise cultivation, and how well 
 he had sold these or those head of cattle. He warmed to his 
 subject, and for two hours he held forth, and his theme was 
 Jorn Uhl's life, deeds, and opinions. His host had toothache, 
 and had to listen in silence. The wife busied herself anxiously 
 about the room, and seemed very worried about her patient. 
 
 When Jorn Uhl came again next day to hear how his friend 
 was getting on — he had also, it must be confessed, rather en- 
 joyed talking about himself — the mistress of the house took 
 him mysteriously aside into the kitchen, and tearfully told him 
 that after he had gone yesterday her husband had fallen into 
 a rage and had even struck her, for he couldn't bear to hear 
 a man talk about himself, and he wished to have nothing more 
 to do with Jorn Uhl of Wentorf. 
 
 Often enough in his life has Jorn Uhl had to pull a long 
 face — and it was a thing he could easily do, for his face was 
 pretty long already ; but never was it longer than when the 
 polished door-handle of his Holsteiner friend banged behind 
 him and he went down those scrupulously clean steps for the 
 last time. This experience, too, he stored away with his others, 
 and said nothing about it. Not until long afterward, twenty 
 years or so, when his character had been thoroughly purged 
 and he had come near to truth and to a genuine knowledge 
 of himself, did he laughingly confess and tell his wife the 
 story. And she managed to make a weapon out of it which 
 she would on occasions use against him. " What was that story 
 you told me, Jorn? Both of j'ou were so smug and perfect, 
 weren't you? Jorn, you're blushing! And well you may, too." 
 
 Only once did he let his comrades talk him into going to a 
 dance with them. He watched them as they went whirling 
 around so bravely, and took pleasure in looking at some of the 
 girls who danced well. One of them, a tall, lithe, strong girl, 
 particularly took his fancy, and he followed her with his eyes. 
 The girl soon noticed that his eyes were on her, and, nothing 
 loth, took one of her acquaintances by the arm and walked 
 past him, looking at him. But as he made no overtures to 
 dance with her, she left the long, stiff fellow standing where he 
 was and went away to the others. He then left the room and
 
 JORN UHL 175 
 
 went and had a smoke, sitting at the window with the stern 
 face of a righteous man, thinking of the day when he should 
 return home, and how everything would look down there at the 
 Uhl; picturing to himself how he would get everything in 
 order again, and wondering at his comrades, that they should 
 have nothing in life to be anxious about and no definite aim. 
 And when they said to him, " It's not right of you to sit there 
 like a hermit. You're just as young as we are," he couldn't 
 help adopting a rather mysterious air, and hinting that he had 
 much to think of. 
 
 It was quite right and proper that Private Jiirgen Uhl should 
 not go with the crowd in his young years, but that he should 
 follow well-considered paths of his own. But for him to look 
 upon his youth as dead, and pull this long, righteous face to 
 celebrate its funeral, and wear a countenance as though he 
 were the very quintessence of prudence and foresight, why, that 
 was simply laughable. Look out, Jorn Uhl ! Youth will 
 revenge itself on you. Up with you! Don't let Jorn Uhl 
 turn out a mere fool. It's better to be a sinner and sin down- 
 right than to be a pattern of such long-faced righteousness.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 In those last weeks of his service as a conscript, he had felt a 
 speciall}' strong longing to be home on the farm again among 
 the barns and hay-ricks and stables, and had gone over all the 
 cattle affectionately in his mind, wondering whetlicr they'd 
 still be there, and over all the farm implements that he'd 
 handled when he was there, and which had grown so familiar 
 to him. He wheedled and hoodwinked himself into a belief in 
 the hope that a good time was coming, that his father would 
 now be older and his brothers more reasonable, and that he 
 himself would have a greater share in the management. He 
 pictured to himself how he would sit so cosily together with 
 Elsbe and Wieten in their room of an evening. They would 
 make a nice happy trio, he thought. 
 
 Unseen and unexpected, he returned to his little bedroom 
 by the apple-trees; he opened his box and hauled out his blue 
 linen jumper and trousers, and cast a glance into Littrow's 
 " Knowledge of the Heavens." 
 
 Then he turned around and gazed in wonder at his sister, 
 who was standing close behind him. " Why, Sissy," he said, 
 " you haven't grown much taller, but you've got round and 
 plump, and have turned out a fine and bonnie girl, just as I 
 thought you would." 
 
 But she had a dissatisfied, almost bitter, look on her face. 
 To his inquiries as to how she spent her time, and what friends 
 she had, she gave curt and ill-humored replies. In looks, she 
 was like a young, full, and fruitful morning in May, but her 
 demeanor was moody like that of one who has long had to put 
 up with harshness and injustice. 
 
 Jorn Uhl was much too clever to have any doubts about his 
 own judgment, or to discreetly and unassumingly look into 
 what was going on in his sister's heart; he imagined in his 
 self-sufficiency that he would soon set her to rights again. He 
 
 176
 
 JORN UHL 177 
 
 thought that she was too lonely, and that his presence would 
 make all the difference to her. He said so to Wieten, and 
 she seemed to agree with him. But as he was leaving the 
 kitchen she gazed after him with an expression that hardly 
 bore witness to much respect for his judgment. 
 
 After he had been back home for about a fortnight, it hap- 
 pened one evening that Hinnerk and Hans had invited some 
 young people to spend the evening with them. Jorn was sit- 
 ting in the little back room with Elsbe and Wieten, and all 
 conversation seemed to flag. Suddenly Harro Heinsen came in 
 and joined them. He had been serving as a soldier with the 
 Uhlans in Berlin, and had got through a lot of money. He 
 came, as he said, to see Jiirgen. " I just wanted to say ' Good 
 day ' to you. We've done with playing soldiers now, and got 
 it over. Won't you come into the front room with us a bit? " 
 
 Jorn shook his head and remained sitting where he was, wrap- 
 ping himself in clouds of smoke from his pi^te. 
 
 So Harro Heinsen sat down and began talking and bragging 
 about his soldier's experiences; and Jorn, who mentally dis- 
 agreed with everything the ex-Uhlan said, uttered not a syllable. 
 Presently Heinsen asked Elsbe, whom he kept gazing at with 
 his handsome eyes, whether she wouldn't come into the front 
 room with them for awhile. She ought to, he said ; for, if she 
 came, some other girls who were sitting outside would come, 
 too. Elsbe sat there as though she were made of stone. Then 
 she looked at her brother, but he was biting his lips, and 
 showing but too clearly that he was not equal to the situation. 
 Then, with sudden resolution, she put her sewing together, 
 and went with him. As they crossed the threshold they heard 
 the sound of boisterous girls' voices from the front of the house. 
 It was already late, and a dark night in November. 
 
 Jorn paced up and down the room, now and again looking 
 over toward Wieten ; but she, with inscrutable face, was buried 
 in her work, and said not a word. In those two hours he had 
 a new and great experience, and learnt what it means to be 
 in bitter anxiety for one whom one loves. 
 
 At last he went over to his little bedroom, and wandered up 
 and down awhile, and then stood by the window, looking out 
 into the dark. He bitterly accused God and the whole world 
 that everything that belonged to this house was fated to be 
 dragged in the dirt, irrevocably. It tortured him to think that
 
 178 JORN UHL 
 
 he had not independence and pluck enough to step into the 
 midst of that company and say, "Give me my sister!" He 
 upbraided himself, saying he would never be a man. " I shall 
 aKva3's be a mere looker-on," he said, " and do my work in the 
 fields and stables, and be used as an underling as long as I 
 live, just as my father said I would." 
 
 While he was still in the midst of these gloomy thoughts, 
 the door that led to the back of the house was flung open of a 
 sudden, and drunken shouts were heard. The door shut again, 
 and then swift, light footsteps approached the dark hall. He 
 opened his bedroom door. His sister almost fell into his arms, 
 and her breath came in little gasps. " I've run away from him," 
 she said. 
 
 " H you behave like this, sister," he said, " there'll be no 
 good come of it. How can you be such a madcap? " 
 
 " I've just had about enough of it," she said, and went to the 
 old chest by the window and sat dangling her legs from it, 
 just as she had done so often as a child. 
 
 "Let me tell you something, Elsbe. It won't be ten years 
 before the Heinsens'll be hunted, bag and baggage, from their 
 farms, and'll be selling hay and chaff in Hamburg. You 
 can take my word for it." 
 
 She slid down from the chest and peeped out of the window. 
 " I just wonder whether he's looking for me. Why aren't 
 30U in bed j^et, Jorn? I told him I was going to run away 
 to you, but I thought you'd be in bed and have your door shut. 
 Then I should have run to the barn. I was in such a fright." 
 
 He stood in the middle of the room. " I couldn't go to 
 bed. I couldn't help thinking about what you were doing all 
 this time." 
 
 "What do you suppose I'd be doing?" 
 
 " Hitherto you've always done what I've asked you, Elsbe." 
 
 She darted a hasty look at him. " My dear old wiseacre 
 of a brother, what good is that to me? " She laughed. Then 
 she looked out of the window again. " Strange that he's not 
 after me. I'll just give a look out of the kitchen door. He 
 must have thought I'd run around by the garden. So just 
 go to bed, Jorn. Happy dreams." 
 
 She was ofif again before he could say a word. The rain 
 began to patter afresh against the dark window-panes. Out 
 of the depths of the night there came the dark, huge rustle of
 
 JORN UHL 179 
 
 the poplars ; and as he listened to these sounds of the darkness, 
 they soothed his soul, and for awhile he surrendered himself to 
 them heart and will. 
 
 But as he was still walking up and down his room in this 
 weak and nerveless brooding, there came a sound from outside 
 through the rain, like a bird shyly trying its first notes in March. 
 He clearly recognized his sister's voice. At the same instant, 
 as with a great bound, he was out of his dreams; he clenched 
 his hands in his rage. There was a short struggle with the ir- 
 resoluteness of youth and with the shyness which long jears 
 of ill-treatment in his father's house had forced upon him. In 
 an instant, in this outburst of rage, the man in him was born. 
 It was like a young, well-bred horse that stands on the edge of 
 a forest with hanging head, lost in dreams, till the sudden ring 
 of an axe in the depths of the forest startles it, and it is suddenly 
 all eye and life. 
 
 He tore the door open, and rushed into the kitchen and 
 looked out into the darkness. He caught sight of his sister 
 standing near the willows in close embrace with Harro Hein- 
 sen. He laid his hand on her shoulder, and in a stern, author- 
 itative voice bade her go indoors. " For you'' said he, " I'm 
 responsible." 
 
 For an instant she was inclined to defy him, but finally she 
 obeyed, and went with him. Harro Heinsen turned away with 
 a forced laugh and went back into the front room. Jorn Uhl 
 had led his sister in by the hand, as he had often done when 
 he was still a boy, and left her standing in the middle of his 
 room. He strode up and down the room, and as he looked at 
 her, he obser\'ed her beauty and the delicacy of her limbs, which 
 in spite of their smallness and plumpness were of a light and 
 graceful build, and made her appear taller than many a girl 
 of the same stature. She looked what she really was — a 
 woman in the first blush of her beauty. In her demeanor, as 
 well as in her brown eyes and in her cheeks, he plainly saw 
 the unconcealed glow of passion. 
 
 " What's the meaning of all this? " he said. 
 
 " I must have some one to love," she answered, defiantly. 
 
 " There's no \\\\xr\ about that. Other suitors will come, 
 who at least will be able to give you bread." 
 
 " Tush ! Bread ! Is that what you asked for, when you 
 wanted to go oft with the Sand-lass? Was it for the sake of
 
 i8o JORN UHL 
 
 bread that you wanted to go with her? I tell you it's weari- 
 some sitting here in this big, dreary house, year after year, where 
 one sees nothing but green willows and drunken brothers. Or, 
 perhaps, you think I ought to rust and pine away to death? " 
 
 "God forbid!" said he. "What misery is this! You're 
 going to ruin, and I shall be left quite alone." 
 
 " But if I will it, who's to stop me? I suppose my will is 
 my own ? I don't make you responsible." 
 
 Then his fury mastered him, and he gnashed his teeth. " I 
 will not have it, I tell you. To-morrow I'll take you out of 
 this. You shall go to Thiess Thiessen's. He's your mother's 
 only brother. Afterward, I'll see that you get a proper sit- 
 uation in some respectable family, many a mile away from here, 
 so that you may forget all about Harro Heinsen. . . . Do you 
 hear, girl? I swear I'll make you hear me. I'm determined 
 that you sha'n't take one of these topers for a husband, but 
 you shall have a man of my sort — one who can, and will, work. 
 Let father and brothers say what they like, in this I'll put up 
 with no interference." 
 
 "I don't want to! I will have him. Rather a single day 
 with him than ten years with one like you." 
 
 But when she had said that, she threw herself on the chair, 
 hiding her face in her hands on the table, and said, in the 
 midst of her sobs, " This all comes of having no mother. 
 Mother! mother! Oh, what am I to do? If I love him so, 
 is that my fault? But I know — I know it'll turn out bad, 
 and that I'll have to rue it all my days." 
 
 While she was weeping and crying out in this way, Jorn 
 stood there gazing gloomily out into the night, and could 
 answer her nothing. He waited till she had wept herself 
 quieter, and then took her by the hand and led her to her room, 
 where Wieten Klook already lay fast asleep. 
 
 Next morning, while day was still breaking, he went to the 
 sitting-room, which he never entered on other occasions, sat 
 down at his father's desk, and wrote a letter to Thiess Thiessen. 
 Whatever might be said against the style and writing thereof, 
 the spirit that prompted it was good: 
 
 <( 
 
 Dear Thiess: — This is to let you know that I am send- 
 ing Elsbe to you this afternoon, for I don't want her to go to 
 the bad. She ought to marry a proper sort of man ; it's all the
 
 JORN UHL i8i 
 
 same what he is, even a farm-Iaborer'll do, if he's honest. 
 I was j^oin^ to keep watch over her myself, h'ke a dog over 
 a lien-roost, but the nights are long and dark, and 1 sleep 
 sound. And her time is come. You know how it is on a farm 
 when May-day comes around — the whole stable is restless ; 
 so it's better for me to take her off to another pasture, and 
 you'll have to look after her; keep your eyes open. Let her 
 sleep in the room next to yours, or even in your own room. 
 You could put the bed under Africa. Jurgen Uhl." 
 
 He sent the stable-boy on horseback over to the Haze with 
 this letter. But toward afternoon, when the others had left 
 the farm to go to the horse-fair in the village, or, in other words, 
 to use the horse-fair as an excuse for sitting in the public- 
 house, he thought he'd have time to take her over himself. 
 
 So he put the two heavy bays into the old-fashioned basket- 
 cart, which his mother had used in times gone by when she was 
 a girl and had had to drive into town for lessons. He and 
 Elsbe now drove through the village, on their way to Thiess 
 Thiesscn's, and he noticed in the good-humored laughter with 
 which his sister greeted him an expression of strangely blended 
 good-will and derision. 
 
 As they drove past the inn, the Uhls and the Heinsens and 
 many others were sitting there, and old Dominie Peters, who 
 had some savings-bank business to discuss, was standing outside 
 near the open window. Looking up from their cards the 
 players caught sight of the vehicle, and immediately there was 
 an outburst of questions and laughter. 
 
 " Why, there's Jorn there. That's a sight for sore ej'es! Gad ! 
 he's an old-fashioned customer, this son of yours, Uhl." 
 
 Old Uhl stood up, red in the face, and in his embarrass- 
 ment, could think of nothing better to do than to come to the 
 open window and jeer at his own children. 
 
 His son heard his words, and knew the tone as well as the 
 face that accompanied them, but steadfastly kept his eyes from 
 looking in his fath.er's direction. He sat motionless, stooping 
 for^vard a little, and flicking leisurely with his whip at the 
 broad backs of the horses. He heard his father shout some 
 rude jest into the room, and heard the loud laughter that fol- 
 lowed. Then they got out of hearing. 
 
 " See, Elsbe," he said, " that's what our father's come to.
 
 i82 JORN UHL 
 
 He was afraid lest they should laugh at him, so he turned and 
 pointed his finger at us; he encouraged these people to laugh 
 at us, Elsbe, his two youngest children. So you can see what 
 sort of a father we have." 
 
 And in his anger he uttered an oath, and swore that no 
 matter how wretched his father might come to be, no matter how 
 much he might need his son's help, that he would not lift a 
 finger for him. 
 
 It all turned out very differently afterward, however, as we 
 shall see. 
 
 He had now, as he thought, placed his sister in safe-keeping, 
 and found himself back as head-servant at the Uhl. It was 
 not long before he saw that the Uhl, as well as other farms 
 in the neighborhood, was in a bad way, and he was sure that 
 the end could not be much longer postponed. 
 
 There were certain signs that people had noticed, and certain 
 reports and rumors afloat excited folk's minds to the utmost. 
 There was a general feeling of unrest in the air, as in a heavy 
 thunder-storm, when people have seen the lightning strike, and 
 are standing waiting to see the " red bird " fly up from the roof. 
 
 A man in uniform visited some of the farms, and everybody 
 was asking who he was. No one had ever seen this man and 
 this uniform before. And when a certain shrewd fellow guessed 
 that he could be no other than a bailiff, and when it was 
 known that Junge Siek had said in a drunken fit that he would 
 have to leave his beautiful farm, and that it cut him to the 
 heart to do it, for the sake of his children, the news spread like 
 wild-fire, and all the village laborers and artisans stood wait- 
 ing on their doorsteps beneath the leafless lindens that dark, 
 cloudy November day, and there were lights in the village 
 windows till late at night. That same day, Alick, Uhl's eldest 
 son, drove up to the farm with his wife and his three children. 
 They had an elegant buggy, and his wife, who in her girlhood 
 had attended a ladies' college in Hamburg, was wearing a big 
 evening cloak lined with some dark fur. She wished Jorn 
 " Good day " with a grand air, and marched into the house. 
 Alick followed more quietly, while Jorn unharnessed the horses 
 and returned to his work. About an hour afterward, however, 
 he had to go into the house to ask his father about some business 
 or other, and found his brother standing in the middle of the
 
 JORN UHL 183 
 
 room gesticulating v\ ilclly, in great excitement. He was dressed 
 and ready to go, and he had his greatcoat and fur cap on, and 
 his whip in his hand. Jorn heard him shouting angrily at his 
 father: "What have you taught us? Just tell me — what 
 have you taught us? To keep our heads high, to walk smartly, 
 spend plenty of money, and run after the girls. All very good 
 things in their way, only your purse wasn't long enough for it. 
 Your purse v\asn't half as long as you wanted to make out. 
 The whole thing's a swindle — your eternal laughter and your 
 bank-account, and your silver-mounted harness, and the big 
 family vault, and mother's coffin with the velvet pall on it. 
 It was all a swindle, I say! You're much too big for your 
 boots! You and the whole set that guzzle with you, you're 
 nothing but a pack of rogues and swindlers. And it's your 
 sons who have to pay for your folly." 
 
 Klaus Uhl, his father, sat in the corner of the sofa, gazing 
 helplessly before him; and his youngest son, who stood trans- 
 fixed on the threshold, now for the first time saw that his father 
 could look grave and even frightened, and that he was an 
 elderly man of unhealthy appearance. 
 
 "If mother had lived, there'd have been at least one sensible 
 person on the farm ; but we stupid fools used to despise her. 
 Ah, mother! Why, she was the good angel in the house, but 
 as for you, you have dragged everything in the dirt. I can 
 see what's coming. We'll have to leave our farms in the same 
 state as Hans Meyer had to leave his. He had to go away 
 with a bag of wheat on a wheelbarrow, and his child walked at 
 his side with half a loaf of bread. Such things don't happen 
 in a natural way. T.he devil's had a hand in it." 
 
 He was turning to go, when he saw iiis youngest brother 
 standing behind him. " Ah," said he, " you're a sly fox," and 
 he slapped him hard on the shoulder. " In spite of your one 
 and twenty years, you've got more sense than that fellow there 
 with his sixty. We have wrapped everything in silk, and 
 poured wine over it till we no longer knew what we had in our 
 hands. But you can sec things as they really are. You needn't 
 pull such a shy face, man. Think of me, Provost, when thou 
 comest into thy kingdom. You've got the stuff in you to find 
 one. It won't be the Uhl, though. That fellow there has 
 squandered it in drink." 
 
 This was the fashion in which Klaus Uhl's eldest son took
 
 i84 JORN UHL 
 
 leave of his father's proud roof. It was a farm more valuable 
 than many a nobleman's estate. Afterward, when he was an 
 elderly man and used to drive down from Ringelshdrn to the 
 distant Fens in his miserable little cart for seaweed, he always 
 sat in such a position as to avoid seeing the Uhl, which lay so 
 broad and safe down there beneath its mighty poplars, whose 
 heads had been bent toward the east by the everlasting breezes 
 from the sea. 
 
 Many other farmers, too, were ruined at this time. Care 
 thundered with heavy hand against the doors of the firm-set 
 old farmhouses, and their inmates paced up and down in the 
 long, dark halls, refusing to open their doors. And inside, in 
 the little rooms, there were women sitting and weeping, and 
 children full of heavy, nameless forebodings. 
 
 On one farm the wife herself put the brown horses into the 
 cart, and put on the silver-mounted harness, and drove into 
 town and asked the magistrates for a declaration of her hus- 
 band's incapacity. She spread out before them the documents 
 which she had brought with her, and showed how much of her 
 own marriage dowry he had squandered. She placed the little 
 lad she had with her on the green table, drew down his 
 trousers, and showed the bruises her drunken husband had 
 made, and she bared her full, white bosom and showed the 
 marks of his fingers, and demanded that she should be made 
 administrator of the property. 
 
 The magistrate was a young man, and though he had stood 
 by many a woman's side, he had never yet stood face to face 
 w^ith one. He made a motion toward the bell, and said it 
 wasn't such an easy matter, according to law, to do what she 
 wanted ; and then he began to recount the various steps it 
 would be necessary to take. They were many and intricate. 
 
 Then she began to say hard things about the law of her 
 native land, maintaining that it was as clumsy as an old cow, 
 and that it was as much a woman-hater as a hardened old 
 baclielor. Her words rang right through the office into the 
 corridor. And at last she said there was, thank God, another 
 sort of justice, which she would in future put into application. 
 And she raised her hand threateningly to illustrate her mean- 
 ing. She would fmd a way out of her distress without magis- 
 trates and law-courts — a cheaper way, too, faith. But if it 
 should happen that her husband should some fine day find his
 
 JORN UHL 185 
 
 way hither to complain of her, then they'd better send him back 
 about his business; else she'd give him such a drubbing that 
 he wouldn't be able to stir a step for a fortnight. 
 
 In this way did this wretched woman speak, made desperate 
 by her long years of misery, and then drove unmolested home 
 again. Many a time afterward folks saw her driving through 
 the village, always with two smart horses. She had sold the 
 silver-mounted harness next day ; her horses pull in good strong 
 hempen trappings up to the present day, and she looks neither 
 to left nor right. She has become a hard woman. The farm- 
 servants and produce-dealers are afraid of her; her children 
 have turned out well — the boys a little shy, and the girls 
 strong-willed women. Her husband shuffled out of life one 
 day after sneaking along the walls of his own house for many 
 a year. He lies buried in a neglected grave, near that of one 
 of his workmen, old Peter Back, which is always kept fresh 
 and neat. It is said that the wife of one of his sons once 
 quietly tidied up the farmer's grave, but the widow found it 
 out, and got seeds of stinging nettles from a weed plot near, 
 and sowed them on it. And what made this more remarkable 
 was the story that older folk of the village told how, long ago 
 on her wedding-day, she had not been able to contain herself 
 for happiness, and how, after their mutual " Yes " had been 
 exchanged, she had thrown her arms around her young hus- 
 band's neck, laughing and weeping at the same time, without 
 caring a jot for the people who were there. Out of love so 
 warm there had come such bitter hate. 
 
 That winter, too, William Ironsides drove through the village 
 in his chaise cart for the last time. His family dwelt at the 
 crossroads, opposite the new churchyard, on the high, proud 
 Wurth. Wurth is the name given in those districts to the 
 ancient mounds on the remnants of early settlement and civi- 
 lization. According to the church rolls, the Ironsides have lived 
 there for the last four hundred years and more. The three- 
 cornered ploughshare, from which they got their name, still 
 hangs as a sign over the door of their house and on the family 
 pew at church. One evening, just before Christmas, Farmer 
 Ironsides' brother, who was a well-known surgeon in Ham- 
 burg, came on a visit to him. His friend, the county chairman, 
 had written to him, saying that if he wished to give his brother 
 a word of timely warning it was high time that he should do so.
 
 i86 JORN UHL 
 
 He came, and after taking great pains to learn the real state 
 of affairs, was soon convinced that he had come too late. Once 
 a year it had been his great delight to get away from the narrow 
 confinement of the big city and revel in the fields and marshes 
 around his native village. He loved to recall his happy boy- 
 hood there, and to revisit all the old rooms and barns, and 
 every meadow and orchard. That evening he went over the 
 farm for the last time, looking into every ditch, and into the 
 branches of every ash-tree, and at last he came to the old house, 
 and laid his head against the door-post and wept. 
 
 And then there was Stark Behrens, who had always been 
 so much cleverer than everybody else. He also had now to come 
 down from his cart and go the rest of life's journey on foot. 
 His children were already grown up and his hair was gray. 
 For five and thirty years he had dwelt on his beautiful farm, 
 and had always talked like a shrewd fellow, and had liked 
 giving every one advice, and had lamented the general lack 
 of common sense in all the farmers around about. " Farm 
 management?" he used to say. "Nonsense! Any one can 
 manage a farm. But it takes a smart man to grow rich at it." 
 The whole country around believed his boasting. There were 
 not three men who did not believe it. The general opinion 
 was that Farmer Behrens was a sly fox. But now it came 
 out that in all those five and thirty years he had never from 
 first to last known the amount of his debts or assets, and had 
 not the faintest idea whether they were increasing or diminish- 
 ing. He had been not a fox but an ass. His accounts were 
 as tangled as a girl's hair when mischievous lads have pelted 
 her with burrs. He had to give up his farm, and went to 
 each of his seven children, whom he had made poor and 
 ridiculous. He went from house to house in turn, and they 
 each refused to take him in. At last he found an odd corner 
 to sit and die in at the house of his old sister in town, whose 
 husband had some small government post there. 
 
 And Jan Wieck, who had for many years been overseer of 
 the dikes, had also to leave his farm and go to Hamburg, 
 whither his three sons had gone before him. There he sat 
 all day long in a dirty little room which opened on to the 
 yard, and received a crust from his children, which they salted 
 for him with jeers and bitter words. Of an evening he used 
 to go and earn a few pence for a drink by setting up the
 
 J O R N U H L 187 
 
 pins for the players in a skittle alley. Every Monday, how- 
 ever, he used to put on his long, yellow, shabby oilskin, which 
 he had once worn in the days of his glory as dike overseer, 
 and go to the cattle-market ; there he would talk with the 
 country-folk from his district who had come to market, and 
 would laugh and talk, loudly and shrewdly enough, and say 
 how he liked being in Hamburg, and what a pleasant life he 
 was leading there. And then he would accompany these 
 Wentorfers to the railway station and wave them good-by, and 
 return to his sunless, desolate room and beat his head and weep, 
 crying: " Oh, if only 1 could sit just for once again beneath 
 the spreading lindens on my beautiful old farm! Just for 
 once again! How I would work and strive and save, and 
 I would never let a single drop pass my lips again as long as 
 I lived." 
 
 And it came to Klaus Uhl's turn. When he passed through 
 the village there was no outward sign of the distress he was 
 in. He was never more arrogant toward poor folk than in 
 those last days at the Uhl, when he no longer owned either 
 stick or stone upon it. He still had that soft, roguish smile 
 about his lips, and when he drove through the village with 
 his spick-and-span vehicle, stared at by the crowds of children 
 and villagers, he still wore his dignified look. He was crushed 
 beneath the weight of his own importance, like the king's fool 
 w hen he drives to court through the gaping mob. 
 
 And Hinnerk and Hans Uhl and other young people came 
 driving through the village toward morning. They came from 
 the fairs and dancing-booths. Their horses were tired and 
 ill-tempered, and their zigzag course made the carts jolt; some 
 of the drivers were sleepy, others were growling drowsily at the 
 horses. 
 
 That evening the laborers and artisans had plenty to talk 
 about. The younger ones said airily, " The earth revolves, so 
 of course men cannot but slip and fall. Some slide down off 
 the Wurths, others slide up on to them. Why have they been 
 living like savages?" The old men spoke about the fathers 
 and grandfathers of the ruined farmers. How hard-working, 
 simple, upright, and stern they had been. But they also tried 
 to bring heavy sins home to their ancestors, sins which, they 
 said, though unrevenged till now, were at last being visited 
 on the children. They remembered cases of cruel severity
 
 i88 J O R N U H L 
 
 or of cunning and unscrupulous legacy-hunting, and of swift, 
 violent deeds. Many who saw how these old farmer families 
 were dazzled by pride — how they were wilfully ruining them- 
 selves, had the feeling that these men were doomed to perish, 
 and had, against their will, to obey some pitiless predestination. 
 A nameless fear came upon many, as though some superhuman 
 and terrible power were stalking unseen along the streets and 
 roads, touching sane men, and unhinging their minds. Jorn 
 Uhl, even before he had gone into the army, had been wont to 
 stand aside and view all these wild doings from a distance, 
 just as a worker in some clay-field by the wayside might see mad 
 horses careering past along the road and then bend over his 
 spade again. But Jorn had not knowledge and insight enough 
 in those days. Sometimes he had in secret condemned the wild 
 life of these men and foreseen their evil end ; but at other 
 times again, he had had doubts whether his judgment was right. 
 But in the course of years his mind had grown maturer and 
 clearer. He now stood on his own feet and calmly regarded 
 them. " There they go rollicking on in their wild career, 
 and now they fall into the pit." And a dim consciousness in 
 him said, " Your path, Jorn Uhl, has by Fate's dispensation been 
 different from theirs, so far, and shall by your own will always 
 continue to be different. Nothing in life schools character like 
 the sight of our fellow mortals' destiny."
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 JoRN Uhl was now doubly lonely. First, because his father 
 and brothers, as well as his comrades of his own age and stand- 
 ing, all went other ways; secondly, because in his inmost soul 
 there was a great and beautiful chamber, a temple of religion. 
 He longed to furnish out this chamber or temple, for it was 
 empty, and to celebrate high festivals there. But he did not 
 know how to set about it. There was nobody there who could 
 point out his way to him. 
 
 It happened one afternoon that everybody had left the house 
 and gone to Meldorf Fair except Wieten, who was sitting 
 sewing by the window. Toward evening, when the twilight 
 was dim in the room, he went along the passage just in that 
 frame of mind when thoughts have no point to them, but lie 
 in a great, endless level, like the far and wide and endless 
 marsh-land — but it is fertile soil. As he went through the 
 long, high hall toward the open door, he saw the moonlight 
 lying like a carpet of Orient gold and silver along the floor. 
 Looking out, he saw the moon, which was now in her third 
 quarter, rising sU^wly over Ringelshcirn, spreading all her golden 
 glory over the earth and over the heath and the oak copses by 
 the Goldsoot. 
 
 Jorn Uhl stood gazing at the wonder, and his drowsing 
 thoughts raised themselves slowly and stiffly, like a man that 
 has been asleep hundreds of years, and became alert. " Mare 
 Nubium," he said to himself, and a roguish look flitted over 
 his face, as when a man, after long years of separation, dis- 
 covers in some friend the oddities he knew in him when he 
 was a boy. After he had looked at the moon awhile, he turned 
 around meditatively and went to his room. From the bottom 
 of his old chest he brought forth a long, much-dinted spy- 
 glass. He had purchased it in some second-hand shop at Rends- 
 burg in the first year of his service as a soldier. He came back 
 
 189
 
 I90 JORN UHL 
 
 to the doorway and looked at the moon ; and all the merry 
 elves and spirits that saw him standing there in his short, 
 blue linen jumper; all the house spirits of the Uhl who ride 
 on the rafters, and the troop that squats at midnight on the 
 roof-ridge and swings on the poplar twigs; and all those 
 eerie, crouching forms on the old heath that are midway between 
 man and beast in body and soul ; all these far-seeing, lubberly, 
 inert, dreamy creatures, and everything else in the country 
 around of the species that Heer at astronomy and every other 
 science, and are kith and kin with Nature, sucking and smatch- 
 ing at her breasts, and feeding there with laughter and throes 
 of pain and tears; — all these strange beings now rejoiced 
 over Jorn Uhl. 
 
 " Good luck, good luck to him, he's got his love again." 
 Jorn Uhl gazed up at the moon and called the different 
 seas by their names, and knew the mountain ranges, and felt 
 happy at remembering all their titles. And suddenly, while 
 he was watching intently, the telescope revealed to him clearly 
 for the first time the different craters. He uttered a low 
 cry as he saw the clear gleam that the old book he had in the 
 chest spoke of. He saw up there in the blue sky how the 
 mountain-peaks around the " Mare Nectar " were aglow in 
 the morning sun. For a long time he stood watching; and 
 gradually, in order to get the full flavor of this delight, his 
 thoughts wandered into strange, solitary places and communed 
 with themselves, thinking how different he was from the other 
 young fellows who were now drinking at Meldorf Fair and 
 running after the girls. He, on the contrary, had been plough- 
 ing all day, and now it was night he was looking at the moon 
 and studying the truths of science. 
 
 All the while that Jorn Uhl's thoughts were away on such 
 high and breakneck paths, all around him the air, the trees, 
 and the heathy slopes were full of life, and he neither knew 
 nor saw it. Up there, not far from the Goldsoot, in the direc- 
 tion in which Jorn had turned his spy-glass, in a little hollow 
 surrounded by bracken and protected from the west wind, there 
 were lying on the old bed of last year's oak leaves, seven 
 Children of the Heath, side by side — a beautiful brood, brown- 
 skinned and always young, with long, dark, smooth hair and 
 with eyes unfathomably deep, which, according to mortals' 
 judgment, have something dull and glassy in their gleam, and
 
 JORN UHL 191 
 
 eyelashes too long and silky. Whoever has seen them knows 
 it is true. They were telling one another ahout the laughing- 
 eyed maidens they had seen passing by that afterncjon along 
 the heath track on their way to market; and then they came 
 to speak of t^lsbe Uhl. For they liked talking of Elsbe Uhl, 
 because she was like them and akin to them in this, that she 
 was weak of will and gave herself up to the present and took 
 love for her right. The seven had seen how Harro Heinsen 
 a few nights ago came riding straight across the heath on his 
 brown mare, and how he had tied her to the silver birch that 
 stood by the Haze Farm, beneath Thiess Thiessen's window, 
 and how Thiess Thiessen had slept and heard no sound, not 
 a rustle, and they knew how little Elsbe was to meet Harro 
 Heinsen to-day at the Fair ; and they said : 
 
 " I'o-night she'll come this way, and to-night she'll fall into 
 his hands here by the Goldsoot." 
 
 And that is why they had come together, and as they thought 
 of it and talked it over their faces did not change. They re- 
 mained long-lashed and drowsy-looking, indifferent and pensive 
 as before. Thus they lay there, then, and waited, for they, the 
 frank, free children of Nature, liked to see Nature's strength 
 in the passions of mortals. 
 
 They passed their time by telling stories of old things and 
 new: of that old, dirty, greedy farmer who, thirty years ago, 
 had come with spade and crowbar, and had attempted with rude, 
 false words to rob the Goldsoot of its treasure. They had 
 frightened the fellow away. With wild, brown bodies erect, 
 and eyes like the expiring glow of coals, they had suddenly 
 appeared above the edge of the valley, and made him rush 
 away screaming with terror. On the third day, after wildest 
 visions, he was dead. And they spoke, too, of a pretty lad 
 who, one cold April night, six years ago, had gone down into 
 the pool, and had since vanished away into foreign lands. And 
 they thought how again to-night they were going to cast their 
 wonted spell over a man now on his way thither — a spell that 
 should make him throw caution and prudence and the last 
 vestige of self-restraint to the winds, and let the nature that 
 w^as in him have its way. 
 
 And when evening was past and the night was come and 
 they were still talking over what was to happen and how it 
 was to be brought about, — for this race is fickle and limp in
 
 192 J O R N U H L 
 
 will, heavy-handed and sweeping in execution, dreams are its 
 strength and sorrows its delight, — two young people canie in 
 sight, walking hand in hand down the track to the Goldsoot, 
 which shimmered white in the moonlight. On their young 
 faces lay that sacred, earnest joy which lights up the human 
 countenance when everything good has been aroused in the 
 soul and summoned to action. All the most beautiful and 
 hallowed things within them, mutual trust and love and good- 
 will, beamed from their fresh, innocent faces, and in their eyes 
 there was a glitter as of golden weapons to fight against every- 
 thing evil. 
 
 About twenty years ago, soon after the surrender of the 
 Schleswig-Holstein troops, a family of Wentorf Grays had 
 emigrated to South Africa, and had later on joined a troop 
 of trekking Boers, among whom were several Germans, and 
 had settled down on the Crocodile River. There they had 
 thatched their little stone hut with long grass, and, after the 
 fashion of the Boers, had attained to a modest competence 
 and a somewhat drowsy prosperity. They had taken several 
 children with them from Wentorf, but only one son and one 
 daughter had survived. The daughter was married to a young 
 Dutchman ; the son was still unmarried. For a Cray he was 
 somewhat grave by nature, and seemed unable to make up his 
 mind to take a Dutch wife. He used to say to his parents when 
 they pressed him to marry, " I was too old when I left home. 
 I was ten, then. And now I can't accustom myself to these 
 foreign girls. If I found a lass who spoke my own language 
 I might venture it." 
 
 After carefully talking over this diflficult matter between 
 themselves, his parents one day proposed to him that he should 
 take a trip home to Holstein and look at his cousins there, and 
 afterward, if none of them pleased him, cast his eye on the 
 other young people of Wentorf, and marr>' the girl he chose 
 right off, and bring her back with him. He agreed, after his 
 mother had smilingly shaken her finger at him, for she had 
 hatched this plot. So he came back home, after almost twenty 
 years, on a similar errand to that of Father Jacob of old, who 
 also went in search of a wife. 
 
 He came to St. Mariendonn, went from house to house, 
 delivered his kind messages from home, was asked many a
 
 JORN UHL 193 
 
 question, and told frankly and willingly everything he knew 
 of that unknown land and of his parents' circumstances, and 
 at last revealed the aim of his long journey. But this revelation 
 made his position unpleasant, and it became very difficult for 
 him to carry out his intention, for now everybody looked upon 
 him as a suitor. Some parents, fearing he might, by his good 
 looks, persuade one or other of their marriageable daughters to 
 go with him, treated him coldly. Those who were better off 
 among his kinsmen got the idea into their heads that this 
 stranger was aiming at their money-bags, in order to repair 
 his own straitened and desperate circumstances. Some who 
 were more venturesome or had more confidence in him, or who 
 had daughters already on the shelf, made clumsy attempts to 
 bring the young people together, attempts that were painful 
 to both parties concerned. At last, to cap matters, two old 
 people came, wishing to turn an honest penny, and declared 
 themselves ready to provide him with a girl with a certain 
 dowry. The young man felt so disgusted at these experiences 
 that he lost heart and determined to give up his plan, and to 
 go home by the next ship sailing for the Cape. 
 
 Just at this point, a rogue, who heaiiily wished him success 
 in his search, told him about the Fair which was to be held 
 next day in Meldorf, and would be visited by all the daughters 
 of the neighborhood. This philanthropist was a student of 
 theologj^ an artisan's son from the neighboring marsh-lands. 
 As a free-hearted fellow and a son of the people and destined 
 to stand among the people all his life, he continued his friend- 
 ship and intercourse with his comrades of the board school, 
 and trod w ith them the well-known paths that young folk love. 
 Although he had passed many a merry night in that company, 
 and had ridden many a night to dances on a horse borrowed 
 from some farmer, and although he had looked into the laughing 
 eyes of many a maiden, he never, wondrous to relate, became a 
 disgrace to his cloth. 
 
 Although discouraged and rendered almost shy, now that 
 the reason of his presence had become a matter of notoriety, 
 he nevertheless resolved to make this last attempt, even while 
 looking upon it as hopeless. For how could a girl, after hardly 
 six days' acquaintance with a complete stranger like him, make 
 up her mind to bear him company to a land that must dismay 
 her, both with its remoteness and its wildness.? But still he
 
 194 JORN UHL 
 
 would have liked, if possible, to gratify his parents by bringing 
 a wife home with him, as he had promised to do; and besides 
 he now had a longing for married life. 
 
 Now there was a girl come to this dance, who was tall and 
 fair and of a simple, homely beauty, a girl of Frisian blood, 
 not much over twenty years of age. She was the daughter 
 of a country schoolmaster thereabouts, a man who had many 
 children; she had now for several years had a place in a 
 wealthy marsh-farmer's family in St. Mariendonn, where she 
 had to help the farmer's wife. She had plenty to do and got 
 very little for it. She was of a meditative and sympathetic 
 temperament, and with all sorts of thoughts of her own in 
 her head ; and these thoughts became so much the more retiring 
 and shy as she had no one to whom she could utter them. 
 
 She had not intended to go to the Fair this time. But as 
 her mistress had told her somewhat disdainfully that she ought 
 to remain at home, she would hardly be asked to dance, not 
 being a farmer's daughter, a certain spirit of defiance rose in 
 her, and all sorts of strange hopes flitted before her imagination, 
 called into being by her mistress's arrogance. So she made up 
 her mind to go to the Fair, and, coming thither, went into the 
 big dancing-room, and everything seemed like a dream. 
 
 At first no one asked her to dance, and she sat there with 
 grave and tranquil face, like the midnight sky when it is veiled 
 with filmy mists — only a few bright points shine through here 
 and there with a faint, dull gleam, and give an inkling of 
 the hidden fires beyond. Happening to raise her eyes, she saw, 
 standing not far from the door on the other side of the room, 
 a young man, whose dark skin and blue sailor-suit had a foreign 
 look about them. He was well-favored, and had an earnest 
 and somewhat gloomy face. 
 
 Soon afterward she noticed that he was looking at her, 
 and drawn by some power she had never before known — she 
 thought it was the wish to dance — she looked at him again 
 with calm, clear eyes, and his face pleased her. Suddenly she 
 saw him coming toward her. He bowed to her and asked 
 her to dance with him. As they moved off among the dancers 
 he said, with a certain shyness, looking admiringly the while 
 at her tall figure and fine carriage, " I should never have thought 
 that you would look so tall and grand. When a man's on
 
 JORN UHL 195 
 
 horseback you can tell his heij^ht, but it's quite different with 
 a woman." She was rather surprised at this way of opening 
 the conversation, and merely nodded assent. Then, as the 
 dance was about to begin, he said, " I beg your pardon, Fraulein, 
 for having asked you to dance. The fact is, I've never learnt 
 dancing nor had a chance to practise, so I propose not to 
 dance and make ourselves ridiculous. I have something else 
 to speak to you about. But fir.;t of all I must ask you if you 
 know who I am." 
 
 She shook her head, so that the little curls danced around 
 her temples. Feeling drawn to him by his straightforward 
 earnestness, she said, " You don't need to tell me who you are. 
 Only tell me what you want of me. If it's nothing wrong, I 
 shall probably do it." 
 
 So he said : " \'ou will ha\e observed that I had a good look 
 at you not long ago, and you looked at me, too. Many people 
 will say that's neither here nor there. But I believe that it 
 does mean something in our case. It means that we please 
 each other. Is that so ? " 
 
 She saw that all eyes were upon them, and behind her she 
 heard some one say, "Why, man, don't you know? That's 
 the African." And next moment a little dark-eyed beauty, 
 with glowing cheeks and heart overflowing, came running up 
 to her, and slipped her arm around her waist, whispering hur- 
 riedly, "Listen! if you like him don't bother about anything 
 else in the whole world. Go with him wherever he takes you. 
 Don't you know me? I'm Elsbe Uhl." 
 
 He nodded brightly to little Elsbe, and went aside out of 
 the crowd with his partner, and placed himself so that he 
 could speak with her without being overheard by others. In 
 a few words he told her quite frankly of the object of his 
 journey and its ill-success hitherto, and his early departure. 
 When everything had been thus explained, he said he would 
 take it as a strong and clear sign of her trust in him if she 
 would now^ consent to further talk over the matter with him. 
 He said they might even leave the throng and go outside. 
 He would promise to give her honest answers to any questions 
 she might like to ask him. 
 
 It is difficult to imagine a girl in a more awkward position. 
 For the subject of their dealings — as they must themselves 
 have seen — was known to every one in the room. Only one
 
 196 JORN UHL 
 
 or two couples went on dancing, all the rest were busy dis- 
 cussing and observing these two people, and a buzz of talk 
 filled the whole room. The opinions expressed were as various 
 as the characters of the speakers. The shallower sort cracked 
 more or less questionable jokes ; the more serious remembered 
 that the destinies of two human beings were then and there 
 being decided ; some of the girls made a long face. If she 
 were now to leave the room \\ ith the stranger, and were after- 
 ward to refuse him or be deceived by him, her reputation 
 would be tarnished, and her name made a subject of laughter 
 as long as she lived. The thought of her good, honest parents 
 made her hesitate, and all her brothers and sisters, a flaxen- 
 haired, blue-eyed band, rose before her imagination. But the 
 good in her prevailed and all false shame vanished. She said, 
 " I have full trust in you ; I am ready to speak further with 
 you. 
 
 They passed out down the room as through a lane of in- 
 quisitive faces, and the excited dancers closed together behind 
 them like waves behind a ship. Once outside, face to face 
 with quiet, lonely night, the girl drew a great breath of relief, 
 and when her companion asked which way they should go, 
 she answered nothing, but walked straight on. He walked 
 in silence by her side; and so they left the town, and took 
 the road to St. Mary's, both full of such deep thoughts and 
 so absorbed by the momentousness and wonder of that hour, 
 that they went, as it were, without a will, led by some stronger 
 power than their own. 
 
 At last, when the houses were behind them, and they had 
 walked awhile in silence along the gray, level road, they began 
 with shy, timid words to reveal their circumstances to each 
 other. Their hearts were too full for them to give or obtain 
 from each other a clear objective statement of things, and 
 they spoke only of their simple joys and sorrows. They spoke 
 about things that were laughable, trifling, and out of place 
 at an hour of such importance, but it led to the best results. 
 For by its means they saw into each other's hearts, and were the 
 more quickly brought into sympathy with each other, just as 
 children, who are strangers, make friends with each other while 
 at play. 
 
 After the girl, with a certain hardness in her tone, had said 
 that she had no money of her own, and that she was going to
 
 JORN UHL 197 
 
 devote the five hundred marks she had saved toward the edu- 
 cation of her brother, v\ho wanted to be a teacher, he had 
 answered that those were matters he did not want to know; 
 then she toKl him about her parents; how her father was 
 softer hearted than her mother, but how her mother knew how 
 to manage money affairs better, and was such a thoroughly 
 good housekeeper. Then she spoke of brothers and sisters, 
 of the big boys' plans, and what the little girls were like — 
 how the second youngest was so fond of a kitten she had that 
 she once took it with her to school, and how her father was 
 a long time before he noticed it as he went by her desk, and 
 it was sitting on the form quite good and serious, and how 
 her very youngest sister used to say she was going to be queen. 
 Ah, how she prattled, and what castles in the air she built, 
 and how she mapped out careers for all her sisters and brothers. 
 How eloquent she grew; for the first time for many a day 
 she felt as if she had a sympathetic comrade by her side. 
 Her heart was opened and her tongue loosed. At last she gave 
 a little start at her own prattle, and said (addressing him with 
 the word " thou," which is in that country the sign of trust 
 and affection), " Now tell me about thyself; what sort of a 
 woman is thy mother? " 
 
 So he began. His mother was not overstrong, he said, and 
 was a little too delicate for the lonely and somewhat rough 
 life out there ; she would be more at home in some quiet little 
 town of Holstein than she was out on the veldt by the Croc- 
 odile River. But she wasn't unhappy; for there was a silent 
 compact between him and his father to pamper and tease her, 
 and, in fact, to treat her a little like a child, and that was good 
 fun for them all. So, for example, they never called his 
 mother by any name but Uris' littje.^ and gave her no peace 
 till she'd had a good laugh at least three times a day; and 
 when they couldn't manage it, and when the old Kaffir, the 
 shepherd, had failed, too, he used to ride over to his sister 
 on Saturday, and she'd come on Sunday with her husband and 
 their five sons, — the whole seven on horseback, and with their 
 hair over their foreheads, — and then she had to laugh in spite 
 of herself. 
 
 Then the girl laughed outright, and said : " That is the sort 
 of people I like. For I've been for years now in a big farm- 
 
 ' Our little one.
 
 198 JORN UHL 
 
 house where there's no scarcity of good health and bread, 
 but where good spirits and laughter are looked down on as 
 almost sinful things. But in my opinion the best thing in the 
 world is to live kindly and lovingly with those around us, and 
 with everybody." 
 
 He nodded, eagerly assenting to what she said. " Ah, you 
 must come back with me, you are just the one for my people." 
 
 Now she was mute again. 
 
 After awhile she began with more constrained voice to speak 
 about her grandparents, who had been farmers, and how her 
 father was highly respected in the village, and how clever and 
 earnest her brothers were, in the unspoken, innocent wish 
 to make clear to her companion that she was a child of good, 
 honest family, and that he shouldn't believe he had picked her 
 up in the street. 
 
 Then he told her that her looks and demeanor had given 
 him the impression that one of the better daughters of the 
 land was at his side, and that he was glad with all his heart 
 that he had won her trust in him, and could walk by her side. 
 She had not disappointed him, he said ; on the contrary, he 
 liked her better every moment, and felt already that she was 
 his good comrade, and he would like to go for a longer — a 
 much longer — walk with her if she would have it. 
 
 She said nothing. But as they went on and he found she 
 could hardly see the foot-track in the dark, he at last took 
 her hand, and laid it on his arm, and held it fast; and she 
 permitted it. Thus they walked on for some distance in 
 silence, while he would now and then stroke her hand, and 
 their hearts slowly and wordlessly grew closer and closer to- 
 gether. 
 
 On and on they wandered along the road through the heath, 
 till after awhile the Goldsoot came in sight. In the dim 
 moonlight they saw the hollow valley and the little round 
 gleam of the fountain pool. Hand in hand they went down 
 to the Soot, and stood still by the water and looked into it. As 
 the clouds drew away from in front of the moon, they saw 
 there their dark reflections in the clear blue light. And, look- 
 ing up, they saw each other. 
 
 " I am thirsty," said the maid, and laughed a little. 
 
 He stooped, taking up some water in the palms of his hands, 
 and holding it toward her; and she drank with dainty lips,
 
 JORN UHL 199 
 
 anel thanked him. Then he seized his opportunity, and laying 
 his two wet hands on her cheeks, kissed her shyly. And when 
 he saw that she offered her mouth, and laid her hands con- 
 sentinj^ly on his arm, he embraced her, and said: "Now I 
 know that you will go with me." 
 
 She now gave a firm and earnest answer: "Yes, I will go 
 with you. I love you as deeply and know you as well as 
 if you had been my sweetheart these ten years. Father and 
 mother will let me go, hard as it will be to them; for they 
 have always expected that my lot would be different to that 
 of other girls ; and I can tell you that when I went to the 
 Fair to-day, I was full of all sorts of strange hopes and fore- 
 bodings — I felt as though something wonderful were going to 
 happen to me." 
 
 Suddenly she interrupted herself with a little scream. " Oh! 
 up there in the oak thicket I thought I saw streaks of blood." 
 
 He quieted her, saying: "It is only the moonlight; look, 
 you can clearly see it is." 
 
 "Or was it your lips?" she said, and laughed. "You 
 wouldn't believe how red they are." 
 
 He kissed her again and again, and she made no protest. 
 When he asked whether she had had enough, " Oh, no, not 
 by a long way," she laughed ; " I was very hungry." So he 
 kissed her again. Then he put his arm around her, and went 
 down the Goldsoot track into the marsh, and gradually soothed 
 and quieted her, till he had brought her to the door of the 
 farmhouse where she lived. 
 
 Next day she plighted her troth to him in her parents' house; 
 and her parents and her fair-haired brothers and sisters looked 
 on with kindly and earnest faces, and two of the boys main- 
 tained that very same day, that as soon as they w ere grown up 
 they would go to South Africa, too. One of them did so 
 afterward ; the other found an early grave at home. 
 
 On the sixth day the young couple went on board. In Cape 
 Town they became man and wife. It was a happy marriage. 
 Never did she regret having left her home for that strange 
 land w'ith that strange man. Nor did she regret it even when, 
 thirty years later, they brought her news that her third son 
 had fallen in the attack at Colenso. Nor did the blood, which 
 the children of her native heath had once showed her by the 
 Goldsoot, come back to her remembrance.
 
 200 J R N U H L 
 
 That evening, soon after the South African and his sweet- 
 heart had left the little valley, a cart pulled up, up above on the 
 heath-road, and Harro Heinsen's voice said: " Come, let us go 
 down to the Goldsoot for a little while. Everything that 
 bears the name of Uhl and has kinship with them now has 
 need of gold ; perhaps we'll find some there." 
 
 " As you \\ ish," said Elsbe. She sprang from the cart into 
 his arms, and he held the little, dainty creature fast, and car- 
 ried her down the foot-track. And there by the Goldsoot, in 
 the gray dim grass, she became his own. 
 
 Jorn Uhl, in his blue linen jumper, stood gazing at the 
 moon — this old, rusted, parched, unfruitful minx — and pay- 
 ing no heed to all the creatures living and loving upon the 
 heath and in the trees and fields around him. Was he not 
 engaged in the high pursuits of science? But as he looked 
 toward the gleaming mountain-tops which stood on the edge 
 of the " Mare Nectar " in the full glow of the moon, the heads 
 of two mortals, cheek to cheek, passed across the moon's disk. 
 Thrown completely out of his line of thought, Jorn lowered 
 the glass and looked into the dark, listening intently to the 
 distant sounds of the night. Then he shut the doors and went 
 to his room, and thought over his work for the morrow. 
 
 Thus the winter and spring passed by, and it grew on into 
 summer, while Jorn Uhl went quietly about his daily work, 
 waiting for Fate to deal the blow that was to destroy his 
 family. But nothing happened. It seemed as though farm 
 affairs at the Uhl were still prosperous. There came indeed a 
 blow for Jorn Uhl, but it was not from the direction he 
 expected. 
 
 It was in July; they were busy with the hay-harvest when 
 a rumor of trouble and coming war among the nations flew 
 abroad through the land. And the land and the men in it 
 stood with senses all alert, greedily listening to the far-off 
 mutter and rumble of the coming storm. The soul of the 
 people drew the noise into itself. For it was an old, silent, 
 long, long slumbering hope, that now might be fulfilled ; and 
 it was an olden quarrel, a long list of old misdeeds and wrongs 
 that might now be righted. Individual men did not think of 
 these things; for each was in trouble and distress, and full of
 
 JORN UHL 20I 
 
 fear of the furious portents bellowing down there beyond the 
 horizon. But in the mighty soul of the nation this thing 
 without definition of space or time, that neither forgets nor 
 dies, these thoughts on a far-off past, and hopes that had slum- 
 bered a thousand years, now began to dimly struggle. 
 
 The youngest born of the Uhls did not hear much of what 
 was going forward ; these things had no voice for his heart. 
 The time had not \ct come for him to see further; he had no 
 eyes for anything be\ond the last ditch on Uhl Farm. 
 
 It was a day in July when every one was busy with the hay 
 on the dikes. Geert Dose, who was working at the Uhl, 
 plunged his fork deep into a hay-rick, saying: "These French- 
 men are said to be a barefaced lot, so it won't be a bad thing 
 if we show 'em what a hay-fork is like." 
 
 " And what then ? There'll be another tune to sing." 
 
 The stable-boy asked if he was old enough to go as a volun- 
 teer. He was just eighteen. 
 
 Jorn Uhl shook his head. " Just keep your tongue still," he 
 said; " it'll all come to nothing." 
 
 Next morning he woke early and saw that his room was 
 full of moonlight. " It's too early yet to wake the others," 
 he thought; " I'll just get up and have a look at the moon." 
 
 During the winter he had industriously studied Littrow, and 
 his delight in observing the stars had grown greater as his 
 knowledge increased. He had made drawings of the moon 
 for himself and of the positions of the stars, and it had given 
 him keen pleasure to see how they corresponded with Littrow 's 
 drawings. Pages and pages he had filled with masses of figures, 
 calculating the distances. This employment quenched his thirst 
 for knowledge and filled the joyless void in his soul. So he 
 took down the telescope that now always lay at hand, near 
 the top of the chest, and went out of his room, across the big 
 hall, opened the door, and was about to step outside with the 
 polished instrument in his hand, when the old town-messenger 
 in his blue coat and bright buttons came up. He looked at 
 Jorn with a somewhat surprised air, and said, " I might have 
 expected to find you up, Jorn. I've two papers here, one for 
 you and one for Geert. You're both to report yourselves at 
 the barracks in Rendsburg to-morrow by ten o'clock. War's 
 been declared. I must be off now. I've got more papers to 
 deliver. Come back safe, Jorn."
 
 202 JORN UHL 
 
 Jorn let the telescope hang by his side and drew a deep 
 breath. " Well, that's new s," he said, and turned around and 
 crossed the hall into his own room. He laid the telescope 
 away in its place and sat down on the chest. " This business 
 may take a long time to settle," he thought. " They're a 
 strong and brave nation, and it'll be a hard tussle. It's an 
 old, bitter quarrel. . . . Hans will have to stay at home. Hin- 
 nerk'U have to go with me. Who will come back, no one 
 can say. . . . There'll be a nice state of affairs here. Hans 
 and father. . . . Elsbe. ... I must go and tell Thiess about 
 it all. i shall call in there on my way. We have to start this 
 afternoon at three. . . . Jasper Cray must be taken on to 
 work on the farm and look after things. He won't get so very 
 much done, but he won't let things go to the dogs. I wonder 
 w^here Fiete Cray is? . . . This has completely upset all my 
 reckonings, but what must, must be. H they won't leave us 
 alone, why, I suppose we must just give them a drubbing; 
 then we'll be able to plough our land in peace again. Maj^be 
 it'll last a year, maybe longer. Jasper Cray is the only one 
 I can put any confidence in. I'll just say a word in his ear 
 and promise him an extra hundred marks if I come back and 
 find everything going right. It's a bitter thing. Here I have 
 a father and brothers at home, and have to run to a neighbor 
 and beg him to look after our farm for us." 
 
 Then he got up, glanced around the room, and went out; 
 he woke everybody, and said : " Get up. We've got a good 
 deal to do to-day. War's declared ; and Geert and I have to 
 join our regiment." 
 
 About six o'clock that evening he and Geert walked down 
 the forest road and cast a look over toward Haze Farm. There 
 they saw Thiess Thiessen with a heavy bag over his shoulder, 
 leaving the farm in the direction of the village; he kept turn- 
 ing to look back as he walked along. They both began shout- 
 ing, and he stopped. On recognizing Jorn he shook his head 
 desolately, his eyes filled with tears, and he said, while still a 
 good way off: "Jorn, Jorn, it's a bad business I have done. 
 Elsbe hasn't been here for a fortnight, and is in Hamburg with 
 Harro Heinsen. I didn't have the courage to write to thee 
 about it, laddie. And now I have a letter from her, saying he 
 wants to take her to America with him, and she saj's she's
 
 J R N U H L 203 
 
 frightened of America, and bids good-by to us all, and especially 
 to thee." 
 
 Jorn looked at Thiess with wide ej'cs of surprise and anger. 
 " Give me the letter," he said. Thiess Thiessen threw down 
 the bag he was carrying on his shoulder, wiped his hot face, 
 and searched in his pockets for the letter, turning around now 
 and again while he searched, and ga/.ing back toward his farm. 
 " What do you want with all those documents? Where are 
 you off to? " 
 
 " Don't ask me, laddie," he moaned; " it's to Hamburg I'm 
 going, and if I don't find her there I'm going to America." 
 
 Geert Dose had been feeling the bag. " There are two 
 good big hams in it," he said, " and two flitches of bacon, but 
 they're from a smaller pig, and a pig's head." 
 
 " For the journey," moaned Thiess. 
 
 *' To Hamburg? " asked Geert, politely. 
 
 " To America," said Thiess, sobbing outright. 
 
 " That's something worth talking about," said Geert. 
 
 By this Jorn had read the letter, and was gazing mutely at 
 Thiess. " And now you're thinking of going after her, are you? 
 To judge by her letter she must have left Hamburg before 
 this; and even if she were there still, you can't stop her going 
 to America with him." 
 
 " I'll tell her she must leave him and stay with me, and 
 nobody shall say a word against her." 
 
 Jorn Uhl reflected awhile. " Thiess," he said, " I suppose 
 you don't know that there's war with France, and that we 
 have been summoned to Rendsburg? " 
 
 "Oh, dear! oh, dear!" said Thiess; "that's worse and 
 worse; one misfortune on top of the other." 
 
 " We have very little time to think over matters," said Jorn. 
 As yet he couldn't grasp the news about Elsbe. What! little 
 Elsbe away with that big, coarse lout, away out in the world 
 among strangers? Suddenly a thought occurred to him. " It's 
 possible that the ship hasn't been able to sail on account of the 
 outbreak of the war. If you find her, do the best you can, 
 Thiess, and bring her back here to the Haze." 
 
 "Do you think so?" said Thiess; "do you think I'll suc- 
 ceed? " He looked back at his farm and sobbed, and his tears 
 ran down over his thin cheeks. 
 
 " Come," said Jorn, " take heart a little, Thiess ; you have
 
 204 JORN UHL 
 
 always had a longing to travel a bit, or at least to go and see 
 Hamburg. Now you'll get out of your bogs for awhile." 
 
 *' Yes, yes," he said, and stopped again and looked back at 
 the old thatch roof. " But it's a cruel thing." 
 
 They had reached the top of the rise where you catch sight 
 of Haze Farm for the last time. " I don't know what it is," 
 he said, weeping, " but my spirits are very low." 
 
 "What, Thicss! after all your thirst for travel, and your 
 maps, and the Brazils and Japan. It must have all been 
 fancy and make-believe. Why, man, you're homesick." 
 
 " No, no . . . I'm coming. . . ." He staggered like a 
 drunken man. 
 
 " Turn back, Thiess ; it's no good, you can't tear yourself 
 away." 
 
 " I can't sleep of a night," the little man moaned ; " all night 
 long I see her living there in misery, and I must go after her. 
 And I can't go and leave the Haze, either." 
 
 " If Thiess can't sleep," said Geert Dose, " there must be 
 something serious the matter, and he'll be losing his appetite. 
 And what'll he do with the two hams? " 
 
 "I must go, I must," moaned Thiess; "it's no good. I'll 
 go with Eckert Witt, you know — the turf boatman. Leave 
 me alone and don't torment. It's got to be." 
 
 " Well, off with you, then. We, too, have no more time 
 to stay." 
 
 At the crossroads they bade him good-by with a shake of the 
 hand, and stood looking after him. 
 
 " The bag's too heavy for him," said Geert. " Look, Jorn, 
 he's regularly staggering with it." 
 
 " He can't stand leaving home and all," said Jorn. 
 
 " I say, tell me, now, what sort of a country's this France. 
 I mean, is there anything to be got hold of there? Do they 
 fatten pigs there, or perhaps you don't know that, Jorn? . . . 
 See there. . . . He has put the bag down, it's too heavy for 
 the old man, he can't manage it." 
 
 "No, he's climbing the embankment," said Jorn Uhl ; "he 
 wants to try if he can get a last look at the farm. And that's 
 the man that made out he would feel at home on every cattle 
 track in Further India." 
 
 " I'll just hop over to him, and see," said Geert; " I believe 
 it's the bag that's doing it."
 
 JORN UHL 205 
 
 Geert took a short cut throutili the buckwheat paddock, 
 and came back after awhile with the two flitches of bacon 
 under his arm, " What was the good of making him a long 
 speech about it?" said he. " He hasn't the faintest idea of it. 
 He's just standing there yapping over at the farm. . , . Who 
 knows what sort of times we'll have? These tw^o bacon flitches 
 are just the only sure and substantial thing we've got in the 
 whole world — all the rest's just wild confusion."
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Every villager in Schleswig-Holstein knows that a blue 
 dungaree jumper and blue dungaree trousers are the correct 
 traditional costume for stablemen — a costume, be it remarked, 
 very becoming to a good-looking man. It must be confessed, 
 however, that the said blue dungaree is apt to become light 
 blue in parts where it gets much rubbed or used, while the 
 other parts keep their original dark hue. This parti-colored 
 appearance can be still further heightened by the housewife's 
 putting new deep blue patches on the knees and breast. A 
 man may thereby assume such a variegated appearance that it 
 is difficult to believe that an honest, upright Holsteiner is hidden 
 away under this coat of many colors. 
 
 It was a place near Rendsburg on the Loher Heath, and 
 France had declared war four days before. And it was four 
 days before when Lance-Corporal Lohmann — the same man 
 who died this year from the consequences of the hardships he 
 underwent in the war — had come galloping into camp, bring- 
 ing the commander a telegram. A minute later every battery 
 of the Holstein artillery knew they were going to march against 
 France. And without a word of command, as though the 
 bugles had sounded the alarm, they sprang to their horses and 
 commenced saddling and harnessing with flying hands. They 
 thought they would have to be off straight away, 
 
 Hans Lohmann, brother of the Corporal Lohmann already 
 mentioned, — 2d Heavy Battery, Number 3, on the right of 
 the gun, cleaner and rammer, — was mute and dazed for four 
 weeks afterward. Only on the third day after the battle of 
 Gravelotte did light begin to dawn on him again. In the first 
 place, he did not understand why they didn't begin fighting 
 right away on receipt of the news; secondly, why the French 
 didn't appear next day on Loher Heath ; thirdly, when the 
 batteries were actually under way, how It was possible for the 
 
 206
 
 JORN UHL 207 
 
 world to be so bip;. He had thought the French lived just 
 behind Hohenwestcdt and Heinkenborster. But he was under 
 a moral misconception in addition to this geographical one, for 
 he had not understood a word of their captain's address to 
 them about their olden rights and about love of one's Father- 
 land and sympathy for its aspirations. But afterward Corporal 
 Lindemann, who was for him what a lighted lamp is for a 
 dark room, had explained to him in a few words that the French 
 had insulted the old emperor. " This is the way they've done, 
 Lohmann," and he raised his hand as if to strike. 
 
 " How old is he? " asked Lohmann. 
 
 " Over seventy." 
 
 From that hour forward Lohmann felt that he had a clear 
 knowledge of the state of affairs and a good conscience. "It 
 they strike the old man in the face, then we've a right to dust 
 their jackets for them." So it is evident that Lohmann 2 was 
 somewhat hazy in his ideas. 
 
 Not so Captain Gleiser. Bless me! The work that that man 
 got through in those seven days before the departure for the 
 front! Didn't he stand three days at a stretch, from morning 
 till night, like a post in the sand, examining and inspecting the 
 men and horses of his regiment? And they were never good 
 enough for him. In those days he was more than once over- 
 censorious — he. Captain Gleiser, his Majesty's handsomest 
 officer, as he himself said, asserted a hundred times if he did 
 it once in those few days that his was the damn worst battery 
 that was marching against France. 
 
 The smithy had driven past him for the eighth time with its 
 six black horses — pace, trot, gal . . . lop. . . . That's the 
 way. That was right — when suddenly a hubbub arose. A 
 long-legged horse, a beautiful animal, refused to pull. He 
 jerked at his collar, pranced, got among the artillery reserves, 
 who were standing there with their bundles, and seemed as 
 if he wished to dance a polka on his hind legs. 
 
 " We'll tame him," cried the captain ; " bring him out in 
 front," 
 
 Strong hands helped the driver to spring on to his back; 
 he was no sooner tliere than he lay sprawling full length in 
 the dust. "Man, go and bury yourself for shame! Jiirgens, 
 you try him. What! go to France with such fellows as these! 
 I'll gc alone, I tell you, I'll go alone."
 
 2o8 JORN UHL 
 
 But Jiirgens soon lay in the hole in the sand which the 
 driver had made. 
 
 Captain Gleiser glared around him. He glared around him 
 like a man who, standing in the centre of the world, regards 
 himself as the only man on it. He, yes, he himself would ride 
 the horse! It's worth while to show three hundred inferior 
 men what Captain Gleiser can do. Those are the thoughts he 
 had in his mind as he glared around him. 
 
 Among the Reserves who were still standing there in their 
 every-day clothes, a hundred and odd men, there was one a 
 little apart from the others; he was dressed in an old blue 
 dungaree suit, on which big new knee-pieces had recently been 
 sewn. In spite of his height and gauntness he looked a thorough- 
 bred ; broad-shouldered and straight, with a proud, narrow face. 
 Many a prince would have been glad to have had the face 
 and figure of this farmer's son hereditary in his family. On 
 his fair, almost white hair he was wearing a blue, peaked cap, 
 and he had a small trunk in his hand. 'Twas this man Gleiser 
 spied out, " Uhl! " he shouted. 
 
 Uhl came up. 
 
 " Gad ! You haven't lost that heavy tread of yours," he cried. 
 "Your father makes clogs, doesn't he?" 
 
 " No, he's a farmer, captain." 
 
 " I don't care a rap what he is. Can you ride that devil 
 of a horse, or are you a battered old teapot, like the rest of 
 them? . . . Up with you! " Every one of the men who were 
 on Loher Heath that day — those who are still living have 
 now gray hair — knows how stiff and deliberate Jorn Uhl of 
 Wentorf was as he set his gray linen trunk down on the sand, 
 and how he stood up again as though all his joints were crack- 
 ing, and how, after he had straightened himself up and laid 
 his hand on the dark bay, he seemed to be a different man. 
 His eyes lifted themselves up like lions about to spring. With 
 a leap he was in the saddle, and the dark bay reared and 
 bucked, and whirled around and shook himself, and at last 
 bolted away over the sand and disappeared in a cloud of dust, 
 and left absolutely no trick untried in order to escape going 
 with 5J>e others on that campaign against the French. And 
 every one remembers how he gave up the struggle and Corporal 
 Uhl came riding back upon him, carrying his head pretty high.
 
 J O R N U H L 209 
 
 " Uhl," cried Gleiser, " you'll ride that horse for the future 
 and be Captain of the Sixth Gun." 
 
 So Jorn Uhl went to the war as non-commissioned officer. 
 
 Eight days later, in the midst of pouring rain, they passed 
 through the long poplar lane that the 74th had crossed six 
 days before, as they were storming the Spicheren Heights. It 
 was miserable weather, and the troops were tired and low- 
 spirited. 
 
 Which of them had seen it, or who told the story, no one 
 knows. They saw their old general riding by, and one soldier 
 repeated it to the other: " He just saw them burying an 
 officer; there to the left of the trees. So he rode over and 
 asked them, 'Who are you burying there, men?' 'Our cap- 
 tain.' ' Let me have another look at him,' the old chap said, 
 he s my son. 
 
 A moment afterward he rode past with his adjutant, to the 
 batteries that were driving on through the rain. He wasn't 
 a good figure on horseback, too fat and too short. They looked 
 after him, and marched on. 
 
 Miserable weather. " Look, there are three dead horses. 
 Man alive, how they are swollen! " 
 
 " I say, what's the meaning of those long flower-beds? 
 That's jolly strange; they've stuck sabres in them! " 
 
 "Haven't you got eyes in your head, man? Those are 
 graves." 
 
 "For men?" 
 
 " Yes, for men ; who else? And now stop your jaw." 
 
 " Look ! There's a rifle sticking in the ground. One of 
 them's used it as a crutch. The crutch is still standing, but 
 the man has fallen." 
 
 Miserable weather. How the rain beats through the trees! 
 
 The guns go rumbling and rattling slowly forward. Graves; 
 nothing but graves. And the poplars are all peeled and stripped, 
 and the broken branches show their splintered bones. 
 
 " We can't get at the enemy. . . . We Schleswig-Holsteiners 
 haven't got a show . . . not we! We're too green and fresh 
 at the work for those Prussian fire-eaters. We're only going 
 for the sake of parade. We've only got to follow in their 
 tracks."
 
 2IO JORN UHL 
 
 " Those who were in the '66 campaign, they're the ones 
 who'll have to bear the brunt of it." 
 
 Who offered this opinion, or whether it was right, nobody 
 troubled to ask. 
 
 That night they bivouacked on the wet, windy heights to 
 the west of Spicheren, and threw fourteen French wagons that 
 were standing there into the flames of their watch-fires. They 
 were all somewhat dejected, although many laughed loud, and 
 had a great deal to say. The sergeant grumbled the whole night 
 about the burning of the wagons, and had the iron parts raked 
 together out of the fires toward morning, and was delighted that 
 they brought seven francs for the Battery Fund. 
 
 The batteries drove on. It became most tedious, this eternal 
 marching on and on. A thousand times rather straight at the 
 enemy, beat them, and then back home. " Who is there to 
 plough and sow at home? Autumn's coming on. Father can't 
 look after the stables by himself. And what will mother do? 
 And the girl ? " 
 
 " We're getting deeper and deeper into France. I believe 
 we've lost our way, if the truth were known. Hope we'll 
 come well out of it." 
 
 Forward ! Forward ! 
 
 How small Wentorf has grown! Wentorf, the very centre 
 and hub of the earth ! Why! There must be fully ten thousand 
 villages in the world, and men like sand upon the sea-beach. 
 At first their battery had been alone, when they crossed the 
 Elbe on two steamers. Then they had grown into regiments, 
 then into a division, then into an army, and now, since yesterday, 
 they were a nation. 
 
 On the 14th, the battery drew up on a hill rise, near a 
 cross-road. Captain Gleiser stopped near Jorn Uhl. There 
 below they saw troops marching, regiment on regiment. Ar- 
 tillery and cavalry and endless trains of wagons, squadron on 
 squadron, right away to the hills on the dim horizon. 
 
 Gleiser turned around. " Uhl, what do you say to that? " 
 
 Jorn Uhl gazed at the scene, but said nothing. 
 
 "You farmer, you! It's our Fatherland, Germany, strug- 
 gling forth out of centuries of distress." He jerked his horse's 
 head around and said no more. 
 
 Then Jorn looked up again and saw all these men march-
 
 JORN UHL 211 
 
 inj^ past, all striving toward one common goal, and suddenly 
 he felt the greatness of the time. 
 
 Next night they crossed a river by torchlight. 
 
 On the 1 0th, they heard cannon in the distance to their 
 right, the souiul coming down from the hills. " There's a bit 
 of an artillery fight going on. Just look! Hut what can they 
 do at two thousand paces! Just a bit of a row! " And they 
 thought no more about it. 
 
 But a feeling like curiosity came over them. A feeling of 
 restless expectancy, like that a hunter feels in the forest, spread 
 among the men. 
 
 The 1 8th dawned, and they again saw, as they had done 
 fourteen days before, many fresh graves, this time with the 
 full sunlight on them. 
 
 It is eleven o'clock. 
 
 " A fine, sunny day." 
 
 If only the graves were not there. 
 
 It was a good thing after all that they remained in the 
 Reserves. The day before yesterday just the same as to-day. 
 Always in the rear. " We're much too young and raw, and 
 besides we're troops out of the new province. We won't get 
 to the front, you just see. . . . It's a good thing, too. . . . 
 It's a pity. . . . No. . . . It's a good thing after all. I must 
 go back to my father. I must go back to my sweetheart. I'm 
 too young yet ! I want to see something of life first. Then — 
 as far as I'm concerned . . ." 
 
 It is eleven o'clock. 
 
 It is as still as a Sunday morning In Holstein. That is, if 
 it v\eren't for the rattle and jolt of the guns, and the creak 
 and whimper of the harness. 
 
 " Strange! . . . There, forward, to the right! . . ." 
 
 " Do j^ou see? . . ." 
 
 " The main body is turning ofif the road up the heights, as 
 sure as I live! " 
 
 "There to the right, man! Can't you see?" 
 
 "What does it want there?" 
 
 " How do I know? " 
 
 " What a lovely, quiet day! " 
 
 "Gad! We won't get a sniflF of powder the whole of this 
 blessed campaign. Soon it'll be * Right about face! ' and back 
 home!"
 
 212 JORN UHL 
 
 " It's too bad, to come back home and not have gone through 
 a thing! Afterward, those braggart Prussians'll be coming 
 and spouting behind their beer-glasses about their great deeds, 
 enough to make the rafters warp, and we'll have to hold our 
 tongues." 
 
 " Jan Busch, where did you get hold of that pipe? " 
 
 " Oh ! my landlady in What-you-may-call-it gave it to me, 
 to remember her by." 
 
 "Look! Up there! That's the first horse-battery ! " 
 
 " Do you see? " 
 
 "What the deuce is it doing up there? . . . Can't make it 
 out at all." 
 
 " How willing the young horses pull! " 
 
 "There, see! the six are standing." 
 
 "That captain's a bit hasty, don't you think?" 
 
 " My father used to say, at Istedt, he'd say . . .** 
 
 "Man, shut up about Istedt!" 
 
 "What was that!" 
 
 " They're firing, I believe." 
 
 " Are they firing? " 
 
 " Battery . . . tr . . . ot! " 
 
 Captain Gleiser casts a glance over his guns. 
 
 Nobody will forget that look. That means business. 
 
 Who sees anything else? Who hears anything else? WTio 
 says another word ? 
 
 "Battery . . . gallop!" 
 
 Hans Detlef Gleiser pulls up of a sudden, on his high, 
 beautiful bay; the sun sparkles on his helmet and in his eyes. 
 That's his great delight to let his six guns gallop past him, 
 and then give his horse the spurs, and be first in position. 
 
 The major comes galloping toward them. He must be 
 wanting to show them where to take their positions. . . . The 
 major sits his horse w^ell, even now his head is o^. . . . How 
 horrible . . . now the dead man falls. . . . And the horse 
 gallops madly on. 
 
 " What's that horse that goes tearing past as Jorn Uhl's team 
 comes galloping into action? That bay belongs to Colonel von 
 Jagermann, doesn't he? " The horse's flank is red and wet with 
 blood. 
 
 " In advancing . . ." 
 
 The horses fly to one side.
 
 JORN UHL 213 
 
 " Load with shell. Against the enemy's position." 
 
 " Eighteen hundred paces." 
 
 No more time for thinking now. 
 
 " It's not possible." 
 
 No more thinking . . . keep cool. 
 
 The white tents . . . Men are running about there. Thou- 
 sands are marching hither and thither over yonder, and stand 
 there in smoke. 
 
 Pee . . . ee . . . tchnn . . . tchnn ! A rush and a whistle 
 crescendo and decrescendo. 
 
 " Keep cool, lads. If you hear it, it's past." 
 
 It flies past, singing shrilly, and strikes not far from the 
 wheel tire . . . burying itself with a short, slushy sound in 
 the belly of the pole horse. The horse trembles and falls to 
 one side. The pole-horse rider looks angrily at the mare. 
 "What's the beast thinking of now?" . . . Pee-e nn! . . . 
 His anger has vanished. With a long scream he lifts his hands, 
 as though some one had struck him in the loins with a sharp 
 stake, bends in the hollow of his back, and falls headlong 
 backwards from the rearing horse. 
 
 Jorn Uhl jerks his head around, to look at Lieutenant Hax, 
 who has given some order or other; but it can't be under- 
 stood. There's such a roar and noise and rattle and thunder 
 around them. 
 
 But is it necessary? He knows it by himself. 
 
 Gun to the front! Gun to the front! 
 
 One and two have to lay their hands to the spokes. 
 
 Ready with shell ! . . . The lock is open. 
 
 " Tschn-nn! " 
 
 Those mosquitoes would fain sting; there, away in front; 
 the long white line. But there's no time ... no time. We 
 must keep those wasps from getting too near . . . those up 
 there on the heights. 
 
 " Fire at those batteries . . . Fifteen hundred paces." 
 
 Number one pulls the cord. The fire flies forth. Out of 
 the crashing and cracking a kind of melody arises. A host 
 of fearful sounds is rushing and flying with maniac eyes and 
 contorted faces over the heights. Half to the left there is a 
 continual squeaking and scratching, a villainous noise, as 
 though some one kept jamming a piece of iron into fragments
 
 214 JORN UHL 
 
 of glass. A sheet of flame out of it flits right over the heads 
 of the panting men, there. 
 
 "Fire!" 
 
 The shell flies. 
 
 Jorn Uhl's eyes fly in pursuit. Ah, that was a hit. 
 
 A sheet of flame comes flying. With a splutter it passes by. 
 A lieutenant comes trotting in their direction. Jorn casts a 
 glance at him. The lieutenant is mown down and flies to one 
 side. His back is suddenly bathed dark red. 
 
 Lieutenant Hax goes from gun to gun just as if he were on 
 Loher Heath. 
 
 A soldier comes up, salutes, and stands at attention before 
 him. The blood is welling out of his side, and has formed a 
 stripe down his trousers as though he were a general. 
 
 " To the rear." 
 
 The man goes five steps, then he staggers. . . . 
 
 Some one mentions his name. " See there. Geert Dose." 
 
 Lieutenant Hax pulled up suddenly as though he had heard 
 a command. 
 
 " Uhl." 
 
 " Here, sir." 
 
 He turns around. 
 
 " Just give a look. I'm wounded in the back." 
 
 " Can't see anything, sir." 
 
 "No hole?" 
 
 •' No." 
 
 " Well ... if you say so. . . . Aim at those heavy guns 
 there by the trees." 
 
 " Fire! . . . that was too short." 
 
 "Fire!" 
 
 "That's it!" 
 
 Number two stumbles. That's Jan Busch. He staggers 
 backwards and holds his hands to his forehead as though he 
 saw some dreadful sight, and then falls heavily backwards, 
 flinging out his^ arms. With outstretched hands he remains 
 lying on his back, gazing into the sky with the same terrified 
 eyes. Jorn Uhl springs forward to the gun. 
 
 Number five is wounded on the foot. He limps up, groan- 
 ing, and lays fresh shells at Jorn Uhl's feet. 
 
 Lieutenant Hax shouts out to those who are holding the
 
 JORN UHL 215 
 
 horses, "Farther hack!" There are still three horses left. 
 The others are lying on the ground. 
 
 And there are still three men at the gun. The others are 
 lying on the ground. 
 
 Jorn Uhl stands over the gun-carriage, with the cartridge- 
 box behind him, the shells lie near him on the ground. He 
 picks them up, peg and screw. With a hard glance . . . 
 
 Lohmann No. 2 fires and sponges the gun. 
 
 " Lohmann! " shouts Hax, " not so slow, man! Move your- 
 self, we are not on the Loher Heath." 
 
 Lohmann can't do it any differently. One . . . and . . . 
 two. . . . Just the same as when they used to practise on the 
 Loher Heath. 
 
 "Fire!" 
 
 From the left it is getting terribly close, crashing and howling. 
 
 Lieutenant 11 ax clutches his wounded back and sighs aloud, 
 " That Lohmann . . . can't do it any differently ... I'm 
 blest if he can." 
 
 Captain Gleiser rides up: " Good, my lads! that's the way." 
 
 Four or five offkcrs of the staff ride by for the second time 
 and halt close behind them. They're not long noticing it; 
 it roars and soughs . . . and splinters fly . . . and shells strike 
 . . . and burrow in the earth. An officer's horse comes down ; 
 the rider is flung away over its head, leaps up, and runs to 
 catch another horse that is galloping riderless among the guns; 
 Jorn Uhl helps him to catch it; and in a moment he is sitting 
 on the red housing-cloth. 
 
 The horsemen trot away. The cap of the general has a 
 little streamer to it; a piece of the edge is torn off, and a 
 piece of the wadding is hanging out, fluttering in the wind. 
 
 They are working hard at the gun ; working in the sweat of 
 their brow. Not a moment's rest. Not a moment. They 
 pant and aim, and shove and push, shout and curse. There 
 is a strange, short-breathed, hot wind blowing backwards and 
 forwards. The very earth is spewing fire, and the fire gleams 
 yellow through the billows of smoke. The locks on the guns 
 have become loose, and at everj' shot a long red tongue of flame 
 leaps out. 
 
 They have but the one thought: work, work. They have no 
 other care. They only think, " It's hot work. When will it 
 be over?" They don't think that the foe outnumbers them
 
 2i6 JORN UHL 
 
 and is drawing around them in a half-circle, and may venture 
 a charge at any moment. 
 
 There comes number five running up and says, " There are 
 no more shells left." 
 
 Now they're in a fix, a cruel fix. 
 
 They stood by their gun as though turned to stone, Lohmann 
 stands with the sponge raised; Jorn Uhl, the one hand on the 
 gun-lock, the other clenched in fury, gazes into the lightning 
 among the smoke; Lieutenant Hax drags himself up with 
 heavy feet and shows Lohmann his back. 
 
 ** Isn't there a hole in it? " 
 
 " Yes, lieutenant, now there's a hole, and blood is there, too." 
 
 " I can't stand any longer and I won't go away, I won't, I 
 tell you." And he spat contemptuously. 
 
 An officer of the staff came galloping up. " Why have you 
 stopped firing? " 
 
 " No ammunition." 
 
 " The devil you haven't! Fire blank cartridge then." 
 
 So they fired blank, using linen rags . . . and kept firing 
 . . . and still firing ... a good long while. 
 
 Jorn Uhl, bending over the gun-carriage, reaches almost 
 mechanically to the right: there lie shells once more. 
 
 That is a relief. 
 
 A beardless young lieutenant stands behind them and praises 
 them, raising his voice above the din. " Well done, corporal ! 
 Well done . . . comrade." He salutes across to Hax, who 
 is sitting on the ground propped with his back against a wheel 
 of the gun-carriage. But Hax cannot see him; Hax is staring 
 through half-closed eyes, his underlip contemptuously protruded, 
 down yonder in the direction of the enemy. Suddenly the guns 
 on their left ceased firing. 
 
 " What are these two batteries doing? Why don't they go 
 on firing? " 
 
 Heavy rifle-firing is heard, half on their left flank, on the 
 edge of the woods. 
 
 German Infantry leaps up, flings itself down again, comes 
 nearer and nearer. 
 
 " Oh! . . . Those fellows want to help us. . . ." 
 
 " The guns . . . why aren't they firing? " 
 
 " Fire away, comrades! " 
 
 Here and there a single man is still on his feet . . . here
 
 JORN UHL 217 
 
 and there a muzzle still flashes. Sergeant Heesch of Eesch 
 still sticks to his gun, though he has but one man left. There 
 he stands amid the smoke and fire. That's a hero for you! 
 They'll talk of him at home, I say, for many a year to come. 
 
 " Fire, brotiiers, fire! " 
 
 A strange sort of brawling and roaring keeps growing nearer. 
 
 The young lieutenant comes running up, shouting at the 
 top of his voice, " Fire on that battery to the left! . . . Grape- 
 shot, grape-shot, 1 tell you." 
 
 "Lieutenant!" shouts Uhl. . . . "That's our battery!" 
 
 " Can't you see, man! It's full of red breeches! " 
 
 "Right about!" 
 
 They all lend a hand, and grip and tug at the wheel-spokes. 
 It is hard work to get the gun around. 
 
 "Grape-shot! . . . Four hundred paces. . . ." 
 
 Look! Lieutenant Hax is on his feet again. He tries to give 
 the word of conuuand and makes a clutch at his wounded side, 
 and falls headlong forwards. Two or three fugitives come 
 running toward them from the captured battery. One of them 
 falls midway in his flight just as a child falls, and clings to 
 a gun-wheel, and begins repeating the petitions of the Lord's 
 Prayer, one by one. The fourth petition he says twice over. 
 For he was a poor man's son. 
 
 Fresh bodies of German Infantry pour out of the wood, they 
 stand and lie and crouch, some here, some there, wherever they 
 can, scattered and in bands. They stand or lie between the 
 cannon, and fire on the howling and bellowing enemy that is 
 rushing toward them. 
 
 A fusilier, a nimble, sinewy fellow, with a round, reddish 
 head, has sprung to Jorn's gun, and is shooting from behind it. 
 . . . He is putting in another cartridge. 
 
 " Jorn Ulil, laddie! . . . Adsiim, Jorn." 
 
 Jcirn Uhl pushes a grape-cartridge into its place, and shuts 
 the lock. . . . Why shouldn't it be Fiete Cray that is standing 
 there by his side! 
 
 " Your firing's thrown away, Jorn. It'll be all up with us 
 in a minute." 
 
 A shell ploughs up the yellowish brown earth. 
 
 "Ah! if Hinnerk could only plough like that, it'd be 
 something like." 
 
 " The post-card that I have here stuck In my helmet . . ."
 
 2i8 JORN UHL 
 
 " Write to Thiess. Remember me to Elsbe." 
 
 " Lisbeth Junker has . . . But what's the good of talking! " 
 
 He heaves the gun around toward the enemy, Fiete Cray 
 helps him. 
 
 The hail of grape-shot goes flying once more , . , and yet 
 once more. 
 
 The French begin to falter over yonder. But more come 
 on. Multitudes of strange red-breeched men appear in the 
 fire and smoke, pressing forward. 
 
 The end is not far off. 
 
 Horses ! Horses ! 
 
 The horses are all lying dead on the ground. So Lohmann 
 runs across the iield and catches three of those that are 
 galloping about there, riderless, trotting and then standing 
 still awhile; he comes back with them, and the soldiers harness 
 them to the guns with flying hands. 
 
 Retire! . . . Retire! 
 
 A miserable retreat. 
 
 Fiete Cray sits in front on the gun-box and drives with 
 loose reins. Lohmann, standing upright by his side, lashes the 
 worn-out and wounded horses with his whip. Jorn Uhl is 
 trotting close alongside the gun, holding the lieutenant, who 
 is sitting on the axle-seat, crouched all in a heap and swaying 
 like a drunken man. 
 
 " It's just like it was in Wentorf," thinks Fiete Cray, " when 
 I'd been robbing the apple orchard, and had Wieten after me, 
 scolding for all she was worth. God be with us! How the 
 wretches curse! " 
 
 Two sheaves of flame cleave the smoke ; they sweep straight 
 away over the field in front of them. 
 
 "The third'U be for us! " 
 
 No ... no. Fate means none of the iron that hurtles there 
 for them. Nor shall any of these flames singe them. They 
 reach the shelter of the wood alive. 
 
 There they find from ten to a dozen guns. Others are still 
 coming up in the same plight as they, with staggering, stum- 
 bling horses; and three or four stragglers run up, on whose 
 sweat-bathed faces misery and rage are imprinted, and panic 
 fear and wild excitement. 
 
 How they work! They tug at the horses' mouths with loud 
 curses and short, w-ild words. Ammunition is hauled up and
 
 JORN UHL 219 
 
 laid in the boxes. The artillery smith, caplcss and dishevelled, 
 with uniform all torn, is kneeling by a gun that has been hurt; 
 a corporal is stuffing plugs of lint into the deep wounds of a 
 horse, to stop the gush of blood. 
 
 Words of command mingle with the din. 
 
 Three guns with fresh horses, and a fair complement of 
 gunners — among them infantry stragglers — drive up. 
 
 The young lieutenant works away, shouting as he runs 
 hither and thither. . . . Now he can start again with two 
 guns. An officer pulls up his horse on the hill rise, and points 
 with his sword in the direction they're to take. " There! Over 
 yonder! To the edge of yon wood! " 
 
 Jorn Uhl sits on the front gun, Fiete Cray is next him. 
 
 All around them, from near and far, is heard the roll and 
 roar of guns, and in unabated fury the fearful crackling of 
 musketry and the scream of shells. 
 
 Now they have trotted along to the end of the forest road 
 and come out on the edge, and the thunder seems to have 
 receded. 
 
 " Do you know what, corporal ? I believe it's over there." 
 
 " I must be at them," says the youngster, grinding his teeth. 
 "My cousin in the 2d Light Horse has fallen; to-morrow I 
 must write to his mother." 
 
 " There are many fallen, lieutenant." 
 
 " It's a fearful day." 
 
 When they looked around the other gun was no longer there. 
 The roar had abated. 
 
 Evening began to descend upon the woods. 
 
 And there was none among them to raise his hands and 
 cry like the Jew in his fury, of old, " () Sun! stand still over 
 Gibeon, and thou. Moon, in the valley of Ajalon! " 
 
 No . . . No. . . . 
 
 They drive on and come out of the wood at the right place. 
 
 But the guns arc being retired. Fresh infantry regiments are 
 in masses on the field. The enemy is quiet. 
 
 It is eventide. 
 
 And as the sounds cease . . . there are cries heard out of 
 those bushes and out of yon furrows, " Help! . . . Oh . . . 
 help me! " And up above on the rise, " Je prie . . . ma mere 
 . . . pitic." And out of the dry watercourse, " Water! Water! 
 ... a drink of water . . . mither, mither! "
 
 220 JORN UHL 
 
 Gradually the sounds die down and cease. 
 
 On the edge of the wood soldiers are getting down from 
 the gun-carriages and off the backs of their horses. 
 
 " My mother put a packet in my breast pocket, in case the 
 worst came to the worst," says the lieutenant ..." but I 
 can't get my arm up to it." 
 
 So Jorn Uhl t(X)k it out of his pocket for him, and gave it 
 him, and he offered him the half of it. The pole-horse had 
 lost the lint plugs out of its wound, and the blood was spurt- 
 ing out. Jorn Uhl sprang up and dragged it to one side. It 
 fell. The lieutenant, faint with loss of blood, seated himself 
 on the gun-carriage; Fiete Cray flung himself in the grass. 
 
 " Lohmann, go and see what's become of the others." 
 
 He laid the sponge that he had taken away in its place, and 
 vanished in the wood. 
 
 " Oh! " said the lieutenant; " give me just a single mouthful 
 of something. I gave my flask to Lanky Jack ; he emptied it 
 at a pull." He usually spoke of him as Lieutenant Hax, but 
 in this hour he called him " Lanky Jack." 
 
 " Do you see, lieutenant? " said Fiete Cray; " here's one of 
 the other side coming! " 
 
 A soldier in wide red breeches and short blue jumper came 
 limping slowly toward them. Out of his bayonet he had made 
 a splint for his broken hip bone, and tied it on with his sword- 
 belt. But his foot slipped and he gave a loud scream. 
 
 Fiete Cray caught hold of him and helped him to sit down. 
 
 " I am a Frenchman," he said, with a good German accent. 
 "Oh! Oh!" 
 
 "What?" said Fiete, looking at him in astonishment. 
 
 " I am a Strasburger." 
 
 " Well, be thankful for it, and just stay still where you are 
 and stop your mizzling." He found a bit of rope in his pocket 
 and set the leg again. 
 
 When Jorn Uhl saw Fiete pull this piece of rope out of 
 his pocket, his tongue was loosed. 
 
 " I say," said he, " how did you get here? " 
 
 " I arrived in Hamburg the very day war was declared. Oh, 
 Jorn, my farm! My beautiful butter farm! Not far from 
 Chicago, Jorn! Oh, and my wife, and my two beautiful mares! 
 . . . But I can't bear to talk about it. . . . Stop your groan- 
 ing, Strasburger, I can't do anything more for you."
 
 JORN UHL 221 
 
 Lolimann came back and reported that " over th — th — there 
 . . . the b — batteries were halted." He stuttered; his voice 
 was thick and his gait uncertain. Up to this the h'eutenant 
 had been gazing gloomily into space, moving his hand now and 
 tiien with a suppressed groan to his wounded arm. " Are you 
 wounded? " he asked. 
 
 " Devil a bit, sir! " said Lohmann. 
 
 If he had only managed to keep his tongue still, all v\ould 
 have gone well ; but he got hold of the ranuiier and swore he 
 would " go across and fight those Frenchies with it, by thunder, 
 he would, he'd fight 'em by himself alone." 
 
 So it came out that he had stumbled on some French 
 canteen cart that had been abandoned over yonder by the 
 embankment, and got tipsy. 
 
 " Now we can start again," said the lieutenant. 
 
 They lifted the Strasburger up on to the ammunition-box, 
 and drove off. 
 
 "You are Holsteiners, too, aren't you?" said the lieutenant. 
 
 " From Dithmarschen." 
 
 " My home's not far from Plon, and my cousin lives in the 
 next village. Now he's shot. I haven't seen him, but I know 
 it, for all the men that served his guns have been killed. . . . 
 It will be bad news for them at home. I ought to write to 
 them . . . but I cannot. . . . Gretchen will cry her eyes out. 
 He was such a fine, brave, clever fellow, too." 
 
 " Is Gretchen his sister? " 
 
 "Yes; we all used to be playmates. We all grew in the 
 same pot, my uncle used to say." 
 
 Fiete Cray consoled him, and said, " There's many a pot 
 gets smashed, sir." 
 
 " And Gretchen is engaged to me," said the youngster. 
 "We plighted our troth when we were saying good-by; and 
 that was long ago." 
 
 " Yes," said Jorn Uhl, " it was long ago." 
 
 " It was three weeks ago by my reckoning," said Fiete Cray. 
 
 They all shook their heads incredulously. 
 
 "Three weeks? . . . It's impossible." 
 
 " Do you mean to say it's only three weeks since I was at 
 home cutting chaff for the cows? " 
 
 " It's an age ago ... an endless time . . . more than seven 
 years at least."
 
 222 JORN UHL 
 
 Such was the effect on their brains of their long marches 
 and travels, and of this day of furious battle; everything in 
 their lives before that seemed to have receded into some dim 
 past. 
 
 They came upon the other batteries in a hollow not far 
 from the wood. And again there was work to do. The whole 
 night long it lasted! How they worked, there on the edge 
 of the Bois de la Casse! And when morning flushed the sky, 
 there stood there forty guns drawn up in order side by side, 
 spick and span, as if they were on the Loher Heath; two had 
 fallen into the hands of the enemy. Horses and men, their gaps 
 filled up from reserve troops, were again standing by the iron 
 muzzles, ready as soon as the sun rose to drive back again to 
 that same yellow, pebbly field, ploughed with shell, and cut 
 up with ruts of wheels, and scattered over with corpses, and 
 pools of blood, and tatters of harness, and broken weapons, and 
 splintered wood. 
 
 But the enemy did not come. The enemy was no longer a 
 tiger roaring as it leaps toward its prey, but an ox tethered 
 and bellowing, goring the earth with its horns. 
 
 That forenoon, Jorn Uhl was sent out to get news of some 
 of the wounded. After much seeking he found Lieutenant 
 Hax, lying on his cloak, in high fever. 
 
 " Mother's just been here," he said. " She was saying I 
 oughtn't to hurry so fast and make myself so hot. ' You young 
 hothead,' she said, and gave me a box on the ears. She always 
 does that, just for fun, when I've been running too hard. 
 Then I laugh and go to the glass and say, ' See, now, you've 
 made my cheeks redder than ever.' But deuce of a looking-glass 
 is there here. Here there's nothing at all in its proper place. 
 I must make you fellows look after things a bit better. . . . 
 Oh ! it's you, Uhl ! ... It has been a bad day for us, and 
 I believe I'm done for." 
 
 " It's not so bad as that, sir? " 
 
 " The air's so hot one can't breathe in it, especially when 
 one's got to go at such a pace. Just tell me, Uhl, how is it 
 you always go so slow? You're always so stiff and deliberate. 
 . . . Oh, I remember now: it comes from ploughing. . . . I've 
 been dreaming I saw that red-haired youngster that I once 
 bundled off our farm with his little dog-wagon."
 
 JORN UHL 223 
 
 " It was no dream, sir. He was really at the guns with us 
 all, helping." 
 
 " He's a good sort, Uhl. When I turned him off our farm 
 I recollect he clenched his fist and wanted to fight me. It's 
 not Christian, but it's devilish human." 
 
 " It's Christian, too, I should say, sir, for one to fight against 
 what's evil." 
 
 "Right! yes, that's it, against what's evil! I'm going to 
 do the same myself. As true as God helps me! We'll clench 
 our fists and hit hard, like we did to-day. And when you're 
 down and can't hit back any longer, you must spit. Yes! 
 Christian and human, one and the same thing. I suppose 
 mother'll have a po(jr harvest of oats this year on the Ahlbeker 
 Moor. When I get back home I'll plough and plough till 
 I'm as stiff as that corporal of the sixth gun. . . . What's his 
 name again ? " 
 
 " Uhl." 
 
 " Then everything shall blossom out afresh, and I'll build 
 a new house; but the old horizontal bars and so on we used 
 for gymnastics shall stay where they are in the yard. But we 
 won't talk about that just now. Back to jour guns, men! . . , 
 I say, Dose, what the devil are you standing there grinning 
 about? Are you wondering why I've got so much to say? 
 I swear I'll send jou back to serve with long Sott, you beggar. 
 Unlimber, I tell you. . . . It's not the slightest use. Those 
 Frenchmen are brave fellows and'll get the Iron Cross, you'll 
 see, but a cross for our graves is all that ive'll get." 
 
 " What message shall I gi\e the battery from you, sir? " 
 I won't have them keep firing straight in my eyes like that. 
 Is that the way for men to behave? * In the name of three 
 devils,' does he say? They ought to shoot with turnips, that's 
 better than those filthy blank cartridges; and Captain Gleiser 
 ought to take oft" those patent-leather boots of his." 
 
 Hax had never been able to get on with the captain. 
 
 Jorn Uhl looked for Geert Dose, too, but couldn't find him. 
 On the second day he went to the lazarets again, but still sought 
 in vain. Thousands lay there in their mlser>\ 
 
 But on the third day he discovered him in the same narrow 
 room in which Captain Strandiger lay shot through the breast. 
 Both had been left untouched by the doctors. It would have 
 been useless.
 
 224 JORN UHL 
 
 Jorn Uhl straightened himself up before the captain and 
 saluted, but the wounded man only gazed at him vacantly with 
 great wild eyes, full of fever. Oh, stupid, stiff-jointed Jorn 
 Uhl ! Then he bowed over his comrade lying there on the damp, 
 crimson straw. 
 
 Geert Dose was perfectly conscious and quiet. His eyes 
 answered Jorn's greeting. There was the same look in them 
 as tliat day in the Rendsburg Barracks, as if to say, " Jorn, 
 lad, you and I are the only sensible people in the whole room." 
 But now it was bitter earnest. 
 
 " Can I do anything for you, Geert, old man? " 
 
 " No, Jorn, it's all over with me. I can't understand how 
 I'm still alive." 
 
 " Can't I do anything for you? Have you much pain? " 
 
 "Pain? There's none in the back; I don't think I've got 
 a back. But here in front from the breast up to the neck. 
 . . . But it's really all the same, Jorn ; no good talking. Only 
 I wish I could be back with father and mother just once more. 
 . . . Mother used to give me a nice clean shirt every Satur- 
 day, and here I have to lie like this. . . . This one's simply 
 filthy, Jorn." 
 
 " My shirt's not so fresh as it might be, Geert, but it's better 
 than yours." 
 
 He pulled his coat off and stripped off his shirt, and put 
 his arm around the wounded man to raise him. Geert gave 
 a sudden scream, his head fell back, and he was dead. 
 
 Jorn Uhl stood up to his knees in the blood-stained straw. 
 He looked at the dead man, and then at the captain, who, 
 with his head back and dilated eyes, was struggling and panting 
 for breath, and horror seized him for the terrible misery of men. 
 
 When he came back to the battery, Fiete Cray had been 
 there and gone away again. William Lohmann, however, 
 had just been put in irons for two hours for having been 
 drunk on the eighteenth. As a set-off and solace, however, he 
 learnt that he had been recommended for the Iron Cross for 
 having sponged his gun that day as if he were at home on Loher 
 Heath, one . . . and . . . two. 
 
 Such was the day of Gravelotte for the lads of Wentorf. 
 
 There came the camp in front of Metz, in the midst of wet 
 straw and evil smells, and with the plague of lice and vermin.
 
 JORN UHL 225 
 
 Many a one fell ill and had to be sent home. Jorn Uhl re- 
 mained in sound health, did his round of duties, and thou^iit 
 of the Uhl, where it was now harvest-time and the ploughs 
 were running. 
 
 Then came the most trying time of the war; long marches 
 right into the heart of France, and, as they marched, one fight 
 after another, all through the winter. To-day no water, and 
 to-morrow no bread; no fire i i-day, to-morrow no breath; no 
 roof to-day to cover them, to-morrow no shirt. 
 
 And every day the peasants of the country were comman- 
 deered for grave-digging! "There beneath the walnut-tree! 
 dig a grave, paysdn! Crsf f/io/i ranuiradi', cochon!" 
 
 It came to this at last, that they iiaid to their captain, " Sir, 
 none of us will ever go back home from this terrible war." 
 And the captain would stand and gaze away far oft into the 
 east. " And if we don't soon return home, we'll be no longer 
 of any use in the \\(jrld. We are no longer human beings, 
 but unclean animals." His hair had grown gray in those few 
 months of war. 
 
 Jorn Uhl marched with them, kept his gim polished, and 
 his men in fair discipline, and kept thinking to himself, " When 
 ploughing-timc comes around again, I must be back at the Uhl." 
 
 In the beginning of February, one rainy day, in a small town. 
 Corporal Uhl was missing at roll-call. The night patrol found 
 him lying in a gutter in a small street near the barracks. When 
 they took him in charge and brought him to the lazaret, he 
 whimpered, after the fashion of those who have fever, about 
 all sorts of trifling matters, the mud on his coat, and the loss 
 of his cap. They laid him in bed and went away. But as the 
 hospital warders did not watch him, he got up that same night, 
 put on his clothes ready for marching, and went out into the 
 street again. They found him next morning leaning against 
 a wall, dazed with sleep. He was taken back to the lazaret, and 
 there he lay ill with typhus. He was tortured with the fancy 
 that the new silver gun-sight had got lost, and that his men 
 supposed that he, Jorn Uhl, had thrown it away so as to escape 
 from serving against the French. The sick man carried this 
 torturing hallucination with him for more than a hundred 
 miles, and it did not vanish until he came under the care of 
 good nurses in Strasburg.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 FiETE Cray got his discharge from the army as early as 
 March, and went to see Jorn Uhl in the lazaret. He found 
 him almost well again, and took him with him to Hamburg. 
 
 So one afternoon Jorn Uhl, tall and lank, still pale, and 
 still a little listless, and little Fiete Cray, with his quick steps 
 and restless, prying eyes, passed through the Hamburg streets 
 looking for lodgings for the night. Both of them were dressed 
 in the threadbare old uniforms that had been given to them 
 to come home in. 
 
 As they walked along in this fashion, Jorn Uhl with his 
 eyes on the ground, and Fiete Cray with his eyes everywhere 
 about him, a tall, good-looking, fair-haired girl came in their 
 direction; her skin was fair, too, all white and red, in the 
 freshest bloom of youth ; she had a book under her arm, and 
 was simply and very soberly dressed. And Fiete Cray looked at 
 her, and couldn't help looking at her again ; for there's some- 
 thing peculiar in her face, something that reminds one of 
 Wodan's Heath and Haze Farm. The remarkable thing about 
 her, too, is that there's something lightlike and fugitive in her 
 bearing and in her hair and eyes, and that the shy gray eyes 
 are set a little slanting in her face, like the two wings of a 
 dove that is about to take flight. 
 
 An uncertain glance of recognition flies backwards and for- 
 wards between them. Both of them suddenly stop, and Jorn 
 Uhl, too, lifts his eyes. 
 
 " Oh, Jorn, Jorn! . . . How ill you look! Oh, Fiete Cray! 
 I have heard from Thiess that you have been with the others 
 in France, and that you're married. . . . Oh, Jorn ! what will 
 Thiess say! . . . Did you know that Thiess is back in Ham- 
 burg? " 
 
 It was Lisbeth Junker standing there before them, shaking 
 their hands as if she would never stop. Her eyes were like 
 
 226
 
 JORN UHL 227 
 
 two brilliant flames, like the May fires upon Ringelshorn, 
 especially when she looked at Jorn Ulil, especially Jorn Uhl. 
 
 " Is Thiess still here? " 
 
 "Yes. Just fancy! He's still looking for Elsbe, for he's 
 found out that she didn't sail with the ship she meant to. And 
 now one of our acquaintances will have it that he has seen her; 
 but there are others who think it possible that Harro Heinsen 
 got away before the war by way of Copenhagen," 
 
 " Do you know how things are going on in Wentorf ? Or 
 have you left there for good? " 
 
 " My grandparents are dead," she said, " but I know the 
 new teacher's wife very well. I was there only last Christmas." 
 
 "And what are you doing here?" 
 I'm staying with my aunt. She keeps a little shop for sta- 
 tionery, and in my spare time I'm taking lessons in bookkeeping." 
 
 " Can you tell us where Thiess is to be found? " 
 
 " Yes; and I'll come with you." 
 
 So they walked out to St. Paul's, a good, long distance, and 
 came into Mary Street, with its lofty, desolate-looking boarding- 
 houses. They climbed four flights of stairs, and Lisbeth Junker 
 opened a door at the end of a dark passage. There sat Thiess 
 Thiessen near a little iron stove. He was holding a small 
 coffee-mill between his knees and grinding away so intently 
 that he had not heard them come in. 
 
 " Oh, Jorn ! . . ." he said, springing to his feet. " There 
 you are at last! . . . Fiete! My laddie! Oh, Fiete! . . . 
 Children, what a wretched state of affairs this is! I'll have 
 the coffee-beans ground in a moment, and you shall drink as 
 much as you like." 
 
 He was now hunting about the room for his slippers. " It's 
 no matter, children; it's no matter! Here we are all to- 
 gether, and these four walls are now Haze Farm. Oh, the 
 poor little lass! . . . Lisbeth, haven't you seen her anywhere? 
 This is the time of day when poor folk's wives are abroad 
 in the streets, doing their buying. God knows, but the poor 
 lassie may have naught to buy with. Just think, Jorn. . . . 
 Just picture to yourself that little helpless soul in this great, 
 fearful city. . . . Fiete, I believe he beats her! He wants 
 to get to America with her. But I lurk about all the wharves, 
 so that he sha'n't get away with her. How can a man want 
 to go to America? A place like that, miles away from Haze
 
 228 JORN UHL 
 
 Farm? Lisbeth, lass, you make the coffee for them. Here's 
 the kettle! In this place the water runs out of the wall. At 
 our place down at the Haze it runs against it. It's a crazy, 
 topsyturvy world." 
 
 Fiete Cray pushed him back Into his chair, and said, " Now 
 just sit still there, Thiess, and don't go thinking that she'll let 
 him beat her. Here's your other slipper, Thiess. As soon as 
 she sees that he no longer cares for her, she'll run away from 
 him at once. According to my idea she's left him already, 
 only she won't venture to come back to Haze Farm, and is 
 fighting her way for herself, somewhere or other. She's afraid 
 of you and Jorn. Shame keeps her back." 
 
 Lisbeth thought that might be quite possible; and Jcirn 
 nodded. 
 
 " So there, now, Thiess. . . . And now bear in mind," said 
 Fiete, " that we've a long railway journey behind us ; and while 
 you're getting bread and coffee ready, we can go on yarning." 
 
 The conversation almost took a cheerful, sociable tone, thanks 
 to Fiete Cray, who coaxed the old farmer to talk, and thanks 
 to Lisbeth, who poured out the coffee and cut the bread. 
 
 " Sit down, old earthman," said Fiete Cray, " and be quiet. 
 You just see. We'll get Elsbe back again yet." 
 
 " Yes, Thiess. And now have something to eat. Here's 
 your cup." 
 
 " Do you know what? " said Fiete Cray, leaning back in his 
 chair as if he were quite at home. " This reminds me of one 
 of Wieten's fairy-tales. I don't set much store by such things 
 now, but this one has just come to my mind. You, Thiess, 
 are the good-natured old dwarf who took in the two tattered 
 and weary travellers. Then we got a beautiful glass princess 
 to wait on us. And afterward we'll go off on our journey 
 again, and find our sister at last." 
 
 " It's just like your impudence to say I'm made of glass! " 
 said Lisbeth, pouting. " There's still a good deal of the Cray 
 about you, it seems to me." 
 
 " And you've grown so fine and bonnie," he said, laughing 
 in her face; "and I've always thought you were a bit like 
 glass, haven't you, Jorn ? She never used to go through thick 
 and thin with us like Elsbe did, but alwajs stood a little 
 distrustfully to one side. And then, besides, it's more than a
 
 JORN UHL 229 
 
 year since such a neat little minx has poured out coffee for 
 nie. Hiank you kindly, Rain-tweet." 
 
 " You've always been fond of putting your nose In other 
 people's affairs, and seeing more tiian's good for you," she 
 said, with a toss of her head. The little maid no longer looked 
 at him or even at Jcirn, and was, truth to tell, really a little 
 stiff and glassy. 
 
 "Tell us about Elsbc! " said Fiete Cray, looking severely at 
 Thiess. " \ ou're certain to have stood godfather in the affair." 
 
 " Yes," said Thiess 'I'hiessen, w ith a groan. " But what is 
 there to tell? He used to visit her at Haze Farm, and I 
 went on sleeping and noticed nothing. I used to say, ' Child, 
 how pale you are! Diiln't you sleep well last night?' *I 
 slept fine,' she said, ' a queen couldn't have slept better.' And 
 I was so glad to hear it. Once she asked me, ' Tell me, Thiess, 
 isn't there an old law that when young folk have promised to 
 marry each other, they are like married people before God and 
 the world ? ' ' Yes, child,' I said, ' I've read in some old chron- 
 icle how Wolf Ironhrand, the hero of Hemmingstedt, spent the 
 night before the battle in the room of his lady-love. I believe 
 that's old Saxon or Frisian custom.' Well, we left that subject, 
 and I went on with my day-dreams. I'd say, ' Go for a drive 
 into town, Elsbe,' or Fd say, ' Stretch your wings and have a 
 fly into the forest, little Uhl.' But she'd go about the house, 
 whistling and singing and saying, ' I don't want the town and 
 I don't want the wood. Fm as merry as a cricket where I am.' 
 I still noticed nothing. Then one day Harro Heinsen came 
 riding up on his bay mare, and leapt the rails by the hedge gate, 
 and said he was going to propose to Elsbe, and laughed. 
 
 " Well, and then . . . five or six days afterward he came 
 back full of abuse for his father and for Klaus Uhl. ' They 
 neither of them were worth a penny,' he said. They could 
 not buy him a farm. When she heard this, the little lass 
 seemed of a sudden to lose her good spirits and looked quite 
 grave. Fve never seen her like that before. All her great 
 happiness was dashed to pieces. I said to them, ' Stay here 
 on Haze Farm. There is more to be made out of the old 
 place if a man was here who liked work.' Fm too sleepy, 
 Fiete. I confess it, and I won't make any secret about it. 
 But Heinsen laughed, and said he hadn't come down to being 
 a Geest farmer yet. I could see how eager she was to remain,
 
 230 JORN UHL 
 
 though. He dragged her away from the farm as one drags a 
 foal by the halter, that looks around when it gets to the gate 
 with a long look of regret." 
 
 He shook his head despairingly, and moved his feet about, 
 feeling for his slippers, and his eyes ran over with tears. 
 
 " I slept through it all," he went on, in a querulous voice; 
 " that's why I'm being punished for it now. I must sit here in 
 this hole, while many a mile from here Haze Farm lies bask- 
 ing in the sunlight, and the beautiful mounds of turf are piled 
 in the high grass, and the catkins hover about in the ditches, as 
 if they were listening to some slow, solemn music, and rock 
 themselves to the tune of it. And I dream every night and 
 look for the child in the reeds and can't find her, and while 
 I'm at it I tumble into the water, and wake up and can't get 
 to sleep again. You can see by that, Fiete, what a state I'm 
 in when I can't sleep any more. The old woman who lives 
 near me says it's homesickness, and she speaks the truth. It's 
 a terrible attack of homesickness that I have. You know my 
 little bedroom at Haze Farm, children. If ever I come back 
 to dwell in peace at the Haze, the first thing I'll do will be 
 to whitewash it, and out with those maps of foreign parts. . . . 
 The old woman wants to do what she can for me. She's got a 
 book on medicines, and gives me mercury and phosphates. She 
 says that's good for homesickness. But it's not only homesick- 
 ness I've got — it's a bad conscience; and she says there's 
 nothing for that in her medicine-book. I overslept myself, and 
 that's why I have to live here in misery now, and go running 
 about the wharves and the streets all day, and search about 
 among the reeds on the moors at night." 
 
 This was the way Thiess Thiessen complained. His thin, 
 drawn face looked very long, and his little, blinking, childlike 
 eyes seemed entreating help. He kept moving his leather 
 slippers backwards and forwards the while, and sometimes when 
 they got out of his reach he would half-raise himself from his 
 chair and fetch them back, gazing at his visitors the while. 
 
 During Thiess's explanation Fiete Cray had been leaning 
 across the table and gazing at the speaker. That comfortable 
 feeling which the poor hunted brush-maker's boy had so often 
 felt when he reached Haze Farm, in times gone by, had come 
 over him again. 
 
 Lisbeth looked at Thiess Thiessen with those pensive, earnest
 
 JORN UHL 231 
 
 eyes of hers, and now and again threw a swift glance in Jorn 
 Uhl's direction ; but he was sitting there mute, his eyes fixed 
 on the table. His heart was as though frozen and lifeless from 
 the illness he had undergone and the new cares he had to bear. 
 He did not look even at this maiden whom he had regarded 
 so affectionately from his earliest childhood, and v\hom he had 
 loved so when he was a boy, and who was now sitting before 
 him in the radiant freshness of her beauty. It was no hour for 
 him to think of love. 
 
 " I start of a morning at about eight o'clock," continued 
 Thiess; " and of an afternoon I'm ofif again searching through 
 all the streets where the poorer folk dwell, and along the 
 harbor. And five times," he said, and his voice was like that 
 of a child about to cry, " I've been by when they've pulled a 
 girl out of the water. I believe if ever she comes to want she'll 
 do it." 
 
 " No," said Fiete Cray, and for the second time he proved 
 himself a judge of character. " She won't do that. There's 
 no one clings more stubbornly to life than Elsbe. You don't 
 know her. . . . Have you looked for the name Heinsen in the 
 directory? Have you been to the police-station? " 
 
 " I haven't found a thing," said Thiess; " and the worst of it 
 is that many a time when I'm looking for her, and see some- 
 thing that strikes my fancy, I get dreaming over it, and stay 
 there and forget everything; for example, I fall to pondering 
 what the trolley-driver's thinking about, and how many children 
 the tram-conductor has, and where the big dog sleeps at night 
 and who he belongs to, and what the haggard old newspaper 
 woman must have looked like when she was still young and 
 sprightly. And then on the wharf, Fiete, I wonder what's in 
 the bales and sacks, and what sort of a look the people and lands 
 have where these things come from. And then the Punch and 
 Judy show down by the Sailors' Arms. Eh, Lisbeth? That's 
 the best thing in all Hamburg, isn't it? " 
 
 " Have you no friends or acquaintances, then ? " 
 
 " Yes," said the old fellow, somewhat embarrassed, " they've 
 got a kind of club here." 
 
 "What!" 
 
 " Well, you see, it's this way. Here to the left there lives a 
 cobbler who comes from the Geest, not far from ]\Ieldorf, and 
 right up there — do you see, Fiete ? — there, close to the tele-
 
 232 JORN UHL 
 
 graph wires, one of the Strackelmeiers lives — you know, the 
 Strackehneiers of Hinthorp. You know the family, Fiete. 
 You once bought a dog from them and sold it to me. A beast 
 that was no good, Fiete, and had never been properly trained. 
 He luis a wnfe and grown-up children, but 1 believe his wife 
 doesn't get on very well with him, and he's a small, insignifi- 
 cant man to look at. He's glad when he gets down and away 
 from his room up by the telegraph wires." 
 
 " Oh! and so they all come here to you, eh, Thiess?" 
 
 " Yes. You see, they have a sort of club ; a club is something 
 the same as what knock-off time is with us. So we sit together 
 here a bit and have a crack." 
 
 " What! do they both come here to you? " 
 
 " Yes, always. That's just it — they are both a little home- 
 sick. You haven't an idea, Fiete, how much homesickness there 
 is in this big tov\ n. Every third man has it ; not only those 
 who were born free in the open country, but their children, 
 too, have it in tlieir blood. It's only the third generation that 
 begin to take it in, how clever and knowing it is to live in flats 
 one above the other in narrow streets. . . . Well, these two 
 poor men come to me; for I heat the room with turf from 
 Tunkmoor; Eggert Witt brings it to me by the sack. And 
 on top of each sack there is always — not a golden bowl, Fiete, 
 but a good fresh loaf of home-made black bread. So you see 
 that this sack is, so to say, our club's foundation-stone. You 
 have noticed, Lisbeth, how a little smoke always comes out 
 when Strackelmeier opens the stove. He does it on purpose, 
 just because he wants to get a sniff. Fiete, you know the old 
 thatched cottage between Brickeln and Quickborn, just where 
 the road turns off to Grossenrahde ; well, that's where he comes 
 from. His father had a rye-paddock there to grow enough for 
 bread, and a little bit of turf-bog to bake the bread with. The 
 house had no chimney, and the smoke found its way out by 
 itself. He grew up in the smoke. He's all wrinkled brown 
 with it, and that's why he keeps so well preserved. When he 
 comes in, he raises his nose high, and wants to be terribly 
 sociable; doesn't he, Lisbeth?" 
 
 " Come," said Fiete Cray, " it's time for us to be going to 
 our lodgings. You'll soon look a different man, Jorn. Don't 
 you trouble, Thiess; 1 know a very good place for us to stay
 
 J O R N U H L 233 
 
 at in King Street. Won't you and Lisbeth come a piece of 
 the way with us? " 
 
 So they all four walked along together. Evening hud fallen ; 
 it had been raining heavily and was still dri/,/,ling. Yellow 
 and whitish liglits fell upon the dark streets, and on tlie watery 
 mirrors of the pavement. And Thiess turned his head and 
 stopped, and then ran in order to catch up u ith them, his hob- 
 nailed boots clattering on the pavement. 
 
 " It's just the sort of weather for her to be out," he said; 
 " the sort of weather for people who are ashamed, and arc not 
 well dressed, and sad." He looked up at them with a shy 
 smile. " 1 am thinking I'd like to walk up and down a bit 
 here," he said. 
 
 "You'll get wet through, Thiess; take the umbrella," said 
 Lisbeth. 
 
 " No, no. I'll soon get dry again. . . . You two will come 
 and see me again to-morrow, will you? And take care to 
 bring Lisbeth safe home." 
 
 So he said good-by, and they stood looking after him. They 
 saw his back all glistening with rain, as he went trotting along 
 in his high top-boots. Several passers-by stopped, and looked 
 after the little man. 
 
 " Oh, Thiess, Thiess," said Fiete Cray, " when we were 
 children and }ou used to play Tom Fool to make us laugh, 
 who would ever have suspected what was in you! This is a 
 bad day for the children of Wentorf! Come along, now, 
 Lisbeth." 
 
 The three walked on in silence. After awhile Fiete Cray 
 said, " I'll just go into this inn, and wait till you come back. 
 You'll see Lisbeth home; that's your business, you've always 
 been hand and glove together." 
 
 Jorn went with Lisbeth as far as her aunt's door. They 
 had little to say to each other. He asked her this and that 
 about her daily life, and she told him how kind and good her 
 aunt was to her, and how her life was rather quiet and lonely 
 and a little hopeless; in other respects she had little to com- 
 plain of. She said all this in the same reserved, shy way in 
 which she had always spoken. To her questions he gave but 
 short and scanty answers. She said not a word about the 
 times of her girlhood. As he gave her his hand to say good-by 
 she thawed a little, and held his hand fast in hers, and said.
 
 234 JORN UHL 
 
 " In the summer holidays, Jorn, I'm coming to Wentorf ; and 
 I am coming to see you, too, mind." 
 
 But as he seemed to take no notice of her words, she quickly 
 let his hand go and vanished behind the gently closed door. 
 
 He found Fiete Cray waiting at the inn. " Oh, , . ." said 
 Fiete, " I thought your good-by would have taken a bit longer! 
 But I suppose you know best! . . . And now I'll tell you 
 something. I'm not going to see Thiess Thiessen again, nor 
 Lisbeth Junker either, nor Wentorf either, but I'm going 
 straight back to America to-morrow." 
 
 " What? " said Jorn Uhl. " Do you mean to say you're going 
 away again without having seen your parents? " 
 
 " My parents," he said, " have cost me dear enough already. 
 Don't pull such a stupid face, Jorn, and I'll tell you about it. 
 Last summer when I got to Wentorf, just before the war 
 broke out, in order to claim a small legacy, what did I hear 
 but that my aunt wasn't dead at all. Some rogue of a farmer 
 had played a practical joke, and written a letter to my father, 
 saying she was dead, and would he come. So Jasper Cray 
 put on his black Sunday coat and went into town, but in the 
 gladness of his heart that the old body was dead at last, he 
 bought five or six great, big, expensive wreaths, with long 
 ribbons and beautiful inscriptions on them ; these he took with 
 him into an inn and there drunk a little more than was good 
 for him. In this condition, with his wreaths strung over his 
 arm and shoulder, he arrived at my aunt's. She happened to 
 be sitting at the window when he came up. Well — you can 
 paint the rest of the picture for yourself. ... So Jasper Cray 
 came back home again, wreaths and all. Mother cried and he 
 whistled. He whistled, and hung the six wreaths around the 
 four walls of our room. You know, Jorn, we Crays have a 
 great fancy for gay, bright things. It looked famous, I can 
 tell you. The broad, white ribbons hung down over the chair- 
 backs, so that we had the words on them right before our eyes : 
 ' Though lost to sight to memory dear,' ' In sad and loving 
 memory,' and ' Till we meet again,' and so on. And while 
 I'm sitting there and mother's telling me the miserable story, 
 and I'm thinking, ' It's for this you've left house and home 
 and wife, and come five thousand miles,' who should come in 
 but the town-messenger of Mariendonn. ' War against France,' 
 he says, and gives me a slap on the shoulder. ' You've just come
 
 JORN UHL 235 
 
 in the nick of time, Fiete Cray, and have to serve along with 
 the others.' So I sat down and wrote to Trina: ' Such and 
 such is the state of affairs, and 1 hope to come back safe and 
 sound, and when I come see if I don't carry you in my arms 
 for a month.' I thought of being away three months or so, 
 Jorn, and it's nearly a year, now, since I left her, and I've 
 never heard a word from her. So you can't be surprised that 
 I'm anxious about her, can you? although, mind you, I left 
 her in the care of a good friend. What's the object of going 
 back to Wentorf? . . . And one thing more, Jcirn Uhl. If 
 things at the Uhl go too much askew, don't go burying your- 
 self forever in this poverty and misery, but tear yourself loose 
 from the whole business and come over to me." 
 
 Jorn Uhl laid his clenched fist on the table and said, 
 " From the time I was twelve I have done nothing but worry 
 and work for the sake of the Uhl. I'm determined to see 
 whether I can't wrench it out of their hands after all." 
 
 Next morning Fiete Cray took ship back to America, and 
 Jorn Uhl returned to Wentorf. As soon as Thiess Thiessen 
 had seen Jorn's train steam out of the station, he went through 
 the city streets and renewed his search. 
 
 For eight years he lived in Hamburg continuing his search, 
 and Peter Suhm, Hans Suhm's son, managed Haze Farm for 
 him the while. 
 
 Sometimes tortured by the pangs of homesickness, he would 
 walk or go by train back to the Haze, loitering around the 
 house, drinking in the air, paying little visits to moor and 
 forest, and running over to Jorn Uhl at Wentorf, making all 
 sorts of little alterations on the farm, as if he meant to stay 
 there for good, and would remain four, nay, in very bad at- 
 tacks of his malady, even eight weeks at a stretch. Then rest- 
 lessness and sleeplessness would come upon him, and he had 
 to tear himself away from home with ever the same recurring 
 smart, and bury himself in the big town again, and live in 
 his little room with his iron stove, and his turf and his club, 
 and seek and seek through the long streets. 
 
 Those who dwelt by the side of the road that goes from 
 Wentorf to Hamburg by way of Itzehoe and Elmshorn, must 
 remember him still ; for he generally wandered along this long 
 highway on foot, being convinced that some day or other he
 
 236 JORN UHL 
 
 would meet her returning home that way. And those who 
 live in Hamburg and around St. Paul's as far as the Elbe 
 road must recollect the little man they so often saw tramping 
 through the streets in his big country boots and his short, 
 thick, dark gray jacket, and searching about with his little, 
 childlike, eager eyes. There was something of an odd monot- 
 onous jog in his walk; it was a jog such as folk get who 
 have repeatedly to traverse the same paths. What chiefly 
 struck people, however, was that he didn't pass along the street 
 with indifferent or inattentive gaze, but that his ferret-like eyes 
 seemed to dart every^where between the passing men and 
 women ; they noticed how at times he would stand back and 
 lean against a wall, and for a quarter of an hour at a time 
 watch with shrewd, yet kindly, dreamy eyes something or other 
 that had roused his interest in the hurly-burly of the streets.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 At various times in their history the people of this province 
 have returned home in various moods, according as they were 
 conquerers or conquered. For the land of Schleswig-Holstein 
 has from time immemorial been a very cradle of peoples and 
 princes. 
 
 In olden, far-off days, when the land had grown too narrow 
 for the folk who dwelled there, they equipped their big-bellied 
 ships with long oars of ashwood and broad gray sails, and 
 sailed oversea to Britain. And a few boats returned with 
 scanty crews, who went about from farm to farm, their long 
 hair tied with gay-colored ribbons of wool, and brought greet- 
 ings and messages from those over there in the new land. And 
 the messengers said that the land was fair, with broad plains 
 for horses to graze on, and deep lakes with fine fish in them, 
 and that the people who lived there were conquered ; and that 
 they had been sent to say that the gray-eyed Mechtild should 
 come over, and Traut, the red-haired maid, and little Emma 
 and many another, to be mistresses there on the broad farms, 
 and have many nimble thralls and servants to do their bidding. 
 And as the messenger went through the farm-gate on his way, 
 he shouted in his pride and glee and flung his spear into the 
 branches of the nearest linden. 
 
 Five hundred years later they were away eastward, driving 
 out the Wends, who had made a foray into their land. But 
 bet\veen Neumiinster and Eutin, as they were turning the 
 corner of a certain wood, lo! the wood became alive with 
 men. Swift Wends \\ere suddenly upon them, darting back- 
 wards and forwards till their heads were all in a whirl, and 
 still swifter Wendish arrows darted through the air, disabling 
 many a stalwart man. That time they came home to their 
 firesides w ith long drooping moustaches and gloomy looks. 
 
 Another five hundred years and the Dane was harrj'Ing the 
 
 237
 
 238 J R N U H L 
 
 land. Its wealth and the yeomen's long-haired daughters had 
 enticed him thither. They called out the land-guard, the bells 
 from every village rang out their tocsins, and beacon-fires 
 flamed along the dikes. The sea, their neighbor and at most 
 times their foe, made a league with them for three days, and 
 they smote their enemy, and caught his army by the throat 
 and smothered it in the mire of the bogs. And when Hinnerk 
 Wiebers returned to his farm, he found his wife sitting by 
 the hearth, and flung at her feet the golden cups that he had 
 got in the pillage of the king's carriage, and laughed as he tied 
 up his tawny hound with the golden chain which Duke Adolf 
 of Holstein had hung around the neck of the proud chevalier 
 of Wisch. 
 
 Various were the moods in which they returned home from 
 abroad. Not always with the exultation of a victor. . . . 
 Five and twenty of them from Hemmerwurth — which is a 
 little village at the mouth of the Eider — manned two ships 
 and declared war against Hamburg, and would fain have 
 blockaded the Elbe. Hemmerwurth against Hamburg. They 
 were taken prisoners and cast into the tower where the dun- 
 geons are darkest. Finally, those of them were released who 
 could pay their share toward the thousand Liibeck marks 
 ransom that Hamburg demanded. All of them could do so 
 except Maas Jarring. He had no money. Neither would any 
 of his comrades help him, for he had a wanton tongue, and 
 was a rogue to boot. In his despair, therefore, he gave his 
 companions who were returning home a written pledge, swear- 
 ing by St. Anne of Bosbiittel, the grandmother of the blessed 
 Redeemer, that he would marry Telse Bokel, who was no 
 beauty. So she paid his ransom for him, and he was released 
 and came back home. Not with the exultation of a victor. 
 
 There is no end to such stories. For the land is old, and 
 has witnessed many a strange thing. 
 
 Jorn Uhl did not return with the feelings of a victor, nor 
 did he by any means expect any one to hail or honor his coming 
 with flag or festival. On the contrary, it seemed quite natural 
 to him that it was gloomy weather, and that the long sullen 
 ships of fog should be moored on both sides of his way through 
 the fields. 
 
 In the half-light of evening he saw that the land had been 
 badly ploughed, and that the wheat-fields were unevenly sown.
 
 JORN UHL 239 
 
 The hedge-gate of the grazing-paddock was broken down, and 
 lay projecting into the road, so that the cart-wheels had had 
 to make a bend to avoid it. "lliey had all been too lazy to 
 put the obstacle aside. He laid his bundle down in the wet 
 grass, and put the gate on its hinges again. 
 
 As he issued from the lane of poplars he saw light stream- 
 ing from the iiigh unshuttered windows; it fell bright upon 
 the stones of the courtyard, and touched the sandstone door- 
 posts, so that the golden letters on them gleamed, showing 
 where the names of the Uhls that had lived on the farm were 
 inscribed from generation to generation. As Jorn Uhl looked, 
 young people came out over the threshold, talking, and glancing 
 up to see what the weather was like, and then went inside 
 again. He withdrew deeper into the shadows of the poplars, 
 and went along the servants' path to the back of the house, 
 where there was a door that led into the threshing-floor. The 
 young people had caught sight of a dim form passing, and 
 one of them said, " There's a fellow going to stand at Wieten 
 Klook's window." 
 
 A moment afterward he heard his brother's voice : " Man 
 alive! if I didn't know he's got typhus, I'd have sworn that 
 that was Jorn." 
 
 He tried to make as little noise as possible with his iron- 
 clamped shoes, and, coming to the door, was surprised to 
 find it open ; for this was part of Wieten's work, and was 
 always attended to. With his hand stretched out before him 
 in the dark, he passed across the long floor. He gave his 
 arm a knock against a piece of wood, and recognized the oat- 
 box in front of the horse-racks. Next moment his foot made a 
 rustle in some straw, and the soft sound told him that they 
 were oat-sheaves. He stooped and caught hold of the head of 
 the sheaf, which had ripened and been harvested while he was 
 away in France, and was now lying there for the flail of the 
 thresher. Then he began to feel himself at home once more. 
 
 And again he wondered that the door that led into the 
 middle hall stood open, and that flickering firelight fell on 
 the floor from the open kitchen door, as though to guide some 
 one thither through the dark. He stole up to the kitchen 
 slowly and hesitatingly, ready to go to his room at once if 
 strangers were there. But there was nobody but ^Vieten 
 sitting there knitting by the unsteady light of the fire, with
 
 240 JORN UHL 
 
 her spectacles on her nose, and looking over the top of her 
 spectacles at him ; he heard her voice trembling with restrained 
 feeling, saying, " And there thou art at last . . . laddie. . . . 
 I have been expecting thee all day. ... I have got the coffee 
 on. See . . . it'll soon be ready." 
 
 She had stood up and was trying, after the way of our 
 people, to control her feelings; she put out her hand to catch 
 hold of the kettle that was on the knob. But her great long- 
 ing and the joy in having him home safe and sound once more 
 caught her outstretched hand and forced it in another direction. 
 And, lo! there lay the hand trembling on his arm. 
 
 " Wieten! " he said, " my old Wieten ! " He felt shyly for 
 her hand, and took it caressingly in his. " Art thou so glad, 
 then, that I am back again? And hast thou been well all 
 the while I have been away, Wieten? And art still hale and 
 hearty, eh ? " 
 
 She could only nod, for something kept rising in her throat 
 and choking her voice. Then she laid her knitting away on 
 the window-sill, and said, " Bring it into the sitting-room to 
 us, Lena." 
 
 Then for the first time Jorn noticed a tall girl standing 
 over by the dresser gazing at him. The firelight now fell on 
 her as she crossed the room, and he looked at her, and her 
 looks pleased him; for she was tall and well grown, and had 
 a certain dignity in her walk. Her face, besides, was fresh- 
 colored, all white and pink and softly rounded, and her hair 
 was yellow and wavy ; only around the ears there were little 
 curls big enough for one to put one's finger into. Jorn thought 
 he had never yet seen so fresh and comely and at the same time 
 so decent a girl. And it pleased him, too, to see how she 
 nodded to him and wished him good evening, and looked at 
 him with such frank curiosity and such kindly, earnest eyes. 
 
 It was a good sign that the first question he asked after 
 he came home was about this girl. 
 
 " Where in the world did you get her from, Wieten? " 
 
 " Oh, that is Lena Tarn," she said. " She's been here in 
 service since November. . . . And now drink your coffee, Jorn. 
 They're at their capers again in the front room. Hinnerk's 
 been buying horses, and it's not enough that he's paid through 
 the nose for them, but he must go and give the dealers a wine
 
 JoRN UHL 241 
 
 supper as well. . . . She gets sixty shillings a year as wages 
 — a great deal too much, In my opinion." 
 
 " Is she really as good as she looks? " 
 
 " Oh, as you know well enough, Jorn, there's always some 
 drawback to them. . . . She sings too much for my fancy." 
 
 "Sings, does she? But she looks so sensible." 
 
 " Oh, I see. \'ou think she nmst be a bit of a saint because 
 she looks so grave and innocent, eh, laddie? But not by a 
 long way, Jorn — not by a long way. Anything but that." 
 
 " Rather wild, is she? " 
 
 " No. I wouldn't like to say that of her. It's only that 
 she's so sing}', and she's a trifle too saucy and plain-spoken 
 for me. That's a thing I don't like in a girl. . . . There, do 
 you hear that? " 
 
 They could hear her singing away to herself in the next 
 room. 
 
 " But, Wieten, I'd like to know who'd sing if not young 
 girls. . . . Does she share your room?" 
 
 " Yes; she sleeps there, too. That's one of the conditions 
 she made when she entered service here. Her parents are 
 respectable folk, and she likes to keep to herself. I must say 
 that for her. But, as I say, she's too singy, and wants too 
 much of her own way. That's all I've got to say about her. 
 . . , Now, do drink your coffee, Jorn." 
 
 He ate and drank, and then said: " Now, Wieten, just sit 
 yourself down in that chair of yours, and tell me how it came 
 about that you were expecting me home to-night?" 
 
 " What a question, Jorn! Do you think 1 couldn't feel it in 
 all my limbs that you were on your way back? The doors 
 would have been left open for you all night, and I wouldn't 
 have stirred from the fireside, and that's a fact, Jorn," 
 
 She had opened his bundle and spread out his linen, and 
 was astonished to find it all in such good repair. He told 
 her how a kind-hearted woman had given him a good supply 
 while he lay ill in the lazaret, 
 
 " And then, Jorn," she said, after awhile, " it was high time 
 you came home again." 
 
 She went ofif to the wash-house for a moment, and then 
 came back again and stirred the glowing turf-fire with the 
 tongs, and he saw that she was weeping. " One can't shut 
 one's eyes to the way everything's going to ruin on a farm
 
 242 JORN UHL 
 
 where one's grown old and gray. And there's Elsbe's life 
 ruined, and then what's to become of you, Jorn? I feel as 
 if you two were my own children, and so I must just tell you 
 everything. There isn't an afternoon goes by but your father 
 drives off into town, and then comes back and sits in the public- 
 house that's kept by that Torkel. You know the man, Jorn; 
 he has a good-for-nothing wife and two loose-living daughters. 
 And your brothers have grown worse than ever with their 
 drinking ways, and are always running after the girls. I know 
 for a fact, too, that there are some people who want money 
 paid back that they've been swindled out of by them. Up to 
 the present I've lived an honest life, Jorn, and grown gray 
 without disgrace." 
 
 The ruin of his family now loomed huge and threatening 
 before him. He went to the window; and Wieten went, too, 
 still weeping to herself, and, as she stood there, chanced to 
 look out. It was a starry moonlight night, although some- 
 what misty and cloudy. She began lamenting that she had 
 not made them carry away the plough that was lying there 
 across the drive. One could see the polished iron gleaming 
 in the moonlight. " The man who had been ploughing was 
 tipsy, and didn't want to go out in the rain again. When your 
 father comes home to-night, his horses may shy at it." 
 
 " The horses are accustomed enough to night-work by this 
 time," he said. " Come, let us go to bed now." 
 
 " But won't you look into the front room and let your 
 brothers know you're come back again, Jorn?" 
 
 " No. I've come home rather too soon for them. Let us 
 go to sleep, now. Is that girl in bed yet? Give an eye to 
 her, Wieten, and see that she doesn't fall into the hands of 
 those louts in there. It would be a pity. Elsbe's gone to 
 the bad, — let one be enough." 
 
 They parted without saying good night, for almost before 
 they had finished what they had to say, they were both lost 
 in anxious thought. After his old custom, Jorn threw himself 
 down on his bed without undressing, so as to be ready to 
 attend to the horses when his father came home. But he 
 could not rest, so he got up again and went to the window 
 and looked out into the night. And Wieten was standing at 
 her window, too, at the verj'^ same time, bending forward to 
 get another look at the plough. She sighed as she saw it
 
 J O R N U H L 243 
 
 gleaming there, and shook her head as tliough in fear and 
 dread of it. Then both lay down once more, and when they 
 had done so their souls were drawn down, despite all will of 
 theirs, into vast abysms of gloom and dreams, and had no 
 power to escape. And while they moaningly wrestled with 
 the darkness, and whilst the maid Lena, too, talked to herself 
 in restless sleep, there arose a dull sound of something moving 
 in the dark stables, of things dragging heavily and scraping 
 over the long floors; and the great double doors between the 
 rooms flew open as with a heavy blow. But none of them 
 were able to shake off their slumber; dark, mighty hands held 
 them down in sleep. 
 
 A little before six o'clock next morning, before day had yet 
 dawned, Jasper Cray came into the kitchen. He was not a 
 little taken aback when he saw Jorn standing near Wieten 
 by the fireside. But he said quietly enough, as though he 
 might be speaking of an accident to a cart-horse, " Just come 
 out a moment, Jorn, will you. The master's cart's capsized, 
 and he's fallen against the plough. I fancy he's got more than 
 is good for him," and he tapped his forehead significantly. 
 
 Wieten Klook gave a loud cry and buried her face in her 
 hands. "Oh! the plough! " she wailed. " I saw it all coming, 
 but couldn't lift a finger to hinder it." 
 
 With a spring Jorn Uhl was outside, and found his father 
 lying there. He was lying in the damp grass, half in a pool 
 of water, and was all splashed with mud. His thin hair was 
 saturated with blood, and his muttered words showed that 
 his mind was wandering. He wanted to stay in bed, he said ; 
 they ought to go away and do the ploughing, it was too much 
 for him. And then he rambled on about how he had got 
 under the plough while laying the furrows. The chaise had 
 upset, and the horses had dragged the fragments of it along 
 as far as the barn-door, where they w-ere found standing. 
 
 His people carried Klaus Uhl into the house and laid him 
 on his bed. Then the doctor was sent for, and he declared 
 that the shock and fright had brought on an apoplectic seizure 
 which had been threatening him for years. He might live to 
 be an old man, and it was possible that with time his con- 
 dition would improve; but he would never be able to get about 
 again with ease. He would never fully recover his faculties.
 
 244 JORN UHL 
 
 Three days later little Mr, Whitehead once more made his 
 appearance at the farm. With a grave look on his face, he 
 went up to Jorn, who was busy feeding the horses. " I have 
 heard of your father's accident, and I've come to ask some- 
 thing of you. If you're agreeable we'll just step into that 
 little room that used to be your bedroom when you were a lad, 
 and sit there with your brothers for a bit." 
 
 " I sleep there still," said Jorn. 
 
 " Indeed! " said the old man, and took a good look at him. 
 " That's like j'ou. I'm sorry that your sister, Elsbe, has made 
 a very unfortunate marriage, as I hear. She was very friendly 
 and kind to me that time." 
 
 Jorn made no answer, but led the way to his little bedroom. 
 Then he went out and called to his brothers to come in. 
 They came with surly reluctance, and a look of disdain on 
 their handsome, arrogant faces. On the way to France, Hin- 
 nerk, who was in a tipsy state among some of his sottish com- 
 panions, had fallen and broken his leg on the railway platform 
 at Diisseldorf, while getting into the train, and he had only 
 himself to thank that he had been unable to take part in the 
 campaign. He was a braggart by nature, a far greater 
 one even than his father had been, for he was without his 
 father's intelligence. He would dearly have liked to go to 
 France with the others, simply so as to be able to boast of 
 his doings afterward. It was intolerable that he could not 
 strike his breast, and speak of his part in the great war. He 
 would have been another of those heroes who, in the first years 
 after the war, used to twirl first one end of their moustache, 
 " 'Seventy! " then the other, " 'Seventy-one! " Then proudly 
 smiling, with a grand air, both ends together, adding: "Went 
 through 'em both! " Not being able to boast in this way, he 
 had now begun to give free play to his coarser nature. He 
 must needs act the braggart — now more than ever. He must 
 beat the others at it, and he did so by living a dissolute life 
 and indulging in vulgar oaths. 
 
 "Now listen carefully to what I've got to say!" said the 
 old man. " I've been sent here by the savings-bank people, 
 and I've come on my own accoimt as well. About twelve years 
 ago we two, the bank and myself, had a rather large sum of 
 money we wanted to invest, and we offered it privately. Your 
 father took the loan, giving this farm, which had been till then
 
 J O R N U H L 245 
 
 unmortgaged, as security; although the burden was heavy 
 enough, the farm could have stood it. To tell the truth, 
 though, we were surprised at him mortgaging the place so 
 heavily; but he told us he knew of a capital investment for 
 his ready money, and we believed him, for in those days he 
 was thought to be a shrewd, long-headed, well-to-do man, 
 although he was living at a pretty fast pace, and spending a 
 lot of money. IJut, later on, we began to see plain enough 
 how fast he was going down-hill, and as his sons grew up, 
 they began doing what they could to help him squander his 
 money. So we kept an eye on his aifairs, and two years ago 
 we warned him of how things were going. Finally matters 
 got too bad, and now we have had to give him notice that the 
 farm is no longer worth the original valuation. He got the 
 letter three (Ia\s ago. That same m'ght he met with his acci- 
 dent, and it has injured him, as I hear, so badly that, though 
 he may live on for many a year, it's not likely he'll ever have 
 his full mental powers again." 
 
 " So that's the state of affairs, is it? " said Heinrich. " Well! 
 well!" His face had grown white, and his eyes had a sharp, 
 angry look in them. 
 
 " Yes, young man, that's how matters stand," said the old 
 gentleman, nodding his head. " And now you can take your 
 choice. Either we'll have to bring the estate into the In- 
 solvency Court, and in that case it's a question whether the 
 three of you wouldn't have to go out into the world without 
 a penny to call your own, or we'll hand the farm over to you, 
 Jorn, regarding it as security for the whole debt, and we'll 
 see what you can make of it. Of course, you'd have to be 
 responsible for the smaller sums that are due, too. And as 
 for you other two, we arc willing to give you two thousand 
 marks each, on condition that you agree to quit the farm for 
 good and all. That's the offer we have to make you." 
 
 Jfirn sat there, gazing at the old chest, ant! felt happy. 
 "What! is the farm mine?" he thought. "What! am I 
 master here? " And then, as suddenly, he felt ashamed of such 
 thoughts. 
 
 Hinnerk beckoned to Hans, and they left the room together, 
 and, as of their own accord, they went to their father's bedside. 
 Wieten Penn, who had been sitting there, left the room when 
 they entered.
 
 246 JORN UHL 
 
 The}' had been wont to come to him only when they wanted 
 a few gold pieces from him. This time their visit was prompted 
 by far different motives. Their father was lying in a deep 
 sleep and did not hear them. 
 
 Then Hinnerk broke forth, declaring that old Whitehead 
 was a liar. Things were not so bad as they looked, he said, 
 and they must mind what they were doing and not be too hasty 
 in coming to a settlement. But though they talked for some 
 time in this strain, they did not take long to discover that 
 they had, as a matter of fact, no doubt whatever as to the 
 truth of what they had just heard ; so they said no more. 
 
 Then they commenced to hurl reproaches at each other: 
 " You've gambled away thirty pounds this winter," and 
 " You've lost pretty well a hundred with your clumsy horse- 
 dealing." They were glaring at each other, and it wanted 
 little more and they would have come to blows. But they 
 began to think about their future, and grew glum and moody 
 again. They had come to that place where a certain one had 
 said, " I cannot dig, to beg I am ashamed." And a feeling 
 came over them such as comes over a man when he dreams 
 he has lost both his arms and has to fight his way through 
 the world v\ ithout them. Hinnerk turned toward the bed and 
 raised his clenched fists, shouting the very words his eldest 
 brother had once used five years before: "What have you 
 ever taught us? But there'll come a day of reckoning yet, man. 
 Hark 3'ou ! A day is coming when you'll have to pay for 
 your misdeeds, I tell you, as sure as God's in heaven." At 
 that moment he firmly believed in a life beyond this world, 
 and did so because he wished that his father might come to 
 judgment there. Hans stood by the bed mute and motionless. 
 He saw his father's face working and twitching as with the 
 woe of vague and wordless things. 
 
 Hinnerk tossed his father's clothes about Impatiently, search- 
 ing for the keys, and, having found them, he unlocked the 
 heavy polislied chest that stood in the corner and hunted for 
 money In a drawer with which he seemed familiar. But noth- 
 ing was to be found there beyond a piece of paper and a little 
 gold necklace of old-fashioned and clever workmanship, to 
 which a seal and a wedding-ring were attached. He opened 
 out the paper and found on It a short column of figures 
 showing the sum of his father's debts. In addition to the
 
 J O R N U H L 247 
 
 heavy niortj2;age, there were bills uf promise amounting to over 
 £500, Underneath their father had written in a careful copy- 
 book hand, " I am at the end of my tether." 
 
 "Ho! ho!" said Hinncrk, "so that's how thinfjs stand! 
 Here we've f;;ot it in black and white before our very eyes, 
 and I'll wager Jorn needn't expect to be long in possession, 
 either. He'll be badgered and baited to death over these bills, 
 and then they'll wind up by driving him from the farm 
 altogether. It's no use, Hans, we must pack up and be off. 
 There's nothing to be had here. Not a single rotten old 
 board on the whole place can we call ours any longer." He 
 took up the little chain, tore off the pendants and gave them 
 to his brother. Later on Hinncrk lost the chain at cards. 
 Hans, however, has kept the golden trinkets to this day in 
 memory of his mother, and always wore them on his w^atch- 
 chain even after he had had to sell the watch itself to buy 
 bread for his children. 
 
 They took one more look around and went out. Old White- 
 head was pacing up and down the big hall, and said to them 
 as they reappeared, " Not found anything? Will you take your 
 hundred pounds, then, after all?" 
 
 " Can we get the money to-day? " 
 
 " At four o'clock this afternoon our agent will be at the 
 Hollanderei to meet you. He will go wMth you to the notary." 
 
 Then they went out and packed their Sunday clothes up in 
 the little portmanteaus they had once used in their soldiering 
 days. They gave orders that the horses should be harnessed 
 and that Jasper Cray should drive them. Jorn followed the 
 latter into the stable. " The turn-out belongs to me," he said, 
 in a proud, harsh voice, " and I hold you responsible for it. 
 See that you have it back here at the Uhl in good time this 
 evening." 
 
 And outside, as they stood beside the buggy, gazing once 
 more over the farm as far as they could see, over the broad 
 fields that lay west of Ringelshorn, and formed the most val- 
 uable part of the estate, they grew silent and grave. Hinnerk's 
 face was white as he stood there grinding his teeth. Hans 
 said to his youngest brother, " Father is the most to blame, 
 but we haven't acted as we should, either. It's only right, I 
 suppose, that you should be master here. See that the old
 
 248 J R N U H L 
 
 place doesn't fall into the hands of strangers." He turned 
 around and got up into the vehicle. 
 
 Then they drove ofi without casting a single look behind 
 them. 
 
 Jorn stood gazing after the buggy for a long time, plunged 
 deep in thought ; then he turned toward the door, and found 
 Thiess Thiessen's little thin figure standing there beside old 
 Whitehead. 
 
 " Jorn, laddie! " he said. " This old man, that I've known 
 for thirty years and more, has ^ent to Hamburg for me to 
 come and give you my advice in this fix you're in. Jorn, my 
 lad, as I've always said, what has the past got to do with us? 
 Let the dead rest in peace. What do we want with Wulf 
 Isebrand or with Napoleon? Yes, indeed, I'll say the same 
 of my sister, too. May she rest in peace. And that's enough 
 said on that point. But it's what's ahead of us, Jorn, that we 
 must look to, and look to right well and carefully. We must 
 have a care, Jorn, we must have a care what we do. The 
 things that are still to happen in the world's history, that's 
 what our trouble is, Jorn. And as far as you're concerned the 
 rest of the world's history now lies right at your very feet. . . . 
 I was with your father a moment ago, and Wietcn has told me 
 everything. Come along inside. Those marplots of brothers 
 of yours are gone. Good sense now reigns at the Uhl. Come, 
 we'll have a cup of coffee, and, what's more, we'll drink it in 
 your little bedroom by the window. I'm to give you kind 
 regards from Lisbeth — a thousand of them, I believe she said."
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 When of a sudden some great event like a mighty giant 
 bursts in upon mankind, brushing them with sleeve and gar- 
 ment as it passes, the souls of those who are touched start 
 and tremble and remain quivering with emotion for a longer 
 or shorter time, according to the greatness or suddenness of 
 what has happened. It is then that the nature and character 
 of mortals reveals itself, their tongues grow voluble, and their 
 ears sharper. They are then like land that has been ploughed 
 deep and that sends up a strong odor of the fresh earth. 
 
 They were sitting in the little room. Gold-rimmed cups 
 with blue flowers on them were standing on the chest. The 
 two old men had lit their short pipes and began to console 
 the down-hearted youth from the high vantage-ground of their 
 long experience and settled position in life. 
 
 " We want to do what we can for you, Jorn," said White- 
 head, putting on his pleasantest look; "but at the same time 
 we want our money back." 
 
 " Especially the latter," said Thiess. 
 
 " At present," the old man went on to say, " the farm is a 
 little too heavily mortgaged ; for there are still certain bills 
 of promise to be taken into consideration, and the working 
 plant is none of the best. We should be losing money if we 
 brought the farm under the hammer, so we're going to hand 
 it over to you, my lad." 
 
 " You see, you've got to earn the money for them, Jorn," 
 said Thiess. 
 
 " Yes, our money for us, and the farm for himself. Then, 
 later on, when prices rise, as they do after every war, he'll 
 be able to work off the debt little by little, till the day comes 
 when he can say, * The farm's mine! ' " 
 
 " What do you say to It, Jorn? " asked Thiess. 
 
 " What do I say to it? " cried Jorn, and it was the first time 
 
 249
 
 250 JORN UHL 
 
 in his life that he made a quick gesture to help out his speech, 
 thrusting out before him his two great empty hands. " Is 
 father to be carried from the farm in his bed ? Am I to let 
 the old place go? All that I can do to hold on here, that I 
 promise you I will do. You can make sure of that, Thiess." 
 
 " Good ! " said Whitehead. " Now let us talk about some- 
 thing else." He puffed vigorously at his short pipe and looked 
 benignantly at Jorn, who was now sitting there with that 
 same old inscrutable look on his face. 
 
 " You must marry," he said to Jorn. " It's not a good 
 thing for man to be alone, either by night or by day, in joy 
 or in sorrow. You've a bit of an inclination to fight shy of 
 double harness." And he asked him, half in jest and half in 
 earnest, whether he should choose a mate for him. " I know 
 some nests with golden eggs on the Geest," he said ; " you'd 
 be helping yourself and us at the same time, Jorn." 
 
 But Jorn only said, " The housekeeper will stay on at the 
 Uhl. A wife I've no need of." 
 
 As he said this, the fair-haired Lena had come into the room, 
 bringing a jug of cream for them. She caught the words of 
 the new-fledged young landowner, and gave her head a proud 
 toss as she thought to herself, " Don't we think we're wise, 
 to be sure." 
 
 " Do you know what, Jorn?" said old Whitehead, genially. 
 " I knew that housekeeper of yours more than forty years ago. 
 I've a mind to tell you both, but especially you, Jorn, what 
 I know of her young days." 
 
 Lena Tarn was about to leave the room, but he said to her, 
 " If you've time, my girl, you can stay and listen, too. It 
 will do you no harm to hear the story. There's something of 
 olden times about it. It might have been dug out of Rudens- 
 berg where the old Huns' graves lie. The story's as old as 
 the world and as deep as man's life. It's a long, long tale, 
 but I'll cut it short, and tell you only the parts that have to 
 do with Wieten Penn." 
 
 Having said this, the old man opened his eyes wide, took 
 a few pulls vainly at his pipe, and laid it beside him. Lena 
 Tarn sat down near Thiess Thiessen, whom, together with 
 Whitehead, she had seen to-day for the first time, and thought, 
 " They're a queer trio, and no mistake." While the story 
 was being told, she looked from one to the other, with eyes
 
 JORN UHL 251 
 
 full of droll fun and curiosity. She was far more interested 
 in these three people with whom she was sitting than in the 
 story itself. But it must be confessed that it was Jorn she 
 looked at most, quietly admiring his long, grave face, with its 
 deep-set, quiet eyes. She looked at him without shyness, but 
 with a kind of trustful curiosity. 
 
 " Well, in my young days there lived in Schenefeld a young 
 fellow who had his share of good looks and plenty of pride 
 in him, althoufrh he came of poor parents. He and I went 
 to the Board School there together. He had always been fond 
 of horses, and so later on he got a place as stable-boy on a 
 big estate near Schenefeld. He did his work well, and always 
 went about the place looking a bit gloomy and never had a 
 word for any one. He never seemed to show what fire and 
 life there was in him, except when he rode the horses along 
 the track that ran around the farm. The master had an only 
 daughter, and this girl used to gaze at him, and go from one 
 window to another, following him with her eyes as he rode 
 along, and her glance grew bright and her cheeks flushed. 
 But as for him, he had no eyes for anything but his horses. 
 One day, after she had been watching him as usual, she went 
 into the stable just as he had brought the horse in, and was 
 about to groom it, and tried to get him to talk to her a bit. 
 But it was always the same — he spoke coldly to her, but 
 kindly enough to the beasts. 
 
 " Tlien she made up her mind to go one step farther. She 
 wanted to show him that he was on the wrong track if he 
 thought she looked down on him because he was only a servant, 
 and that he must show that he had the pride that belongs to 
 honest poverty. So when a good chance came she said to him, 
 ' I'd like you to know that in my eyes you're better than all 
 the farmers' sons in the land put together.' As soon as she 
 had said it, she rushed away up into the high loft behind the 
 pigeon-house, and didn't come down again for two hours or 
 more. 
 
 " It's not rightly known exactly how far this warm-hearted 
 girl went in her admiration for him. Be that as it may, a day 
 came when she threw her arms around her father's neck and 
 told him that for three nights she hadn't closed her eyes, and 
 that she must and would marry the groom. Well, her father
 
 252 JORN UHL 
 
 had a soft heart, and she was his only child, so he gave his 
 consent. It's said that he did it with a heavy heart, though. 
 
 " Anyhow, it's certain enough that she had let him know 
 too plainly how fond she was of him, and it made him look 
 down on her a hit. She wasn't the sort of girl whose picture 
 he, as every young man does, carried in his heart. She was 
 a soft, dreamy creature, hot-blooded and sentimental. The 
 sort of wife for him would have been a woman with quiet, plain 
 ways, with a big, stately figure, and plenty of womanly dig- 
 nity, too. 
 
 " The very next day after the wedding, he spent the whole 
 morning among his horses, looking them over and sorting 
 them out, and on the following day he drove in to market and 
 bought and exchanged horses. His wife stood at the bedroom 
 window and gazed after him with eyes full of angry tears. 
 
 " First a daughter was born to them, and in the course of 
 time a son, but it brought them no closer together; just the 
 opposite, in fact. For now that she had the children around 
 her, he thought he could go his own ways more than ever. 
 They were the ways of a diligent, capable, honest, business 
 man. He went in chiefly for horse-dealing, and made a name 
 for himself in this particular line. His wealth increased, and 
 in the course of years, through having to do with cavalry 
 officers who bought horses from him, he became a man with a 
 good knowledge of the world and of polite and easy bearing. 
 
 " The more his affairs prospered the more his inborn dis- 
 position prompted him to look upon a steady, sober efifort to 
 get on in life as the only aim worthy of an intelligent man. 
 Everything connected with what people call ideals he looked 
 at askance. This one-sidedness was fostered in him, too, by 
 the sight of the soft and fantastic life of sentiment, as he 
 deemed it, that prevailed in his home, and was exhibited in 
 his wife, and before long in his children as well. 
 
 " The husband was always away from home, and so the two 
 children were wholly and solely in the mother's hands. They 
 didn't go to school, but their mother taught them at home. 
 There wasn't much of the schoolroom style about the way 
 she taught them, but, all the same, the children got on so 
 well that the school authorities had no reason to interfere. 
 They were taught chiefly by means of the tales and fairy-stories 
 that their mother told them, and which they had to repeat
 
 J R N U H L 253 
 
 to her in their own words. And she made it a rule that the 
 books containing these stories should remain locked up in a 
 cupboard, and never permitted the children by any chance to 
 take one into their hands. All their pleadings to be allowed 
 to see these books were in vain. Sometimes, on fine days in 
 summer, or on holidays, the three of them would dress up in 
 finery that had belonged to their grandparents, and that lay 
 in a trunk in the attic; so they decked themselves out in grand 
 costumes, acting the tales they had so often heard. Or again 
 they would go, clad in their simple every-day clothes, into the 
 woods, and pass away the afternoon in some glade, sitting 
 camped around a fire, pretending to be gipsies or fugitives or 
 anything else that happened to occur to them. And in these 
 games and rambles they always used to let a little orphan girl, 
 who lived w ith them, take part. She had been handed over 
 from the poorhouse to help at the farm. And her name was 
 Wieten Penn. 
 
 " It seemed like the life in some happy fairy-tale. Human 
 life itself, in all its fulness of promise and strength, and all its 
 gay and manifold variety, was here environed with a world 
 that for other eyes seemed out of joint, but which was, in 
 truth, fraught with freer and deeper significance for those who 
 could see deeper. 
 
 " In this sort of make-believe the lonely wife found some 
 small substitute for the lost love of her husband. He would 
 only shrug his shoulders or make some satirical remark, and 
 then go away to his business, forgetting all about his wife and 
 children amid the alTairs of the day. 
 
 " The mother was blind to the way in which the boy, who 
 had inherited far too much of her peculiar nature, was sinking 
 deeper and deeper into a world that existed only in dreams. 
 Had he lived it is certain that people would have heard more 
 of him. He had such a quick insight that the nature of things 
 was as clear to him as crystal. But he was absolutely without 
 will of his own and had no father's hand to guide him. So he 
 grew up like we often see a young pear-tree do when it's never 
 pruned, far too slender and pliable. 
 
 " The mother was gradually sinking into weak health, but 
 she was too inert and also too shy to get a doctor's advice; 
 so, after a long, wearisome illness, she died. At that time the
 
 254 JORN UHL 
 
 girl was about sixteen years of age, and the boy and Wieten 
 Penn were about fourteen. 
 
 " From the time that their mother's eyes were closed, the 
 three children were left to drift helplessly. As long as the 
 dead body remained under the roof they wandered aimlessly 
 about the house, and were afraid to look at their father, who 
 seemed quite a stranger to them. When evening came they 
 would slip away up to the attic with Wieten Penn, and take 
 out the old clothes that they had so often played with, and 
 would consult softly with each other as to which game they 
 would play. The boy straightway forgot his dead mother. 
 His eyes would gleam and he would give way to all sorts 
 of fantastic pictures that thronged upon his mind. He would 
 fling the robes around him, and in this guise would be for 
 going down into the big room where they had always played, 
 until the others called to him not to make so much noise. 
 
 " But when the day of the funeral came, and the whole house 
 was empty, — no one but their father's sister had stayed at 
 home, — the children ventured forth, and, having dressed 
 themselves in their fantastic costumes, slipped into the room 
 where, only half an hour before, their mother's coffin had 
 stood, and where flowers and wreaths were still lying scattered 
 about, and there, with hushed voices, they began to play. 
 Their mother had always taken such innocent pleasure in their 
 games when she played with them there, and in these last 
 weeks she had even talked to them about death, as if she 
 were being invited to some garden festival in May. And so 
 it never occurred to them to think that they could be slighting 
 her memory by indulging in their games. 
 
 " So they played on, forgetting how late it was, and were still 
 in the midst of their game when their father came back from 
 the funeral. He was in a bitter mood, for the minister, in 
 his sermon at the grave, had plainly said that the dead woman 
 had been driven into her lonely and almost eerie life by his 
 coldness and reserve. He had no sooner returned home than 
 his sister told him where the children were and what they 
 were doing. When he heard this he cast the remnants of his 
 self-restraint to the winds, and all sense of justice forsook him. 
 In his blind rage the thought took possession of him that these 
 were the wretched children that his wretched wife had brought 
 him. Unobserved, he approached the open window and watched
 
 JORN UHL 255 
 
 them awhile at their play; then he went in and chastised the 
 terrified boy whom he recognized as the leader, and then 
 ioclced the three of them up in the chaff-room. 
 
 " Henceforth he kept the children under with a stern hand. 
 Rightly thinking that they must not be left so much together, 
 he made the girl busy herself all day long, under her aunt's 
 direction, with household tasks. The boy had to plough, and 
 go and fetch in the cows, and put his hand to any work that 
 might arise. But the lad soon showed that he hadn't the 
 slightest natural aptitude for such affairs; he took hold of 
 things so clumsily, and could never arrange the parts of his 
 work properly together, but would stand there helpless till 
 some farm-laborer showed him, with a grin, how easy the 
 thing was. Often when his spirit would fain have opened 
 itself to all sorts of kindly and genial impressions, such moments 
 of helplessness and clumsiness would come and bring upon 
 him the laughter and jeers of those around him, and his soul, 
 which dwelt in a house so clear and light and airy, would, 
 in its terror and dismay, shut all the doors and veil the win- 
 dows and sit brooding in the gloomy, haunted rooms. Some- 
 times on quiet Sunday afternoons, when the children managed 
 to get up into the attic together, he used to rummage among 
 all the frippery there and take the gay mantles and the paper 
 crowns, which make folk happier and are therefore truer than 
 many a one of gold, and the red shoes with their tiny bells, and 
 would gaze at them long and dreamily. Then he would lay 
 them away again in their places, the tears running down his 
 cheeks. 
 
 " That spring-time — it was toward the middle of the month 
 of April, when Spring is longing to break forth, but cannot, 
 because of the cold winds that hurl themselves upon her every 
 night and thrust her hack — that spring-rime, I say, the boy 
 had to plough all day long in a big sloping field that lay 
 at some distance from the village. On the lower slope lay a 
 stretch of land in which, between the high grass and all sorts 
 of underwood, a number of deserted marl-pits lay, full of deep 
 water. The folk thereabouts, and particularly the children, 
 used to avoid the place, for it was held to be eerie — and 
 haunted and eerie it really was. The waste uneven ground 
 was all overgrown with wild, rank weeds, and these steep-sided 
 pits, in which, far below, lay the still unruffled water, aroused
 
 256 JORN UHL 
 
 in people the mysterious feeling that the earth had here great 
 gaping wounds that men had left untended, and it seemed as 
 if in those dark hollows there might lurk evil gnomes, waiting 
 to avenge the wrongs of their mother-earth. 
 
 " For three whole days he ploughed there, taking his dinner 
 with him in the morning and returning at night. Each 
 evening he came home sad. On the third day it happened 
 that the children had a short hour that they could spend 
 together in the attic, and there, after sitting silent for a long 
 time, he told his two playmates how, early in the morning, 
 before the sun had risen, and again in the evening, when it 
 had sunk behind the hill and the mirk was gathering over the 
 marl-pits, he had heard a voice that seemed to come from a 
 wild, deserted spot there — it might be the voice of a girl or a 
 feeble old woman, but it always cried, ' Come here, come here! ' 
 
 " He had got up on hearing it, and was so full of fear that 
 he had had to wipe the drops of sweat from his brow, but all 
 the same he longed to go toward it. Fear and love had drawn 
 him first one way and then another. When he had told them 
 this, he rested his head on his hand and looked at them. 
 
 " At first his sister shook her head when she heard the story; 
 then a tremor ran through her, as if one of the monsters out 
 of the depths of the marl-pits had been making a clutch at 
 her, and for awhile she looked at her brother with scared eyes. 
 Then she suddenly broke into a loud laugh, and declared the 
 whole affair to be nothing but a pack of nonsense. 
 
 " For since her mother's death a great change had taken 
 place in her. The daily tasks which she had now to do, and 
 which brought her into contact with all sorts of people, awoke 
 and strengthened in her nature everything that she had in- 
 herited from her father. What had terrified and darkened the 
 soul of her brother, who was of a more delicate and unpractical 
 nature, she approached, as girls do, tactfully and gracefully and 
 with frank curiosity. Like one who wakes from some op- 
 pressive dream she looked into the real life around her, and 
 it filled her with delight. But not being able to shake of^ all 
 at once the influence of that old fantastic w^orld, she, so to say, 
 took the king's mantle and the red shoes with the bells on 
 them with her into her new life. Into it she went reeling 
 rather than walking, still half-drunk with sleep, and all the 
 more so because she had inherited a considerable part of her
 
 JoRN UHL 257 
 
 mother's passionate nature. She had also got her young brown 
 eyes from her, that were always full of a soft, limpid brilliance. 
 But she found her life's happiness for all that. She came across 
 a young man belonging to the village, a poor tradesman's son, 
 who had come back home during his convalescence, after having 
 made his first deep-sea voyage as third mate. He had been 
 taken ill while abroad. The young people met one day on a 
 lonely path through the fields, and had exchanged a few foolish 
 words. They had become so smitten with eacli other, that all 
 the rest of the world was hid in a fog as far as they were con- 
 cerned. And so she couldn't but laugh, now that she was 
 free from that unreal world of fantasy, when she heard her 
 brother's tale. Soon afterward she went out of tiie room, 
 away down into the apple orchard, where the third mate was 
 standing waiting behind the thick sloe-bushes. Their other 
 playfellow, how e\ er, little Wieten Peiui, listened with glowing 
 cheeks and open mouth to the lad's tale, in which those 
 mysterious powers that had hitherto stood mute and with 
 closed eyes, far off in the mists, now for the first time called 
 with voice and glance. And ^Vieten felt so fond of the lad, 
 too, because he was kind and clc\tM and had such strange, 
 brilliant eyes. She had grieved deeply that of late she had so 
 seldom been able to speak to him, and one night she had 
 stood at his bedroom door, wishing to talk to and play with 
 him. And now, unknown to herself, she was glad that his 
 sister had left the room and that there was a mysterious some- 
 thing in common between them. She said how sorry she was 
 that he looked so pale and sad, and began shyly to stroke his 
 cheek, and at last she kissed him. That pleased him more 
 than anything. For although there had been so much talk 
 about kissing in the pieces they had played, he had never 
 really known what it was. Now, after their childish fashion, 
 they tried it for themselves, first this way, then that, to see 
 which was best, and grew fervent and laughed and were like 
 angels in heaven. And this trustful child would almost have 
 kissed him into health again with her young rosy lips, but 
 that he had too much of his mother's weakness in him. He 
 relapsed into his fit of brooding and fear, trembling and ask- 
 ing, 'What am I to do? Shall I go if it calls again?' Then 
 she promised him that she would run across the next morning 
 from the cow-paddock where she would be milking, and see
 
 258 JORN UHL 
 
 how he was getting on. That same night he implored his 
 father to give the work in that held to some one else, but did 
 not speak of the cause of his request. The father saw the 
 boj^'s fear, but determined by dint of austerity to force him 
 under the yoke of his so-called ' life's work.' The boy's re- 
 quest, which reminded him of old guilt, was refused with a 
 contemptuous shake of the head. 
 
 " And so the catastrophe happened. 
 
 " It was a cold, raw, gloomy morning in spring. Broad 
 banks of fog still lay like monstrous sluggish animals, dull 
 and inanimate, in the hollows of the fields, and yet some dim 
 spirit of life seemed to be gently stirring over the land. It 
 seemed as if multitudes of young creatures, bound in sleep, 
 were awaiting some whispered word of the Creator. The 
 west wind was blowing softly and evenly in from the sea, like 
 the prelude to a play that is about to begin, but the Night 
 was still queen, and her Terrors still held sway, — princes 
 greedy to do the deeds of darkness before the sceptres should 
 drop from their hands. 
 
 " Then came Wieten, hastening straight across the fields 
 toward the paddock where the lad was at work. He was at 
 that moment ploughing down-hill, and so did not notice her. 
 He was walking with feverish steps behind the horses. His 
 body was bent forward as if he was listening to something. 
 Then he suddenly shook his head and clenched his fists, letting 
 go of the plough-handles. She thought he was talking to 
 the horses, as ploughmen often do, and came nearer and nearer 
 to him. But all at once he raised both hands, crying, ' I'm 
 coming, I'm coming! ' and with a few bounds he reached the 
 underwood. In the dim light she saw him plunge forward 
 and disappear. Then she lost consciousness and fell. The 
 sun rose. 
 
 " An hour later a dairymaid came to the field to look for 
 her, guessing that she had run over to the ploughman and 
 was loitering there after children's fashion. There she found 
 the team of horses standing motionless without a driver, and 
 the child lay face downwards in a fresh-turned furrow, not 
 far behind the plough. She was restored to consciousness, and, 
 trembling and weeping, told them what she had seen. After 
 that she lay for many days tossing in fever. Toward noon 
 they found the lad drowned in one of the marl-pits."
 
 J R N U H L 259 
 
 Old Whitehead took up his pipe, and held out his hand 
 toward Thiess, without saying a word. Thiess understood 
 and struck a match for him. 
 
 " Why make a long story of it? His father came home 
 late that evening and found the boy lying on two boards in 
 the big room. He bent over the body with an intent look, 
 then gradually straightened himself up again. On the day 
 of the funeral, when his neighlMtrs would fain have expressed 
 their sympathy, he said, ' What's the good ? My wife and 
 her son were two useless, unpractical people. Down there in 
 the silence and stillness of the grave they're in their proper 
 place.' 
 
 " A week later he heard about his daughter's love-affair, and 
 in short, harsh words he bade her give her lover up. She, 
 however, was as stubborn as he, and told him she meant to 
 be happier than her poor mother, and refused to break with 
 him. So he drove her from the house. 
 
 " From this time on he went down-hill fast. For eight 
 weeks of wretchedness Wieten Penn, an inexperienced child, 
 was in the house alone with him. He neither looked at her 
 nor deigned to speak a word with her. At first he was nearly 
 always away from home, trying to buy and deal as he had 
 done of old. Hut, as he sought to get the assent of those he 
 dealt with to his stern and gloomy thoughts, his business friends 
 one by one withdrew from him. In their place came men 
 of shady character, forcing themselves on him, taking pains 
 to agree with him, and leading him still deeper into darkness 
 and defiance. At last he beheld himself enmeshed by evil as 
 by a serpent, but blood-guiltiness and obstinacy prevented him 
 from breaking his bonds. As it became clearer to him that his 
 struggle was a struggle against the Eternal, against what lies 
 at the very foundation of all things, and that this struggle being 
 against human nature must be vain, he conceived a horror and 
 disgust of himself and his life. The poor child dwelt four 
 days and four nights more, alone with him in that house. Full 
 of bitter fear and foreboding, she saw him wandering restlessly 
 from room to room, and heard him talking desperately to 
 himself. On the fifth morning she found him dead. 
 
 " That, Jorn, is the story of Wieten Penn's girlhood, the 
 woman who is now sitting at your father's bedside. She 
 came down to the Marsh and took service here at the Uhl.
 
 26o JORN UHL 
 
 Owing to all the fearful things she had seen, her youth was 
 broken oft like a flower. She saw apparitions and had what 
 people called second sight, and became distracted and gloomy. 
 Silly folk gave her the name of Wieten Klook, and so did 
 what they could to drive her back into herself. But your 
 mother, Jcirn, who was kind-hearted and trustful, took her 
 by the hand and helped her. Yet she's always remained 
 strangely serious, and is often pensive and dejected. She's 
 not the proper sort of companion for a man like you, Jorn 
 — for you have the same heavy blood in you as she. You need 
 a good young helpmate, especially now that you've got a difficult 
 task before you." 
 
 Having ended his story, Mr. Whitehead took his walking- 
 stick and said it was time for him to be going. He had the 
 horses put into the buggy and drove into the town along with 
 Thiess Thiessen. Jorn Uhl went to his father's bedside and 
 released Wieten Penn. As she left the room he cast a long 
 look at her. 
 
 He spent the night in the big armchair in which his mother 
 had sat on winter nights, watching by his father's restless bed. 
 As he sat there pondering, his thoughts wandered away in two 
 different directions. Now he considered how he would arrange 
 this or that on the farm, and wondered what the future would 
 bring forth ; and anon he was in the midst of the strange and 
 shocking events that old Whitehead had been talking about. 
 
 And gradually, as the darkness of night grew deeper and 
 midnight came, he heard the west wind soughing and rustling 
 in the poplars and driving the rain like scourges against the 
 window-panes, and saw the sick man gazing with vacant eyes 
 at the ceiling; and he thought of the doctor's words, "Your 
 father may live a long while in this condition, but he will 
 never regain the use of his limbs." Then for the first time 
 there came into Jorn Uhl's soul the feeling of the insuflficiency 
 of mortals' strength, the feeling of man's need, the feeling, 
 " Whither canst thou flee, O my soul, in thy great distress 
 and loneliness? " And now it was a good thing for him, after 
 all, that he had once heard of the " Father, which is in heaven," 
 when he was a lad at school, else he might in that hour have 
 been filled with fear of the dark towering forms which stood 
 scowling around him in the night, and might perchance have
 
 JORN UHL 261 
 
 worshipped them. But now, in his hour of fear and faith, 
 he turned to those unseen, strong, and blessed powers which 
 are in the Gospel. 
 
 And that was a inii^hty step for this Jorn Uhl, who had 
 hitherto been so self-confident, to take. For, as a wise nian 
 has rightly said, it is to the humble alone that God's grace 
 is given. Only to those who seek earnestly and ask questions, 
 many and serious — only to those who admire and wonder and 
 humbly worship, do the gates open that lead to a fair, wide 
 humanity. To the heights and depths of human life, in all 
 their wonder and beauty, only the simple and ignorant attain.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 On no other farm in all the Marsh was such hard work done 
 as at the Uhl that summer and autumn. Every morning 
 at four o'clock, when the watchman made his last round, he 
 would stand for a moment on the so-called Westereck, and 
 blow the three prescribed blasts on his horn in the direction 
 of the Uhl, and wonder to see lights already moving in the 
 long stables, and the glow of flames on the hearth of the home- 
 stead. 
 
 Jorn Uhl ruled with an iron hand. That night, to be sure, 
 he had fallen to praying, but now it was no longer prayer 
 but work that filled his thoughts and his life. His nose seemed 
 to have taken a more imperious curve, and his deep-set eyes 
 seemed to dart still sharper glances from their depths. He 
 grew somewhat taller and gaunter and austerer in his ways. 
 His nickname of Provost, that had been forgotten for seven 
 long years, now came up again on the farm. Nor did all 
 these changes come about without offence to one and another, 
 and many a bitter word. Jock Ebel, known in the village 
 as " Hm " Ebel, and who had stood for thirty years and more 
 in the ditches of the Uhl, came in a bad temper into the 
 servants' room one evening when Jorn Uhl was in the act 
 of paying off a man who had refused to do the task set to 
 him. " It's not in human nature to stand it," he said, " it's 
 not in human nature to do what the farmer wants of us. I've 
 seen a good deal in my time, I can tell you. In the year 'fifty 
 I was blown up with the arsenal at Rendsburg, but I came 
 down again all right that time — hm, yes, that I did." 
 
 "Well, and what are you driving at?" asked Jorn Uhl, 
 feigning surprise, though he had long feared that it would 
 come to this. 
 
 "If the master ... if the master thinks he's going to grow 
 rich in three days, why, let him, I say, let him. But I don't 
 
 262
 
 J O R N U H L 263 
 
 see as how that's any reason why I should work the skin off 
 my fingers fur him, all the same." He wiped the edge of his 
 spade and went ofi'. Nor did he put in an appearance next 
 day, but sent his little ten-year-old daughter over. She had 
 an idea that she ought to speak High German in the big 
 stately farm-hall with its dim solemn light, where the tones 
 of her voice sounded so grand and fine; so she said, "My 
 father's compliments, and he's cleared out, and isn't coming 
 back again. He's gone along with Krischau Luhr and his 
 bullocks to Husum." And with that she squeezed out of the 
 door. It was a great moment in the life of this poor laboring 
 man's child, to be able to say such big words in that great 
 room with its flags of black and white marble, and its high 
 carved chests and cupboards. For years and years after she 
 could hear the wonderful tone of her voice as those walls had 
 echoed it back. But now she is happily married, and has a 
 good-tempered husband, and might well venture a loud word 
 or so if she would. Yet she always speaks in a humble voice, 
 as if she still feared the echo of the words she had used that 
 day at the Uhl. Her husband once asked her where she got 
 her quiet ways and her soft voice, and whether it had aught 
 to do with that day at the Uhl. She pondered a little before 
 answering, then she said, "No; I'll tell you where I got it. 
 For two )'ears, whilst father lay sick, I had to go begging. 
 And in many a farmer's hall I had to do my begging in humble 
 enough tones, and that's how it is." As she had said that, she 
 threw herself into her husband's arms and laughed. 
 
 The two ploughmen at the Uhl resisted Jorn's efforts to spur 
 them on with a pertinacity equal to his own, and many a harsh 
 word fell between them. 
 
 " When you've filled in the forenoon up till tw^elve o'clock 
 with a little ploughing, you reckon you've earned your dinners, 
 I expect? " 
 
 Then the elder of the two spoke up: " And if you had your 
 w^ay, sir, we'd have worked ourselves to death before twelve 
 o'clock every day, and wouldn't want any dinner at all." 
 
 At this the boy, who was seated on the back of the near 
 horse, could not help laughing. But the tall farmer, with 
 two long, quiet strides, came up to him and gave him a slap 
 that left his ear red for the rest of the day. Directly the
 
 264 JORN UHL 
 
 Provost was out of the way, however, he laughed again, with 
 his roguish e}es full of tears. 
 
 It seemed as if things would not go well in the kitchen, 
 either. Almost all day long Wieten had to be at the sick 
 man's bed, for he would grow restless and cry like a child 
 when she was absent. And then the maids in the kitchen 
 did not care about carrying out Lena Tarn's orders. Jorn 
 talked the matter over with Wieten, and they both agreed 
 that it was better for Wieten herself to give up all her time to 
 nursing the old man, and while sitting at his bedside she could 
 go on with her knitting and mending and sewing, as usual. 
 The kitchen and dairy, on the other hand, were to be under 
 Lena Tarn's control, but in important matters she could come 
 in and consult Wieten. 
 
 " Yes, that's a good arrangement, Jorn. It'll be a comfort 
 for me, too, to have that load oti my shoulders. I'm sixty 
 now." 
 
 So Jorn, with a stern, proud look on his face, and with de- 
 termined lips, went into the kitchen, and, in a few words, 
 made things clear to the assembled petticoats. Lena Tarn, 
 who was standing washing up the dishes, with her sleeves 
 rolled up showing her white arms, gave a short nod of assent 
 with her fair head, without stopping in her work, not so 
 much as looking around at this most deliberate speaker. The 
 second servant, however, shot out of the kitchen like an arrow, 
 slammed the door after her, and left the farm that same after- 
 noon. 
 
 Winter drew on apace. Jorn Uhl, with his long legs and 
 heavy stride, went about his fields thinking over a plan he 
 had of draining part of the farm-lands, and of carrying out the 
 work himself in order to save wages yearly. He measured 
 it off, like a certificated surveyor, and took the grades, and sat 
 in his room drawing up a plan of the whole farm, which now 
 belonged to him. 
 
 Spring came. May-day brought new people to the farm 
 who knew nothing of the young farmer's sudden rise in the 
 world, or of Lena Tarn's promotion. From that time forth 
 things went better. Jorn's voice rang surer and fuller across 
 the farmyard, and he was able to go to Wieten Penn, who 
 sat at the window looking out over her spectacles at the farm, 
 and say to her, " That Lena is making a fine job of It. There's
 
 JORN UHL 265 
 
 go and gumption in her. You can be quite easy about the way 
 she's managing." 
 
 Then came the tenth of May. The clear sun hung white 
 in the blue depths of the sky, and the vapors mounting from 
 tlie earth were pierced and transfigured with his light. Away 
 in the distance, along the North Sea dikes, the mist lay bluish 
 white. Old Dre.Ner passed by the farm that day, striking his 
 walking-stick firmly and cautiously on the ground at every 
 step. " Jorn," he said, " this is the one and twentieth time 
 that I have brought my cattle out to the pastures on the tenth 
 of May." Jorn waited till the old man had vanished in the 
 distance, then he shouted into the big hall so that it rang 
 again: "Come, let us drive the cattle out, and you women- 
 folk can help, too." And thereupon forty oxen, two and three 
 year olds, strong beasts, were led, one after another, to the 
 door, and let loose. They took the great farmyard by storm, 
 and filled it as children do a playground with a shuffle of 
 feet and the sound of their cries. With five men they managed 
 to master them. Mighty was the sound of Jorn Uhl's voice, 
 and mighty were the cracks of his great stock-whip. He stood 
 at the top of the rise, in front of the big barn-door, and pointed 
 out the way. At last they \\ere all got out of the yard, and 
 brought to the dike road. Two of the men went with them. 
 It was a relief to ever)- one. 
 
 The ten horses which were then let out were led away by 
 the head man and one of the youngsters. Two foals trotted 
 prettily behind, and the cavalcade was brought up by the old 
 mare that had come from the Haze with Jorn's mother as a 
 kind of supplement to her dowry, for a mare had been promised 
 to the daughter of Haze Farm. This mare was permitted to 
 finish its days in peace at the Uhl. 
 
 Then came the cows, eight in number; big, red, speckled 
 marsh cows. Just behind the house, in an old meadow that 
 had never seen the gleam of a ploughshare, they had their 
 pasture, so that they might be handier for the milkmaids. The 
 women led them. A ploughboy who tried to catch one of 
 them, although he went about it craftily enough, was treated 
 with scant ceremony. The rope was torn from his hands, and 
 he got full proof that he was but a clumsy fellow. And in 
 this fashion the milkmaids, with Lena Tarn in front in all her 
 stateliness, went down the Wurt. The sunlight, finding its
 
 266 JORN UHL 
 
 way through the branches of the poplars, set her hair all afire, 
 till it gleamed like the coat of the red cow walking on in front 
 of her. 
 
 But an interruption occurred. The big three-year-old bull 
 had managed to break loose, for he had found the fast-emptying 
 stable too monotonous for his taste. He suddenly appeared 
 standing at the stable door, and came sauntering calmly over 
 toward the women and cows. It was a fortunate thing that 
 Lena Tarn, who thought of everything, had brought the three- 
 legged milking-stool with her. She confronted him with blaz- 
 ing eyes, and cried, " Stop, you good-for-nothing! " for she was 
 no friend of his, and threatened him with the stool. But the 
 bull took not the slightest heed, but came on, looking the 
 picture of assurance, strength, and defiance. Lena Tarn threw 
 a quick look, full of biting scorn, at the men-folk who were 
 standing, whip in hand, higher up near the barn door. " Why 
 are you standing there, you butter-fingers?" she cried; and, 
 raising the stool, she brought it down with a crash on the 
 bull's head. This gave him such a start that he made off in 
 the other direction, where he fell into the hands of the men. 
 All that afternoon Lena Tarn's cheeks would redden and pale 
 alternately at the thought of the glance the young farmer had 
 cast at her, and she was full of a secret joy, mixed in some 
 strange way with fear. 
 
 Last of all came the calves, more than twenty of them. 
 They behaved worse than so many school-children, and that 
 is saying a good deal. Six of them that had been born in 
 the stable and didn't know what water was, or earth, or air, 
 tried first of all to fly, springing high with all four legs in the 
 air at once, and then stood stiff-legged and riveted to the spot 
 with astonishment that they should come down to earth again. 
 They could not get over their amazement, and could not be 
 persuaded to budge. Presently two of them discovered the big 
 ditch and sprang into it with a mighty leap. The youngster 
 who had hold of their rope got no time to reflect whether it 
 would be better for him to throw in his lot with theirs, or 
 whether it was wisest to part company. So he had to jump 
 with them. And there stood the three of them up to their 
 necks in the dark water, all three overwhelmed with astonish- 
 ment, gazing helplessly at each other. 
 
 Then the farmer got angry. He scolded " that young block-
 
 JORN UHL 267 
 
 head," as he called him, who didn't know how to blow a cow- 
 horn yet, laid his whip down near the wall, and came striding 
 down from his eminence and went in among the men and 
 cattle. It was high time, too, to put a stop to the hubbub, 
 for the girls were standing by the stable door screaming with 
 laughter, and Lena Tarn stood by the hedge-gate with a 
 contemptuous look and a frown on her face. Half-way down 
 the slope he caught hold of the halter of the chief offender, 
 who had not yet recovered from his astonishment and was 
 staring stupidly around him, and tried to lead him away. But 
 just at this very moment a thought occurred to the beast, some 
 inspiration or other, and he went helter-skelter down the steep 
 Wurt. Away went Jorn's cap. The earth trembled. The 
 kitchen wenches shrieked. There was a bold leap and a great 
 splash, and there stood the whole five of them in the water, 
 all five wondering what was the matter. ... At last every- 
 thing was got into order, " because we lent a helping hand," 
 the girls declared, and at last silence again reigned on the 
 farm. 
 
 Lena Tarn went back to the kitchen. The look on Jorn 
 Uhl's face as he saw her brandishing the stool at the bull 
 haunted her. Generally she was merry enough, but in the 
 last few days she had been somewhat unwell, and this had 
 made her rather ill-tempered. Her face now wore a slight 
 frown, and she even strove to look as sour as she could. But 
 as soon as she began to go about her work and felt that 
 new, fresh health was streaming through her limbs, her face 
 completely changed. She went hastily to her room, unlocked 
 her door, and presently came back. Her eyes w'ere bright 
 and half-shut, blinking roguishly in the sunlight. She smiled 
 thoughtfully to herself, and suddenly when she thought of the 
 young farmer's plunge in the water she burst out laughing 
 and began to sing. 
 
 Neither did Jorn Uhl quite recover his peace of mind that 
 day. His sharp plunge into the water had roused his blood, 
 and the spring sunshine did its share too. It blew the 
 strength of youth into men, and forced them to breathe deep, 
 and look into the gay world ; to lay their heads back and 
 try to find the lark, singing its heart out somewhere high up 
 in the sky. He had a feeling that it was a sort of holiday, 
 and he thought he might keep it by going into the village to
 
 268 JORN UHL 
 
 pay the taxes that were due. So he put on his Sunday coat 
 and walked slowly across toward the village, looking at the 
 lusty young wheat and thinking of Lena Tarn the while. 
 " Her hair is piled up on her head like a helmet of red brass 
 that's slipped down on to her neck, just like the one that 
 French cuirassier had on the back of his head. I remember 
 how he sat there on a tree-stvmip with a hayband bound 
 arounil his thigh, that evening at Gravelotte. When she's 
 ' busy,' as she says, she just keeps her eyes fixed on her 
 work and hasn't a look for anything else, but if you begin to 
 talk to her, or if she's talking to any one, her laughter comes 
 bubbling out like a spring. She seems to think that one 
 ought never to be grave and serious except when one's work- 
 ing. ' It's the natural way of things,' she says. There's no 
 betwixt and between with her. She'll either be downright 
 angry about a thing or downright good-tempered. Mostly 
 the last, though ; except to me, that is ; for she's often pretty 
 short with me, and often as not real snappy. It was a great 
 joke for her to see me careering into the water with that 
 mad brute of a bull. If only she dared, she'd like mightily 
 to remind me of it three or four times a day, out of sheer 
 devilment." 
 
 As he went along with such thoughts running through his 
 head, he met old Dreyer. Old Dreyer was a man w'ho would 
 never walk along the broad street that ran through the middle 
 of the village, but always preferred the paths where he had 
 green grass under his feet and could have ploughed land on 
 both sides before his old eyes. The young farmer slowed 
 down, so as to let the old man wn"th his sober gait walk along 
 beside him, and listened, as he had so often done, to his scraps 
 of wisdom and good advice, which were always clenched by 
 an appeal to things that had happened in their own times or, 
 often enough, in the lives of their fathers before them. 
 
 " And above all things, Jorn, — how old are you? Twenty- 
 four? Don't go marrying, Jorn! Not under no circum- 
 stances whatever. That would be just the foolishest thing 
 you could possibly do at present. Every time of life has its 
 follies, Jorn, and yours would be marrying. For my own 
 part, I waited till I was in the thirties, and then I made a 
 careful choice. She brought six thousand marks with her, 
 Jorn, and that was a deal in those days. You daren't do it
 
 JORN UHL 269 
 
 under fifty thousand, Jurn. Give yourself plenty of time, 
 lad, that's my advice to you." 
 
 " Of course. I'll do well to wait at least another ten years," 
 said Jorn ; "that goes without saying. Wictcn's hale and 
 hearty yet, and can look after things for many a day to come." 
 
 At the bend of the road he bade the old man good day 
 and hurried on, thinking to himself, " The old chap's not so 
 clear-headed as he used to be, not the slightest doubt about 
 it. I noticed it to-day more than usual. Beautiful mild air 
 it is to-day. It's pleasanter to walk by oneself, by a long 
 chalk, and let one's thoughts go helter-skelter where they will, 
 just like the calves did this morning, than to tramp along with 
 old Dreyer listening to his words of wisdom. Hy this time 
 I ought to know^ pretty well what's the sensible thing to do. 
 I haven't frittered away my time without getting a single 
 thought into my head like those brothers of mine. As for 
 marrying, that is, just at present, I mean, just catch me at it. 
 Time enough after I'm thirty." He took oft his coat and hung 
 it over his arm, and his white shirt-sleeves shone like those 
 of the good son in the parable when he was returning home 
 from the fields and heard the singing and dancing.^ 
 
 " She looked fine when she let the red bull have the stool at 
 his head. Like a three-year-old horse when it rears. She 
 didn't look so nice yesterday, though, and her eyes weren't 
 so bright. She spoke crossly to AVieten, and then said to her 
 afterward, ' Don't be annoyed, Wieten, I've not slept well,' 
 and laughed. Queer creatures they are! Not slept well? 
 When a body has buzzed about the whole day, as she has to 
 do, she ought to sleep like a log. But I suppose it's got some- 
 thing to do with Alaytime. I can only say it's a good thing 
 that the men-folk keep reasonable, else the world would get 
 clean out of joint cverj' spring-time. 
 
 "Wonderful air! It seems as if one was drinking it, and 
 it tastes good, too. It's a good thing after all that I came 
 home safe from the war, and that I'm still young and have the 
 big farm, so as to show them what's in me. And later on, when 
 I've got a firm seat in the saddle, I'll choose a bonnic wife 
 for myself, with plenty of money and yellow hair. Inhere are 
 rich girls, too, that are just as lively and fresh, and look just 
 as taking and stately. New girls are always shooting up every 
 
 1 Vide St. Luke xv. 25. (Translator's Note.)
 
 270 JORN UHL 
 
 year as thick as j'oung grass. Heaven alone knows where they 
 all come from. There's no need for it to be this particular 
 one. 
 
 He put on his coat again and entered the long lane of lindens 
 that ran through the village. The parish clerk, who was so 
 hard of hearing, was standing there before his door, not in 
 tlie best of moods. For in the course of the day there had 
 been no fewer than six births registered, and each father had 
 sat a full hour in the comfortable easy-chair, and discussed 
 the state of things in the village and in the world in general, 
 his neighbors and the schoolmaster, and had wound up with 
 a long account of his own doings. And all the while the 
 parish clerk had sat there thinking, " There's something better 
 you could be doing than everlastingly bringing new children 
 into the world, giving me so much trouble every year with 
 all this scribbling on your account. Man! you ought to just 
 go away and mind your ploughing, I tell you." 
 
 " Uhl," he said, " one would have thought that the war 
 would have caused a falling off, but, bless me, not a bit of it! 
 Just the opposite. Four men of our parish fell in France, 
 but what difference does that make? Why, there's six christen- 
 ings for to-day alone. And at Jen Tappe's, who got his arm 
 shot of¥ at Le Mans, there's something on the way again 
 already. We won't have more than fifty deaths this year, 
 Jorn, but over a hundred births. Where's the food to come 
 from? Can you tell me that? The country doesn't grow 
 any bigger, and every cow needs six bushels. The public's 
 growing too fast, Jorn, far too fast! But, bless me! come 
 inside, man." So he chatted on, and with blinking eyes counted 
 over the gold pieces that Jorn laid on the table, turning each 
 piece over twice, and then he entered the sum carefully in the 
 accounts. 
 
 Jorn Uhl, as a rational being, as a taxpayer, and as the 
 holder of a large farm, thought these views perfectly correct, 
 and talked the whole matter over with the parish clerk. " What 
 the deuce is to be the end of it if people go on increasing 
 at that rate?" And finally he said, emphatically, " Marrying 
 under twenty-five will simply have to be forbidden." And 
 with these words he departed, full of the proud consciousness 
 that he was of the same mind as so sensible and experienced 
 a man as a parish clerk in a matter of such great importance.
 
 JORN UHL 271 
 
 And again as he went along the path through the meadows you 
 could see his shirt-sleeves gleaming in the distance. 
 
 As he turned into the farmyard he noticed a man sitting 
 on the white wooden bench between the lindens. He looked 
 like a laborer wearing his best Sunday coat. He must have 
 been quite sixty years of age, and he had a full, gray beard, 
 and thick gray hair that lay heavy over his forehead, and in 
 spite of his broad, good-humored features he looked like a lion 
 with a gray mane. He had rested both hands on the top of 
 his oaken staff, and was weary and travel-stained. Lena Tarn 
 was standing beside him with a strangely earnest face; she 
 pointed to Jorn, saying, " Here comes the master." 
 
 The old man stood up before him and shook hands with 
 him. Then he sat down and began — after the fashion of 
 people in those parts — to talk about the weather and the 
 crops. Lena Tarn brought out the coffee without a word, 
 then sat down opposite them and set to work to mend a cloak 
 that Jorn had brought with him from the war, and that had 
 belonged to a French soldier. 
 
 " I have come about a certain matter, ..." the old man 
 said. " My wife gives me no peace. You used to be in 
 Captain Gleiser's field artillery, usedn't you? Well, Geert 
 Dose was there, too. He worked for you after he'd served 
 his time as a soldier, I've heard. Well, you see, he was my 
 son. . . ." 
 
 " He was one of the first to be wounded." 
 
 " Well, his mother won't give me any peace. Every evening 
 she wants to know whereabouts his wound was, and whether 
 it's a bad thing — I mean, whether he had to suffer long after 
 he had got it. She fancies about nine days. He was a strong, 
 healthy young fellow, and it must have been hard enough on 
 him. And she'd like to know whether he said anything at the 
 last." 
 
 " Yes. . . ." 
 
 The old man seemed to have grown a little smaller, and was 
 looking with fixed, mute gaze over his hands into the sand. 
 
 " I want you to tell me how it all really happened. They 
 say you were with him at the last. Then I can tell her after- 
 ward as much as I think she can bear." 
 
 Jorn told him quietly all about Geert Dose's wound and his 
 longing to be home again, and his death, keeping nothing back.
 
 272 JORN UHL 
 
 Lena Tarn had never in her life seen or heard anything 
 but such things as happened in her own little village, nor had 
 she ever troubled herself about things beyond its borders. 
 The word " war " had always summoned up before her a great 
 fiery, kaleidoscopic picture, with bright, round clouds up above 
 and burning houses down below, and between them hosts of 
 men running and riding — the general with his breast covered 
 with orders, the soldiers with their hurrahs and waving of 
 helmets, their bivouac-fires and Te Deums. All that she had 
 read in her school-books. Of the gruesome and heartrending 
 misery that soldiers have to go through she had heard nothing. 
 She listened to Jorn's words with face all drawn with pain 
 at the very recital of such woes. But in the depths of her 
 soul a secret joy was all the while dancing and laughing, and 
 she kept saying to herself, " You've come back safe and sound. 
 You've come back safe and sound, Jorn Uhl." 
 
 The old man did not say much more. He soon got up 
 and went silently on his way. The farmer accompanied him 
 to the end of the lane, the first and last time that he was ever 
 known to do any one this honor. For a long time he stood 
 looking after the retreating figure plodding along the high- 
 road with stiff and heavy gait. " The old fellow has a long 
 walk of sixteen miles before him, a weary road, and a weary 
 home-coming," thought Jorn Uhl. 
 
 Returning through the poplar lane, the pleasantness of the 
 Maytime again came over his spirit. Through the gently 
 swaying trees, now all in tender leaf, he caught glimpses of 
 the sunlit space in front of the long, quiet homestead. He saw 
 its long, lofty roof of dark gray thatch, and its windows 
 glimmering in their green frames. He saw the broad, spread- 
 ing vine clambering around the door, the white deal seats and 
 little table beneath the trellis, and Lena Tarn sitting there 
 with her proud, saucy air and all the perfume of her fresh, 
 full youth about her. 
 
 As he looked, a phrase occurred to him that he had read in 
 some stray newspaper once when he was a soldier away in 
 France on actual service, a flowery Christmas article about 
 Peace, and the Works of Peace. This expression had pleased 
 him hugely at the time, and the beautiful picture of a land at 
 rest now recurred to him. In his clumsy fashion he turned 
 the phrase into question and answer after the manner of the
 
 JoRN UHL 273 
 
 catechism: "What are the works of peace? — The works of 
 peace are ploughing, sowing, reaping, the building of houses, 
 marrying, and the rearing of children." 
 
 Lena sat there with head bowed so low that she did not 
 look like the same girl. The May sunlight was laughing and 
 pointing its radiant fingers at her bowed head. " Look you, 
 Jorn Uhl, look how it sparkles. Hut have a care lest you 
 touch it, it's all quick with hre." The air lay soft the while, 
 smiling and will-less in the arms of the JVIay-day sunlight, as 
 though faint with its own ecstasy. As Jorn tried to pass her, 
 Lena Tarn, without looking up, pointed to a little blue note- 
 book that lay near her on the table, and said, in a snappish 
 voice, " I just want you to go through the butter accounts 
 with me." 
 
 Now, going through the accounts with him was a thing she 
 always did with ill grace, for it seemed to her to imply a 
 certain distrust. It had to be done, though. She gave the 
 note-book another contemptuous push and straightened herself 
 a little. Jorn sat down by her side and began to go over the 
 items, one by one. To show her dislike for such interference, 
 she had written them so badly that he could not make head 
 or tail of some of them. She had to bend her ruddy head 
 over the book that he held in his hand. Jorn was suddenly 
 conscious of a telltale light in his eyes, and tried to frown down 
 these flighty fires. Then with great care and precision he 
 began casting up the figures to see whether Lena Tarn's total 
 were correct or not. She meanwhile was busily engaged in 
 fitting a patch into the old cloak, cocking her head first on this 
 side, then on that, to observe the aesthetic effect of her handi- 
 work, and singing and humming like a bumblebee when per- 
 chance it alights on the rim of a buttercup, and to its amaze- 
 ment and indignation finds another already in possession. Before 
 very long he found himself listening attentively to her singing, 
 and his figures began to dance and get all mixed up together. 
 Then he grew angry with hiinself and got up. " I'll go and 
 finish the sum inside," he said. 
 
 " It's the best thing you can do," said she. 
 
 In the evening, as twilight was falling, he sauntered along 
 the cross-road to see whether the cattle that had been let out 
 into the open were all right. In former years he could stand 
 by the hour behind his beasts, thinking over their past, and
 
 274 JORN UHL 
 
 planning for their future, but this evening he had no eyes for 
 them, and soon turned back home again. W^lien lie had reached 
 the farmyard he looked around him, and, seeing nobody, he 
 laughed softly to himself. Late that evening it began to rain. 
 He was sitting in his little room at the open window smoking 
 his pipe, and feeling — as he mostly did at this time, when sit 
 ting there beside the big chest in this little kingdom of his — 
 thoroughly comfortable. In such hours a longing for the more 
 genial side of life awoke in him. It was a thing he must have 
 inherited from his mother's side of the family. As a rule, 
 when evening came, he would sit there in the quiet conscious- 
 ness of a day's work well done, pondering and making plans 
 for the future, portioning his life out in thought, as a child 
 does some big Christmas cake that seems to it so big that it 
 can never come to an end. But to-night Jorn began to brood 
 and philosophize again after his old fashion, thinking how few 
 sunshiny days had been his, and wondering whether things 
 might not be so ordered that he might some day get out of 
 this land of gloom and cold winds for awhile. What had his 
 life been hitherto? he asked himself. He had left behind the 
 cares of his boyhood only to be loaded with debt as a man. 
 He had escaped the field of Gravelotte only to come to new- 
 tilled land, where it was heavy walking. And it was the same 
 with everything else. So when he came to think things over, 
 it seemed to him that it was high time for him to expect to 
 have a little of the softer, milder, and more genial side of life^ 
 too. 
 
 In the house not a soul was stirring. Outside the rain was 
 trickling and gossiping. A soft twitter of birds came from 
 among the apple-trees. Amongst the bushes there was a feel- 
 ing as of buds longing to break forth into leaf and blossom. 
 Heavy globules of rain were hanging on every tender stalk, 
 and each crystal drop that fell seemed like some dainty, tiny 
 being sliding earthwards from twig to twig. Jorn looked out 
 into the night and listened. It was, he thought, as though he 
 heard some light spirit of laughter, and the opening of leaves. 
 Around his window multitudes of little creatures were on the 
 wing. Gnats and midges were darting up and down, spiders 
 were on the move, comrades were being sought and found, and 
 each sped on his own particular errand. The figure of the 
 Sand-lass flitted through Jorn's memory, and those proud forms
 
 JORN UHL 275 
 
 on the picture lyin^ in the old chest came up before his eyes. 
 He thought and thought, and gazed away into space, and his 
 mind came back to I>cna Tarn. He saw her sitting by his 
 side on the white deal seat bending over the book, and saw the 
 gleam of her beautiful neck through the fair, ruddy ringlets. 
 He roused himself from this dreaming and sat up a little 
 straighter on the chair, saying to himself soberly and slowly, 
 " The Works of Peace." 
 
 The door creaked on its hinges, and Lena Tarn came in ; 
 there she was, standing hesitating on the threshold. 
 
 " Come in, Lena," he said. " What is it you want?" He 
 was so excited he could hardly speak. 
 
 " I wanted to get the book. I thought you were still away 
 on the roads." She went over, and began looking about the 
 shelf for the book. 
 
 Then he spoke to her again, and said : " You haven't been 
 in a very good temper these last few days, Lena. Is there 
 anything you're in want of? " 
 
 She tossed her head and said, curtly, " Everj'body is in 
 want of something now and then, but it's a feeling that always 
 goes by." 
 
 " I suppose you're glad that Wieten's got to sleep with her 
 patient, and that you have your room all for yourself." 
 
 "Why? It's all the same to me. When one has a good 
 conscience, it doesn't matter a straw whether one sleeps alone 
 in the room or with somebody else there." 
 
 " Then you must have a bad conscience, lassie, for last night 
 when I was coming through the passage I heard you calling 
 out in your sleep." 
 
 " Did you? ... I suppose I wasn't feeling well." 
 
 '* What nonsense; just fancy, you not well. It was the 
 moon that did it. The rascal moon was shining full into your 
 bedroom." 
 
 "Oh! It may have been something quite different." 
 
 "No! I tell you it was the moon." 
 
 She gave him an indignant look. " Oh ! a lot you know 
 about it. I didn't call out in my sleep at all, as it happens; 
 it was three calves that had got out, and were jumping about 
 in the garden. I saw them clearly in the moonlight, and it 
 was them I was calling."
 
 276 JORN UHL 
 
 He laughed mockingly. " Faith, they must have been moon- 
 calves, with a vengeance." 
 
 "Oh! you think so, do you? Well! maybe they were, 
 but this morning I had to take them back, and found the stable 
 door open. I suppose the stableman was away courting last 
 night. Your eyes are always darting about and spying into 
 every corner, so I wonder, Jorn, you didn't notice anything 
 of it!" 
 
 " What! do you call me by my Christian name?" 
 
 "You do me, too! I am almost as big as you, and you're 
 not an earl, are you? And I'm sure I am just as sensible 
 as you are, if it comes to that." She tossed her head pretty 
 high, and as she snatched the book down from the window- 
 shelf as though she were saving it from the midst of flames, he 
 saw the splendid anger in her eyes. 
 
 " Be on your guard against the moon, lassie," he said, " else 
 you'll be having to go calf-hunting to-night again." 
 
 He was now standing in front of her, but didn't dare to 
 touch her. But as they looked at each other, each saw plainly 
 how it stood with the other's will. He had again that same 
 look in his eyes that he had had earlier in the day — a vic- 
 torious, impudent look, as if he was saying to himself, " I just 
 know exactly how such maidens' scorn is to be interpreted." 
 Her eyes said, " Oh, I'm much too proud to love you. Oh, I 
 do love you so!" She still lingered at the far end of the 
 room, as though to give him time to say something more, or 
 to catch hold of her. But he was too dull t# think of that, and 
 laughed, in order to hide his confusion. 
 
 Night came on. It was a quiet, wonderful night. There was 
 still a sound of whimpering in the trees, like a child weeping 
 softly in bed at night when it has been left alone and is afraid. 
 Now and again there was a glimmer of lightning on the 
 horizon, as when a mother comes into a room with a light 
 to see if the children are asleep. And there was a gentle 
 breath of wind, as when a mother croons a cradle-song. The 
 moon, besides, was shining almost full, her face a little pinched 
 as yet, and stars from all the sky showered down a myriad 
 golden spears, so that all things on earth had to crouch in 
 silence and hide themselves away. Even the people who were 
 still abroad on the roads spoke softly to one another. 
 
 Jorn Uhl had sat down. He now got up again, saying.
 
 JORN UHL 277 
 
 " I'll just iio and have a look at the moon; it's a wonderfully 
 clear night." 
 
 He took the high stand that he had made himself, and 
 brought the telescope forth from the old chest. Instead of 
 the old, buckled spy-glass, he now had a fine night-glass with 
 a three and one-half inch objective. One of the masters of the 
 town Grammar School, who had heard of the astronomical 
 leanings of the young farmer, had paid him a visit one day, 
 and had chosen it for him. It was the first and last luxury 
 Jorn had ever allowed himself. 
 
 But as he was creeping across the middle hall as noiselessly 
 as possible, he saw that her bedroom door was still open, and 
 she came to the threshold and leaned against the door-post. 
 
 "Still up, Lena?" he asked, surprised. 
 
 She said, " It's not very late yet." 
 
 " The sky is so clear, I thought I'd have a look at the stars; 
 if you feel inclined you can come, too." 
 
 At first she did not move, but presently he heard her follow- 
 ing him. 
 
 He set the tripod in the middle of the lawn, and said, " You 
 ought to have been here last Sunday midday, I had the moon 
 and some of the biggest stars on view." 
 
 "You don't say so! Just fancy stars being in the sky at 
 noonday? " 
 
 "Of course, lass! Where else could they be?" 
 
 " Oh ! . . . I hadn't thought of that. I thought they were 
 like night-watchmen, abroad by night and in bed by day." 
 
 Jorn shook his head emphatically. " What strange notions 
 you get into that head of yours! But did you really think 
 that was it? " 
 
 " Yes," she said, " you don't need to look at me so hard ; I 
 really thought it was so." 
 
 But he didn't feci sure how to take her. There was a 
 roguish twinkle in the corner of her e)'es even when she was 
 in earnest. 
 
 He moved the telescope, and began searching over the sky; 
 at last he adjusted it and said, " Now peep in there! " 
 
 She was somewhat clumsy about it, so that he laid his hand 
 on her shoulder, and asked, "What do you see?" 
 
 " Oh! " she said, " I see ... I see a ... a big farmhouse, 
 all afire. It has a thatched roof. . . . Oh! it's all in a blaze,
 
 278 JORN UHL 
 
 roof and all. Sparks are flying away over it. It's a regular old 
 Dittmarsh farmhouse. . . . Oh! but I would never have 
 believed there were farmers and farmhouses in the stars. What's 
 the name of the star, Jorn? " 
 
 "Well!" said he, "that's the best thing ever I heard of. 
 No, lass! . . . you've either a screw loose or you're a down- 
 right rogue." 
 
 "What's the matter now?" said she, looking at him in 
 astonishment. 
 
 " You've too much imagination," he said, gravely; "and in 
 science imagination does harm. . . . What else do you see? " 
 
 " I see ... a broad plank at one side of the farmhouse; 
 it's quite dark, for the burning farmhouse is behind it. But 
 I can see deep into the burning hall. Three or four rafters 
 have already fallen in and lie burning on the floor. Oh, that's 
 a dreadful sight. Show me some other house that's not afire. 
 ... A house and a farmyard I'd like to see where they're just 
 busy driving the calves out," 
 
 He burst into a loud laugh. 
 
 " You rogue, you," he said, " you'd like to see your milking- 
 stool aloft there in the heavens, too, among the signs of the 
 zodiac, wouldn't you? Like this — raised high above your 
 head." 
 
 " It's you that ought to have got the stool at you! I won't 
 forget that day in a hurry, you . . . and the way you looked 
 at me. That you can be sure of! " 
 
 He had never let any one take part in his star-gazing. Now 
 he wondered and rejoiced at her delight and amazement. " You 
 never thought of such a thing as that, eh, lass? What you 
 just saw is a nebular star, and his name's Orion. You know, 
 that's the sort of star that's still uncondensed." 
 
 She said, catching her breath a little, " I can quite under- 
 stand what a pleasure it is for you." 
 
 He nodded and said, " Now you talk so sensibly, lass, I'll 
 let you have a look at the moon. Just wait a moment." 
 
 " Any one would think you owned it all to hear you talk. 
 ' Hi! this way with the moon! ' " 
 
 He put her into the right position with her eye to the tele- 
 scope, laying his hand on her arm as though she were but 
 an awkward child. 
 
 Now her astonishment knew no bounds.
 
 JORN UHL 279 
 
 "What are those big dints in it? Just the same as in our 
 copper kettle, for all the world, when it's polished and hangs 
 over the fire of a morning with the glow on it." 
 
 " Those dints, as you call them, are mountains and valleys. 
 Can you sec the mountain-peaks av\ay on the edge, to the left? 
 They're lit bright on their left side by the rising sun, and on the 
 right their dark shadows fall over the land." 
 
 She shook her head in amazement at all she saw and heard, 
 and lost sight of the vision in the ghiss and stood upright again, 
 looking up into the sky with her naked eye. 
 
 " 1 used to hear about all these things at school," she said; 
 " about the thousands of miles distance, and the circumference, 
 and all that. But I never believed Uomiru'e Karstcns when he 
 told us about it. I knew he didn't tell lies, but I thought it 
 was some traveller's tale somebody had taken him in with. But 
 now I'm inclined to believe it's true." 
 
 " Oh, arc you ! . . . and now you've seen enough and have 
 talked enough wisdom for once. Go back into the house. 
 You'll be catching cold, too, and then you'll be dreaming again 
 and seeing I don't know what in your dreams. Will you be 
 able to sleep? " 
 
 " I'll try to." 
 
 Again he was tempted to put forth his hand and seize her, 
 but respect for her held him back. He dare not, he thought to 
 himself, take hold of her thus as it were like a highwayman. 
 
 " Be quick," he said, " and be off with you." 
 
 She v\ent away and left him there. He turned the glass on 
 the middle star of the pole of Charles's Wain, and then back 
 on the moon again, observing the outlines of the seas. He 
 wanted to finish the drawing of a map of the moon he had 
 begun. The time flew by. He was quite absorbed in his task, 
 standing there in the middle of the lawn, flitting noiselessly 
 backwards and forwards about his instrument. He cast aside 
 that stir of young life that had breathed so hard at his side an 
 hour before, and came back into his old tracks, saying to him- 
 self that old Dreyer was right. " That's the one folly you 
 must not commit, Jorn !"..." And yet — a fine, good- 
 hearted creature she is. . . . Happy the man around whose 
 neck she puts those arms. ... Her eyes are splendid even now, 
 but what will they be when they are once lit up with love and 
 trust in the man she loves! "
 
 28o JORN UHL 
 
 Owls were flying from tree to tree, or sitting on the branches 
 gazing at this night-wanderer with their wide, lidless eyes. A 
 little company of five hedgehogs were squatting by the heap 
 of stones near the alder bushes, quarrelling and making peace 
 again with low grunts. From the fields came the sounds of 
 night, now a cry of some sea-gull, now the far-off lowing of 
 cattle. ... A chain clanked and jingled against some horse's 
 hoof, and wild geese were flying high away over the farmyard 
 with a soft whirr of wings. . . . He heard it all ; but it was 
 all so familiar to him that he did not take its meaning to heart. 
 But suddenly, while the scream of the wild geese went by above 
 him, he seemed to hear not far above the roof and then on the 
 walls of the house the faint cry of a bird and of the weak 
 beat of wings. He looked around and thought: "What! are 
 the wnld geese flying through the garden, then?" But while 
 he was still looking in that direction a human form, a woman 
 clad in white, appeared under the caves of the house, holding 
 one hand over her eyes and groping along the wall as though 
 seeking an entrance where there was no door, and talking to 
 herself the while with quick, excited words: "The calves are 
 in the garden," she was saying; " you must keep a better watch 
 on them ; get up, Jorn, get up, 1 say, and help me." 
 
 Jorn Uhl came with a few long strides across the lawn and 
 called her name softly: " I'm here already. . . . It's me. . . . 
 There! there! Now be quiet, lass. . . . It's me. . . . No- 
 body else is here." 
 
 She had suddenly grown silent, and began rubbing her eyes 
 with the back of her hand just as a little child does when it 
 wakes; and all the while she kept complaining after children's 
 fashion. Then Jorn put his arms around her and told her 
 where she was, and led her to the stable door, and tried to 
 comfort her. " Don't you see, here is the stable door. It was 
 here you went through, you old dreamer, you; you've been 
 through the whole length of the stable in your sleep. Have 
 you been after the moon-calves again? Aren't you a goose, 
 eh? . • . There, there, you needn't tremble so. You'll soon 
 be back in your own room now." 
 
 W'iicn at last she clearly understood her plight, she was 
 terrified and put her hands to her face, uttering cries of shame, 
 "Oh, oh! how dreadful! how dreadful!" But he caressed 
 her and took her hands from her face, and said affectionately,
 
 JORN UHL 281 
 
 "Now give over weepinp;, lassie, and just let things be as they 
 are." So they caiiic to the open door which led into her bed- 
 room. 
 
 It must have been a remarkable night; for not only did 
 half the calves break out of the meadow, — and had really to 
 be hunted out of the yard and garden next morning, — but the 
 stableman himself had not come back home at all that night. 
 He came home toward dawn, straight across the fields, hum- 
 ming a tune to himself. When he saw the young farmer, who 
 was striding along by the side of the house with hasty steps 
 and his eyes on the ground as though they were seeking for 
 lost footprints, the latter said, " I am about full up of life in 
 single harness, master. If I can find a good 'un, come Michael- 
 mas, I'll marry her." 
 
 After morning coffee Jorn Uhl put on his Sunday coat and 
 went into the village. The parish clerk was in a better 
 humor than yesterday. He no longer expressed his astonishment. 
 As parish clerk, registrar of births and marriages, church ac- 
 countant, and fire commissioner all in one, he had had many 
 an odd experience. He knew, too, that there's nothing stranger 
 and deeper than a marsh-farmer. 
 
 " Right, Uhl," he said, " it isn't good for man to be alone; 
 we must e'en give him a helpmeet, or he'll be in a mess. 
 Maria Magdalena Tarn, only daughter of the Katner, Jasper 
 Cornelius Tarn, of the village of Todum. We'll write it 
 ' Katner,' Jorn, although not a soul uses the word in these 
 parts. But in the Prussian printed forms that's the word that's 
 used for cottager nowadays. And as it's the Prussians that 
 have woke us up out of our sleep, I suppose they ought to 
 have the sending of us to work, too. So that's all right. Nine- 
 teen years of age! Still young, Jorn. But they get old of 
 themselves, and that's a fact." 
 
 When Jorn was coming back, he found as he was passing 
 through the orchard a wild goose lying not far from the stone 
 bridge by the garden gate. It was still alive. He killed it, 
 and took it into the kitchen with him, where Lena Tarn was 
 standing before the fire, with her cheeks all burning. He 
 showed her the bird, and said: "It had broken one of its 
 wings, and was lying on the garden path." 
 
 She threw a quick glance at It and said nothing.
 
 282 J O R N U H L 
 
 " Well," said he, " and now I'd like to know what you think 
 of me, eh?" As she made no reply he came a little closer. 
 " You have always been high-handed enough, especially toward 
 me. Now toss your head and scold me to your heart's content. 
 I've deserved it." 
 
 She remained silent, only laying both hands to her temples 
 and gazing into the fire. 
 
 He drew one of her hands softly down from her head, and 
 holding it fast in his led her through the hall and out through 
 the door into the front house. She followed him will-less, her 
 eyes bent on the ground, the other hand still up to her head. 
 In the big room he brought her gently to the armchair by 
 the window, and pressed her into it. " There ! " he said, ten- 
 derly, " now we are all by ourselves, Lena. You're sad, dear 
 lassie, and very angry with me, are you ? And is all your pretty 
 laughter gone?" He seated himself on the arm of the chair 
 and began to stroke her hair and cheeks, and her hands which lay 
 in her lap. But she did not look up at him. " Here, in this 
 chair, Wieten says, mother used to sit many a Sunday afternoon. 
 That's your place now." 
 
 She still said nothing. 
 
 " I've been to the parish clerk's and have arranged every- 
 thing, and we're to be married in June. . . . Have you still 
 no word to say? " 
 
 She clasped her hands and said : " You mean that will make 
 everything right again." And she hid her face in her hands 
 and wept. 
 
 Then he began to stroke and kiss her: "Come, come, give 
 over weeping, dearie. Why! aren't you my own dear little 
 sweetheart and bride! Cheer up again, now, do." And not 
 knowing what better to say, he said, " I won't do it again. 
 Only laugh once more." At last, at a loss for any other word 
 of endearment, he coaxingly called her " Redhead." Then she 
 had to laugh ; for that was the name of the best cow in 
 the dairy, the one that always stood foremost in the stall. 
 She raised her head, and looked at him long and steadily. . . . 
 And then Jorn Uhl came Into the land of softness and heart's 
 ease, which, as he thought, he had long since deserved.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 It was a happy year. These two young folk were proud of 
 one another, and of the stately farmstead which they managed 
 with such old-fashioned gravity and earnestness. Old Farmer 
 Uhl had never recovered the use of his limbs, but had partly 
 shaken off the first torpor of paralysis, and was able to sit 
 up all day in a large armchair. His appetite returned, and 
 he enjoyed his pipe; he had regained his power of speech suffi- 
 ciently to make the people in the house understand his growls 
 and exclamations. His youngest son came into the room every 
 day, and walked up and down without looking at the old man 
 sitting there, and reported all that had been done on the farm 
 the day before. His father said not a word. But as soon as 
 his son had left the room, he called everything Jorn did stupid 
 and wrong. When he was in the middle of his abuse, however, 
 Wieten Klook would begin to talk about his wife: "Once, I 
 remember, my mistress said," . . . or, " Once there was nobody 
 at home here, except me and Mistress Uhl, and she grew 
 cheerful and told me this story," ... or, " I remember just 
 before little Elsbe was born, she that's now been thrown away 
 on that good-for-naught of a Harro Heinscn." . . . Or she 
 would begin praising Lena Tarn and the busy, thrifty way 
 things were managed by her. Then the old man would grow 
 silent and sit there with half-shut eyes, his wry mouth looking 
 still more wry. He had quite lost that gay, jovial way of 
 laughing that had belonged to him in days gone by. 
 
 Jorn would be back to work by this; and while he went 
 about his tasks would be worrying about to-morrow and the 
 day after to-morrow, and thinking whether he should sell his 
 corn and his cattle now, or wait awhile, and whether he would 
 ever be able to get together the interest that was due on the 
 loth November. He was happy and proud enough, no doubt, 
 when he thought of the trust reposed in him, and of the fine 
 
 283
 
 284 JORN UHL 
 
 estate given into his charge, despite his twenty-four years, 
 and of the fresh and blithe-hearted, thrifty wife he had by 
 his side. But he never had a chance of enjoying his happiness. 
 He drank of it, as a stag fleeing before the hunters kneels down 
 in haste on the edge of a brook, and then, its thirst half- 
 quenched, has to rush off once more at the sound of horns 
 and hounds growing nearer. 
 
 The young wife did not worry. But she worked and worked 
 from morning till night. She didn't spend a penny without 
 having something to show for it. Thiess had given her a 
 few yards of gray alpaca as a wedding-present. Out of it 
 she had made two simple dresses, with wide sleeves that could 
 be tucked back from the wrists. In these dresses she now 
 worked, healthy and merry, and every day looking prettier, her 
 arms well browned and bare to elbows, and as she worked she 
 hummed and sang. 
 
 Now she was in the kitchen. " Gretchen," she would say, 
 " look smart now! The quicker you are with your hands the 
 quicker you'll get a husband." 
 
 " Faith! and a nice thing to have when you've got him! " 
 
 "What! when he's a good one?" 
 
 " Are there good ones? " 
 
 " Minx, do you want to make out that my husband's not 
 good ? " 
 
 " Oh, him! The farmer! " 
 
 "Now just hold your tongue! Do you think I am going 
 to banter words with you about my husband, then ? But look 
 to it how you catch one for yourself, lass; I tell you it's a 
 piece of work. . . . Now I must be off to the calves." 
 
 Now she was in the byre with the youngest calf. " They've 
 taken you away from your mammie already, you poor little 
 Redhead. Drink, or I'll give you such a whacking. I am 
 your stepmother. That's right. . . . That's the way to do it. 
 Had enough? well, lie down and sleep, then. Shall I sing 
 you a lullaby? I know cradle-songs enough, God wot, for 
 the time I shall need them. Don't look at me so stupidly, 
 Redhead, I tell you I have got no time. When the farmer 
 comes by with those long legs of his, remember me to him 
 and tell him he's a rogue. When you're bigger you'll have 
 to lead him a dance down into the old moat, like your brother
 
 J O R N U H L 285 
 
 did last year. He has deserved it of me. A pretty pass he's 
 brought me to." 
 
 And while she was standing by the wash-trough the little 
 children of the workmen came by and commenced chatting 
 with her. They talked on quietly for a time, then suddenly 
 the children pricked up their ears. They had heard a low 
 chirping. 
 
 "Oh, Neuschc " (that means " neighbor "), " what little bird 
 is that that goes cheep, cheep? " 
 
 " Listen." 
 
 " Oh, Neusche, where's the little bird that goes cheep, 
 cheep? " 
 
 " Listen, again." 
 
 " Oh, Neusche, you've got the little bird that goes cheep, 
 cheep, there in your breast! " 
 
 Then she knelt down before the children and opened the 
 bosom of her dress, and showed them a little chicken she 
 had found half-frozen to death, and which she was warming 
 between her breasts. It cheeped away as she set it down, 
 still wrapped in a little woollen cloth. 
 
 The children were astonished, and Lena Tarn laughed 
 and said, " Children, you must tell your mother, ' Mother 
 Neusche's got a little bird that goes cheep, cheep!'" Now, 
 that's the way people in those parts have of saying that a 
 woman is with child. 
 
 Toward the end of harvest the thrashing-machine came 
 into the village. There was a miserly auld wife who had, as 
 she thought, paid too dear for her silk skirt. So she 
 determined to make it up out of the wages of the thirty men 
 working with the machine. She had a certain pot of rancid 
 fat in the kitchen, and therewith she baked them a number 
 of stiff, hard pancakes. The men sniffed at them, tried to 
 bite them, then with one accord they arose up from their seats, 
 and nailed the two and seventy pancakes like so many Witten- 
 berg theses to the great door of the barn, and then, having 
 fastened ropes to the heavy machine, drew it away out of the 
 farmyard with shouts and singing. The man in charge of the 
 machine now made haste and went about to seek for work for 
 the day, and well he knew he wouldn't find it so quickly: one 
 faimer, whose wife cooked over frugally, said he wouldn't
 
 286 JORN UHL 
 
 try and force things; another thought he was doing a clever 
 thing to leave the corn in sheaf awhile longer. 
 
 But it was the wives who made most ado. " I tell you," 
 said they to their husbands, " 1 can't provide for thirty men 
 all in a twinkle of the eye. In two hours it will be dinner- 
 
 tmie. 
 
 So the machine-master in his quandary came running over 
 to Jorn Uhl. And Jorn Uhl hastened to the kitchen. 
 
 "What's your idea about it, Lena Tarn?" 
 
 " Will it suit you, Jorn? " 
 
 "To a T, my girl. I'll just set the whole five teams to 
 work and cart the beans in straight away." 
 
 She gave a quick look around, cast one glance through the 
 kitchen, and another in the direction of the cellar, and then 
 she had made up her mind. " Let them come," she said. 
 " They'll have to have their meal an hour later." 
 
 Half an hour afterward the machine was busy in the yard 
 puflfing and whirring, and sheaves were flying, and the heavy 
 black corn went rustling into the sacks. 
 
 Lena was not of the worrying and brooding sort. She 
 lived like a child, with her heart in the present. That is why 
 she had pleased him so greatly, being so different from him 
 in this. She lived as free from care as a bird. Think of the 
 birds of the heavens; they sow not, and yet they have always 
 enough. She had no desires of her own and no expenses. In 
 this way she thought we must get on. She thought she could 
 constrain prosperity by dint of honest work. 
 
 Once, it was in autumn, it struck her, however, that Jorn 
 had something weighing on his mind. He was coming back 
 across the big yard after having been in the village. Through 
 the door she saw him standing still, lost in thought. She went 
 out to him and said, " Are you so worried, then, Jorn? Come 
 and sit down a little by my side, then, on this seat." 
 
 " I don't like sitting here, lass. It looks too grand. As if 
 we meant people to look and say, ' Oh, there's the farmer and 
 his wife.' " 
 
 "You are the farmer and I'm the wife. Strange, isn't it? 
 Up to the time I was thirteen I still used to walk through 
 sand and heath, a barefooted girl. And the back wall of my 
 father's house was made of turf." She leaned her arm on the 
 rough wooden table and rested her cheek on her hand, gazing
 
 JORN UHL 287 
 
 thoughtfully at him. " But that was just the mistake. You 
 ought to have had a rich wife, then you'd have had no worries, 
 you poor old Jorn ! " 
 
 He said nothing. 
 
 She went on in a low voice, " I like work, and I can work, 
 and I can laugh, too. And if it were only a question of our 
 daily bread, and clothes to put on, I'd manage to feed and 
 clothe you and a few children. Hut more's wanted in this 
 case. The work of my hands must turn to silver, and my 
 singing to gold." 
 
 " Don't you worry," he said, comfortingly. " I'll get the 
 interest together yet, you'll see. But I'm afraid I'll have to 
 sell both the two-year-olds, and I'd like to have kept them 
 another year." 
 
 She felt inclined to laugh again. " I hope you won't be 
 getting hold of one of your own children by and by, and 
 selling it by mistake!" 
 
 "What will it cost?" 
 
 " Oh, you poor old Jorn ! what will it cost, eh ? Not 
 much. I'll lie up awhile in Wieten's room, then Wieten'll 
 have two patients to look after for four or five days. Then 
 I'll get up again and go about my work." 
 
 He was used to brooding over his troubles by himself 
 from early childhood. So he had grown into a man who 
 was like nothing so much as a house with a high wall all 
 around it. His young wife laughed and sang, worked and 
 loved, and came with it all no further than to the outer door 
 of his soul. At times she knocked for admission, but he 
 did not let her in. She seemed to him to be too kind, too 
 affectionate, and too blithe-hearted. Why should she look 
 into that dark, anxious soul of his? 
 
 If she had only reached a riper age, and had had happier 
 days on the Uhl to look back on, she would have become 
 one of those winsome country wives such as are met with 
 here and there on farms, who, with their good humour, their 
 quick wits and quick hands, their energ\' and their well-to-do 
 ways, are the very life and soul of the whole farm. But she 
 was still too young, at the time we are now speaking of, to put 
 forth her full talents, and was still too much under the 
 weight of her poverty-stricken youth to act with frank self- 
 confidence. But as though she knew that she had not much
 
 288 J C) R N U H L 
 
 time left her, she threw on all who dwelt around her a flood 
 of love and gladness. 
 
 Of a night when she was alone with Jorn, she was his 
 delight. Then as she lay in his arms she would always ask 
 the same question: "Things went fine to-day, didn't they?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "All the washing's dry. What about you?" 
 
 "Eh? Me . . . dry?" 
 
 " Oh! I mean what about your work? " 
 
 " Well, the bean paddock's ploughed." 
 
 " And what a nuisance! do you know what puts me out of 
 temper? " 
 
 " Yes, I can guess." 
 
 " That I daren't sing before the servants, you stupid old 
 Jorn. Before, when I was a young girl, I used to sing the 
 whole day long; it didn't matter a straw to anybody what 
 I sang, nor to you either, although you always went by me 
 with your nose so high in the air. But now I have to mind 
 my P's and Q's. Nor can I now blurt out the first thought 
 that comes into my head. That's almost a worse trial." 
 
 " Why, you've been humming tunes the whole day." 
 
 " But not singing. . . . What! . . . Can I now?" 
 
 " Fire away, then ! But not too loud ! " 
 
 So she sang all sorts of melodies, old and new, mostly old 
 folk-songs, keeping her voice low and soft. And every now 
 and then she would hide her head between his arm and 
 his shoulder, and laugh and exclaim, " I wonder what the 
 servants would say ! " Then she would rest her head on her 
 hand and lean over him, bringing out all sorts of droll ideas, 
 and letting them play before him as a mother does with a 
 chain of flowers above her child in its cradle. 
 
 On the morrow she was up betimes and had provided for 
 the people about the farm, and had given a new-born calf its 
 first milk. She had an especial love and aptitude in helping 
 the helpless, new-born creatures. Then in restless haste, and 
 with quick, dexterous hands, she had put water on to boil. 
 Then she came in to Wieten, saying, " The young mottled 
 cow has a calf, and now I have to . . ." She tried to laugh, 
 but could not. 
 
 Wieten Klook came over to her and laid her hands upon
 
 JORN UIIL 289 
 
 her. " You are an imprudent lass," she said ; " come, lie 
 down, your hour is come." 
 
 It was a wee, but strong and hearty boy. And although 
 It says in the Hihle, " In sorrow thou shalt bring forth chil- 
 dren," and altliough Lena Tarn, much to her own astonish- 
 ment, found herself lying there limp and exhausted, she, 
 nevertheless, began humming its first lullaby to the little 
 child on the following morning; and although Wieten warned 
 them and begged Jorn to insist upon her remaining in bed, 
 she got up on the sixth day. That day she looked after her 
 child alone, and even went into the kitchen and brought 
 water for its bath, singing to herself tlie while, and was 
 prouder and happier than ever any queen. Jorn Uhl let things 
 take their course. He was so proud of having such a strong, 
 healthy wife, and no namby-pamby. Jorn Uhl was too young 
 and too stupid. 
 
 People said afterward that there had been a draught in 
 the kitchen. It was late winter, in March, when the wind is 
 damp and cold, and the air is as sunless as though it would 
 never be spring again. But it is easy to bring accusations 
 against God and Nature. The truth is they were not careful 
 enough. It was fated that Lena Tarn, who had been so 
 scrupulously pure, was to perish from contact with the impure. 
 That same evening she lay in bed with flushed and burning 
 cheeks, without interest in anything, and in the night she 
 became delirious. She who in her good-heartedness had never 
 injured a living creature, now in her raving went to every 
 one in the house, even to the little stable lad and to all the 
 neighbors, begging each of them for forgiveness if she had 
 ever done them wrong. . . . 
 
 As if summoned together by her terror-stricken, wandering 
 soul, her truest friends gathered around her bedside. There 
 was Thiess Thiessen standing suddenly at her chamber door. 
 The damp March wind had bitten his withered face and 
 made it look still sharper. He said that Lisbeth had persuaded 
 him to leave Hamburg with her, so as to have the first sunny 
 days at the Haze. He came up to the bed but stepped 
 back at once, trembling all over, such a fright did he get, 
 and then went out into the big hall and paced restlessly 
 up and down, rubbing his hands together and shaking his
 
 290 JORN UHL 
 
 head. Next morning a bright young form appeared. She 
 came up to Jorn Uhl, who was standing helpless by the bed- 
 side, gave him her hand and looked at him with compassionate 
 glance. 
 
 " Lena, dearie," he said, " here's Lisbeth Junker, the little 
 girl I used to play with when 1 was a lad. Do you remember 
 me telling you about it?" 
 
 But Lena Tarn remained impassive. When Wieten held 
 her child for her to see, she looked at it with a long, silent 
 glance. Mother and child never saw each other again. 
 
 Toward evening the fever increased. She tossed about 
 over the whole bed. They went backwards and forwards in 
 the room, went to the kitchen and then came back. Lisbeth 
 Junker stood by the window, her eyes heavy with tears, and 
 gazed out into the darkness. Thiess Thiessen stood in the 
 kitchen by the hearth, stirring the glowing turf with the 
 tongs. The doctor came for the third time and soon drove 
 away again. When the driver, who knew him, looked at him, 
 he saw but hopeless, sorrowful eyes. The minister also came 
 and spoke to Jorn Uhl; he might just as well have spoken 
 to one of the oak tables that stood in the hall. It was a 
 long, anxious night, a night of helplessness, a night of woe. 
 
 Toward morning she grew more restful again, but was weary 
 to death and could hardly speak. He was " to tell father that 
 she had loved him dearly." 
 
 Jorn Uhl sobbed. " He's never said a single kindly word 
 to you, my poor lass." 
 
 She tried to smile. 
 
 " You've never had anything but work and worry," he said. 
 
 Then, speaking with difficulty, she made him understand 
 how^ happy she had been. He bent down close to her. She 
 tried to stroke his hand. She no longer thought of any one 
 but him; her child, too, she had forgotten. 
 
 That afternoon, when the fever was returning, he told her 
 that the two new cows had been brought. And she begged 
 that she might see them. Perhaps she wanted to show him 
 that she still had interest for the things that concerned him 
 and so comfort him, and in her fever got hold of the wrong 
 thing and hit upon his wish. 
 
 So the cowherd and the dairymaid brought in the two
 
 JORN UilL 291 
 
 heavy-uddered cows, and led them with firm hand through 
 the room ; she looked up and laughed. 
 
 Late in the afternoon the fever again raged through her 
 body, and she fought with it till nightfall; and then her 
 strength was at an end. The doctor came in the night, fiis 
 buggy lanterns glimmered in the icy wind. He looked at the 
 sick woman, and called Jorn Uhl aside and said that there 
 was no longer any hope. If he had anything he wanted to say 
 to her . . . 
 
 Jorn Uhl went back to the bedside, where he had been 
 standing for the last sixteen hours. \'es, there was something 
 to be said to her. He stooped down close to her and told 
 her in his clumsy way how deeply he had loved her. 
 
 She tried to look up at him. It was meant to be a long, 
 long look, full of wonder. It was the first glimpse she had 
 into his soul. But her eyelids were now too heavy. 
 
 After midnight she roused up a little. From the few words 
 that she said it was clear that she wiis back in her childhood 
 on the heath at Todum. She said something about, " You 
 have bare feet," and " Those are snakes . . ." and " Here are 
 some beautiful blue ones. . . ." At Ir. ,t her school comrades 
 from the little school at Todum were with her. They went 
 with her from bush to bush. The heath stretched out and 
 had no end, and the others lost heart and wanted to turn 
 back. '"Yes," she said; "but must I go on alone?" So she 
 gave them all her hand. And as she was going from one to 
 the other, all of a sudden they weren't school-children any 
 longer, but there stood the old teacher Karstensen, and his 
 beautiful dark eyes sparkled just as they did many a time in 
 the religion lesson, when he pushed Luther's catechism aside 
 and spoke free from his heart about the courage and true- 
 heartedness of the Redeemer. He stroked her forehead, which 
 was hot from the summer sun, and said, " And now go straight 
 on and you will not miss the Uhl." 
 
 And jorn Uhl was standing there and giving her his hand 
 to bid her adieu, and kissed her and wept, and she did not 
 understand how the big, strong man came to be weeping so 
 like a child. She heard it clearly. And Wieten Klook was 
 there, too, and many others were around the bed weeping. 
 Quite clearly she heard their bitter sobbing. Then she turned 
 her face away and departed from among mortals, pursuing
 
 292 JORN UHL 
 
 her way out over the great heath alone, on and on. And 
 it was very lonely ; and it grew dark and her soul was full 
 of fear. But the farther she went the lighter it grew, a^ though 
 some heavy, dark cloud that had covered the sun had now 
 moved away. And gradually, with the waxing light, she found 
 herself in the midst of a strange company that came about her. 
 They came from both sides, very quietly so as not to frighten 
 her, — single figures, — and some came from behind, approach- 
 ing her with silent steps. They were forms like those of mortals, 
 but they had much purer eyes and walked as though they had 
 never known care, and their garments were as of white silk. 
 At last they came so close to her and there were so many of 
 them that she was quite surrounded, and they looked on her 
 with kindly faces. And she tried to laugh; but they said 
 she dare not do so yet. The road began to go up-hill, and 
 toward her there came as it were a stream of light or song — 
 gentleness and strength came to meet her. Many hands caught 
 hold of her and led her onwards, and she came and stood before 
 a form of One most grave and holy, that bowed down and 
 looked on her with kindly eyes. Then she stretched out her 
 hand and found suddenly that she had in it a great bunch of 
 brilliant crimson flowers, and she gave them to Him, and said, 
 " That is all I have. I beg you to let me stay with you. I 
 am so very tired, dear Lord ! By and by I will work as much 
 as ever I can. And, if you please, I should like to sing as I 
 work." 
 
 When it was known in the village that Lena Tarn had died 
 in childbed, there arose among the women-folk a great run- 
 ning hither and thither from house to house beneath the lindens, 
 and in every house was mourning. There wasn't a dwelling in 
 Mariendonn village but had the window on the right of the 
 front door hung with a white sheet. Even old Jochen Rink- 
 mann, cabinet-maker and funeral-furnisher, who was wont 
 at most times to do exactly the contrary of what every one else 
 did ; who was so perverse that when a house was on fire 
 he would insist on having a corner to himself to put out, and 
 would growl at any one else who happened to pump water on 
 to It, — even he, I say, now took his blue apron, having nothing 
 else handy, and hung it over his little workshop window that
 
 JORN UHL 293 
 
 was nearest the front door, and worked the whole day in the 
 dim light. And he hadn't e\en s^ot the order for the coffin. 
 
 When Jorn Uhl came back home — it was the fourtii day 
 after the funeral — he saw the farm-servants and the maids 
 standing together talking; he sent them to their work. He 
 stood still in the big hall and listened. Many a time he had 
 stood there trying to hear which room the humming came 
 from, or to tell whether that light, brave step was in the 
 kitchen or in the sitting-room. As he listened now, he sud- 
 denly heard the loud crying of the little child. He went into 
 the room; there sat his father by the big Dutch stove. His 
 pipe had gone out, and he was waving it at Wieten and scold- 
 ing her for not looking after him ; and by the bed stood Wieten 
 leaning over the child. And the room was untidy and unclean.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 There are some farms in this country-side that are dead. 
 Avarice or debt, or public disgrace, or evil conscience, or slow, 
 incurable disease, have killed all the life that was in such 
 houses, and shut out all that would come in afresh from 
 without. The earth rolls around, civilization goes its way, 
 manners and customs change, the nations wage war, the pros- 
 perity of the people waxes and wanes, but the farmstead out 
 there in the lonely fields, under the high, dark trees behind 
 the thickets, does not stir. It stands there still as a nail rusting 
 in a damp wall. The maid in the inner chamber and the lad 
 in the stable forget now and again and burst out laughing, only 
 to strike themselves on their mouths again and be still. 
 
 Some day, finally, a coffin is carried away from the farm, or 
 a closed carriage drives up, and voluntarily or by compulsion 
 a benighted man gets in and disappears into some madhouse 
 for the rest of his life; or a couple of old people, man and 
 wife or brother and sister, with sharp, distrustful eyes, leave 
 the unclean and stuffy rooms and the tumbledown farmstead 
 for some dwelling reserved for their old age, fearful of the 
 night because they cannot sleep for care and worry, and fearful 
 of the day lest their children should come — children whom 
 they look upon as thieves anxious to steal away their hidden 
 scrip and debentures. But the farm comes into other hands. 
 VVindow-^shes and doors are taken down. House-painters 
 and carpenters are singing in all the rooms. Soon the laughter 
 of some young wife is heard there. And soon there are flaxen- 
 haired children playing in the sunlight in the courtyard. 
 
 It was a gloomy November. A cold west wind had been 
 driving through the poplars for days, and there was a sound 
 in them as of the rush and roar of billows. On one such 
 evening, Jorn's two brothers came back from Hamburg. 
 
 They made out that they had merely come to have " a look 
 
 294
 
 JORN UHL 295 
 
 around " and to see how their father was. But their fatlier 
 turned his head to the wall away from them. When they 
 had left the room he abused them, saying that all the Uhls 
 nowadays were good-for-nothinjz;s ; he himself was the last of 
 the Uhls who had been worth their salt. The two visitors 
 troubled their heads no further about him, but strode grandly 
 through the house and stables, praising this and finding fault 
 with that, and prating about a great hay and corn store they 
 had, and a big cart down there in Hamburg. Tliat evening 
 they went to the village public-house, after getting Jorn to 
 give them twenty shillings, as they had " brought no change 
 with them." They came home in the small hours of the morn- 
 ing. Jorn Uhl did not go to sleep that night; he lay on 
 his back staring up into the darkness with open eyes, and 
 pondering over things. He knew that his brothers were at 
 the end of their tether and wanted money from him. He 
 had noticed that their coats were patched, and frayed in front. 
 The blood came up into his cheeks when he thought of sons 
 of his father sitting like that in the village tavern. Next 
 morning they said to him, — quite casually, as it were, — "I 
 say, Jorn, we're going to borrow a small sum from Fritz 
 Rapp. He olfered it to us. In Hamburg capital is every- 
 thing, you know ; whether it's one's ov\ n or borrowed doesn't 
 matter a pin. So we're going to take it. In case of either of 
 us dying we want you to pvit your name to the thing." 
 
 " Well . . ." said Jorn Uhl, " that's all very well. ... I'm 
 deep enough in the mud already, and am no good as a bonds- 
 man for you." " Oh, it's only a matter of form," said Hinncrk. 
 That was the tone they adopted, and their youngest brother 
 knew not what reply to make them. 
 
 So that afternoon the matter was settled, and that same 
 evening Hans left the Uhl to pay a forged bill with the money 
 he had received, and save himself from prosecution. Hinnerk, 
 however, stayed. He complaineil of rheumatism in his weak 
 leg, and said that he thought the damp, soft, marsh air would 
 do him good. He lolled about the public-houses of the villages 
 around, and bought himself a new suit in his brother's name. 
 
 One evening, toward Christmas, he came into Jorn's room ; 
 he found his brother sitting there in the twilight, and told 
 him he wanted ten shillings. Jorn answered quietly that he 
 should get nothing from him. Hinnerk's eyes began to glitter;
 
 296 JORN UHL 
 
 he said a man couldn't live without money; he had borrowed 
 a matter of twenty poiinds already in his brother's name from 
 Fritz Rapp. Jorn kept control of himself, although his voice 
 shook; no, he would never give him another farthing; he 
 only spent it in dragging the disgrace of his family from tap- 
 room to tap-room. On hearing this, the brutalized fellow 
 cried out with rage and lifted his hand against his brother. 
 Jorn's blood now boiled over, and he caught hold of the 
 drunkard and roughly bundled him out-of-doors. 
 
 From that time forth the limping man kept quiet when he 
 was at home. He got the farm-servants or passing children to 
 bring him brandy from the inn, and would sit in his room with 
 the stableman from the next farm, a loose fellow like himself. 
 Then he would throw himself on his bed and sleep off his 
 drunken bout. He seldom appeared at meals. He seemed to 
 be able to satiate himself on brandy. 
 
 Jorn bore all this in silence with dark, scowling countenance. 
 Old Dreyer had said, " Don't let him out of your sight, Jorn! 
 Fritz Rapp has got some evil hatching against you for not 
 having paid Hinnerk's debts. They have been saying they'd 
 keep him drunk on brandy for a fortnight." 
 
 So when the drunkard wanted to go out, Jorn barred the 
 way and said, curtly and harshly, " You stay where you are! " 
 
 One day in spring, however, he left the farm. For a year he 
 led a vagabond's life in the country around, working only 
 sufficiently to keep him in drink, abusing his father and brother. 
 Now and again he passed by the old homestead wuth his boon 
 companions, shouting and bragging. 
 
 One day in spring old Farmer Uhl got up from his arm- 
 chair and managed, with the aid of a stick, to walk a little. 
 Soon he was able to stand and lean against the wall, looking 
 across the road. And after awhile you could see the heavily 
 built old man walking barehead, with disordered gray hair, 
 slouching around the house, and looking out for any one that 
 might come along that lonely way to whom he might utter his 
 complaints and abuse, and tell them how Klaus Uhl and his 
 children were mismanaging the farm and bringing themselves 
 to beggary. He was quite convinced that he was the Hinrich 
 Uhl who had founded their house and brought the family to 
 dignity and importance. Once it happened that his limping 
 son came by that way when the old man was standing there,
 
 JORN UHL 297 
 
 and there was such an interchange of foul language between 
 them that Jurn (J hi could not conceal the shame of his soul 
 from one of his men w lio was taking out food to the cattle; he 
 shook his head in desperation, then in his blind rage he struck 
 the fork so violently into the wall that the handle flew into 
 splinters. Such outbursts of rage came over him more fre- 
 quently this year. His character began to show flaws and to 
 get a tendency to gloominess and austerity. 
 
 The old maid servant, whose hair is getting thin and gray, 
 looks after things as faithfully as ever, although without her 
 old zeal and hope. She sits and sews and patches for three 
 now, for there is the old man and Jorn and the little child to 
 care for. Wlien the old witling comes in from outside he will 
 sit down heavily in the big armchair, and grow 1, " Tell me a 
 stor>'! " Then she tells him strange old tales, such as the soul 
 of this people has invented in its dreams. Some of them are 
 very silly, others very wonderful, others very eerie. Of an 
 evening she takes her spectacles and opens the Bible, and will 
 always choose some part or other of the Old Testament to read 
 aloud, — strange miracles, great wild deeds, and the stern words 
 of upbraiding of the old prophets. She has never been able 
 to rightly make up her mind about the New Testament. By 
 nature she had a sunny enough disposition; she had been a 
 soft and loving child in those old days when she used to play 
 gipsies with Anna Stuhr and her children on the heath. But 
 the heart-breaking experiences of the years that followed, and 
 her long, lonely time of senice on the big marsh farms, and 
 the way in which Fate had bound her life up with the 
 tragedy at the Uhl, all these things had combined to lead her 
 out of life's sunshine deeper and deeper into the shadow. In 
 the darkness and not in the light she now sought for the 
 Abiding and Eternal. The brightness and greenery of forest 
 glades no longer seemed to her to be the symbol of the world ; 
 she sought it rather in the gray gloom of air beneath the ancient 
 pines. 
 
 The master of the house, too, was a gloomy, brooding man, 
 a man whose lips, despite his youth, lie in a sharp, bitter line, 
 as if they had grown together by dint of long pressing. He 
 never goes into the village, and neither knows nor cares what 
 happens there. Church never sees him. His thoughts are
 
 298 J O R N U H L 
 
 bounded by his own farmstead and do not trespass beyond the 
 fields of the Uhl, except, maybe, to visit the little churchyard 
 where Lena Tarn lies buried, and the parish registry where the 
 taxes are paid, and the grand new house of the Whiteheads 
 which is not far from the Schenefeld Church. 
 
 If any one were to come to him and tell him his country 
 was in danger and that he must help to defend it, he would 
 say: "Country? What country? Don't you know, man, 
 that I have my hands and my head overfull already? The 
 farm is overmortgaged, my father's a dotard, my brother a 
 vagabond, and Lena Tarn is in her grave. Don't come talking 
 to me about my country." 
 
 In order to save paying extra wages, he himself patches up 
 doors and mangers and lattices. He goes around the house 
 with a bucket of lime, putting a stone to rights here and there, 
 and all the while ashamed of himself before the servants. But 
 the farmhouse must be kept in good repair, or else old White- 
 head may come some fine day and say: "The place is going 
 to ruin. Clear out from the farm altogether!" Yes! From 
 this farm that has been a source of care to him as long as 
 he could remember. And what was to be done with those 
 two inside who are telling the story of the man who found 
 an iron pot while he was ploughing, an iron pot full to the 
 brim with silver crowns? 
 
 Jorn's child runs about alone, left to itself to play about 
 the stables. It has none but taciturn people around it, and 
 in answer to all its inquisitiveness, learns nothing but sad, 
 sober, prosy things. So it becomes old-fashioned, and at four 
 years of age speaks in the drawling country dialect about the 
 price of beasts and cattle, and tries to play six and sixty with 
 the ploughmen in the stable corner. 
 
 Lisbeth Junker used to come once a year from Hamburg 
 to spend a few days in the old village schoolhouse. On these 
 visits she always came over to the Uhl, too, to have a look 
 at little Jiirgen. Her hair and her eyes had still their fresh, 
 Sunday, virgin look as of old, and her figure was still full 
 of its old, lithe, proud strength and grace. In her gray eyes 
 and around her firm rosy mouth deep earnestness of charac- 
 ter was manifest. She took little Jiirgen on her knees, and 
 told him with those demure eyes and that high, soft, shy 
 voice of hers about her life away there in the big city. She
 
 JORN UHL 299 
 
 told him how she still lived there with her aunt, and how 
 much she liked it. " Our little shop lies near the grammar 
 school," she said, " and not far from a big board scho<jl. The 
 school-children buy all sorts of stationery from us, and ink 
 and exercise-books, and we sometimes have big orders from 
 the professors and sixth-class boj's." 
 
 Jorn looked reverently at her fine, proud beauty, and 
 thought, " How far away she is from me. She is a princess, 
 and I am a poor, rough ploughman. What business should 
 she have here in the midst of all my wretched life?" Then 
 he said out loud to Lisbeth, " You're too young for it, Lisbeth." 
 
 She shook her head. "What else have I to do, Jorn? 
 What other aim in life have I? It's better than being a mere 
 dependent in some strange household." 
 
 Then they began talking of other things. She tried to 
 lead him to speak of old times; but those times lay far from 
 him as though hidden behind some vast, gloomy wood. He 
 was too close beset with heavy thoughts to understand the 
 shy pressure of her hand and the pain in her eyes when she 
 was bidding him good-by. Then she would come again on 
 the second day, perhaps, " to have a peep in." But the conver- 
 sation persisted in flagging. She spoke of this and that, and 
 asked him all sorts of questions, but with her quick intuition 
 she soon saw that his thoughts were elsewhere. Then she 
 went away. On the way home her cheeks suddenly flushed 
 red with shame. And that night, when she was back in 
 Hamburg, she cried and cried imtil she had no more tears. 
 
 Once, it was when the child was about three or four, and 
 had been pla3ing on the roadside, it came into the big hall 
 with its hand in that of a youngish, fair-bearded man, and 
 called out, " Father, here's the minister." 
 
 The other minister, the one who used to go through the 
 village with such a proud knowledge of his dignity, and preach 
 so loud and with such assurance about the only orthodox 
 faith, had been promoted to some city parish. The one that 
 now came was a man still young in years, of childlike nature, 
 and one that frankly said what he thought about things. 
 Everything he said was true, but sometimes it wasn't pleasant. 
 He wasn't the sort of man for the Uhls; these hard, crafty, 
 cautious men, behind whose words one always has such a 
 laborious search before one discovers the truth. With the
 
 300 J O R N U H L 
 
 flight of years he gained more and more enemies. At last the 
 whole parish was loud in its cries for a new minister in his 
 stead ; they wanted one who was more positive, more ofiicious, 
 more unctuous, and, moreover, a good card-pla.\er. 
 
 These Protestant churches, three hundred and fifty years 
 after Luther's death, are still unable to tolerate a pastor who 
 pretends to be nothing more than a simple, honest man. 
 In these country parishes there is many a sorrowful and heavy 
 heart, whose sorrow and heaviness, moreover, is all in vain. 
 
 At this time, however, he was still fresh and full of hope; 
 he had only been six months in the parish, and trusted to 
 be able to carry out his task ; by honest love and honest work 
 he wanted to win all these people over to him, and thus win 
 them for the Gospel and its high and beautiful message. 
 
 So the minister came in and made a few remarks about 
 wind and weather, and then went on to say: " Next Sunday 
 we are going to put up a memorial tablet in the church for 
 those who fell in the war. So I have come over to ask you to 
 come, too. I know that you're no great churchgoer, but you 
 ought to be present at this festival." 
 
 Jorn Uhl said in a not unfriendly tone, with his eyes on 
 the ground : " I am in no frame of mind to join in with you. 
 You will know, I dare say, how things stand with my father, 
 and what I have had to go through here. I haven't a jot of 
 inclination left for public ceremonies and such things." 
 
 " That I can well understand," said the minister, with a 
 look of sympathy. " But it's not a dance I am inviting you 
 to. That I wouldn't have dreamed of. It is a service in 
 memory of the dead." 
 
 Jorn Uhl looked up with a kindly glance. "No! I cannot 
 come," he said; " it's out of my power. But I'll think on it 
 when you are together yonder in the church. They are all 
 brave lads, the whole four of those whose names are going 
 to be put on the tablet. I stood at Geert Dose's side when he 
 was dying. I will come another time by myself and look 
 at the stone." 
 
 The minister looked at him and liked him. " Well, I must 
 be content, I suppose," he said. Then they shook hands and 
 bade each other good-by. 
 
 On Sunday evening Jorn took his little boy by the hand 
 and went across fields with him to the church way, and
 
 JORN UHL 3°' 
 
 reached the churchyard unseen and entered the church. Hang- 
 ing on the wall in an oak frame lie saw the marble tablet 
 gleaming in the dim light. It had a wreath of oak leaves 
 around it. There was still light enough for him to make out 
 the names on it. Beneath the names was written : 
 
 " THEY DIED FOR THEIR COUNTRY." 
 
 Jorn nodded. The simple tablet and short epitaph pleased him. 
 
 He heard some one else enter the church, and looking 
 
 around saw it was the minister. " Do you like it?" he asked 
 
 " It's a good epitaph," said Jorn. 
 
 " Many members of the congregation wanted something 
 grander and more rhetorical. ... If you look at the matter 
 closely," he went on, gravely, " every earnest man does the 
 same as these four men have done. These did it in three days, 
 or in three weeks, with their sorrow heaped upon them. And 
 your young wife, Lhl, did it, too, in a few days; she gave 
 her life for you and the child. Others take years to do it in, 
 some for their children's sake, some for the sake of an idea, 
 or whatever other noble motives drive men to suffer volun- 
 tarily for others. Yesterday we buried the wife of a work- 
 ing man. She seldom came to church; but her whole life 
 was a faithful, earnest struggle for her husband and her chil- 
 dren. Serving and self-sacrifice, or helping others, or loyalty 
 to one's fellow men, call it what you like, that is the real, 
 human kingship. That is true Christianity." 
 
 " I can well understand that," said Jorn Uhl. " That's 
 a thing that looks one squarely and honestly in the face." He 
 nodded and looked at the minister, as though he expected him 
 to say something more about the matter. 
 
 " The Saviour," the minister went on, " has by His pure 
 and lovely life and by His most pathetic death, as well as by 
 His gracious, strong, proud words, cast into humanity a great 
 stream of thoughts and new life, words like a living flame as 
 He said. And now one man takes this and the other that, 
 one church this and another that, and each squats in a corner 
 with the little rushlight that each of them has taken, and 
 looks at it and lets it flare or smoke, according as they prefer 
 smoke or flame, and says, ' That's the truth of our blessed
 
 302 JORN UHL 
 
 Lord.' Many add their own bit of truth or even untruth, 
 many, indeed, even their own wickedness and niah'ce to it. 
 And in this way the real image of the Saviour becomes so 
 petrified, so disguised and distorted, that the real nobility of 
 His face is no longer seen. And yet all the time it's not 
 such a difficult thing, even for an unlearned man, to form, 
 with the sole aid of the first Gospels, a picture of Christ, 
 wherein the great, leading features of His life and will and 
 character stand clearly forth. As far as I can see, what He 
 lias to tell us is this: We shall have faith that God in heaven 
 is always ready, even in our darkest hour of need, to help us 
 with His strong, guardian arm ; with this joyous trust in our 
 hearts we shall manfully fight against all evil both in our- 
 selves and around us. With this faith in God, like a strong 
 wall behind our backs, we shall fight for what's right and 
 good and never doubt of the victory, first here, then here- 
 after. That, according to my idea, is what Christianity means. 
 But if a man cannot come to have this trust in God — for 
 it is not every one that can — and yet nevertheless can live a 
 life of goodness and love, then let us accept him for what he 
 is and be content and rejoice over him." 
 
 " Every good man must agree with what you say," said 
 Jorn. " There's no need for us to stand brooding on one 
 leg, a thing we've no time for. Nor is it necessary for us to 
 strip the reasoning powers God has given us of all independence 
 and then to accept whatever folk choose to set up before us, 
 as though they should say, 'Feed, bird, or perish!'" 
 
 The minister gave a hearty laugh. " There's nothing more 
 certain," he said, " than that the things Jesus wanted to bring 
 to humanity were exceedingly simple, direct, and clear. But 
 really I don't know what they were unless they were what I 
 just now said." 
 
 They walked together as far as the edge of the churchyard. 
 The minister began to ask about Jorn's campaign in France. 
 Jorn had thawed a little, and now spoke with slow deliberation 
 of their evil plight at Gravelotte, and the wet camp before 
 Metz, and the long, bitter weeks around Orleans. Then he 
 said he had no more time to spare. " We have a mare in 
 the stable we expect to foal soon, and the stable-boy who has 
 been left with her isn't thoroughly reliable," said Jorn. So 
 they parted, each with a good opinion of the other. The
 
 J R N U H L 30s 
 
 minister went into the village to speak with his parishioners 
 there, and try and soften their liearts, hut making no more 
 impression on them than a dog does with its barking at a 
 passing wagon. But Jorn Uhl went back to his farm, there to 
 live through the darkest hour of all his life. 
 
 For whilst he was on his way to the church, his brother 
 had come that way. He had been drinking and brawling all 
 day in a public-house, and had learnt from the lad at the 
 stable door that the young farmer was away from home. Curs- 
 ing and swearing, he forced his way into the house, and 
 stumbled into the room where his old father was, and poured 
 out his hate and misery before him. 
 
 The old man was already in bed, but raised himself on his 
 elbow, and stared with dazed eyes at the intruder. " What 
 do you want? " he asked, in a quavering voice. " 1 have toiled 
 hard, and worked in the sweat of my brow, and have stayed 
 at home all my life, and whenever I had to go to town I went 
 on foot. I, old man as I am, I curse you and your father. 
 The house and home and wealth I got together with so much 
 toil has dazed your wits. Away with you! The whole brood 
 of you! You're not fit for the sun to shine on." 
 
 " You're mad," said the drunkard, supporting himself on a 
 chair by the bedside. " I tell you, you're as mad and crazy 
 as a sow that eats her own young. But it's a form of madness 
 that suits your purpose. You were always a good one at 
 finding out things that suit your purpose. First you manage 
 the farm like a rascal, and after you've squandered everything 
 you set up in your craziness for being a man of birth." He 
 took the bottle that he had in his tattered jacket and drank 
 and drank. " The whole world's off its hinges. I tell you. 
 When people don't like being what they are, they just take 
 on some crazy guise that suits them. I'm going to be a 
 different man from what I am, too. Off, off with this old 
 skin! It's too shabby." He pulled off his coat and flung it 
 on the bed. " Good-by, grand-dad, good-by, great-grand- 
 father, old Adam, you! I'm going to strip this old skin off, 
 I say. What's the good of living!" He stumbled out into 
 the big hall. It was all dark. 
 
 When Jorn Uhl caine home he found his father asleep. 
 Wieten was not in the room. Then he went into the hall. 
 There lay Hinnerk Uhl on the floor near the ladder, and
 
 304 JORN UHL 
 
 Wieten Klook ami the old ploughman were standing by him. 
 \Vieten told him how his brother had come home. " I went 
 after him and couldn't find him, at first. Afterward I found 
 him here, hanging from the ladder." 
 
 The man went ofi toward the stable, and said to the lad 
 who was standing in the doorwaj' with pale, frightened face, 
 " Get away back to the mare. This is no place for you." 
 
 When the two had disappeared, Jorn Uhl recovered from 
 his stupor. He leaned heavily against the ladder and lifted 
 his hand to his face. And Wieten said, " Don't take on so, 
 Jorn, laddie, don't take on so." 
 
 The coroner came and the magistrate, and Jorn Uhl was 
 as cold as ice and as dangerous as broken glass. The magis- 
 trate asked who was to make the coffin. Jorn answered, 
 " What's that to do with me? " 
 
 " Yes, but we can't have him buried as a pauper at the 
 expense of the parish." 
 
 Jorn gave him a haughty look. "Why can't you? Isn't it 
 the parish that licenses the tap-rooms where men may drink 
 themselves into sots? Am I responsible, then, or is the 
 parish? . . . Well, let the parish bury the sot of its own 
 making." 
 
 That same evening the pauper's cofSn arrived, and was 
 put into a shed on the right of the cow-stall, which had 
 formerly been used as a chaff-room. 
 
 Jorn Uhl and Finke, the carpenter, put the dead man in. 
 " Paupers' coffins are made beforehand," the carpenter said. 
 " He's too long. . . . He was in the Life Guards." 
 
 " It will have to do." 
 
 Wieten came in, leading the old man by the hand like a 
 child. In the other hand she had the empty bottle and the 
 cord. " We'll put them in with him," she said; " it's no use 
 trying to deceive God. Now He can see his temptation and 
 the misery he lived and died in." And so saying, she laid 
 the things beneath his knees. 
 
 Jorn Uhl went away, shaking his head, and left the two 
 alone. He walked up and down in front of the house like a 
 sentinel on guard, as if to ward off further shame and mis- 
 fortune from his home. When he went inside again to see 
 his father to bed as usual, he found the old man already 
 undressed. Wieten was sitting by the bedside reading out of
 
 JORN UHL 305 
 
 the Old Testament the story of Eh', the man who neglected to 
 train his children aright. 
 
 " Jorn," she said, " I believe he knows to-night that he's 
 Klaus Uhl. He asked me just now whether he was the man 
 who fell on the ploughshare." 
 
 Jorn Uhl came to the bedside and looked at his father, 
 and said, "Are you comfortable, father?" The old man 
 made no reply. " Give over reading, Wieten. It's no use. It's 
 too late for that now." 
 
 " Well, as you think best," said she, and put the book back 
 in its place. " I was thinking it might bring him to himself." 
 
 "Well, and what then?" said Jorn. 
 
 The sun shone. The wind blew. The little lad ran about 
 the farmyard in sun and wind, holding his hands high above 
 his head, making believe that he was going to fly. But Uhl 
 Farm was dead.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Uhl Farm was dead. The people who live on a dead farm 
 mostly grow miserly and dirty. But that was not the case 
 at the Uhl. Wieten's hair kept smooth and neat. The little 
 lad was tidily dressed, like the child of some workman who 
 has a good wife. Jorn himself now wore a blue cotton suit in 
 summer and moleskins in winter, and his waistcoat buttoned 
 up to the throat. Right at the bottom of the old chest lay 
 unused the dark blue suit he had had made for his marriage 
 with Lena Tarn. Nor did the hearts of the folk at the Uhl 
 grow callous or hard. They were guarded against any such 
 danger by the memory of Lena Tarn and her goodness, and 
 by Wieten Klook's quiet gravity ; and the young farmer's 
 inborn feeling for what is honorable and pure now stood him 
 in good stead. But there was another danger. It seemed 
 as if he was going to become a recluse and eccentric. Once 
 before, when his first love had terminated so unhappily, this 
 danger had confronted him. Now it was here again. In his 
 sad and anxious solitude the inclination to brood and ponder 
 and think out the cause of things came upon him. And this 
 was so much the worse, since it now found him a man whose 
 soul was weary and bitter almost to despair. But whereas he 
 had had to fight his way out alone before, both men and stars 
 now lent him their aid. 
 
 It was a good thing that he now had some inner light to 
 guide him. It was a good thing that he did not need to 
 stagger about at random and go reeling into the abysses of 
 the abstract and transcendental, like a man who takes a run 
 and springs down from the world into space. . . . Up in 
 heaven the golden hosts still trooped by, with glimmering lance 
 and shining breastplates. On these he could direct his tele- 
 scope and find there stuff for quiet and earnest thought. 
 
 Behind the house in the orchard, on the edge of the old 
 
 306
 
 JORN UHL 307 
 
 moat, there stood an old garden-house, whose walls were stdl 
 sound, although the roof was in decay. He set this little 
 building in order, repairing it and giving it a revolving roof, 
 and in the little observatory he fixed two firm stone pillars, 
 and laid the refractor on the one and the transit-instrument on 
 the other. On the window-sill he arranged a shelf for books 
 and a clock, and nailed various astronomical tables and charts 
 on the walls. All this he did for himself without help. 
 
 His father had often used this arbour as a place for drinking 
 and card-playing, and his brothers, too, had often sat there 
 of a night in company with the wenches with whom they 
 consorted ; and now Jorn, the youngest, quenched his thirst for 
 knowledge there. Half the night he would sit there with his 
 charts and glasses, peering deep into a most learned book, and 
 looking exceedingly wise, with his forehead all puckered and 
 wrinkled. And at times, astounded by the discoveries he was 
 making, he would strike his knee with the flat of his hand 
 so that the room rang again. And good it was that this was 
 so. It was a leap out of a field full of thorns and thistles on 
 to a high wall, where cool winds fan the dusty laborer. And 
 men helped him, too. 
 
 The municipality, as it happened, was just thinking of a 
 new plan for draining the district, a matter which requires a 
 good deal of exact preliminary work, and costs not only time 
 but much labor and money. Three years long the council 
 had been reflecting how they could set about it in the most 
 prudent and most thrifty way, and whether they could not 
 manage without the aid of learned professionals, who send in, 
 as is known, such barbarously long bills. So they came over 
 one day to the silent, learned young farmer, and found him 
 sitting there on his farm like a spider in its web, and asked 
 him for his advice. Jorn thought the matter over for a week, 
 making diagrams in the big land register half the night through, 
 often laying his long forefinger reflectively along his long nose, 
 as though it was its length he was measuring. 
 
 At the end of the week he went to the council and told 
 them that he, Jorn Uhl, would undertake the whole work, 
 under their supervision. They should pay him, he said, for 
 the work he did at such and such a rate, payments to be made 
 each New Year, if the year's work turned out to their satis- 
 faction. They were greatly astonished, and requested him to
 
 3o8 J O R N U H L 
 
 leave the room for awhile. There was a long discussion, and 
 at last his offer was accepted by a narrow majority. 
 
 He carried out the whole work in five years as he had agreed, 
 and reaped a double benefit from it. It put some money into 
 his empty pockets, and, what was more, the extra work pre- 
 vented him from giving way to his fits of brooding. 
 
 His task also brought him into touch with botany and miner- 
 alog>\ In his tramps about the district, through the Geest 
 and the IMarsh, and over fen and heath, he collected all sorts 
 of plants and seeds of weeds, and rejoiced the heart of the 
 old professor in town with his specimens; and when new 
 deep trenches were being dug, he was seized by the desire to 
 examine and define the different kinds of earth and strata, and 
 the old professor got from him a number of neatly made draw- 
 ings with exact reports. So, you see, men helped him. 
 
 His little son was growing apace, and would go trotting along 
 at his father's side through house and barn with endless ques- 
 tions, and would ride and drive with him to the smithy. And 
 one day the boy went alone into the village and brought an- 
 other little lad back with him to play with him, just as the 
 lonely dove gets itself a mate. From that time forth, Jorn's 
 intercourse with the children helped his thoughts and his ways 
 of speech to become more childlike. He who had hitherto 
 tried in vain to hit the right tone in conversation, now sat 
 between these two little chaps on the form near the big barn 
 door, and listened knowingly as they conversed, and found the 
 tone he wanted, and built them a rabbit-hutch, half above 
 ground and half beneath, as is the proper thing with rabbit- 
 hutches. When the lad was five years of age, he used to carry 
 his father's chain and surveying-rods after him from field to 
 field. And once when he was six, and heard his father at 
 the beginning of harvest complaining to Wieten that he'd have 
 to hire a lad to drive an extra cart, the little fellow got up 
 and maintained he could do it. And during the whole of that 
 hot and busy harvest for four whole weeks he drove the big 
 wagon, and was proud as a king, and crowed with laughter 
 and drummed with his feet for very pleasure when one of 
 the men upset the last load of corn by the gateway where 
 the entrance is so difficult. That had never happened to him, 
 bless you. Jorn Uhl stood by the corner of the field and saw 
 the youngster's delight, and came near laughing.
 
 JORN UHL 309 
 
 The child's parents had been of about equal stature, tall, 
 broadly built, and lithe; but the boy had his mother's eyes, 
 and it seemed as if he had inherited much of her kindly and 
 helpful nature. When he burst out with his ringing laugh 
 while playing with the dogs or the children, Jorn would come 
 to the door and look at the child, and his thoughts would lose 
 themselves far away. Men helped him, I say. 
 
 One evening — it was after that conversation in the church 
 — Jorn Uhl ventured across the fields to the manse. It was 
 just past supper-time. The door was opened, and they won- 
 dered who it was coming at that hour. There stood J(irn 
 Uhl in his dark gray suit, broad shouldered and square built, 
 in the doorway. He was asked in, and entered, stooping as he 
 passed under the low door of the old house. 
 
 In the middle of a low room he saw a four-cornered table, 
 and all four sides of it were occupied. On the one side sat 
 the minister reading; on the other sat his wife, a natty, some- 
 what delicate little body, and childless; she also was reading. 
 On the third sat a girl, some eighteen years or so of age, 
 a schoolmaster's daughter, who helped with the housework, a 
 merry-hearted rogue, and she was reading, too. On the fourth 
 side sat the minister's father. He was an old man, and had 
 been in the wars in his youth and had been wounded at Idstedt, 
 and then in his after life as a country artisan he had seen 
 and gone through all sorts of strange experiences. He was 
 wont to say: "No need for me to read things in books; my 
 life's a book of itself." He would sit with his chair a little 
 turned away from the table, and smoke and tell stories that 
 no one listened to. Only when it was anything new or inter- 
 esting the others would look up from tlieir books and ask, 
 " What was that you were saying, dad ? " Somewhere or 
 other, squeezed in between these four anywhere where there 
 was most space, sat a merry little lad of some ten years of age. 
 He had no parents and had been put out " to browse at the 
 manse," and '* get in condition," as the minister said. He, 
 too, was reading. 
 
 Jorn Uhl came stooping into the room through the low 
 doorway, and there w^as no chair for him. At last the girl 
 stood up and gave the boy a sign, and they both went and 
 sat on the sofa at the other end of the room, and put a 
 draught-board between them and began playing eagerly, only^
 
 3IO JORN UHL 
 
 interrupting themselves to dip into a bag of raisins that had 
 somehow or other got left on the sofa. 
 
 So Jorn Uiil got a seat and talk began. At first the minister 
 thought the visitor had come with some special object, so he 
 merely made a few general remarks about the weather and 
 waited for Jorn to broach the special subject of his errand. 
 
 After awhile, as Jorn made no move, the minister saw that 
 his guest had reallj' come just for the sake of a pleasant hour 
 together, a thing he'd been many a time invited to do, but 
 without avail. So they began to talk about what was happen- 
 ing abroad in the wide world, and from that they got to 
 talking about the stars. It was the minister's wife that started 
 the theme, and it went so far that night that Jorn Uhl got a 
 big sheet of paper in front of him, and with a lead-pencil, which 
 he gripped like a hay-fork, he sketched a map of the heavens, 
 and while talking in quiet, deliberate, pure High German, he 
 took the whole of the pastor's family with him for a long walk 
 along the Milky Way; striding slowly forward and following 
 his nose, he traversed the sky from one side to the other with 
 them. 
 
 Everybody in the manse gave a sigh of relief when the 
 door shut behind him that night. The minister said: "Did 
 not I tell 3'ou what a clever, sensible fellow he was?" His 
 wife answered : " You were right for once ; it went fine." 
 
 He visited them again at the end of a fortnight, and re- 
 peated his visits from that time forth about once every fourteen 
 or fifteen days. Whenever the conversation hung fire — for 
 neither Jorn Uhl nor the minister nor the minister's wife 
 were what are called " society talkers " — the minister would 
 take down a book and read out aloud. It even happened some- 
 times that he was so intent upon the book he was reading 
 that he said straight out that he couldn't give it up that night. 
 Then Jorn would talk to the old man about war and the life 
 of soldiers, and with the housewife about the strange fates of 
 different people they had known. 
 
 When it came to choosing the books to be read aloud, the 
 minister at first got quite on the wrong track. He hit on 
 " Faust " and then on " Reineke Fuchs." Jorn Uhl listened, 
 to be sure, but when they had finished reading these books, and 
 he was asked his opinion about them, he shook his head em- 
 phatically, and said, " No, minister, that's not in my line;
 
 JORN U H L 311 
 
 Wieten Klnnk stuffed nic too full of such thin52:s when I was 
 a child. She used to tell us just such flighty and unreliable 
 stories as these — nie and Fiete Cray, who has since been dairy- 
 farming in Wisconsin, and is now starting a wood-yard in 
 Chicago. I got a letter from him last month — well, he and 
 my sister alv\ays used to listen attentively enough; but for me 
 these tales had no meaning. I'd be building platforms with 
 the knitting-needles the while, and laying down sleepers, and 
 building railway lines with Wieten's wools, and when I grew 
 a bit older I'd be reading in Littrow's ' Wonders of the 
 Heavens.' That's my particular bent, so to say. But I've 
 always had other things to do." 
 
 So the minister tried books of travel a!id biography. And 
 thereafter all went swimmingly. Hiey read the travels of an 
 Arctic explorer and then those of a wanderer in the desert, 
 and the life of a statesman as told by himself, and then the 
 life of Jesus as told by Mark. This last book they read just as 
 they had read the others, and had many a hot argument over it. 
 
 At last, in the third year of such intercourse, things came 
 to such a pitch that the minister one day said : " Both of us 
 have Frisian blood in our veins, so we must needs get to 
 understand something about philosophy ; there's no getting 
 out of it. So just let's clench our teeth and tackle it. I've 
 got a big, thick hook that a farmer lad from Langerhorn wrote, 
 a man who's now a famous professor." 
 
 So they began reading philosophy. And many a time they 
 looked at each other in sheer helplessness. And many a time 
 it seemed as though the farmer understood more than the 
 pastor. The latter has never up to the present day become 
 a philosopher. 
 
 In this way did men and stars help Jorn Uhl to tide over the 
 years of evil and loneliness.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 He had risked it, and put in thirty acres of his best land with 
 wheat. He wanted to take a long pull at Fortune's flask. 
 If things turned out well, he would be able to pay off the 
 first instalment of the mortgage; up to the present he had 
 had his hands full trying to pay off his brothers' promissory 
 notes. The wheat came on well through the winter, and in 
 spring shot up thick and even. Jorn's hopes waxed and throve 
 mightily; then of a sudden they shrivelled up and were dead. 
 For it was the fatal wheat year, when the crops failed all 
 over the country. 
 
 Jorn Uhl was not alone in his misfortune. As I write I 
 seem to see many a soured, harsh face peering at me and say- 
 ing, " Those are our troubles you're relating over again." 
 
 In those times a third of all that country-side was wheat- 
 land, and it was wheat that decided the fate of many a man. 
 One year sufficed to seat a farmer firm in the saddle, or, if 
 he was weak, to fling him to the ground. All that is changed 
 since then. The Marsh is now no longer covered with waves 
 of wheat; it no longer puts one in mind of the sea that throbs 
 away there beyond the dikes. The Marsh is now all green with 
 grass, and we Marsh-men are commencing to be cattle-breeders, 
 and to be as stupid as cattle. 
 
 There's a story told of a farmer from across the Eider, 
 how he used to go out every morning with his meerschaum 
 pipe in his mouth to look at his cattle, as a good breeder ought. 
 And coming up with them, he would go among them and say, 
 " Good morning to you all," and would go on talking to them 
 something in this strain : " Lads," he'd say, " it won't be long 
 now before ye're fat and fit. As for ye, my mon, ye're a bit 
 too lean about the hind quarters, and the hind quarters is a part 
 folk lay great store by. No matter, though ; I tell ye ye're 
 all to be packed off together. First ye'll come to Husum, that's 
 
 312
 
 JORN UHL 313 
 
 ae town down yon, and there ye'U see houses cuddled together 
 like peas in a pod. riien yell come to the railvvay, — where 
 it's always going puff-puff. Then yc'll be off down into the 
 lands by the Rhine. That'll make ye open your eyes, I warrant. 
 There's Farmer Olders has been down there, and the things 
 he can tell on is just awful. Chimney after chimney, and fur- 
 naces glowering at ye, and smelting and hammering and filing 
 everlasting. And there . . . there you'll . . . hem! Why, 
 yes, you'll get another master over ye . . . and I ... I'll get 
 my bawbees. So we'll all be content with our bargain, and 
 there's an end on it." 
 
 He said all this aloud, with his hands deep in his pockets 
 and speaking between his teeth in a canny, deliberate sort of 
 voice, without taking the meerschaum pipe from his mouth for 
 a second. A man whom he didn't see was working in one 
 of the ditches near, and heard it all, and set the story going 
 in the village, that is, after he had touched it up a little on 
 his own account. And e\'erybody was amazed that Farmer 
 Sodcrbohm should talk like that to his cattle; for he was a 
 taciturn man, and nothing was ever known to come out of his 
 mouth but the smoke of his pipe. 
 
 That's what it's coming to around here, too. And there- 
 fore he who writes this story of Jorn Uhl's life has bought 
 for himself a small estate, up there on the Geest, eight feet 
 long by four feet wide. And when the time comes for him 
 to lay himself down there to rest, as he thinks of doing some 
 day, he w ill he able to lie there, he thinks, and hear the rustle 
 of the summer fields of rye. 
 
 One evening, about the end of July, Jorn Uhl went down 
 into the marsh and met old Dreyer there. The old man stopped, 
 leaned heavily on his staff', and panting: " Say, Jorn," he asked, 
 "have you noticed that there's mice in the wheat?" 
 
 " No," said Jorn ; " I was out there the day before yesterday 
 and didn't see a trace of a mouse." 
 
 " The day before yesterda}- there were only a few ; yester- 
 day there were a good number, but to-day there are whole 
 hosts of them. I am in sore fear for the corn, Jorn. This 
 plague of mice comes every fifty years. A hundred years ago, 
 my father has told me, they rin'ned the wheat and grass fields 
 for three years running. In those days you could buy a good 
 Dittmarsh farm for a pipe of tobacco and a go-stick."
 
 314 JORN UHL 
 
 Jorn Uhl left the old man standing where he was and went 
 over along the oat-fields, and saw nothing; went further and 
 stood by the hedge-gate and looked into his wheat. On his 
 right, so near that he could see its watery mirror, flowed the 
 little river Au. And as he stood there looking away over the 
 wide, waving fields of corn, he thought he noticed a blade 
 of wheat near him suddenly vanish . . . then another . . . 
 and another . . . and another. As though a hand were silently 
 stretched up out of the earth plucking them away. He passed 
 his hand over his ejes to make sure it was not some halluci- 
 nation. Then he saw what it was; he saw a mouse raise itself 
 on its hind legs — one bite, then a second, and the blade bowed 
 and leaned against the next one to it. It was dainty, delicate 
 fret-saw work. He glanced over the field and saw more than 
 was to be seen — it was as though the whole field were alive. 
 
 " Well," he said to himself, " that decides it." 
 
 While he still stood there deep in thought, he heard a gentle 
 sound of rippling and splashing down there in the dark water ; 
 and as he looked he saw thousands and thousands of these little 
 creatures swimming across the stream, passing and passing. 
 Dazed with the sight, he turned around and strode homewards. 
 
 " If only my father were dead. If only he might die to-day 
 or to-morrow. Will it have to come to him being carried 
 away from the farm in his armchair? Will all the world 
 have to gaze at our poverty and peer at our rickety furniture and 
 torn pillows? " 
 
 He went into the room to see how his father was. " He's 
 just the same as usual, Jorn; only he refuses to get up to-day; 
 I think he's taken it into his head that there's less danger for 
 him if he stays in bed." 
 
 " No danger in bed ! Why, Wieten, Wieten, it's a mice 
 year. A mice year, the likes of which hasn't been seen for 
 a century. The mice are in the wheat. They're in the farm- 
 yard, they're gnawing at the bed-posts, they're eating us alive. 
 It's all over with us, Wieten." 
 
 " Jorn! " she said. " Ah, God! Jorn, don't talk like that." 
 
 She went out, shaking her head sadly; a little body, bent 
 and stooping, a shuffling, timid, wizened, poor old thing. 
 " Poor old Wieten, your life has been nothing but care and 
 worry. But quick! Think of a way of escape! Quick! for 
 every second ten wheat-blades fall. Every minute the farm
 
 JORN UHL 315 
 
 . . . Oh, but what jzood will thinking do! Thinking can do 
 no good now. Nothing hut a miracle could save the place. " 
 
 Jorn has gone down to the fields again to see how the mice 
 are ravaging his crops. lie meets a neighbor coming toward 
 him, a man u ho has a wheat-field, too, and is loaded with debts. 
 In the last two days he has grown an old man. 
 
 " What do you say to it, Jorn? " 
 
 " What can I say, Peter? It's not the fault of our plough- 
 ing. It's a thing above our might." 
 
 His neighbor nods assent and passes on. He has five 
 children waiting for him at home. 
 
 At the beginning of August it begins to rain, and there's 
 a hope that some disease may break out among the mice and 
 carry them off as quickly as they came. But the rain is warm 
 and soft and steady. The sort of rain that makes even chil- 
 dren give up hoping for good weather, and withdraw in groups 
 beneath the dripping eaves to tell each other stories: " Once 
 on a time when the sun shone," they say. ... So it goes on 
 week after week, and week after week. Is it really harvest- 
 time? But when will the sickles gleam in the sun again? 
 
 They are but little tiny beings, those, that are burrowing 
 and working away there beneath the wheat-fields. But what 
 difference does it make, little or big? It is an unnatural sort 
 of life; the mice there in the loose soil are living lecherously, 
 and the corn that the rain has laid on the soft wet earth has 
 learnt vice from them. Young as it is, still in its cradle, it 
 is beginning to sprout, the rank and wanton ears conceive, 
 and first and second fruit wallow and ferment together in 
 vile confusion. There's no need to go to the wheat-fields any 
 more; nothing is to be done with them. 
 
 Jorn came back home feeling a dull ache in head and heart. 
 As he walked he thought to himself: " I'll be worrying myself 
 ill with trying to fathom it all. ... It is stupid to be always 
 asking the why and wherefore of everything. But it is strange, 
 I can't help doing it. It is just as if I had been dragged into 
 a dark house, and had escaped awhile into the sunlight, and 
 then got dragged back again into that wretched haunt, and had 
 to crawl through every stuffy hole and cranny of it." 
 
 He went to his bedroom, sat down in his chair, and threw 
 his legs up on the old box so that it creaked again. " What 
 are those words there in the woodwork ? ' The blessing of
 
 3i6 JORN UHL 
 
 the Lord maketh rich without labor.' That would be a nice 
 thing! Well, as far as I'm concerned, let it! I pray you for 
 a specimen of blessing without labor, or for the matter of that 
 with labor. If that text in the Bible holds good, the whole 
 Bible is not worth a rap, nor God Almighty, either." 
 
 He made a wild gesture with his hand over his head as 
 though he would fain open and unbind things that lay there 
 under some imprisoning weight. Like a man lying under a 
 heavy, high pile of straw, while more and more is heaped on 
 top till his head grows dazed and his breath more and more 
 stifled. He remained sitting there in his chair, brooding and 
 tormenting himself, and every now and again passing his hand 
 through his hair, as though he were seeking key and latch and 
 lock to loosen and free himself from this oppressive thing; so 
 gradually he fell into an uneasy doze, then started, and woke 
 again. 
 
 It now seemed to him as though his life had been all cast 
 away in vain. For a moment he was like a groom who has 
 left his horses for a moment and sees them rearing and ready 
 to bolt in wild terror. Jorn L^hl sprang to the rescue and 
 flung himself in the way of his own thoughts; he tugged at 
 the reins, grinding his teeth, and his wild eyes looked into 
 other eyes still wilder. But he was thrown back and sank 
 on his knees, and they were off on their furious course. Ho! 
 how they galloped on their wild career! Who could stop 
 them? Ho! let them go and have their fling! 
 
 How was that, though? He had been at the town grammar 
 school, hadn't he? How had it come about then that he 
 now found himself in such a sorry plight? Who had got 
 the farm, after all? Not Hinnerk, for he was dead, and he 
 had seen him in his coffin. Who then? Why, the eldest, of 
 course. But how was it possible that he didn't know that? 
 "I must have been through some serious illness," he thought; 
 " that's how it is my thoughts get away from me at times ; 
 but everything'll come into its proper place by and by." But 
 one thing was certain, at any rate; he must have spent a good 
 many years there on the farm. How did that come about, 
 then? Oh, yes . . . that came about in this way . . . right! 
 . . . His father was a drunkard, and so he had had to leave the 
 grammar school and go through years of toil. But now all 
 that was past, and Lena Tarn and the years of happiness had
 
 JORN UHL 317 
 
 come. lie had got a place in the observatorj^ too, as a kind 
 of servant to a great astronomer. He paced up and down 
 the room, and would fain have felt glad about it, and was 
 nevertheless in direst anxiety, so that he thought of opening 
 the door and askin*:; Lena Tarn whether she could manage 
 on a small fixed salary of nine hundred shillings a year; of 
 course she'd laugh over her whole face and say, " Like wink- 
 ing! why, that's nothing! Pancakes every day turned in fat." 
 But when he opened the door he caught sight of one of the 
 farm servants walking across the hall, and hesitated, and then 
 shut the door once more. In doing so he struck a hard object 
 against the door-post, and suddenly noticed that he had some- 
 thing under his arm. It was the telescope and the cloth he 
 usually polished it with, and he had no idea how they came 
 to be in his hand, as it was the old telescope that lay right 
 at the bottom of the chest. He bit his lips and grew pale, and 
 his forehead became damp w ith a terrible fear. 
 
 " Mad ! " he said. 
 
 He paced up and down in greatest distress and anguish. He 
 tried to think what he had just been thinking about, worry- 
 ing himself to remember the past, and could not unravel his 
 thoughts. " I have never had luck in anything I have 
 undertaken," he said to himself; " everything has turned out 
 bad. . . ." 
 
 "That's what old Nick Johns used to say, too, after he'd 
 made a mess of his life with his own muddling; he used to tell 
 every one that he'd had no luck . . . that's the way with me." 
 
 And suddenly his life, instead of a long story of toil and 
 worry, flashed before him as a mass of error and sin. The 
 bad thoughts that race along by the side of all the works of 
 man — even his best — like ugly, swarthy hounds by the side 
 of noble horses, now of a sudden grew into gigantic forms. 
 " Where is your sister Elsbe, Jorn Uhl ? You never looked 
 after her, and now she is amongst the lost. Where is your 
 brother Hinnerk? You struck him and drove him away from 
 the farm; he became a vagrant and a drunkard on the dusty 
 road; you wanted the farm for yourself. What about the 
 ploughshare? Did 30U not wish your father to fall on it? 
 Where is Lena Tarn? Didn't you forbid her to sing? You 
 said she'd have to get up out of bed or else you'd strike her. 
 You are a villain and a murderer. You are a sevenfold mur-
 
 3i8 JORN UHL 
 
 derer like Tim Thode. They're coming! Hark you. . . . 
 It's you they're looking for. They want to drag you away 
 . . . away through the whole village! " 
 
 " I must go and see," he said, with panting voice, " whether 
 these things they say are true." He took the telescope and 
 went down to the garden-house, and set the instrument in 
 its place with feverish, flying hands, and did not think to 
 take the cap off which lay over the objective, and looked 
 through and said to himself in amazement, "Black! black 
 as night! It's God's truth. That's the way with my soul. 
 Not a jot, not a single jot of goodness in it. Not a spark of 
 light and not a star in all the heavens. It's not to be borne 
 any longer. Where is one to go to, then, if this is so? One 
 cannot see three steps ahead. That's a hedgehog's life. Hin- 
 nerk's ladder is standing in the middle shed of the barn. I 
 will quit this place. I will go before people have noticed 
 what's the matter. There must be light somewhere or other, 
 I tell you. . . ." He closed the instrument again with the 
 same feverish haste, and was going to go out, when he suddenly 
 noticed a shadow in front of him, and looked up. There stood 
 Wieten Klook in the low doorway, looking at him with eyes 
 full of wild fear. 
 
 Then he knew that he was no criminal, but a man whose 
 mind was clouded. " Thank God! " he said, " Thank God! " 
 And would fain have kept it a secret that such darkness and 
 chaos had been in his soul, saying with a face twisted into 
 what was meant for a laugh and kindliness: " I was just going 
 to have a look at a star, up there . . . beyond yon wisps of 
 clouds." But she came quickly up to him, and looked him 
 sharply in the eyes. 
 
 " What ? " she said. " What ? No, Jorn, I tell you that will 
 never do! " 
 
 She seized his hand and led him through the garden. 
 
 " No, Jorn . . , that won't do. That was not the tune that 
 Larry the Piper made the people dance to. That would 
 put the finishing stroke on our misfortunes! Nay! Now's 
 the time to hold your head high, laddie. Your son shall 
 never say his father was a suicide. There's nothing in it, 
 Jorn. It's like running away leaving the plough stuck in the 
 middle of the furrow in broad daylight. What, at thirty years 
 of age? That's no way to knock off work, Jorn."
 
 JORN UHL 319 
 
 At first he pretended to be quite amazed at her words. Then 
 he grew embarrassed. At last he came back, out of the far, 
 dark distance, to himself again. Light glimmered within him 
 once more, and he felt again the dull ache in the back of his 
 head. He now again knew where he was and how things stood 
 with him. 
 
 " It is a sore thing to bear," he said, wearily. 
 
 " Wait here a moment," she said ; " I will go and fetch you 
 some cold water. V'ou must grow cooler. Stay here, do you 
 hear? Just remain sitting where you are! I will be back in 
 a moment, and will remain beside you all the evening." 
 
 She hastened to the kitchen, and was so quiet about what 
 she was doing that the two girls did not notice what distress 
 she was in. She hurried to the sitting-room and seized Jorn's 
 little son, and ran across the big hall with him. He was still 
 sitting there on the chest. She gave him something to drink, 
 and as he was setting the vessel down again \\ith a deep breath 
 of relief, he heard the little lad at his knees saying: " My word, 
 father, how pale you look ! You'll have to take precious good 
 care else you'll be ill." 
 
 " What's the good of it all, Wieten? " he said. 
 
 " Yes, yes, Jorn," she replied. " You're right. But it's all 
 one, whether it's hard on you or not. It's got to be carried 
 through. Only have patience and time will help us. For 
 the present, laddie, lie down and have a good sleep. Quick! 
 I know what is the right thing to do. Just see how tired 
 you are. Lie down straight away, and sleep like the man 
 who came to the Hill of Slumber and slept seven years! 
 Sleep, laddie." 
 
 It was good for him to have around him the two people who 
 belonged to him. They were so kind to him. He smiled wearily, 
 and got up with stiff, heavy limbs, laid aside his jacket, and lay 
 down to rest. They stayed and sat by his bedside. 
 
 When he woke two hours afterward, out of heavy sleep, 
 hearing a voice calling him, the old groom was standing there. 
 It was dusk, and the man was saying: " We don't know what's 
 become of Wieten ; she left the farm an hour ago, and we 
 thought she'd gone over to a neighbor's. But she's not there. 
 And now the girl says she saw her take the field-path toward 
 Ringelshorn. What can she want there? There's nobody 
 living there; and it's dark, and the ditches are full of water,
 
 320 JORN UHL 
 
 and Wieten herself saj^s she can no longer see things in the 
 dark." 
 
 "Where's my little son?" 
 
 " He is playing in his grandfather's room." 
 
 Jorn Uhl sprang out of bed and slipped into his coat. He 
 was suddenly a sane man again. " I am going after her," 
 he said, as he hurried away from the house. The cold wind 
 beat against his uncovered head, and refreshed him. He 
 went up the broad road, and then along the cart-way as far 
 as the foot of the Ringelshorn without seeing any trace of 
 her. Unable to see any distance through the heavy, rainy 
 air, he stood there undecided, and was going to shout her 
 name, when the thought suddenly struck him that he might 
 find her by taking the foot-track which leads up through the 
 valley. He had no sooner entered the dale than he saw the 
 small crouching form of a woman before him, and he at once 
 knew that it was she whom he sought. 
 
 He went up to her. But she heard him coming, and came 
 toward him and said, sadly: " It's no good. I have too long 
 neglected it all, or else I'm grown too old and dull for it." 
 
 He laid his arm around her shoulder, and took her with him. 
 " Come back home at once, Wieten. You'll get wet through. 
 Here, let me lay my coat over your head. That's it." 
 
 She walked along at his side, with bent body and weary 
 steps. " In times gone by," she said, with shamefast voice, 
 " when I was a little girl all these things were full of life for 
 me; but now they've all gradually perished." 
 
 "What were you trying to do?" 
 
 " I don't know. I wanted to see for once whether I could 
 really get anything out of it ; but everything looked at me 
 with cold, dead eyes." 
 
 " There is nothing in it, Wieten ! " 
 
 For a time they said no more. He had his arm around her 
 shoulder, and led her over the dry spots of the damp path. 
 
 " It comes from people losing their belief in such things," 
 she said. "You know that yourself; when one has lost in- 
 terest in sun and moon and stars, they have no more messages 
 for one; and when one ceases to trouble about one's house, 
 it falls to ruin. It's the same with everything. Indifference 
 will kill anything, and love gives life to everything. I have
 
 JORN UlIL 321 
 
 forgotten these things too long, and they're all rusted with long 
 lying." 
 
 " But you must not lose courage, Wieten, for all that." 
 
 " Well, do you see, Jorn . . . this afternoon when 1 found 
 you down there in your garden-house, I thought to myself: 
 ' If that happens, what will become of everything?' And so, 
 in my terror, 1 hurried here." 
 
 " Wieten, these things won't help us. Heath and water, 
 wind and rain — why, those are things still more helpless 
 than man himself. That's no place for man to go and look 
 for help." 
 
 "Don't say that, Jorn; there lies a mystery behind this 
 h'fe of ours. We don't live for the sake of this life, but for 
 the sake of the mystery behind it. And it must be possible 
 to unriddle the mystery, and the man who unriddles it has 
 light and truth. And in these holy old things and their legends, 
 I should say it is to be easiest found. From as long as men 
 can remember that's where our forefathers have looked for it, 
 and some of them have found it." 
 
 " 'V'es, Wieten, there you're right. What you say about 
 the mystery I believe is right. But 1 don't believe we'll ever 
 find it out or solve it. It's like a man trying to leap over 
 himself. Man just remains man, the same as an ash remains 
 an ash, and our ignorance and blindness in these things goes 
 without saying, just because we are men. For all I know, 
 the secret's open, broad, and living, and is here, lying or 
 standing, laughing or weeping, all around about us. But we 
 have no organ or sense by which to see or hear it." 
 
 "Maybe, maybe," she said, sadly and thoughtfully; "hut 
 we must just go on working away till evening falls, and always 
 be as kind and loving as we can." 
 
 " Right, Wieten. That's in the New Testament." 
 
 She raised her head a little as she walked along beside him. 
 
 "What? That's in the New Testament? What does it 
 say, then, about — you know, Jorn — the secret?" 
 
 " Well, as far as I can make out, Wieten, it says we won't 
 get behind it here. But we're to have faith that everything 
 has an aim and an inner meaning. And afterward, after 
 death, we'll get on a bit further, and come behind the secret, 
 and see things, not as they appear, but as they are." 
 
 "Well, well! And that's what Christ says! It astonishes
 
 322 JORN UHL 
 
 me. And it must be as you say. But from a child I've always 
 been so hungry for knowledge. I always wanted to know 
 what was the real meaning of this life of ours. I remember 
 when I was in service with Jorn Stuhr in Schenefeld I never 
 did anything but try to fossick it out. But we could never 
 find anything. And then Hans Stuhr got drowned in the 
 IVIergelkuhle." And she began to weep. 
 
 " It's no good searching, Wieten. I think Christ Himself 
 said that even He didn't know everything. He said it wasn't 
 necessary for us to know it. Only we should always have faith 
 and keep pure and loving hearts. He was against all brood- 
 ing and bitterness, and against all haughtiness and the wish 
 to know everything, and against all hating and hardness of 
 heart. ' Have faith,' He said, ' and be pure and merciful.' " 
 
 " Well, I suppose we can have faith in what He says, for 
 He was clever and kind, and there's no doubt that He tried 
 to do what was best, and died for it while He was quite young, 
 so we must e'en hold fast to what He says, Jorn, and see 
 how it turns out." 
 
 " Yes, Wieten, so we'll just stand firm together, and keep 
 a stiff neck, you dear old soul." 
 
 And after bringing her as far as the kitchen door, the 
 desire came over him to go and walk awhile, bareheaded, in 
 the cool air. . . . The rain had ceased and there was no wind. 
 As he got farther away from the farm the last sounds which 
 broke the stillness of the autumn evening died away. In 
 his reverie he approached Ringelshorn and climbed the slope, 
 walking slowly and aimlessly straight away over the heath, 
 that lay gray, dark, and desolate around him. Gradually day 
 put out its last light, so that he saw nothing but night around 
 him. 
 
 Once more he fell into pensive brooding over the past and 
 over his future; and as he got deeper into the heath, it seemed 
 to him to rise up on both sides of him in gloomy heights, 
 crested with tall, dark fir-trees, and as though he himself 
 were walking in a deep valley. And it was so lonely and so 
 dark, and dead, and he came into such depths that he was 
 almost as terrified as he had been before in the garden-house. 
 And visions almost material filled his soul with fear. His 
 brother Hinnerk, with angry face, went by not far from him; 
 and Lena Tarn went past as though she did not know him;
 
 JORN UHL 323 
 
 and Geert Dose stood there with blood-stained clothes, and 
 many another form passed by him, wanderin^^ and restless and 
 sad. And the visions and the landscape through which they 
 went were distorted and shuddering. But as he thus went on 
 through the land of grief, in great and fearful solitude, — 
 yet not without a secret satisfaction like a child in terror at 
 ghosts, — he suddenly thought on the saying he himself had 
 repeated not long since, that one should have faith in the 
 triumph of the good, come \\ hat maj. And immediately after 
 he had thought that the darkness grew less dense, and the 
 forms around him moved more quietly and assumed a kindlier 
 demeanor, and he saw a narrow ]i'irh leading upwards, passing 
 first between lofty fir-trees tliat stood there like haughty men, 
 so that he was abashed at their presence, and struck his stick 
 firmer into the ground, and walked with head thrown back 
 and more courageously. A puff of cool wind sprang up and 
 strengthened him, and he again came out on the level heath 
 and clearly perceived the line on the horizon where the heath 
 stops and the road leads down to the marsh-lands. There he 
 stood still and listened. 
 
 And while he stood there with everything so still around 
 him, no sound of wind or cry of bird, he heard from far away 
 in the forest a dull sound as of a mighty pushing and swelling, 
 or as though with slow, measured blows multitudes of great 
 hammers were thudding upon masses of wood and iron ; the 
 thuds sounded so ponderous that it seemed as though each 
 beat were forging a whole human life. And from the forest 
 came the sound of many swift, soft footsteps, like the rush- 
 ing of great waters, as though ten thousand messengers were 
 on their way, with biddings and commissions, to thrust into 
 the hands of the children of men. 
 
 Awhile he stood there, listening to the pulsing of those 
 everlasting, mysterious powers. Then he turned and walked 
 toward home in silent, resolute thought. 
 
 As he entered the kitchen to see where Wieten was, she 
 herself met him, and looked up at him, astonished and startled 
 at the light on his proud, handsome face. 
 
 Next day at noon old Whitehead came to the farm, asking 
 kindly after Jorn's father; and afterward, when he was alone 
 with Jorn in the little room, he became still more confiden-
 
 324 JORN UHL 
 
 tial, and proposed tliat the young farmer should secretly deliver 
 over to him certain quantities of corn they had in stock, prom- 
 ising that he wouldn't let Jorn be the sufferer by it. But the 
 latter laughed in his face. 
 
 " What are you talking about? " he said. " Because I've got 
 no luck am I to be a swindler into the bargain? If that's 
 your idea, you're on the wrong track, old man ; so now you 
 can clear out, and as fast as you like." 
 
 After he had gone Jorn Uhl peeped into his father's room — 
 speaking to Wieten and casting a glance into the Bible that 
 lay there open. When he saw that she had been reading about 
 the Eg>^ptian plagues, he smiled and said to her, " You can 
 make jour mind easy on that head, Wieten, I've just hunted 
 the last of them off the farm." Then, according to his usual 
 custom, he went into his own room so as to be alone, and 
 thought once more with a certain obdurate equanimity, " Well, 
 now there's nothing for it but a miracle."
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 But no miracle happened. What happened, on the con- 
 trary, was quite in the ordinary run of things. There was a 
 great storm and there was a death. That made the air fresh 
 and clear again, and freed Jcirn Uhl from the last of the 
 burdens that weighed upon his heart. 
 
 The rain, too, went by; then came days full of hot, glaring 
 sunshine ; every day toward evening a heavy dark cloud gath- 
 ered and lay over there toward the Elbe; and muttering 
 and growling was heard in the distance. Some said that it 
 was men-o'-war firing their guns ofif Cuxhaven, but older 
 folk knew that it was a great thunder-storm brewing. " But it 
 can't manage to get over the Elbe," said they. On the evening 
 of the third day everybody thought for certain it was coming. 
 The air was soft and expectant. The beasts in the fields 
 stopped grazing and stood waiting by the hedges. But again 
 nothing happened. 
 
 One of the hands from a neighboring farm rode by after 
 vespers to the smithy, and as he passed he shouted out to the 
 Uhl girls, \\ ho were standing near the bakehouse, " I say! I 
 dreamt last night the Uhl was on fire! I dreamt it broke out 
 in the west gable, and ran along the rooftree like a squirrel." 
 
 Next morning there was great excitement in the house. 
 It was Sunday, and Wietcn had. as usual, changed her linen 
 on Saturday night, and had. after a good old custom in those 
 parts, spread the left-off garments on the floor beside her 
 bed. Next morning she found ashes strewn where the clothes 
 had been. The farm-hands and maid servants clustered to- 
 gether, excitedly discussing the matter with all sorts of jest- 
 ing ways of accounting for it; while the maid who had slept 
 in Wieten's room shook her head and wondered how it was 
 that she had not been awakened by the smell of fire. Wieten 
 went, about the house with frightened eyes, without a word. 
 
 32s
 
 326 J O R N U H L 
 
 The men returned to their work and brought the story to the 
 village that same evening. 
 
 Thiess Thiessen had once more come back from Hamburg, 
 and was staying a few days at the Uhl. He followed Jorn 
 about the whole day long, trying to win him over to his own 
 way of thinking, and familiarize him with the thought that he 
 would have to give up the Uhl. 
 
 " I'm ready to help you with a few thousand marks," he said; 
 " but, as you know, Jorn, Haze Farm can't stand a great deal 
 of debt." 
 
 " I'm not going to let you help me," said Jorn Uhl, " and, 
 what's more, it's not so easy to tear oneself away from the 
 old place as you think. Down there in the Easter paddock 
 yonder I started ploughing when I was twelve years old. 
 Why! don't I remember it as if it were yesterday. The 
 plough-handles jerked me from one side to the other till my 
 head began to swim, and every time a horse'd stretch out 
 its head, it'd drag me half over the plough with it, for I had 
 the reins around my neck. I used to get dead tired with 
 fright and tramping up and down the furrows." 
 
 He drew his little son, who was walking by his side, nearer to 
 him. 
 
 " And later on, when I came home from the war and Lena 
 Tarn became my wife, there wasn't a single post in the house, 
 not a single lath, not a single reed of the thatch, that I didn't 
 nod to and greet and say to 'em, ' Oho, now you're in my 
 good keeping, and I'll look after you.' I suppose it can't 
 be helped, Thiess, I'll have to let the farm go, but it goes 
 sore against the grain. I'm throwing all Lena Tarn's toil 
 and trouble to the wMuds. It's like selling her merry singing 
 away to strangers, and all the bitter years that came after- 
 ward. ... I can't bear to talk about it. And then, Thiess, 
 what if Elsbe came back to seek refuge here and strange folk 
 were to open the door to her! Yes, I know I must leave, for 
 I can no longer pay the interest; but, as I said, it goes sore 
 against the grain." 
 
 Next morning Thiess went away again. That day the thun- 
 der-storm came up. 
 
 Late in the afternoon a lurid cloud lifted itself from the 
 sea and hung above the marshes, and in its rage began hurl- 
 ing straight lightning, like golden spears, at the land beneath.
 
 JORN UHL 327 
 
 Away in the distance, by the dikes, a fire blazed up. The 
 cloud mounted higher and came nearer, and toward seven o'clock 
 that night was lowering, full to bursting, right over the village 
 of St. Mary's. The men who had been working in the fields 
 made haste home. The women of the village stood in their 
 doorways and said to their husbands, " It's a good thing you're 
 back home." The children, too, ran in from their play and 
 took shelter in their doorways. Then the storm burst. 
 
 " Did you hear that? " 
 
 " Yon house has been struck! " 
 
 People went out and looked about and said to one another, 
 " There's nothing to be seen." Next moment it began to 
 pour. The mighty cloud broke and parted, and changed to 
 pale gray, covering the whole sky. Nothing had happened. 
 
 "What did I tell ye, Wieten?" said an old ploughman. 
 '' The story about that smock of yours . . ." 
 
 "Just you hold your whist! " said Wieten. 
 
 Wieten went back to the kitchen, and the ploughman 
 climbed up the ladder into the loft to throw down some hay. 
 Then Jorn's little son came running in with his five-year-old 
 playmate, and burst out, " Kasscn, we want to come up too." 
 
 " But you know you mustn't, laddie," said the old man. 
 
 " Oh, gammon! We're coming, for all that." 
 
 They climbed the ladder after him, and clambered over the 
 sloping piles of hay till they were right at the top. 
 
 " That's the style," said the youngster; " now we can't get 
 any further. Come here while I lift you and have a look 
 through the owlet hole." 
 
 Soon afterward they came down again, and the old plough- 
 man said, "Well? Have you had enough of it?" 
 
 It grew on toward eight o'clock, and Wieten sent the little 
 fellow to bed. 
 
 "I say," he said to her, "do you know what? I've been 
 up in the very top of the hay-loft. Mc and Fritz Hansen." 
 
 "What! Hasn't your father forbidden you to do that?" 
 
 " Oh, but you won't say a word, Wieten, if I tell you some- 
 thing? " 
 
 " What can you have to tell me, child? " 
 
 " Why, Fritz Hansen was right up at the very top, just 
 where the little window in the roof is, and what do you 
 think? There was a great big black cat lying there! As big
 
 328 JORN UHL 
 
 as a calf. It had two eyes like balls of fire, and came creeping 
 toward him." 
 
 " Now lie down and go to sleep, child," she said, and went 
 out and spoke with Jorn Uhl. 
 
 " Jorn, have you never heard that lightning can lie in a 
 house for hours before breaking out? That was a frightful 
 clap of thunder, and the child talks such strange things. Just 
 set my mind at ease by looking around the hay-loft. I'm all 
 of a tremble." 
 
 Jorn went up into the loft and walked around the house 
 and barns without finding anything suspicious. 
 
 It was getting on toward ten o'clock, and they had all gone 
 to rest. Then the Lightning thought the time had come 
 for house and inmates to be his, and got up and went forth 
 noiselessly on his path. With long smooth body, bright as a 
 well-used spade, he wound his way slowly between the hay and 
 the roof. Wherever he stretched out his thin arms to grasp 
 his prey, a red glow began to swell upwards. And when he 
 saw that the flame could not have its way for lack of air, he 
 crept gliding and smouldering toward the window. The barn 
 window^ he split in twain. The owl, sitting beneath the gable- 
 eaves, flew off with a loud " Oo-hoo! " 
 
 Wieten had got up and had stolen out of her room along 
 the middle corridor, and was looking through the door-panes 
 out into the big hall. Everything was dark and silent. Then 
 she went back to her room and sat on the edge of the bed 
 where the boy was sleeping, and listened. 
 
 " There are folk asleep in the house. . . . Four in this 
 room . . . three in that . . . two in the men's room . . . and 
 Jorn. . . . But aren't there others besides? . . . No, that must 
 be all, though. . . . No, I'm sure there are not. The child 
 first. And don't forget the old man ! Ten Christian souls. 
 . . . Ten . . . ten. Most of the animals are out in the pas- 
 tures . . ." Suddenly she heard a sound from the big hall, and 
 stood bolt upright again. 
 
 " There must be something going to happen. I'm sure there 
 is. I feel it in every limb. Perhaps it's the thunder that has 
 made me so excited. Perhaps it's something else." She stood 
 up, listening, with body bent forward. 
 
 " Hist! hist! ... I tell you there are noises in the house. 
 There's a sound of things being dragged about and over-
 
 JORN UHL 329 
 
 turned ; they're taking their odds and ends away with them, 
 cliains and pots and pans and all . . ." She stole toward the 
 tioor again. " I used to know an old rhyme once; how did it 
 run, now? 
 
 «« ♦ God and Peter fare through the shire, 
 They see before them a house on fire. 
 «' Fire, thou slialt not heat beget, 
 Fire, thou shalt no longer sweat, 
 Till God's dear Mother come again, 
 And her second Son. . . ." ' " 
 
 Before she had finished the line, as she opened the door she 
 heard a sound of crackling from the big hall as when young 
 wood is thrown upon a roaring fire. 
 
 " F'ire! " she screamed. " Fire! " 
 
 The girl that was sleeping in the room raised herself sud- 
 denly in bed : she found the child being placed in her arms. 
 "Go, and take the boy to Jasper Cray's; go, and don't look 
 behind you ! " 
 
 " Jorn, Jorn! . . ." It was a voice that might have waked 
 the dead. 
 
 VV^hat sudden snatching at clothes there was, what fever of 
 brains, what hands busying themselves hither and thither! 
 And after it is all over, not one of them that knows what they 
 have been thinking and doing. 
 
 Later on Jorn could never tell why he had made for the 
 old chest first, and how he had managed to carry off the 
 great heavy thing that had neither grip nor handle. The 
 first thing he remembers doing was running into the bedroom, 
 like a fireman bursting into a strange house, and wrapping 
 in a blanket the heavy-bodied old man. who struggled and 
 shouted with terror; then he had carried him out into the 
 courtyard, and over the way to Jasper Cray's bedroom, and 
 laid him in the spare bed that was always packed up on the 
 other side of the stove. 
 
 Then running back, w ith the instinct of a man bred in the 
 country, he had made for the stable, cut the three horses loose, 
 and led the wild-eyed, rearing animals out, one by one. 
 
 One of the foals was in a bad way. Neither the stableman 
 nor the neighbors that had come over to help could get at it;
 
 330 JORN UHL 
 
 but there was a door that had not been opened for years. Jorn 
 suddenly thought of it, and took a crowbar which happened 
 to be I\ing there and smashed down the woodwork with a 
 couple of blows, and succeeded in getting the animal out. 
 
 There was now nothing more to be done. As he was about 
 to go back once more, in spite of his bleeding hand and singed 
 hair, the village schoolmaster, who had just come up, barred 
 his way, saying, " Your life is of greater value." 
 
 Then, with a gesture of despair, he threw the knife away, 
 and went to the front of the building, so as not to hear the 
 piteous lowing of the cow which, with its new-born calf, was 
 there behind the flames. 
 
 Struck by the falling thatch, and blinded with the smoke 
 which poured forth from the big barn, he had to stand further 
 off from the buildings; anon he approached the entrance. The 
 fire-engine went galloping past him into the courtyard. He 
 saw his little son run right across the road in front of the 
 horses, and heard him weeping and crying as he came up to 
 him and clutched his knees. " Father," he sobbed, " is the foal 
 burnt? " 
 
 Jasper Cray came up to him, his hands and face all black, 
 and said, " We have saved the cow, too, by the back way, 
 through the kitchen door and the bakehouse," and then went 
 away again. 
 
 Jorn Uhl stood gazing into the flames. His boy stood beside 
 him. 
 
 The ceilings of the front house were already bending and 
 twisting, and a fiery hand was clutching at the proud old rooms 
 of the Uhl. It knocked at the doors and slid its fingers along 
 the woodwork, scorching and burning, and the upper lintels 
 of the door burst open, and the glowing hand snatched at the 
 handle. The great chandelier fell with a crash on the table; 
 the table was afire; and suddenly the yellow guest was up on 
 the window-sill with a catlike leap, lifting the curtains and 
 smashing in the windows. That made a fresh draught! The 
 whole ceiling fell in, and the night sky shone through. 
 
 In this hour, when the great rooms of the Uhl were glow- 
 ing in red fire, and the shooting flames were lighting the 
 night-dark willows that lie all around Wentorf, death came 
 stalking along the narrow churchyard path that runs by the 
 side of the river Au. By leaving the bridge at the foal-
 
 JORN UHL 331 
 
 paddock, he managed to keep out of the fireh'ght. He then 
 made straight across the fields in the direction of Jasper Cray's 
 house, which lay low-roofed and humble in the midst of the 
 red light beneath the high, brightly gleaming poplars. Wieten 
 Penn, who was standing by the bedside waiting for him, 
 her eyes wide with expectation, stepped aside and made room 
 for him. Up to the bed he strode, and laid his hand with a 
 firm grasp upon the shoulder of the sleeping man. Twice the 
 body twitciied convulsively. Then the breathing ceased. 
 
 And Wieten Penn commenced, v\ith Trina Cray's help, to 
 do what was left to be done. Hundreds of people were stand- 
 ing and passing around the lofty burning buildings, watching 
 the sinking flames. Hut hardly a single one of them went up 
 to Jorn Uhl and his child. There had always been something 
 strange about him, something taciturn and contemplative, and 
 a touch of arrogance, they remembered. 
 
 " Now that he was at his wits' end, he must have turned to 
 this as a last resource and set his own house on fire." 
 
 "By the Lord! he's standing there with a face like a 
 criminal. Look at him! What a face!" 
 
 "What was that he said to you? ... I must say, I never 
 would have believed it of him." 
 
 " What ! Are you going to talk to such a fellow as that ? 
 Why, it's clear as daylight. . . . ^'ou know what I mean." 
 
 Especially among the workmen (who are always inclined to 
 pick upon the bad in their master's character, and be blind 
 to what is good in him), there were many that spoke about 
 him in this tone. He had indeed always been close and 
 taciturn toward them, and almost niggardly; for he had 
 always been worried and in want of money. 
 
 So Jorn Uhl stood for hours and hours out there beneath 
 the poplars where the roadway bends around toward the 
 barns. There, where he had stood that evening when he 
 came home from the war. 
 
 But when midnight was past, two of Hargen Folken's farm- 
 hands came up and said that, as they were coming home 
 from the fields that evening, just when the terrible thunder- 
 bolt had fallen, they had plainly seen that the Uhl was struck. 
 They had seen a wisp of something burning fly up from the 
 rooftree. They had at once halted and had waited, expecting 
 that fire would break out, and had been greatly astonished
 
 2,3^ JORN UHL 
 
 when this did not happen. The stable-boj' at the Uhl, too, said 
 that the lightning had almost thrown him down when he was 
 out between the house and the barn, and that he had noticed 
 a slight puff of smoke around the gable and a smell of burn- 
 ing in the yard. These reports soon spread, and many men 
 and women came ovar to Jorn Uhl and told him what they had 
 heard, trying to solace him with stories of other houses struck 
 by lightning, and with their words of cordial sympathy. 
 
 When the cold of early morning came, they scattered toward 
 their homes. 
 
 The sky was growing gray when Jorn Uhl went across the 
 way to Jasper Cray's. A few stars were still shining high up 
 in the sky like tired bright eyes in a face pale with much 
 watching. When he entered the doorway Wieten stood before 
 him and barred his path. But he saw far away over her 
 small body, and his eyes rested on the candles around the bier 
 and the other preparations. He put her gently aside, and, 
 going up to the bed, looked at his father for a long time. 
 Then he crossed over to Wieten and took her hand and held 
 it fast within his own for awhile, saying in a voice subdued and 
 quiet, " It's a good thing for me this night that my old Wieten 
 is still alive." 
 
 The second day afterward, after he had taken all the 
 necessary steps in connection with the burial and the fire, 
 he went up to Ringelshorn toward evening and sat down 
 upon a stone that lay by the sandy wayside in the gray and 
 long-haired grass, and breathed deep and free, letting his 
 thoughts wander whither they would, wondering at the rest- 
 fulness and beauty of the world around him. 
 
 After sitting there for a long time, he heard a vehicle com- 
 ing around the hill. The driver was talking to himself and 
 his horses. " Now we'll have a trot for a bit. Trot, all of 
 you! The Uhl's burnt down and Klaus Uhl is dead, and 
 this is the end of a chapter in Jorn Uhl's life, and as for the 
 rest of it, I tell you — Holloa, Jorn ! Is that you ? And 
 you've still got a laugh left in you? " 
 
 "Thiess! " said Jorn. ..." Let's first bury the dead as is 
 seemly. Then I'll be able to tell how I feel." 
 
 After the funeral, when the long cortege of the Uhls and 
 their kinsmen had left the churchyard and the mould had
 
 JORN UHL 333 
 
 been shovelled into the grave, Jorn Uhl and Thiess Thiessen 
 and the little lad came back from Lena Tarn's tomb to see 
 the family grave of the Uhl. The new mound was piled 
 high with wreaths. " Do you know, Jorn," said Farmer 
 Thiess, " what I took most amiss in this man? Not his squan- 
 dering of money, nor his boozing and carousing, but his 
 laughter. The way he had — a laugh for everybody, except 
 my poor sister! There are not a few men like that, Jorn 
 Uhl, who are kind toward strangers and the people they 
 meet in the street and the tavern, and are very devils in their 
 own homes. It's a good thing, Jorn, that there's such a thing 
 as Death, for in Death lies the only pledge of some sort of 
 justice. Do you mean to say that this man remains unpun- 
 ished after having tortured my dear sister that's dead, and 
 let the farm go to rack and ruin, while he rollicked and idled 
 about the country? I tell you, Jorn, he'll have to plough 
 precious hard in the country he's gone to now. He'll get 
 a good tough piece of marsh-land for his portion up there, 
 and four old spavined nags to plough with, up to all sorts 
 of tricks, and the biggest rogue among the angels for a plough- 
 boy. Just look there, my sister hasn't got a single wreath ! " 
 He stooped down, picked up two wreaths, and laid them on 
 his sister's grave. 
 
 " Jorn, she was the mirthfullest and unselfishest little thing 
 in the whole world. When she was a child she'd just sit on 
 one corner of a tree-stump, right at the side, so that she was 
 almost hanging from it, and say, ' Sit down, Thiess, see 
 what lots of room there is,' — she was that unselfish! She 
 asked nothing from life but a nice, comfortable little spot 
 where she could sit in the sun. This fellow here refused it her. 
 He made her sit all her life long in dark and gloomy places." 
 He took up another wreath and laid it on his sister's grave. 
 
 " Jorn ... if she could get up, this gentle soul " — he took 
 up two more wreaths — " she'd say, * Go away from the farm, 
 Jorn, dear; go to the Haze this ver>' day. . . . Give up the 
 Uhl, Jorn ; the Uhl has made you poor and ill. Come home 
 with me to the home of your mother. I believe you'll get 
 better there. . . .' So come with me, Jorn. I ask you in 
 your mother's name. And you, too, little laddie, help me 
 to coax him. Will you come with me to the Haze? Eh? "
 
 334 JORN UHL 
 
 "I say, father," said the youngster, "let's go! That'll be 
 just grand." 
 
 " Jorn, the three of you had better jump up into my cart, 
 you and the lad and Wieten. And we'll put the old chest 
 behind the back seat in the straw. Then you'll have every 
 mortal thing that >ou own in the one cart! " 
 
 Jorn turned a little and cast a long glance away over toward 
 Lena Tarn's grave. 
 
 " Just think of the old chest, Jorn ; your good clothes are 
 in it, and the telescope and the chart of the sun and moon 
 and all the stars, and the puzzling old books, and the old 
 carved piece of my grandmother's mangle — old Trienke 
 Thiessen's, whose maiden name was Sturmann. At least, I 
 suppose you have the mangle-piece, Jorn ; if you haven't, Peter 
 Voss of Vaale has it. . . . All these things, Jorn, both us 
 and the chest will be yours, if you drive home with me to 
 the Haze, Here it was but a part of the Uhl and its worries; 
 there, at the Haze, it will belong to you. Oh, Jorn, laddie, 
 I beg you to come with us! I beg you, Jorn. Pluck your 
 soul out of the Uhl and keep it for your own use. Now do, 
 dear Jorn, come along with me! Else, I tell you straight 
 out, I should always be in terror about you." 
 
 Jorn Uhl said nothing, but breathed heavily, looking away 
 toward Lena Tarn's grave, or anon at the graves at his feet. 
 The three graves spoke with loud voices. 
 
 After they had stood motionless awhile, Thiess said, " Now, 
 come, we'll go and lay these other three wreaths on Lena 
 Tarn's grave, one for each of us." 
 
 "Lena Tarn," said the child, "who is that? Lena Tarn? 
 Why, she's my mother! " 
 
 " Yes, laddie. Ah! and what a mother she was! " 
 
 Next morning Jorn Uhl called the farm-servants and dairy- 
 maids before him, and paid each of them the sum due for 
 wages. Then he went to the tradesmen and paid the small 
 accounts he owed them; and when he saw their look of 
 astonishment, he said in his short, abrupt way, " I don't want 
 you to be kept running about after your money afterward, 
 or to have you cheated out of it altogether." Then they 
 understood him, and swept the money quickly into their tills, 
 and accompanied him to the door, and called out to their
 
 JORN UHL 335 
 
 wives to come and look at hiin as he stalked away down the 
 street, beneath the lindens, with haughtier and straighter gait 
 than they had seen him walk before. Then he returned to 
 the ruins the fire had left, and stood once more by the black- 
 ened, half-fallen walls, not far from the kitchen door, where 
 he had often stood ; for from there a man can see far ami 
 wide over the corn-lands of the Uhl. 
 
 As he stood there, Thiess Thiesscn came stumbling up to 
 him through the dust and rubble, with his coat on and the 
 whip in his hand. " Little Jiirgen is sitting on the old chest 
 in the cart, dangling his legs in the straw, and Wieten is just 
 tucking him up with a brown-striped shawl. . . . How do 
 you feel, laddie? That's right! That's the way I like to see 
 you look." 
 
 " Thiess," said Jorn Uhl, turning toward him, " I've done 
 with it. I'm going to let the Uhl go, and all its cares and 
 worries with it. . . . For fifteen years I haven't had a single 
 Sunday to myself — I believe I've been a poor, unfortunate 
 fool. . . . But now, faith, I n^an really to try and do what 
 you said yesterday — get back my soul that I've buried here 
 in the Uhl. I'll have it back, I say. It's mine, I tell you. 
 . . . Come, let's be off, Thiess." 
 
 His little son was sitting on the old chest, and Wieten was 
 stooping near the cart. " Father," said the boy, " what were 
 you shouting about? Were you scolding, or were you laugh- 
 ing at somebody? " 
 
 " Both," said Jorn Uhl. ..." Come here, Wieten, let me 
 
 help you up . . . you were going to say something, weren't 
 
 "i " 
 you : 
 
 She looked at him thoughtfully with her grave, dark eyes. 
 " I was thinking of the story, Jorn, of the man who spent a 
 hundred years among the little, swarthy earthmen. and came 
 back an old man. There's a deal of truth in those old stories, 
 after all, Jorn." 
 
 "Yes, Wieten!" he said, and he shook as if a shiver ran 
 through him.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 When the west wind begins to blow softly over the woods 
 that still lie covered with snow and hard frost, a long sound 
 of crackling and splintering is heard among the pines. It 
 is as if nothing will bend and everything will have to break. 
 But the soft breezes creep in and slide around all the hard 
 ice-crystals with their blandishment and their coaxing caresses, 
 and it turns out that these softer ways at last prevail and 
 triumph all over the earth. Everywhere love triumphs. The 
 clink and clash and rattle of warlike weapons ceases. The 
 icicles lower their bright lances ; their coats of armor melt. 
 Their eyes fill with tears, and they sink into the arms of 
 the soft air. And when a man walks through the forest, he 
 hears a sound of slipping and falling, and whisperings in 
 mysterious monotones as in dreams. 
 
 It is a beautiful thing to behold and hear, the thawing of 
 a forest. But more beautiful still is it to be by at the thawing 
 of the heart of a man. 
 
 On the afternoon of the day following, Thiess Thiessen 
 was standing by Jorn Uhl's bed, saying, " You've made a 
 good start at being a Thiessen, J5rn ; you've slept eighteen 
 hours at a single stretch." 
 
 "Where's my boy?" Jorn asked. 
 
 He was there already. " Father, you've slept as sound as a 
 hedgehog. I've been here ten times to see if you were awake 
 — seven times all by myself, and three times with Thiess! " 
 
 "There you are!" said Thiess. "Fine reports of you on 
 all sides. ... I drove into Saint Mariendonn this morning. 
 The smith hadn't been paid for the last spade you got, so I 
 gave him a crown." 
 
 Jorn Uhl sat up. " And I haven't got a groat to pay you 
 back with, Thiess! " 
 
 336
 
 JORN UHL 337 
 
 "What! Beginning to worry again?" 
 
 Jorn laughed as he flung himself back on the pillow. 
 
 " I'll take precious good care I don't. Everything's safe! 
 Father and the Uhl and this little lad and Wieten! And no 
 debts to pay and not a black look from any one. Everytliing 
 straightforv\ard and simple. As simple as a slice of black 
 bread. You've got to keep us here for the present." 
 
 "That's clear! You stay here and we'll live cosily together 
 and see what turns up." 
 
 "Thank you, Thiess. I'll think matters over and see what's 
 to be done." 
 
 Next morning he went to Saint Mariendonn on foot, and 
 talked over his position with the town-bailie, a quiet and 
 sensible man, telling him that he didn't intend to touch the 
 farm again. If old Whitehead didn't like to take the estate 
 over in exchange for the debts on it, why — he would have to 
 be declared bankrupt, he said. He didn't want a penny from 
 it; but he didn't want a load of debts either, to begin his 
 new life with. He had long enough had cares and debts that 
 were heavy enough to bear ; for years and years he had had 
 a weight on his conscience, a feeling as if he had a board on 
 his breast whereon was written in big letters, " This man 
 has many debts." To himself he had seemed like a man damned 
 and accursed. " But now my heart is light and glad," he 
 said. 
 
 The bailie smiled to think of this new Jorn Uhl, after the 
 one of old who had been so glum that you couldn't get a word 
 out of him, but who, now that he had lost everything, talked 
 so frankly and open-heartedly, and expressed the hope that 
 the farm might find a good purchaser, seeing that the land 
 was in such high cultivation and good condition. At last 
 they agreed that Jorn Uhl, on Thiess Thiessen's security, 
 should retain two of his horses — two riding-hacks that Lena 
 Tarn had greatly admired as foals, and that were now tall, 
 eight-year-old geldings, clean-limbed Holstein thoroughbreds. 
 
 When he was back in the village street, he swung his yellow 
 oak walking-stick merrily as he walked along, stirring up the 
 fallen leaves of the lindens that lay all over the pathways. 
 And when he caught sight of the schoolhouse in the distance, 
 almost hidden among thickets and lindens, his eye sought out 
 the window behind which he had once tried to learn English;
 
 33^ JORN UHL 
 
 and as he saw the garden, he thought to himself, " Lisbeth 
 Junker will soon be back now. She'll wonder when she sees 
 the Uhl burnt down, and finds ue're no longer there. That 
 was good of her to come over to the Uhl every year when 
 she was visiting at the schoolhouse. A mighty fine girl she is, 
 and bright as a new threepenny bit." 
 
 He walked nearer, and looked over the fence. The whole 
 garden was bright with light, and rich and glad with color. 
 The vine-leaves on the wall shimmered and shone in the 
 bright October sunlight. A soft wind ever and anon whirled 
 the reds and greens and j'ellows, and mingled them in the 
 sunlight. But in all this gay splendor, in the midst of the 
 crimson leaves of the vines, he beheld a peculiar spot which, 
 among all this restful play, kept moving restlessly up and 
 down. It was a girl sitting among the vines, shelling beans, 
 and something had flown down her neck, and she could not 
 see whether it was a leaf or a caterpillar, and there she stood, 
 shaking herself, with the light dancing like a sprite on her 
 fair hair and around her eyes. 
 
 " Hold on! " cried Jorn Uhl, " I'll lend you a hand." And 
 ere she was aware of it there he was bending over her and 
 saying, " There's nothing to be seen but a whole host of little 
 flaxen curls." 
 
 She looked at him with wondering, beaming ejes. 
 
 " Oh, Jiirgen," she said, " what a fright you gave me! and 
 how happy it makes me to see you looking so well ! You 
 poor old Jorn. Now you've lost your father, too, and the 
 whole Uhl is burnt down ! " 
 
 He nodded. " We're not going to talk about that," he 
 said; " that's past and done with. I'm ever so glad, Lisbeth, 
 that I caught sight of you. How long have you been here? " 
 
 " Since last night. I wanted to finish the beans, and then 
 I was going over to the Uhl to see whether I could find you 
 and your little son. And how have you been getting on, 
 Jiirgen?" 
 
 Then he told her, in his thoughtful way, about his brother 
 and his father and about the mice in the corn, and the agree- 
 ment he had made with the bailie. And she comforted him 
 with words of sympathy. 
 
 " What I'm going to do now," said he, " I don't exactly see." 
 
 " Oh," she said, " you'll easily find something, Jiirgen.
 
 JORN UHL 339 
 
 You're a good worker, and 30U like work, and then you're 
 so clever, too. So just don't worry about that." 
 
 The sunlight played gay pranks among the leaves and 
 branches, scattering shadows and fire and color about every- 
 where, and sonic of it fell on JiJrn and Lisbeth. 
 
 He was astonished to hear her speak to him in this tone. 
 It was no mere compassion, it was real esteem, and it pleased 
 him hugely. Such a proud and bonnie girl! "No," he said, 
 " I've got no fears for the future; something or other will 
 crop up. I'm going to live a few weeks, perhaps the whole 
 winter through, without letting a single worry come near me, 
 and then I'll decide what's to be done." 
 
 " That's right," she said. ..." Do you know what, Jiir- 
 gen? You ought to come and pay us a visit in Hamburg. I'll 
 show you the city, and all that's in it, and you must bring 
 your little son with you. Up to now you've known nothing 
 but toil and labor. Now, what do you say to that ? " 
 
 Jorn was almost beside himself. " Shall I tell you something, 
 Lisbeth ? " 
 
 " Do, Jiirgen ! " 
 
 " That is, if you care about it, and if it's good enough for 
 you . . . we are such simple people over here." 
 
 " Do tell me, Jiirgen ! " She looked at him with her big 
 eyes full of glad anticipation. 
 
 " I don't know whether I ought to venture to ask you to 
 come and see us at the Haze. But we've both got a holiday, 
 and we three — you and little Jiirgen and me — will have the 
 whole day long to do just what we like with." 
 
 "Oh! Jorn. . . ." 
 
 " And if you like, you can come for a drive with us, Lisbeth. 
 I'd like to go and see an old comrade of mine who lives over 
 there by Burg. That is, if you care about it. . . ," 
 
 Her eyes beamed through tears of joy. 
 
 "Jiirgen," she said, '' I'd just love to! If you really and 
 truly want me to come, I'll come with the greatest pleasure." 
 
 He was astonished at her delight, and his spirits rose still 
 higher. 
 
 "Who'd have thought you'd be so pleased! Rut I only 
 hope we won't be too plain and homely for you. The smoked 
 hams are from last season, and the dumplings are made of
 
 340 J O R N U H L 
 
 buckwheat, and I don't know whether we'll be able to find 
 a comfortable bed for you or not." 
 
 " Oh! " she said, " I don't care a jot about that. You don't 
 know how glad I am! You don't remember how unkind you 
 were to me sometimes when I came to see you at the Uhl, 
 Jorn. You used to be so curt and cold, as though it was all 
 the same to you what happened to me, or whether I thought 
 this or that, and whether I was in trouble or not. And yet, 
 we'd been playmates as children, hadn't we? That's what 
 used to make me cry." 
 
 " What! " he said, " you used to cry? And for such a thing 
 as that? . . . Lisbeth, I thought it was only out of mere 
 politeness that you came to visit us! I fancied you came out 
 of pity for me. Instead of that, it was from me that you wanted 
 sympathy. Lassie, I can't believe it. And how gladly I 
 would have talked over everything with you! If I'd only 
 had an idea of it! But I was worried and bitter, and my eyes 
 were covered with cobwebs. I always fancied you were so 
 well off and happy." 
 
 " Oh, Jiirgen, me happy? " 
 
 " If it's really so, Lisbeth, and you want something from 
 me; if I can really help you . . . then . . . why! . . . Lis- 
 beth, wherever I am ... I will look you up, and any difficulty 
 you're in, you can alwa3'S trust to me to help you." 
 
 "Can I, really?" she said, eagerly, clapping her hands. 
 " Oh, how glad I am that you are in such good spirits and 
 talk to me like this! " 
 
 "That'll be splendid, to-morrow!" he said. " Thiess is 
 coming over in the morning, so he can fetch you. My boy 
 and I will be in ambush somewhere on the edge of the woods, 
 so that we can capture you. We'll let Thiess find his way 
 home by himself; but you'll have to come with us straight 
 across country. I want to show the little chap the big stones 
 that the witch threw. Do you remember, Lisbeth, the old 
 witch whose hands were like a butcher's trough." 
 
 She clapped her hands. " Jiirgen," she said, " I can't tell 
 you how glad I am that you're in such good spirits and so 
 kind to me." 
 
 Tears stood in her eyes. 
 
 He shook his finger at her and said, roguishly, " You've 
 still the same piping voice as you used to have."
 
 JORN UHL 341 
 
 She laughed. " Just be quiet," she said ; " you'll see, all your 
 old faults, too, will be cropping out again, now you're back 
 here." 
 
 ;'Had I any?" 
 
 " What conceit! Why! sometimes your thoughts used to be 
 all sixes and sevens, and sometimes you would be too hot- 
 tempered, and sometimes you would show the Uhl side of your 
 nature," she said, striking her hand against her breast, mimick- 
 ing the way a braggart talks. 
 
 "Oh!" said he, "so that's the sort of fellow I was. And 
 now as I go over the heath I'll try to think what you used to 
 be like, too. But it's time for me to be off. I feel ever so 
 much better, Lisbeth. I'd never have thought that you were 
 such a dear, good little soul." 
 
 " Nor I that you would be so gay and light-hearted to-day." 
 
 "That's because I'm free from worry. I used to have 
 nothing but heavy tlioughts before — thoughts that walked 
 about like workmen in a mill staggering under the heavy 
 sacks of flour they carry on their shoulders. But now these 
 same thoughts have all turned into grandees and go about in 
 fine clothes, spying out pretty maids that sit under vine trellises. 
 So now, good-by, Lisbeth, till to-morrow." 
 
 " Good-by, Jiirgen ; kiss the little fellow at home for me." 
 
 He shook hands with her and said good-by. She followed 
 him with her eyes till he was out of sight. Then smiling 
 and thoughtful she slowly gathered her beans together. But 
 while she was still doing so — was it because something else 
 had fallen tlown her neck? — she shook herself and cried out, 
 "Marie, Marie!" Her friend came running out, with her 
 child in her arms, and asked what was the matter. Then she 
 said, "Oh! do you know who's been here? Do you know 
 who's been sitting here, right on this seat? And has been 
 chatting with me in the merriest mood in the world ? " 
 
 " You surely can't mean Jiirn Uhl? " 
 
 Then the other, the fair-haired maid, nodded and laughed, 
 and ran off into the house. 
 
 Next day, sure enough, there she was sitting in the cart 
 beside Thiess and looking like a beautiful young rose-bush 
 beside a little dricd-up elderberry-tree. And Thiess laughed 
 all over his face when he saw Jorn and his boy standing there
 
 342 J O R N U H L 
 
 on the outskirts of the wood. She did not want to get down 
 out of the cart, he held his arms so high and made such a 
 gloomy face, but at last she ventured. 
 
 She and the little fellow immediately ran off together, straight 
 across the heath to the Haze. She paid no heed to any one 
 but him, as though she had come to the Haze as she had 
 formerly done to the Uhl, only to have a look at the little 
 boy. All day long she behaved in the same way. Jorn had 
 meanwhile strolled over to the moor with Thiess to see how 
 the turf was getting on. When he came back, he found her 
 still playing with the child. I'hey were jumping backwards 
 and forwards over a ditch, and both seemed to find the greatest 
 delight in their occupation. When he came up to them she 
 said to her little playfellow, " Time's up now, I must go and 
 help Wieten," and ran away into the house like a weasel into 
 its hole in the bank. An hour later he met her in the front 
 hall, and she was just tying a cloth around her head and saying 
 she was " going to help Wieten to brush down the walls of the 
 kitchen, which were simply disgraceful." That was a little too 
 much for him. He caught hold of her good-humoredly, turned 
 her around, deliberately untied her kerchief and apron and 
 threw them both in the corner, saying, " Now we'll go over to 
 the Haze together." 
 
 " Little Jiirgen shall come too." 
 
 " Little Jiirgen shall stay where he is." 
 
 She pouted, and told him it was taking rather too much 
 for granted to think she was going to do whatever he told her. 
 
 "Will you just go and put on your hat, please?" 
 
 " No, but I will put on something warmer." 
 
 She went and got her pretty little black jacket and held It 
 out toward him. He put his stick in the corner, and said, 
 " Now tell me what I'm to do." 
 
 " Don't be pretending. You can hold a jacket while it is 
 being put on, can't you? " 
 
 " I've never done so in my life, either for man or woman. 
 Goodness! But what a fine little coat! And lined with silk, 
 too, isn't it? I've never seen such a thing in all my born days. 
 Well, let's try." 
 
 She had now put it on, but it did not sit properly yet. She 
 twisted herself and stretched lier arms, trying to get the wide, 
 roomy sleeves of her house-dress into the jacket, but could not.
 
 JC3RN UHL 343 
 
 " Just conic here," he said, " I'll help you." 
 
 She gave another twist. " It's all right now," she said. 
 
 " Do you see? " said he. " \ ou're just the same as you were 
 as a child. It's always ' Touch nie not,' always hoity-toity 
 and proud. An Uhl is not a patch on you! " 
 
 " Jiirgen," she said, and her eyes looked straight and re- 
 proachfully at him, and her voice was clear and high. " I'm 
 only quiet and undemonstrative, nothing more. If you could 
 see into me you'd tliink diiierently." 
 
 " No, Lisbeth," he said, " don't be put out. But I've always 
 had the feeling that you were much too grand to have any- 
 thing to do with me; and that, together with my unhappy 
 position, is the reason why I have been so reserved in these 
 last years." 
 
 She looked at him roguishly, and said, " Just tell me, then, 
 Jiirgen. WHiat is there so grand about me?" 
 
 He grew embarrassed, and concealed his uncertainty by as- 
 suming a very grave air. 
 
 " Well," he said, " in the first place, it's your figure, you 
 know. It's like the young linden that grows near the corner 
 of the schoolhouse by the garden gate. Your whole figure and 
 gait have something fresh and far-away about them." 
 
 She gave a little pull at her jacket, and said, with a laugh, 
 "Go on! I like hearing you describe me, though." 
 
 "And then your face! It looks as if this beautiful sunny 
 day had only made it this very morning. And eyes of such 
 dour earnestness, without taking into account that you hold 
 them quite different in your head when you look at me." 
 
 " I don't, Jiirgen! " 
 
 " And when you speak, you make such a pretty fuss with 
 your mouth, that one likes looking at you just to see its 
 mann?uvres. Your mouth has grown broader and quieter." 
 
 " Well, have >nu done now? " 
 
 " Do you remember, too," he said, " that you would never 
 give Fiete Cray your hand when we wanted to help you over 
 the embankment? No, there you'd stand. You wouldn't 
 slide down, for your dress would have got dirty! Besides, it 
 wouldn't have looked nice. Then you would call out ' Jiir- 
 gen! Jiirgen!' I can still hear your voice from the top 
 of the embankment. Do you see? That's the sort of girl you 
 were! "
 
 344 J O R N U H L 
 
 " And why was I ? Because Fiete Cray's hands weren't 
 always too clean, as you very well know." 
 
 " Yes, child ; but what about my hands, now ? What haven't 
 they had to take hold of? When my brother's body lay on 
 the floor of the hall . . . Oh, I'm not going to think about it! 
 You're too good for such a hand as that, Lisbeth." 
 
 " Give it to me," she said ; and before he realized what she 
 was going to do, she had caught hold of his hand and laid it 
 to her cheek. " That's what I think about it," she said. 
 
 A tremor ran through his body, lie held her hand fast, and 
 said, somewhat haltingly, " You are my own dear little play- 
 mate." 
 
 They had now reached the edge of the forest, and he showed 
 her the spot where the slope of the embankment, for about the 
 length of a man, was clad with thick moss. 
 
 " Will you sit down here a little? " 
 
 To his great surprise she did so. " Here," she said, " the 
 four of us once lay." 
 
 " Where are the two others? " said he. 
 
 She stroked the moss at her side and wanted to say some- 
 thing, and gazed down on the ground before her. At last, 
 she spoke. " I won't have any peace of mind, Jijrgen, until 
 you think rightly about me. I'm neither proud nor prudish. 
 Look, Jiirgen ! You remember that time we met in the apple 
 orchard? It was a comical affair, wasn't it? You were 
 reasonable and natural, and I behaved ridiculously. As for 
 the reason why I wouldn't dance with you at the ball afterward, 
 you know what it was perfectly well already, and perhaps 
 you've thought differently and more wisely about it since then. 
 And then, tliat I didn't have more to do with Elsbe; see, 
 Jiirgen, I know how loyal and good her heart was, and she 
 was shrewd enough, too. When she was quite young, she 
 looked upon life with remarkably clear and sensible eyes, whilst 
 I, for a time, was a cross-grained and foolish thing. She was 
 never greatly smitten with things that aren't worth caring 
 and talking so much about, — curtain-lace and such things, — 
 but looked on what was real and true. In that she was your 
 true sister, Jorn. . . . But you have never heard what a plight 
 she was in. You don't know that, when you were a soldier, 
 she got up in the night and stole through the dark village 
 up to my window and passed half the night with me. Then
 
 JORN UHL 345 
 
 she cried bitterly and complained about her restlessness. Then 
 in winter, when the ball season came, she was so wild and 
 beside herself that people be^an to talk about her." She drew 
 a deep breath, not darinjz; to look up at him. 
 
 " You see, Jiirgen, I am not free from this either. You 
 mustn't think me stupid and silent, and hard-hearted and in- 
 different. It is a thing I have kept shut up in my soul. It 
 and relif2;ion are my heart's two most secret things." 
 
 "Aren't they two quite separate things?" 
 
 " I think not, Jiirgen. Are they not rather like brother 
 and sister? I hope you don't think that religion is from God 
 and nature from the devil. For they are both from God, and 
 should dwell side by side, and be of mutual help to each other." 
 
 She passed her hand lightly over the moss. " See, this is 
 the pride of which you complain. I live in a nice house. 
 Ihe walls are cleanly whitewashed, and the windows are 
 brightly polished, and not too high, and have a bit of curtain 
 in them. But if any one thinks that a pious old maid lives 
 there, — you know, Jiirgen, that sort of lamblike piety, — then 
 they make a mistake. In my clean little room behind the cur- 
 tains I often sing and laugh aloud and dance, and many a 
 time I throw myself out full length on the carpet and weep 
 my fill, without the least idea why I do such things." 
 
 He looked down on her with bright eyes. The trees behind 
 her had leaned over a little toward her in order to hear every- 
 thing she said, and the evening sun rolled golden balls over the 
 moss. Jorn was in the midst of a fairy-story and didn't know it. 
 
 " It's strange how things have gone with you and me," he 
 said ; " yesterday I came to you, and to-day you come to me." 
 
 Now, for the first time, she looked up at him. "If you 
 like, Jiirgen, we will be fast friends again, and remain so all 
 our lives." 
 
 He struck his stick on the ground and said, " No greater 
 gift can I desire, Lisbeth, than a human soul to whom I can 
 unburden my heart. I have never had any one like that since 
 Fiete Cray disappeared behind Ringelshorn, and Lena Tarn 
 made ready to die. I have been a lonely man, and in my 
 loneliness I have grown odd and strange, and my heart has 
 frozen." 
 
 " But now you're beginning to thaw, Jorn. Now you join 
 hands again with life where you left it as a boy. You're
 
 346 J O R N U H L 
 
 still j'oung enough for that. Oh, what a strange fellow you 
 were! So dignified and so grave! You got that from the Haze 
 people." 
 
 " Now," said he, " come. We'll go home and we can talk 
 matters over to-morrow. We'll talk over what I'm to do. 
 If you're my comrade, you'll have to stand by me and give 
 me counsel in that, too." 
 
 " Do you know w^hat? " she said. " Maj^be in the next few 
 months you won't be able to look after little Jorn very well. 
 You can scarcely leave him here. It's too far from the school 
 for him. I wish you'd just give him into my charge, Jiirgen. 
 We've such good schools, and I ... I stood at his mother's 
 death-bed." 
 
 " Would you do that, Lisbeth? "
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 When Jorn Uhl came back fairly early next morning from 
 the moor, where he had been with Thiess, he thought, " Ah, 
 now both of them shall get up at once, and come with me out 
 on to the heath." But as he went through the kitchen he met 
 Wieten, who said to him, " I'm to give you their greetings, 
 Jorn, and tell you they're not at home to you till the afternoon. 
 You are to spend the forenoon with Thiess." 
 
 " Well, if that's not . . . Wieten," said he, " she and the 
 youngster are a regular pair of conspirators." 
 
 " And no wonder, Jorn. As far as age goes she might well 
 be his mother, and she thinks such a lot of him. It's no mere 
 make-believe." 
 
 He returned obediently to the moor and did not come home 
 till noon, when he found the two of them just arrived. 
 
 "Well, have you got on well together to-day?" 
 
 "We haven't had a single quarrel!" said the boy; "and 
 we've told each other some splendid stories. This afternoon 
 you can come with us, too, father." 
 
 " Well, that's something, at any rate," said Jorn. 
 
 Lisbeth blushed and then laughed. " We are going to do 
 just what we like with you. This afternoon you're to be 
 allowed to go with us to the Rugenberg; we want to see the 
 Hun's grave." 
 
 " Where the dead man used to lie in it," said the boy. 
 
 "All right! "said Jorn. 
 
 They had walked nearly an hour through the Haze woods, 
 and then over a heath, and had come down across the meadows 
 to a little wooden bridge, and climbed up on the other side 
 through a tiny forest, and there they saw the Rugenberg lying 
 before them. It is quite a considerable hill. From there you 
 
 347
 
 348 J O R N U H L 
 
 have an outlook over a wide moor stretching as far as the chains 
 of hills on the other side. 
 
 On the summit, beneath young pines and beeches, ancient 
 graves have been opened. 
 
 When the three had climbed up as far as the beeches, " I 
 say, Lisbeth," said the little boy, " shall we have a bit of a 
 rest here? " 
 
 " What do you say, Jiirgen? " 
 
 " Father, have you got a knife on you? Then let's just 
 make a hole in the ground and have a game of marbles." 
 
 " What an idea! " said Jorn. " What put marbles into your 
 head? " 
 
 "Oh! we had a game yesterday, too," said Lisbeth. 
 
 " Do you remember the last time that we two played mar- 
 bles, Lisbeth?" said Jorn. 
 
 " Yes, and you quarrelled about them." 
 
 He laughed. " I'm not so sure of that. You put your hand 
 in the hole and grabbed the marbles." 
 
 " I'd won them," she said. 
 
 Jorn Uhl was scooping out a hole with his knife. " You 
 had not won them! The sixth marble had stopped on the 
 edge of the hole. You saw that, but you thought it was better 
 to make a dash for them. That was always the way with 
 you, with your grand airs. You'd always get in a huff the 
 moment any one contradicted you." 
 
 "Oh! Indeed! ... I could tell you to this day how the 
 marbles lay. There wasn't the shadow of a doubt about it. 
 Just hand the marbles here to me! This one was in the hole 
 in this position." 
 
 " That's only on the edge! " said the little fellow. " You'd 
 have to have another shot! " 
 
 Jorn knelt down opposite the two of them. " Do you hear 
 what the youngster says?" 
 
 She laid the marble once more on the sloping side of the 
 hole, close to the edge. " Here's where it was." 
 
 It rolled down. 
 
 "What did I tell you?" he exclaimed. "Can the marble 
 stop there on the slope? " 
 
 Then of a sudden she stretched out her hand, snatched up 
 the marbles, and held them clenched in her fingers in her lap,
 
 J O R N U H L 349 
 
 looking away over his head the while, as though she were all 
 alone there. 
 
 He laughed. " Thats just the way you did last time, and 
 I caught hold of your ear and pulled it for you." 
 
 "Oh! and what made you do such a thing as that?" 
 
 "Because you were spoiling the game! But you! you 
 couldn't bear me to touch you. How could such a rough 
 fellow take hold of such a dainty girl ! " 
 
 " Y ou hadn't any right to pull my ear." 
 
 " No, I ... I hadn't any right, but you, you were always 
 right. ' Jiirgen, let's have a game! Jiirgen, let's see how 
 the wind is on Ringelshorn! Jiirgen, let's go and catch stickle- 
 backs!' But when Jiirgen wanted to be a real comrade and 
 wanted to treat you as he would a mate, then you always 
 got into a temper and put on a frightened look. And you'd 
 do just the same now ! Such a touch-me-not! The man 
 who wants you for a wife will be a rash fellow." 
 
 He looked at her with a strange mixture of roguishness 
 and embarrassment, but seeing what a confused look she 
 had in her eyes, he said in the soft tone which he had always 
 used to her when she was angry, as a child, " Give the marbles 
 here, Lisbeth. Now, just see if we can't finish that game w^e 
 were having. The one who fires six out of seven into the hole 
 shall have been in the right that other time." 
 
 " No," she said, " I'm not going to stake what rightly belongs 
 to me in that way." 
 
 " No more wall I ! " said the boy. 
 
 " Well, just as you like," said Jorn. " Just as you like," and 
 he began to fire a few shots with the marbles that were still 
 lying there. She gazed straight before her with a saucy look 
 on her face. 
 
 But when she saw that he fired so timidly that he didn't 
 get more than one into the hole, she guessed her chances weren't 
 so bad. She broke into a ringing laugh, and said, " Well, 
 come on! I'm ready!" 
 
 Now they were both hard at it, and their heads came nearer 
 and nearer together, while the youngster lay almost over the 
 hole making fun of the bad shots, and crying at intervals: 
 Just let me have a shot ! " 
 No! Afterward!" 
 
 n
 
 350 JORN UHL 
 
 But Jorn, in spite of the uneven ground, at last managed 
 to get six into the hole. 
 
 But at the same moment she snatched the marbles up, and 
 said: "Why, Jiirgen, you've been cheating! You had your 
 thumb in front of the hole! " 
 
 But at the same moment he had her by the ear and was 
 shaking her. He looked at her, however, with fear and em- 
 barrassment, thinking, " I wonder how it'll end this time! " 
 
 But she bent her head so that his hand lay soft between her 
 cheek and shoulder, and looked at him with a shy smile. 
 
 He drew his hand slowly back and said in a low voice, trem- 
 bling with emotion, " You are different from what I thought, 
 after all, Lisbeth. How sweet and pure your face is! It still 
 has the look of the little Rain-tweet of old in it." 
 
 The youngster, who had found it somewhat tedious waiting, 
 had gone up toward the summit of the hill. Suddenly he 
 called down, " Look, father ! Do you see that man sitting up 
 there in the grass? Do you know who he is?" 
 
 " I don't see any one. Where do you mean? " 
 
 " There! can't you see him? Shall I tell you who he is? " 
 
 "Who, then?" 
 
 " It's Heim Heiderieter. W^hy, he's sold calves to you many 
 a time! " 
 
 " Bless me! so it is," said Jorn, springing up. " Do you see, 
 Lisbeth?" 
 
 Heim Heiderieter was already on his feet looking down at 
 them in astonishment. "Who be ye?" he cried. "May 
 Wodan fill ye with dread and Thor lift his hammer against ye. 
 . . . But let Freya guide the soul of this woman that she may 
 look kindly upon me. . . . Oh, it's you, Jorn Uhl! And what 
 does Jorn Uhl want here with his star-gazing? — Here, where 
 the footprints of our fathers lie in the graves? What! Lisbeth 
 Junker! He shall be welcome on this sunny height, because 
 he has brought you and the little lad with him." 
 
 Lisbeth and the boy ran on ahead, and Lisbeth gave him 
 her hand, and said, in a swift whisper, " You've heard, haven't 
 you, that Jiirgen has given up the farm? But he's glad he's 
 got rid of all the worry of it. Don't go talking to him about 
 old times." 
 
 "What's she twittering about there?" asked Jorn; "it's
 
 JORN UHL 351 
 
 just for all the world like a finch on the kitchen window-sill. 
 . . . What brings you here, Heim? " 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you," said Heim. "A year ago Peter 
 Voss of Vaarle and I, and a few others, opened an old stone 
 room up here, and found in it a dead man, whom we sent to 
 the museum at Kiel." 
 
 " Whereabouts was he lying? " 
 
 " Just there! Do you see? In that little gray stone chamber. 
 . . . Now, I was in Kiel not long ago, and had a talk with 
 my dear friend. Pastor Biernatzki of Hamburg, and stood 
 for the second time before the poor skeleton, and looked at 
 the few blackened remnants of the boat that the man had 
 been buried in. And Biernatzki said to me — you know Bier- 
 natzki, don't you, Jorn? He and I once paid you a visit at 
 the Uhl — a tall, black-haired man. ' Well, Heim,' said he, 
 ' you'll just have to write an account of this fellow's life.' 
 
 "'Why?' I asked. 'Because he's got such a wonderfully 
 strong set of teeth, eh ? ' 
 
 " ' No,' he said, ' but because the back of his head is so well 
 shaped, I believe that man must have had a remarkable mind.' 
 
 " That's what he said, and that's why I've come here. . . . 
 And — what do you think?" he said, striking the grass with 
 his hand ; " here, on this spot where they buried him three 
 thousand years ago, I have discovered what sort of a life he 
 lived! " 
 
 " I say, Heim ! " exclaimed Jorn Uhl, " there you are, letting 
 your imagination run away with you again." 
 
 But Lisbeth Junker proposed that Heim should tell them 
 the story straight away. 
 
 " Well, you'll have to sit down opposite me," said Heim, 
 " for I like looking at you. And Jorn Uhl mustn't wear such 
 a superior look on his face. Of course he thinks I'm making 
 it all up. But, I tell you, Jorn, there's just as much truth 
 in what I'm going to tell you about that dead man as there 
 is in your talk about geological strata or the seeds of wild 
 flowers. I'm going to tell you gospel truth." 
 
 " Well, go ahead ! We've got time enough." 
 
 So Heim Heiderieter stretched himself out full length, sup- 
 porting his curly head in his hand, and related the following 
 story : 
 
 " If you go down this hill into yonder hollow, you come to
 
 352 JORN UHL 
 
 the old bed of a brook. Every spring and autumn the water 
 still gathers and lies there and washes down all sorts of earth 
 into it, and the valley of the brook becomes a broad green 
 strip in a meagre environment. 
 
 " Three thousand years ago a powerful little stream flowed 
 there. For all these hill-ridges around about us were in those 
 days decked with a thick confusion of trees. Lindens and 
 beeches, birches and oaks, grew and struggled side by side. 
 A profusion of hazels and sloes and wild apple-trees flourished 
 and burrowed around the knees of their great brethren, and 
 where one of the giants had fallen in some April storm, they 
 spread themselves out and fought to get at the light. 
 
 " The woods on the heights and the waters in the lowlands 
 were the lords of the country in those days. Man didn't count 
 for as much then as he does now, but he was already so far 
 advanced that he no longer felt such fear of the wild beasts, 
 whose strength was greater than his. Here and there, between 
 the waters and the woods, where the ground had been cleared, 
 stood, lonely and isolated, the dwellings of men. Trunks of 
 young trees were put up on the bare ground as beams and 
 cross-pieces, and covered with reeds from the edge of the 
 marsh, and the roof was weighted with heavy masses of turf, 
 to give the building strength to withstand the onslaughts of 
 the autumn winds, and to break the power of the heavy rains. 
 
 " By the side of the narrow brook, beneath great spreading 
 beech-trees, there dwelt in those days a man in the full strength 
 of his early manhood. In his youth he had borne some other 
 name, but now that he was grown up people always called 
 him the Boatman, from his passion for scooping out little boats 
 of linden-wood, and fitting them with tiny sails of bast, and 
 sailing them on the brook. And after he had finished his ex- 
 periments with these toy vessels, he made a big boat with 
 a great mainsail of ox-hide after the same model, and made 
 trials with her in the Elbe Bight — a place where nowadays 
 you'll find nothing but fen-lands. He was so taken up with 
 his carpentering and his experiments, that the whole summer 
 went by without his paying any heed to the maidens who used 
 to bathe and shout and splash at the bend of the stream. Nor 
 did he trouble his head about fields or cows, or dogs to hunt 
 with in winter. For, like all inventors, he was thoughtless
 
 JORN UHL 353 
 
 and unpractical, and forj^ot to make provision for the hard 
 times of winter. 
 
 " Thus whilst he played at making bast-sails and sailing his 
 little boats the summer passed by. Hut when winter was 
 come and his hunger was great he hurried away through snow 
 and the cold east wind — for his wolfskin was thin and worn 
 — to the hut that lay away down by the brook. In that se- 
 cluded spot there lived an old man who did nothing all the 
 summer long but look after his field of barley and tend his 
 herds of swine beneath the oaks, while all the winter all he 
 (lid was to boil this barley in a big soup-pot, and, after draining 
 the vessel dry, he would get up from his hearth-fire and reach 
 upwards into the blue gray smoke wiiere heavy, broad flitches 
 of bacon were hanging. There the Boatman lay all the winter, 
 surrounded by fire and smoke and boiling barley and flitches 
 of bacon, gravely discussing such themes as whether Thor's 
 hammer were made of gold or bronze, whether the men who 
 died young in their huts without ever having done valiant 
 deeds \\ould ever come into Wodan's halls, whether the time 
 would e\er come when human beings would be able to build 
 a boat big enough to hold a hundred people. And so on, 
 
 " When the first days of spring came the Boatman emerged 
 from the smoke and went down into the creek, washed oH 
 the crust of grease and grime that had gathered on him in 
 the long winter, and returned to his work, all spick and span, 
 with his skin ruddy and firm and fresh. 
 
 " But one day, in the very midst of his work, a great thought 
 flashed upon him. It came down on him with a swoop, as 
 if it had been one of the eagle-hawks that he had seen circling 
 in the sky above him. He would build quite a different sort of 
 boat, he thought. Yes, he would bend supple young trees to the 
 form of a boat, bind them together with strips of hide, and 
 cover them over with ox-skin, and so get a big, light boat, 
 such as no one had ever thought of. He worked at his idea 
 throughout the whole of that summer, and sometimes was so 
 downhearted over it that he would put his head between his 
 knees and not move for hours, and then anon he would be so 
 jubilant that he would dance around the wooden framework 
 of the boat in sheer delight. Everybody was curious as to how 
 it would turn out. Most of them made fun of him. The 
 maidens came and said, ' Oh ! it's going to be a great success,
 
 354 JORN UHL 
 
 Boatman.' But when they talked among themselves, they said, 
 ' Tush ! it will come to nothing.' 
 
 " One rough day in autumn he dragged the new boat down 
 to the water. Everybody stood on the bank v/atching how 
 he fared. But the first attempt was a failure. The boat was 
 all lopsided. It wobbled and was as unsteady as a leaf in the 
 wind. It capsized, and he had to swim a long way to save 
 himself. On the bank he was received with a storm of loud 
 jeers and laughter, the cries that always greet the inventor, 
 whether poet, scientist, or statesman, when his plans miss fire. 
 
 " He did not go away and hang himself, but a dour and 
 bitter anger filled his heart. He sat down on his stool opposite 
 the hearth-fire and stayed there for weeks. His flaxen beard 
 grew longer and longer. Still he did not stir. Longer still it 
 grew. Still he sat there. It grew so thick that you could 
 not see his tight-shut lips. It grew so long that it swept the 
 ground before the hearth. Still he sat there. He sat crouch- 
 ing upon his stool, and his thoughts were bitter. But every 
 evening at dusk he got up and went out into the storm and 
 snow, and stayed there half the night, fighting with the wolves 
 for the hares and the birds, and with the otters for the fish 
 they had caught, and thus he obtained a meagre subsistence and 
 grew inured to all weathers, and expert and lithe in the front 
 and the side jump. This was the life he led until the middle 
 of the winter. 
 
 " Then one day the people of the settlement felt the want 
 of him. For since the death of merry-hearted Baldermann, 
 who, even when his hair was white, had given the maidens 
 new songs to dance to every spring, the young Boatman had 
 been wont to fix for them the day when the sun would turn 
 back toward spring. Then at his bidding they had always 
 celebrated the Yuletide. So now they sent a messenger to 
 him with a kindly word on his lips and the hind quarter of a 
 calf in his hand. But scarcely had the Boatman caught sight 
 of the messenger entering his hut than he sprang up, and with- 
 out a word threw him out. The hind quarter went flying 
 after him. So the folk celebrated the Yuletide by guess that 
 year, trusting to the word of old Mother Gruhle, who told 
 them that the time of the festival must be at hand, for she 
 had only five pots of schwarz-sauer left hanging up under the 
 rooftree — a sure sign that the Yule feast was nigh.
 
 JORN UHL 355 
 
 "And when the festival was celebrated, and men drank 
 deep, and began, after the custom they had even in those 
 days, to go from hut to hut, they even had the drunken courage 
 to go down and visit the Boatman, too. Six men came reeling 
 into his hut, shouting and waving their cow-horns over their 
 heads. "1 he Boatman hrst looked them up and down, then 
 he suddenly sprang to his feet and, without more ado, threw 
 them out of the door, two at a time, with such vehemence 
 that they went sliding feet first over the ice on the brook. 
 When this became known it made folk knit their brows; for 
 never yet had a man among them been known to spurn their 
 Yuletide merrymaking. 
 
 " The winter was long and stark. In the smoky huts their 
 eyes grew dim. From long lying their bodies lost their lithe- 
 ness, and their minds grew dull from everlastingly gazing at 
 the thatch above them. And so at last, when spring came, 
 they were beside themselves with joy. They were much blither 
 folk in those days than we are now. Some with loud shouts 
 pulled down the front walls of their huts, others bound garlands 
 of birch-twigs around their hips and danced together in the 
 sunshine. Others leaped into the brook. Others went out 
 a-hunting in the forest, and their children tried in play to 
 imitate what was done. The Boatman alone remained at home 
 in his hut. When they saw that he was angry even with the 
 sun in the house of heaven and with Freya in the forest, they 
 knew that he was the sport of evil spirits. 
 
 " Now in the settlement there was a maiden whose body was 
 as lithe as a cat's, and who could do all sorts of tricks; and 
 this maiden was a merry rogue to boot. She was the best at 
 the games in the meadow. She could swim under water like 
 an otter, and, by holding her hands up between the hearth- 
 fire and the thatch of the roof, she knew how to make shadows 
 that looked like animals and men; and she knew, moreover, 
 all sort of stories about trees and beasts and men. One morn- 
 ing, while she was bathing, an idea came into her head: ' I 
 will go and have a look at his long beard,' she said. 
 
 " So she came up out of the brook and put on her bright 
 dress of light wool which she had striped with the juice of the 
 wild cherry, and tightened her leathern girdle, and she was 
 in such a hurry that the little axe, hanging from her girdle 
 in its beautiful leathern sheath, fell to the ground. Around
 
 356 JORN UHL 
 
 her bare arm, above and below the elbow, she put strong clasps 
 of shining red bronze. Running to her mother's hut, she cried, 
 ' Mother, let's play at Freya vanquishing the bad fairies, and 
 I will be Freya. So give me your breast-shields and the neck- 
 lace of yellow pearls.' Her mother scolded her, but gave her 
 the two red shields as big as hands, which she quickly put 
 on, and the pearls, which she twined among her wild, fair hair. 
 Then she stole away under the great spreading beech-trees to 
 his hut. 
 
 " She stooped and entered in, seeking with wide-opened 
 eyes and beating heart near the little hearth-fire and trying 
 to make out his form. For her roguish mood had by this 
 almost dwindled to nothing. But w'hen at last she saw a 
 pair of deep eyes, full of bitterness and anger, gazing at her 
 in silence, she suddenly thought of another plan. She made 
 a quick dart with her hand into her dress, where she always 
 carried six knuckle-bones, and, kneeling down, she began to 
 toss them in the air. As she went on playing, she thought, 
 'You've got yourself into a pretty fix this time! Oh, good- 
 ness me! if I were only safely outside again! ' 
 
 " She went on playing while he kept gazing at her. At last 
 she could not bear the pain in her shoulders any longer. The 
 knuckle-bones rolled on the ground. 
 
 " Then she held out her empty hands toward him, and said, 
 ' The sun is shining, the birds are merry. We play all day long 
 by the brook.' 
 
 "Then for the first time in six months he spoke: 'Who 
 sent you hither, wench ? ' 
 
 " When she heard that her spirits went up, and she laughed 
 aloud, saying, 'Oh! I've come of my own accord. I don't 
 want you to sit here and grow so black and sour, Gittigitt. 
 Don't be a mole and hide away like this from the sunlight. 
 Come out into the sun.' 
 
 " ' Go your way in peace,' he growled. 
 
 You should just see what you look like,' she said. ' Your 
 beard is like an old fir-tree. Shall I show you what you look 
 like?' 
 
 " She stirred the sleeping fire with her oaken staff; twined 
 her hands together, and looked at the shadow on the wall. 
 ' Look,' she said, ' like that.' 
 
 " He gave a fleeting glance. ' It's not true,' he growled.
 
 JORN UHL 357 
 
 No, it's not. Wait a moment. . . . Now, now it's right. 
 Look again ! ' 
 
 " He took another fleeting look. ' It's not true,' he said. 
 
 "'Not true? Any one can say that! Just look at your 
 own shadow, there on the thatch. Just look at that face of 
 yours, I say! ' 
 
 " He turned his head in that direction, and nose and beard 
 vanished, and in their stead was nothing but a big, dark, round 
 shadow. 
 
 " She clapped her hands together so that the bracelets clashed 
 and rang again. 'Oh, what a simpleton you are!' she said. 
 ' Come here! ' She caught him by the beard and held it fast. 
 * Now turn your eyes slowly toward the wall. Do you see 
 it now ? ' 
 
 " He gave his head a violent shake and drew it back. ' Let 
 go my beard,' he said, ' and take yourself off out of this.' 
 
 " She looked at him searchingly, and thought, * I won't win 
 him over in that wa\',' then she began slowly to gather up the 
 knuckle-bones. Suddenly she held her shut hand out toward 
 him and said: 'Odd or even? If you don't guess right you 
 must come with me, if you guess it, then — ' 
 
 Then you stay here with me. . . . Odd ! ' She wanted 
 to cry * No ! ' and escape, but he had caught her hand and 
 forced it open. 
 
 '' There were four in it. 
 
 " She heaved such a deep breath of relief that the woollen 
 garment on her breast grew tight. 'You've lost. Freya! 
 What a fright I got. Now you'll have to come with me,' 
 
 Bewitched are these knuckle-bones of yours,' he cried, 
 ' I will bite them in pieces with my teeth and stay here ; or, 
 if I don't, you can lead me through the village with a willow- 
 wand.' 
 
 "'Do it!' she said, angrily, 'with those wolf's teeth of 
 yours,' He bit and snap went his tooth, but the knuckle- 
 bone remained whole. 
 
 "'I've won! I've won!' she cried. 'That's twice! I'll 
 go and bring a willow-switch, and you must come with me.' 
 
 " She ran out, and came back stripping the leaves off the 
 willow with her ringed hand. 
 Get up! ' she said. 
 
 " As he stood up obediently, she could no longer restrain
 
 358 JORN UHL 
 
 herself. ' Do j^ou think,' she said, ' that you're going out with 
 me into the meadows in this ph'ght, so that everybody may 
 laugh at you, as they did when the boat capsized? I've only 
 come to make you give up sulking, and to get you forth out 
 of the hut.' 
 
 Give me the switch. I will go with you as I have said. 
 They shall laugh at me ! ' 
 
 " But she looked at him with gleaming eyes. ' I won't,' 
 she said. 
 
 " ' Then I'll not go with you! ' 
 
 " Tears of anger filled her eyes and made the whole hut 
 seem afire. 'Then stay here till you're black!' she said, as 
 she threw doM^n the switch and ran out. 
 
 " For three days she hid herself among the thick branches 
 of a willow-tree that hung over the bank, and for three days 
 she gazed with dreamy ej'es into the brook, seeing his eyes 
 gleaming through the water. But on the morning of the 
 fourth day she thought, ' What can't be, can't be,' and began 
 to call from her hiding-place with the voice of the brown 
 owl, so that at first the children and then the old people 
 came running together. Then she was discovered, and got a 
 scolding from the old women for imitating the death-bird. 
 But she laughed and mingled with the others again, and was 
 the same as she had been before. 
 
 " In the course of that summer there was such a drought 
 in the land that young people from the hills, on the other 
 side from the Dietmargos, crossed the bight on foot, stole into 
 the woods, and, looking down from the heights, spied out the 
 course of the brook and beheld the beautiful meadows and the 
 cattle. The place pleased them, for they were close pressed 
 where they lived on the other side at the edge of the fens or 
 on the barren heights. The fruitful marsh-land was then not 
 yet in existence. It still lay beneath the sea. 
 
 " So one day, with much leaping and wading and swimming, 
 they crossed the bight, losing in the water on the way three 
 men who were drowned in the slime, and arriving eight hun- 
 dred strong at the brook. 
 
 " Then young lads ran through the meadows from herd to 
 herd, calling all the men to the battle. But they were a great 
 confused mass, like a swarm of ants disturbed, for they had 
 no leader. Their chief had died that winter.
 
 J O R N U H L 359 
 
 " In the Boatman's liut, away up on the brook, at last the 
 shout was heard, 'To arms! there are foes in the valley! ' 
 
 " Then he, too, leapt up, stretched his limbs, and rejoiced 
 at the hour that {z;ave him back to the sun and to his fellow 
 men. He buckled on his broad belt with sword and dagger, 
 seized his oaken shield and his spear of ash, and sprang out 
 of his hut bareheaded. The others had already gone down to 
 meet the enemy. 
 
 " But as he hurried down beside the brook he saw by chance 
 — it was a day in autumn — a great overripe bilberry-leaf 
 floating on the water. It was a rounded oblong in shape, and 
 hollowed out like a trough, and in the middle of it, on the 
 bottom, lay a little pile of berries, like a cargo. Smoothly 
 and safely it floated on the brook in the sunshine, and when he 
 saw it a sudden thought flashed upon him as if from heaven. 
 ' That's the way you must build boats. With stem and ribs 
 and a cargo in the bottom, you can build as big as you like . . . 
 and it will go steady and safe.' He threw himself on his 
 knees and carefully examined the delicate craft, pondering as 
 to how he should set about imitating it. ' That will be a 
 different sort of vessel from your boats made out of a single 
 oak trunk.' Shield and ash-spear lay beside him unheeded on 
 the grass. 
 
 " But while he still lay there he heard the wild shouts from 
 down yonder ringing along the brook. He saw his people 
 coming toward him in full flight. Then he ran to meet the 
 enemy, crying, ' Let it be between me and the chief! ' 
 Are you the chief? ' the enemies cried. 
 
 "And the fugitives, with fear in their very bones, cried: 
 ' Yes, the Boatman is our chief. We choose him now! ' 
 
 " ' A folk without a leader is like a swarm of bees without 
 a queen,' said the others, generously. Then they stuck their 
 swords in the earth in a circle, and the two men fought there 
 on the edge of the stream, and were equally matched both in 
 skill and strength and in courage. And so it came about at 
 last that both of them, wounded to the death, sank fainting 
 to the earth. 
 
 " Old women came with thick, heavy cobwebs to staunch 
 the blood, and also tried healing herbs and spells, but the 
 bleeding would not cease. Then said the Boatman : ' He of
 
 36o JORN UHL 
 
 us two who first goes into the land of the dead, he shall be 
 counted for vanquished.' 
 
 " So the two men lay fronting each other, their eyes turned 
 upwards. Each of them fighting hard to ward off death. Now 
 and again the one or the other of them had himself lifted 
 up in his comrades arms, to search his opponent's face and see 
 whether he were about to depart. At last, however, when the 
 sun was setting, the dark shadows came so close to them that 
 the light seemed to grow dim in their eyes. And the strange 
 foeman died first, then the Boatman. Thereupon the enemy 
 left the land again. 
 
 " For three days the women sang death-dirges on the brook- 
 side in front of his hut, whilst the men dragged great stones 
 up on to this height and shaped them and built of them a 
 chieftain's grave. Then they laid him, clad as he was and 
 adorned with his weapons, in the oaken boat that he had last 
 made, and bore him amid the loud weeping of the women up 
 to this hilltop. And behind the procession went with heavy 
 gait his red and white cow which was to be sacrificed for the 
 death-feast. And last of all came tottering old Mother Gruhle, 
 pressing her biggest and best pot of schwarz-sauer close to her 
 breast. 
 
 " They lowered the dead man in his boat down into the 
 grave. They laid the pot of schwarz-sauer at his feet, so that 
 he might have something to eat on his journey into the land of 
 the dead. They put his wooden stool beside it, so that he 
 could rest on the way, for his path lay across a wide and 
 desolate land. They drew his good sword from its sheath 
 that it might be ready to his hand, for that land was full of 
 wild beasts. In this way, as they thought, he would, after all, 
 succeed in reaching the blessed abodes of the good and the brave. 
 
 " Last of all the maiden came forward who had once seen the 
 dead man's eyes in the brook for three whole days. With a 
 jerk she tore her delicate hammer-knife from her girdle, knelt 
 down and dropped the beautiful, golden, glittering thing into 
 the tomb. She wished to do her part toward his sure and 
 safe arrival. It fell near the head of the dead man, with its 
 point toward his ear. 
 
 " They all stood around the grave, and all the women wept, 
 praising his handsome looks and his boats and his last valiant 
 fight. And the maiden, too, wept sore.
 
 JORN UHL 361 
 
 " Then they laid a heavy, close-fitting stone over the vault 
 and built a hearth over it, killed the cow, gave good and evil 
 spirits the udder and the bones of the legs, keeping for them- 
 selves the hind quarters and shoulders and the fleshy parts of 
 the ribs, and roasted them, and a little to one side of the grave 
 here where we are sitting they began their death-wake, and 
 gradually grew festive and merry. It was an autumn evening 
 like to-day. 
 
 '' After the meal, when the old people were still lying around 
 the fire, the grown-up youths and maidens, a little apart from 
 them as is their fashion, were sitting around the fresh grave 
 chatting. One maiden sat in the midst of them and told how 
 several moons ago she had been at the Boatman's, and how 
 she had played knuckle-bones before him. ' Oh, but I can't 
 tell you how frightened I w as. \ ou know, there was always 
 something strange about him.' And she told tkem how she 
 had caught him by the beard. ' Oh, if you had only seen his 
 face ! ' And as she thought of it she began to laugh. She 
 laughed so much that she struck her hands on the gravestone 
 and laid her head on it. She was laughing still when she 
 loosened her girdle in her parent's hut and threw back the 
 wolfskin rug under which she slept. 
 
 " That was how this man perished. Because he was an 
 artist, some will say. For it is the habit of men to drive artists 
 from the world with sheer disgust. But perhaps this isn't, 
 as one thinks, the wickedness of men, but the holy will of 
 God. For unless the top is whipped it will not hum. 
 
 " But perhaps some will say he perished because he had no 
 clear idea of the distinctions between things. When he had 
 built the boat, what mattered to him the laughter of men? 
 And when the maiden bent the bows of her beautiful eye- 
 brows in love and anger upon him, what affair of his was the 
 willow-switch ? When he was running to meet the enemy, why 
 should he concern himself with a bilberry-leaf floating on the 
 stream? Men are always inclined to mix too many things 
 together and brew a potion of them, w hich is the death of them. 
 
 " Or, rather, I don't know the real cause of his overthrow. 
 Who can know it? One can't point to a cause as one can to 
 an ink-spot on a piece of paper, and say, ' There it is ! ' Nor 
 can one write a single sentence about a man and say, ' That's 
 the idea that ruined him! ' Man's life is much too complex and
 
 362 JORN UHL 
 
 manifold to be summed up by referring to one cause or one 
 idea. 
 
 " Last jear we opened the grave. We ought to have left 
 him lying there. He lay there safe from all his disappointments, 
 but our curiosity to know how men lived three thousand years 
 ago was great, and we opened the vault. 
 
 " When we took his sword from his breast and held it in the 
 sun again for the first time, it still had its old brightness. 
 Nothing was left of the wood and leather of the stool. Only 
 the two bronze bolts that had held the cross-legs together lay 
 upon the stones. The schivarz-sauer pot of old Mother Gruhle 
 was still there, in good preservation but empty. The dainty 
 axe of the maiden was still pointing toward his ear." 
 
 The sun stood between the far-away hilltops like one of 
 those round lanterns that children carry about the village on 
 autumn evenings, singing as they go. 
 
 Heim Heiderieter had finished his story and stood up, saying, 
 " Woe to the man, Jorn Uhl, who is only a hunter after 
 bread, or money, or honor, and hasn't a single pursuit he loves, 
 whereby, even if it be only over a narrow bridge. Mother 
 Nature can com.e into his life with her gay wreaths and her 
 songs. . . . It's time for me to be going home. You have 
 listened well, and you, too, little chap," he said to Jorn's 
 young son. 
 
 " Have you far to go? " said Lisbeth. 
 
 " It's a three hours' walk," said he, " through fen and sand, 
 and then through the silent little villages of the Geest, and at 
 last across a heath. There's plenty to look at and think over 
 on the way — besides, I know that when I get home they'll be 
 glad. . . . Good night, all three! remember me to Thiess 
 Thiessen and Wieten. It has made me glad to see your eyes 
 bright again, Jorn! And as for you, Lisbeth Junker, you've 
 got a red ear; who has been pulling it? " 
 
 " Oh, that was father," said the boy. 
 
 Heim Heiderieter burst out laughing, nodding, and hugely 
 enjoying Lisbeth's embarrassment. Then he went home. 
 
 They stood watching him as he went down-hill toward the 
 fens. Suddenly Jorn l-hl started up as if out of a deep sleep, 
 and said, "Just fancy that fellow! For four years he was at
 
 JORN UHL 363 
 
 the university and came back without passing his examination. 
 He had come to loggerheads with science. Naturally Dame 
 Science is a sober and respectable lady. A Master of Arts 
 he may be, but they are breadless arts." 
 
 " It's a fine thing, though, to be able to tell stories like that, 
 Jiirgen. You might have read seven scientific books about 
 our forefathers and seven more about the human soul, and you 
 wouldn't have learnt so much or got so much delight as you have 
 out of the vivid little picture that he has just painted for us." 
 
 " Oh," said Jorn Uhl, " he's a monster. He saw us when we 
 were sitting under the beeches, and then he invented this 
 story. Such a — " He turned around, went to the grave and 
 looked in, then looked back at Lisbeth. " What did he say? 
 Knuckle-bones? What put knuckle-bones into the man's head? 
 Just tell me that, now. And how long was it his beard grew? 
 His flaxen beard! How cock-sure he was about it! And the 
 beard kept on grov\ing longer and longer. I believe it was 
 seven yards long. And he said he could prove it, didn't he? 
 And that it was just as true as geological strata and plant seeds 
 and botany! Just think of the effrontery of him." 
 
 " But you listened attentively enough, after all." 
 
 " That I confess. It seemed as if God had let one have a 
 peep into His workshop, and one had to put on one's Sunday 
 coat in order not to look shabby in such a place." 
 
 He turned around and looked down toward the moor where 
 Heim Heiderieter could still be seen in the distance. " To 
 think of such a man ! " he said, angrily. " He stuffs one full 
 with his lies, and one actually feels thankful to him for doing 
 so. Let him prove what he has said. I say, let him prove it! " 
 he cried. 
 
 Lisbeth laughed, and said, " Well, well! Jiirgen, jour anger 
 is delicious. But, come, what are we going to do to-morrow? " 
 
 "To-morrow? We'll all be together, that's all." 
 
 " I shall not be able to be with you," said the little boy. " I 
 have to go away to Meldorf with Thiess to-morrow on the 
 turf-wagon." 
 
 " Well, then, I suppose we'll have to do without you, my 
 son," said Jorn. " W hat do you think, Lisbeth ? Don't you 
 think we might drive over and see my old comrade to-morrow? 
 We can spend a few hours cosily together in the cart, and I'm 
 sure you'll like him."
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 She was in the best of spirits as she sat next him in the cart 
 with the two bays pulling away lustily. In these last years 
 Jorn Uhl had been wont to sit crouched forward in his cart, 
 and gaze straight in front of him at the horses and the road. 
 But to-day he sat up straight, and his glance was blithe as he 
 peered into the billowy light of that early autumn morning, 
 in whose eyes were still wisps of the night mist; and now 
 and again he would turn his head suddenly toward her and 
 ask, "Are you enjoying it, Lisbeth?" And when he saw her 
 beaming eyes he would nod with responsive pleasure, and then 
 look straight before him at the road once more, or anon glance 
 away over the fields. She, however, kept peeping at him 
 out of the corner of her eyes, but as soon as she noticed any 
 sign of his turning toward her, she would be gazing away 
 into the airy distance, as though bent on deciphering wonderful 
 things she saw in the flying mists. It was the old story re- 
 peating itself once more, the man attacking in front and the 
 woman on the flank. So everything was as it should be. 
 
 They were both very much alike; both had the same close- 
 featured, straight, Frisian faces, as though Nature, the great 
 artist-mother, had made specially serious attempt to create 
 something strong and beautiful with the ver>' simplest means. 
 Their hair was flaxen — his quite smooth, hers with more 
 gleam in it, and tipped with little curls all around the edge. 
 His face was oval and strong, with thin firm lips, a long 
 straight nose, and eyes very clear and gray that were always 
 on the watch like sentinels — a typical Frisian, Saxon farmer, 
 who has to win his way out of penury and worry, a man who 
 never laughs long and loud and heartily, but in short out- 
 bursts, in the corners of whose eyes, too, roguishness crouches 
 and hides like children playing hide-and-seek and throwing 
 shining balls to each other with suppressed laughter. She, 
 
 364
 
 JORN UHL 365 
 
 quiet and reserved, making him look up to her all his life long. 
 It was like a farmer who woos an earl's daughter, and each 
 time receives each look and word of tenderness, that ever and 
 anon shyly breaks forth, with new surprise. 
 
 Three times they stopped on the way, and each time it was 
 Lisbcth's fault. 
 
 The first time was when they were driving through a wood 
 of young beeches; she saw something flitting backward and 
 forward over the dry leaves, and laid her hand en his arm 
 and made him pull up. It turned out to be certain slim- 
 legged birds with black plumage and yellow bills that were 
 darting hither and thither in search of their morning meal. 
 
 "They're blackbirds," he said; "cute and wily little cus- 
 tomers that books call ' Turdus Merula.' " 
 
 " Why, Jorn, you know everything." 
 
 " Well, as to the parts around here, I like to think I know a 
 thing or two; but as to what other countries are like or what 
 sort of creatures live in them, I haven't the faintest idea," he 
 said, proudly. 
 
 The second time he pulled up it was that she might enjoy 
 the glimpse of a wide valley to the left. He pointed out 
 different landmarks, and named them to her with the cere- 
 monious self-importance of a native who loves every spot in 
 the country around. He spoke, too, as a farmer and con- 
 noisseur, who knows the value of every acre of ground far 
 and wide, and the name of every village, and the place of 
 every boundary-stone in the deep moor; and beyond the moor 
 the names of the villages w-hich must lie over there. " Look, 
 Lisbeth, where I'm pointing with the whip." She thought 
 to herself, "Yes, but what's that to do with me?" but did 
 not interrupt him. She listened with half an ear, thinking 
 " How fine it is to sit up here! I wonder whether he'll speak 
 out to-day, and how in the world will he go about it! Oh, the 
 dear old fellow! " And as, half-turned from her, he was point- 
 ing with his whip to the foggy land over toward Schenefeld, 
 she pressed her face shyly against the folds of his cloak. It 
 was the cloak that Lieutenant Hax had given him on the battle- 
 field. Lena Tarn had carefully covered the gold buttons with 
 black cloth. 
 
 The third time they stopped, at Lisbeth's request, at " The 
 Red Cock," and gave the horse a feed in front of the windows
 
 366 JORN UHL 
 
 of the inn. The sun had scattered the mists, and the air was 
 now clear and warm, and they sat outside in the sunlight on 
 the big white seat. The landlord's wife set two glasses of 
 fresh milk before them, and went to and fro talking with them, 
 although she did not know them, about the harvest and the 
 weather. Jorn Uhl asked and answered questions. Lisbeth, who 
 was sitting by his side, was looking dreamily across the road 
 at the bushes on the embankment, where birds were darting 
 about, and in her reverie was painting little faint pictures of 
 the near and far future, and then rubbing them out and paint- 
 ing in new ones ; then in a fright she would come back to 
 the present, the mother of all futures, and hear the man's voice 
 beside her, and smile to herself and go off again painting. 
 
 Jorn Uhl talked away and felt himself in a splendid humor. 
 To be sure he would have liked to sit a little more comfortably 
 and stretch his feet out, but she sat there as prim and neat 
 as a silk kerchief that has just been taken out of the drawer. 
 
 When the landlady went back into the house, he again asked 
 Lisbeth whether she had enjoyed the drive, and she again 
 assured him that she had never had such a day in her whole 
 life. " You can surely see that for yourself, Jorn." And she 
 looked at him with a look that brought such a strange feeling 
 around his heart, and he said, " I daren't for the life of me go 
 near those eyes of yours. I grow quite dizzy, as if I were 
 going to fall into them, they're so deep ; " and he struck his 
 big flat hand on the table, and said, " Let me hear you talk 
 some more. Rain-tweet! " Then she threw her head back and 
 laughed, and struck him on the hand with her glove, and laid 
 her hand by the side of his, and said " Such hands! '" 
 
 Then they heard the voice of the good-humored landlady 
 through the open window, asking, " You can't have been 
 married very long, surely?" 
 
 " No," said Jorn, " I've been wooing her for seven years, 
 but never had the courage. Yesterday at last I got her." 
 
 She shook her head protestingly, hiding her face in her 
 hands, and laughing, " Oh, Jorn, Jorn, what are you saying! " 
 
 " One really doesn't need to have studied book-learning to 
 see she's but a fresh-made wife. She threw you such a glance 
 just now. That's not the way one looks at one's husband after 
 one's lived with him a few years." 
 
 Join brought his hand down heavily on the table for the
 
 J (J R N U H L 367 
 
 second time, and said, " What! did she really look at me like 
 that?" He took her hand from her face and said, "Do it 
 again, Lisbeth!" But she slapped his hand and tore herself 
 away and looked straight across the road and saw a little bird 
 flying, and thought to herself, " If 1 could only fly away for 
 a little while, 'twould be no bad thing." 
 
 At this moment, in the nick of time, as it were, the land- 
 lady's little son came running home from school, a fair-haired 
 boy of ten, and sought a place where he could sit down with 
 his book. Lisbeth, noticing this, pushed the milk glasses over 
 toward Jorn Uhl, with a motion as if to say, " That's all for 
 you ! " And without looking up, she invited the boy to sit 
 near her, asking him what sort of a book he had there. 
 
 " It's out of the library," he said. " It's about fairy-stories, 
 I'm reading them straight through, and I'm right up to here." 
 
 She looked into the book that the boy held out toward her, 
 saw the title of it, and said, " Read this one out aloud to me." 
 
 " This one? " asked the boy. 
 
 " No, this one about ' Knowing Jack.' This man here likes 
 stories when they're good and true." 
 
 So the boy read the story of " Knowing Jack." 
 
 " Jack's mother said to him, ' Where are ye goin' ? ' Jack 
 answered, 'To Jill's.' 'Keep your wits about you, Jack!' 
 ' All right. Now I'm off, mother.' 
 
 " Jack comes to Jill. ' How d'ce do, Jill? ' 
 
 How d'ee do, Jack? Brought anything for me? ' ' Haven't 
 brought nothin'. Want somethin' for myself.' Jill gives him 
 a knife. ' Now I'm off, Jill.' ' Good-by, Jack.' 
 
 " Jack takes the knife, sticks it in his hat, and goes home. 
 ' 'Evenin', mother.' ' 'Evenin', Jack. Where've ve been?' 
 
 '"Been at Jill's.' 'What did ye take her?' ''Take her? 
 Didn't take her nothin'. Got somethin' from her. Got a 
 knife.' 'Where's the knife?' 'Stuck it in my hat.' 'That's 
 stupid. Jack. Ye should have put it in your pocket.' ' No 
 matter, mother. Better next time.' 
 
 "'Where are ye goin'. Jack?' 'To Jill, mother.' 'Keep 
 your wits about you. Jack!' 'AH right, mother. Now I'm 
 off, mother.' ' Good-by, Jack.' 
 
 " Jack comes to Jill. ' How d'ee do, Jill? ' ' How d'ee do, 
 Jack? Brought anything for me? ' ' Haven't brought nothin'.
 
 368 J O R N U H L 
 
 Want somethin' for myself.' Jill gives Jack a j'oung goat. 
 ' Now I'm oft", Jill.' ' Good-by, Jack.' 
 
 " Jack takes the goat, binds its legs together, and puts it in 
 his pocket. When he comes home, * 'Evenin', Jack. Where've 
 ye been? ' ' Been at Jill's.' ' What did ye take her? ' ' Take 
 her? Didn't take her nothin'. Got somethin' from her, a goat.' 
 ' Where've ye put the goat, Jack? ' ' In my pocket.' ' That's 
 stupid, Jack. Ye should have taken a rope and tied it up 
 in the stable.' ' No matter. Better next time.' 
 
 Where are ye goin', Jack? ' ' To Jill's, mother.' ' Keep 
 your wits about you. Jack.' ' All right, mother. Now I'm off.' 
 ' Good-by, Jack.' 
 
 " Jack comes to Jill. ' Good day, Jill.' ' 'Day, Jack. Brought 
 anything for me?' 'Haven't brought nothin'. Want some- 
 thin' for mj'self.' Then Jill said, ' Take me with you! ' 
 
 " Jack takes a rope and ties Jill up in the stable, and goes 
 to his mother. ''Evenin', Jack, where've ye been?' 'Been 
 at Jill's.' 'Take her anything?' 'Didn't take her nothin'.' 
 'What did she give ye, then?' 'Didn't give me nothin'. 
 Came herself.' ' Where've ye got her, then ? ' ' Tied up in 
 the stable.' ' That's stupid, Jack. You ought to have stroked 
 her.' ' No matter. Better next time.' 
 
 " Then Jack goes to the stable, takes the currycomb, and 
 strokes her with it. Then Jill gets angry, breaks loose, and 
 runs away. 
 
 " And so she became Jack's bride." 
 
 " My word ! " said the boy, " if he wasn't a simpleton." 
 
 "Splendid!" said Lisbeth. "See if it doesn't say in the 
 book where Jack came from. Wasn't he from Wentorf ? " 
 
 Then, for the third time, Jorn smote the table. " If that's 
 not plain speaking, my name's not Jorn Uhl." 
 
 " Well," she said, " now it's time for us to be off." 
 
 The sun was already pretty high as they drove along on 
 the left of the hills, and soon they saw, beneath the linden- 
 trees and tall old apple-trees, a silent little village. And when 
 they stopped in front of the first broad courtyard, in the hope 
 that some one might come out and tell them where Jorn's 
 comrade lived, the man himself appeared in the doorway, taller 
 and good deal broader than when he used to buckle the white 
 leather strap around his hips at Rendsburg. 
 
 " Here's the man you're looking for," he cried. " Why,
 
 J O R N U H L 369 
 
 JcJrn, old man, who's that you've }i;ot sitting next you? Isn't 
 that? . . . Why, man ah've, it's Lisbeth Junker, isn't it? I 
 haven't seen her for many a day." 
 
 "Eh?" said Jorn, "you know each other?" 
 
 " Yes, we've seen each other several times, but it's now seven 
 or eight years ago." 
 
 Lisbeth Junker nodded somewhat haughtily, so that Jorn 
 thought it could not be a very pleasant remembrance for her, 
 and determined not to ask any further questions. 
 
 " Lisbeth and I are neighbors' children," said Jorn. " And 
 now she's come over to Thiess Thiessen's on a visit. 1 suppose 
 you know that I've given up the Uhl? " 
 
 ifes, I've heard all about that, comrade, and about you 
 being at Thiess Thiessen's. Good for you that you've got 
 him to go to, Jorn. Glad to see you so jolly, too. Is that 
 your doing, Miss Junker?" 
 
 Lisbeth looked down from the cart at him, and said, " You 
 called me by my Christian name last time we met, so let's 
 have no make-believe, and do it again to-day. Now, help me 
 down from the cart." 
 
 He gave a good laugh, like a man who is relieved of some 
 uncertainty and embarrassment, and feels himself standing 
 on firm ground once more. " You haven't changed a scrap," 
 said he. " Come, jump, lass! " He loosened the leather straps 
 and lifted her down. " A barrel of good, heavy oats," he said. 
 " A good ten-stoner, I should say." 
 
 Jorn stood on the other side of the cart, nimbly loosening 
 the traces, and said, " We just wanted to see whether we 
 could get on together, so we've come for a bit of a drive." 
 
 "So that's it, is it?" said his friend. Then he added, im- 
 patiently, " Now, just tell me straight out, are you already 
 engaged or are you only thinking of it? " 
 
 " Can't a man have a drive with an old schoolmate without 
 people saying they must be engaged ? Engaged ! Gad, she 
 gave me such a lecture just now at the Red Cock that my 
 ears tingled! I'll be glad when I've got her back home again," 
 he said, with angry eyes. 
 
 But as she was going past the horses' heads, on her way to 
 the house, he turned around so as to make her pass close by 
 him, and as she passed he saw the look she darted at him; 
 her eyes were just beaming.
 
 370 JORN UHL 
 
 Then he saw that things stood well with him, and went on 
 unharnessing the horses, whistling the while. 
 
 " It does one's heart good to see you in such high spirits," 
 said his friend, " and to hear a word from your lips without 
 dragging it out of you. Do you remember? The story went 
 about afterward that at Gravelotte, on the i8th, as long as 
 we were under fire you hadn't uttered a word except ' Pity to 
 lose such a fine horse ! ' " 
 
 Jorn turned sharply toward him. " And I'm sorry to this 
 very day, when I think of it," he said. " It was a good, hard- 
 working beast, and a mare into the bargain." 
 
 And there and then he began to speak of the years long past. 
 He was excited by this meeting with his old comrade, and 
 spoke out of his gladness of heart, seeking to hit on the old 
 tone of familiarity, but without immediately finding it. Just 
 as his body and soul had both grown stiff and clumsy in those 
 long, silent years of heavy toil, all that he said had got a touch 
 of affectation and exaggeration, like the first leaps that March 
 lambs make in the meadows. He related with many gestures, 
 and with great frankness, that he had now neither house nor 
 land, and not a care in the world, and that it seemed to him 
 as though the lassie inside, Lisbeth Junker, was really a bit 
 partial to him, a thing he would never have thought possible. 
 But he hadn't the slightest idea, as yet, he said, what he was 
 going to turn his hand to. 
 
 The stable-boy came and took the horses, and looked curi- 
 ously at the big, somewhat round-shouldered man, who had 
 been telling about such weighty things in his presence. His 
 comrade laid his hand on Jorn Uhl's shoulder, and said, '' Now, 
 come inside," and followed him in, smiling. 
 
 His mother, a stoutish woman, with a kindly face and dark 
 hair, just turning gray, looked at her two guests in a good- 
 natured, motherly way, and began speaking of one thing and 
 another. She spoke of Jorn's father's long illness, and how 
 nice it was for him to have Thiess Thiessen to fall back on. 
 " And you're not so lonesome, neither, Jorn ; for you had 
 but to go a few steps abroad to lay your hands on a bonnie 
 maid to bear you company." Talking in this way, she grad- 
 ually forced both her guests into the room, and looked at 
 her son as though to say: "What is one to think of them? 
 How do they stand toward each other?" For, according to
 
 JORN UHL 371 
 
 the rustic code in those parts, everything must be straightfor- 
 ward and plain, or the contrary — pure or impure — white or 
 black — betrothed or not betrothed. That was something that 
 Jorn Uhl had not properly taken into account. 
 
 Well, mother," said her rogue of a son, " I don't know 
 exactly how matters stand between them ; only they're not 
 yet engaged. Nor do I know whose fault it is they aren't ; but 
 I think everything'U come out all right. At any rate, they've 
 come here, thinking you could help them; for the whole country- 
 side knows what efforts you are making to provide your own 
 son with a wife, and you've a name as a match-maker." 
 
 Then she shook her fist at him, and scolded him for always 
 blabbing out everything one told him, bidding him hold his 
 impudent tongue. But he only laughed and said : " I say, 
 mother, do you know what? You take this Lisbeth Junker 
 into the kitchen with you, and talk things over, and I'll go and 
 show Jorn Uhl the stables." 
 
 So he took Jorn Uhl by the arm and went out with him. 
 And outside, when they had gone through the house and the 
 barn, he said to him: " I say, Jorn, how does it come about 
 that you're jaunting through the country alone with this lass? 
 Just tell me how affairs stand between you." And he pointed 
 over his left shoulder, with his thumb turned in the direction 
 of the kitchen, and winked his eye. 
 
 " Just so," said Jorn, " that's the point. How do aliairs 
 stand between us? Perhaps you know? For I don't. I've 
 been mighty fond of her ever since I was a child ; but up to 
 the present day I've always had too much respect for her: and 
 that's the long and the short of it. All of us looked up to her 
 so, all except Fiete Cray — you remember him, don't you, that 
 fellow of the 86th we met at Gravelotte. But he'd be hail- 
 fellow-well-met with the emperor himself, would Fiete Cray. 
 ... I never thought that it would come to it." 
 
 " Come to what, old dreamy head? " 
 
 " Why, man, what shall I say ? . . . I mean, come to her 
 taking me for her husband! . . . All my born days I'd have 
 to take mighty good care of my looks, and go about ever>^ 
 day spick and span in my Sunday best." He heaved a great 
 breath. "Eh! man!" he said, "hut isn't she a bonnie crea- 
 ture! And so grand in her wa>s, too! I tell you I wouldn't
 
 372 JORN UHL 
 
 risk putting a hand on her for the world. And a bit cold she 
 is, too, I should think." 
 
 His comrade laughed. "What! that girl cold! She'll 
 blush as crimson as any of 'em, mark my words. She has 
 only hidden and barricaded herself behind those highty-tighty 
 reserved airs of hers. That's often the way with 'em. Just 
 wait till you've stormed the fortress, you'll find those cold 
 breastworks turned into a ring of fire. That's my opinion." 
 
 " How can you speak in such a cock-sure way? " 
 
 " H'm! " said the rogue, and shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " Yes," said Jorn, looking somewhat more comforted. 
 " That's true. It is just grand how kind she is toward me. 
 It's a miracle, I say. It's splendid." 
 
 But next moment he became skeptical again, " I can't be- 
 lieve it," he said. " You see, siie was always the bonniest 
 thing I could think of in the whole world — mountains high, 
 I tell you, above me. Her clothes, her hands, and her hair. 
 Do you mean to tell me that's ordinary hair? And then, 
 above all, the way she has with her. Do you know, I've always 
 had the feeling, from the time I was quite a little fellow, 
 that she was like a wonderful castle on a high rock, and I 
 used to think and think, as I looked up at it, of what beautiful 
 things must be hidden away in it, and the look of the great 
 rooms from inside. And now, man, she's been leading me by 
 the hand from hall to hall of it since the day before yesterday, 
 and you haven't the faintest idea how splendid it all is, how 
 lofty, pure, and beautiful, enough to make you hold your breath 
 with delight. And then look at me. What am I? I've got 
 nothing; can do nothing; am nothing. You know how every- 
 body gossips about me, and says what an odd fish I am. Only 
 a few days ago in the village street I heard one child say to 
 another, ' Look, that's the man that can read the stars and 
 tell when any one's going to die, and when there's going to 
 be a war.' I've always been difficult to get on with, as you 
 know. And what hands I have ! Just look at them. So 
 big and so empty. What does a princess want to marry a 
 farmer's boy for? " 
 
 "Well, you are a duller! Just put out your hand and 
 you've got her." 
 
 " Do you really think so? " 
 
 " I know the varmints," said his comrade, airily.
 
 JORN UHL 373 
 
 << 
 
 She's no varmint. W^hat are you talking about?" 
 
 He shrugged his slioulclers. " She's not so different from 
 the rest of 'em. Maybe she's a bit livelier because she's a bit 
 cleverer." 
 
 Leaving this theme, they began to talk about horses, and 
 Jorn's friend had two four-year-olds led out, and grew excited 
 when he saw that Jorn Uhl would not praise them as unre- 
 servedly as he wished. 
 
 " Take them in again," he cried to the boy. " I don't want 
 to look at them again." 
 
 " Just tell me," said Jorn, " where did you get to know her? " 
 
 Then his friend lifted his eyebrows, and, still sore at Jorn's 
 faint praise of his horses, said, " Ask her. Perhaps she'll tell 
 you, perhaps she won't." 
 
 " Tell me yourself. It's absurd of you to make a secret of it." 
 
 I'hen the other laughed, and went to the kitchen door, and 
 shouted into the room, "Hey, Lisbeth ! Here's Jorn Uhl 
 wants to know where 1 got to know you. Shall I tell him or 
 not?" 
 
 Lisbeth Junker, who was standing near the fireside, tossed 
 her head and said, "Tell what you like! " 
 
 " Be off out of this," his mother cried, pretending to seize 
 the tongs. 
 
 So he returned to Jorn. " Well," said he, " if you really 
 must know, it happened like this. Six or seven years ago, soon 
 after the war, I was in town with the cart. It must have 
 been the middle of summer. And as I was driving home in 
 the dusk, who should I meet at the end of the village but 
 Lisbeth Junker. I'd seen her sometimes on my way to the 
 Grammar School when she was going to the Cliff School. So 
 I pulled up and asked her how she was. You know we had 
 the French campaign behind us, and were a bit proud and 
 bold toward everybody, including girls. I had a chat with 
 her, and was mighty pleased to sec how trustfully she looked 
 up at me with her dear little fair face. She told me she was 
 waiting for old Dieck's cart. He had promised to take her 
 with him to Wentorf. 
 
 Oh,' said I, ' you'll have the deuce of a while to wait. 
 Do you know what? Just jump up by me and I'll drive around 
 by St. Mariendonn. I don't mind going a bit out of my way 
 if you're by my side.' For I thought to myself, ' Egad, you've
 
 374 JORN UHL 
 
 driven often enough alone, you may as well make yourself 
 cosy for once.' 
 
 " She took pretty long thinking the matter over, and wouldn't 
 accept at once. She looked up at me a bit doubtfully, but 
 I did my best to persuade her. 
 
 " First I was offended, then I was humble. I joked at her, 
 and teased her, and grew angry by turns, but I believe she 
 was only half-listening as she gazed at me attentively. Suddenly, 
 when I was just trying to think of a new dodge, she said, 
 ' Make room for me,' and there she was sitting beside me, and 
 I drew a long breath and thought to myself, ' Good. We've got 
 so far.' I tried to puzzle out what would be my best move 
 next, and I thought to myself what a nice, smart little piece 
 of work it would have to be if I was to succeed, for she was 
 well known among all of us as a girl who kept men at arm's 
 length. 
 
 " So I went on chatting as well as I could, talking about 
 things that I thought would please her. That was the first 
 time that Gravelotte stood me in good stead. But when she 
 made any remark, I agreed with her, and backed her up right 
 and left. She was in good spirits, and I saw that I had made 
 a favorable impression. But I wasn't at all sure of my ground 
 and couldn't find a way of introducing the subjects I wanted to 
 talk about, however much I might puzzle my brains. I was 
 afraid she would get a dreadful fright and think ill of me, 
 and be offended with me as long as I lived. And I should 
 have been sorry for that, for she was a fine and bonnie lass 
 that one couldn't help respecting as soon as one set eyes on her 
 pure, beautiful face. But that's the way with us. That's the 
 sort of girl that seems worth the trouble of winning. 
 
 " Well, we had almost reached Wentorf. \'ou know, there 
 where the road turns off to Gudendorf, and it had grown 
 quite dark. So I thought to myself I'd better make a start 
 if it wasn't to be labor in vain. So I began very warily, my 
 heart beating like a sledge-hammer. ' I say, Lisbeth Junker,' 
 said I, ' you're driving with me now, aren't you? ' 
 
 " * Yes,' says she, laughing. 
 
 " ' Well, you see, when any one else gets a lift in my cart, 
 he says, " Come and let's drop in at the So and So Inn and 
 have a glass of something at my expense." Well, we can't 
 do that, can we? No, you'd be talked about, and, besides,
 
 JORN UHL 37S 
 
 I doubt whether there are lights in the place. Now think 
 it out for yourself, what you can give me, for it would be a 
 painful thought for you afterward to think that you'd had 
 a drive with me and given me nothing for it. Look you, 
 you're driving with me once for all, so that can't be altered.' 
 Well," she said, laughing, ' tell me straight out what you 
 want.' Then 1 risked it and said, ' Well, if you promise not 
 to take it amiss, little lass, I'd like a kiss, and, if possible, a 
 few more. For Heaven's sake, though, don't be afraid. Sit 
 still where you are; you needn't jump out. If you're not 
 willing, I'll leave you as unmolested as my old grandame when 
 I drive her to church of a Sunday. Only don't be oliended.' 
 -. " That's about the drift of what I said. 
 
 " For awhile she sat there without saying a word, as though 
 she were thinking what to do, and I heard her soft breathing 
 and was beginning to repent of what I'd said, and to think 
 of sounding the retreat, when she said slowly and in a low- 
 voice: ' I well know that you men often brag about it after- 
 ward when a girl gives way to you. I'll let you kiss me 
 because you're such a kind, nice fellow. But you must solemnly 
 promise me that jou'U never tell any one.' 1 tell >ou, Jorn, it 
 pretty well took my breath away. I had to give her my hand 
 and say the words after her, and I believe after doing so I 
 would have sat there a good uhile stiff and awkward beside 
 her, if she hadn't put her hands up to her face, whether to weep 
 or to laugh I hadn't the faintest idea. So I just took her pink 
 little face between my hands, with a fond word, and, Jorn, . . . 
 she was as sweet as could be. We kissed and chatted to our 
 heart's content. The horses munched the grass along the road- 
 side, and the cart stood right across the track, but we didn't 
 bother ourselves one jot about it. At Ringelshorn she got 
 down. ' Lisbeth,' I said, when she was standing on the heath 
 near the cart, ' I liked it tremendously. Be a good little lass 
 and tell me what evening next week I can come to Wentorf 
 and wait for you down by the willows in the school-garden.' 
 But she only shook her head, and said, ' I ought to thank you 
 for having been a dear good lad to me, but I'd advise you to 
 keep away from the school-garden. I'm too good for any mere 
 sweethearting, and I haven't the slightest intention of marrying 
 you, for I love some one else, a man I'll never get.' I called 
 her a little witch and other pretty names, and had to make
 
 376 JORN UHL 
 
 the best of it. She went away down the hill slope toward 
 the Goldsoot. Since then I have only seen her once at the 
 railway station. She came up and spoke to me as if I were 
 her own brother. I can tell you I am glad to this very day 
 when I think of that adventure. I never went to the school- 
 garden, for in those days I had no idea of marrying." 
 
 So said Jorn's comrade, throwing a roguish inquisitive glance 
 first toward Jorn, and then toward the kitchen. 
 
 Meanwhile Lisbeth Junker was sitting on the turf-box near 
 the fireplace, and the woman wiih the shining, dark gray hair 
 was saying, " Now, tell me straight out ! What is between 
 you? Of Jorn Uhl I've heard all sorts of things. He's a bit 
 odd in his ways, and likes peering at the stars and thinking 
 about things that a farmer's got no business with. He's stifiE 
 and awkward, too, and unpractical and gruff; to put it short, 
 a Grammar School farmer. But one thing I'll tell you, he's 
 a son any mother might be proud to own. Oh, yes, what I say 
 is true enough, so you needn't open your eyes so wide. That 
 stupid boy of mine often tells me if Jorn was my son how 
 delighted I'd be. Well, to come to the point, are you engaged 
 to him? " 
 
 Lisbeth looked up from her seat on the peat-box and dis- 
 covered that she had no reason to hide the cause of her emotion. 
 For eight years her heart had been full of Jorn Uhl, but 
 since the day before yesterday it had been overflowing. So, 
 like a little child that gives its hand to strangers, at first shyly, 
 with frightened eyes, and hesitatingly, but afterward grows 
 confiding and frank, Lisbeth Junker began to speak about her 
 mother, the schoolmaster's unhappy daughter, and about her 
 own girlhood at the house of her kindly old grandparents, and 
 about her playmate Jorn Uhl and his strange ways, and she 
 couldn't get any further than Jorn Uhl, Jorn Uhl, Jorn Uhl. 
 . . . Nothing but Jorn Uhl. " I have always loved him, but 
 at first he was too thin and too stupid for my taste. After- 
 ward I would have been dreadfully in love with him, but 
 then he married some one else. Oh, what I went through 
 in those days! Tlicn she died, and I could have loved him 
 ever so much, but then came all that misery with his father 
 and brothers, seven long years of it. IT<" didn't have a single 
 thought left for me. And now ... it looks almost as if . . .
 
 JORN UHL 377 
 
 Wliy! Do you know, yesterday he plajed marbles with me, 
 and he's thirty-one and I'm twenty-six! " 
 
 The goodwife at the fireside clasped her hands on her 
 breast. "Child, child," she said, "what a wonderful story! 
 In my whole life I've only read a single tale called 'The 
 Hangman's Daughter and Her Earrings,' but what you've 
 been telling me might be out of a book. But who knows 
 what'll come of it all? When I married I was eighteen and 
 he was twenty-five. I was sensible and he wasn't. He was 
 just as wild as that boy of his out there. So I had to be 
 extra grave and serious. So I've grown to what I am now, 
 a bit too sharp and scolding. By nature I was soft-hearted 
 enough." 
 
 " If I only knew," said Lisbeth, "whether he'll have me or 
 not. He has neither farm nor money, hut I'd have him to- 
 morrow just as he is, even if I had to live with him at the 
 Haze, yes, even if I had to dig turf with him, I'd be ever 
 so happy. But he won't do that. He'll go away somewhere 
 or other and start son)e new enterprise, and who knows what 
 may come between us then? " she said, despondingly, gazing into 
 the fire with streaming eyes. 
 
 "Nonsense!" said the otlier, with an impatient gesture, 
 " don't you worry yourself now, but just take care and make 
 him settle the matter to-day. Then it will be all right." 
 
 Lisbeth covered her face with her hands to hide the crimson 
 that streamed over it, at once terrified and delighted at the 
 thought. " He won't do it yet," she said, doubtingly, " be- 
 cause he doesn't know what his plans for the future may be. 
 But so much is certain, at least, — he won't marry any one else." 
 
 The v.omen talked on in this strain till all the inmates of 
 the house, together with the guests, were seated around the 
 heavily-laden farmer's board, the head servant-girl at her 
 mistress's side, the son opposite, and beside him the farm-hand 
 and then the remaining servants. 
 
 " You've done my boy a lot of good," said the goodwife, 
 " as long as you were soldiers together, first in peace, then in 
 war. He was a bit of a good-for-nothing, I'm afraid." 
 
 " Yes," said Jorn, " he was, but one of the sort one likes." 
 
 " That's the "worst of it," said she. " One can't be angry with 
 him, at least, not for long. If one wants to vent one's anger on 
 him, one must do it at once, or else it's impossible. Believe
 
 378 JORN UHL 
 
 me, I'm sick of getting out of temper with him. I wish he'd 
 choose a good wife for himself and be done with it." 
 
 " Mother," said he, " only yesterday you told me I'd grown 
 more sensible and steadier this last year." 
 
 " Yes, that's true enough, Jorn. That he is. This last 
 year he's been a bit better, but he'll never come to any good 
 till he marries." 
 
 " I don't want to marry," said the rogue. " Do you know 
 what, mother? You get married yourself. You're not too old 
 yet. Then you'll have some one in the house to help you." 
 
 Then she stretched across the table with the wooden spoon 
 she had in her hand, and, in spite of his effort to avoid it, 
 gave him a sharp rap on his curly head, so that the bowl of 
 the spoon snapped off short. 
 
 " I'll teach you to make fun of your mother. Gretchen, 
 bring another spoon." 
 
 The servants laughed a little, but appeared to be familiar 
 with such occurrences. 
 
 " He's been to three different schools, and to two different 
 pastors," she scolded, " but he's come back home the same 
 as he went away, without seriousness and without interest in 
 anything. I thought he'd have been better after he came 
 home from the war. But the first thing he did on the station 
 when he came back was to pick me up in his arms and carry 
 me through all that crowd of people to the cart. Since that 
 day I've broken many a spoon over him. I don't know what'll 
 be the end of it, I'm sure. He neither drinks nor gambles, nor 
 does he idle away his time, but he'll never take things seriously." 
 
 " She takes everything I do and say the wrong way." 
 
 She looked at him and shook her head. " His father was 
 just the same," she said. " What I had to put up with in that 
 man. I couldn't take a step in the house without being teased 
 and kissed and pulled about. He was always interrupting my 
 work with some silly trick or other. You couldn't get a serious 
 word out of him. He turned everything to ridicule. In the 
 early years of our marriage I often used to think to myself: 
 ' If this goes on for thirty years, I'll never be old, but on 
 the other hand I'll never get a moment's peace.' But later 
 on, when we'd been married some ten years or so, he altered, 
 just as if he'd turned over a new page in his life. No one 
 would have believed it possible. He took an interest in dealing
 
 JORN UHL 379 
 
 and bartering, put a lot of capital into peat-digging, and 
 started a tile-factory, which he again sold later on. He was 
 oftencr on the roads, too, than 1 liked, and was a great deal 
 too much v\rapped up with his work and with money-getting 
 to please me. And if 1 interfered with him, he would say 
 he had no time, with a ' Go away, child, I've other things to 
 think about just now!' About me he troubled himself but 
 little. The most he did was to stroke my head once or twice 
 when he came home, saying, ' What smooth, glossy hair you 
 have, mother! And you keep the whole farm just as neat 
 as your hair.' Strangers sometimes said to me, ' What a good- 
 tempered, jolly husband you've got!' They spoke of a man 
 unknown to me. 1 had once had such a husband, perhaps, 
 but now it was as good as none at all that I had. It runs 
 in the family. That sort of man never reaches years of dis- 
 cretion before he's thirty. I believe it will be the same with 
 my son there." 
 
 Lisbeth Junker bent over the table and looked at the young 
 man with eyes half-sympathetic, half-mischievous. " Can you 
 trace any signs of discretion budding in you yet? " she asked. 
 
 "As for discretion, just you look to your own, lassie," he 
 said. " It's not so many years ago that it was in as bad a 
 plight as mine." 
 
 She reddened and tossed her head and then gave a short laugh, 
 but refrained from looking Jorn's way. 
 
 After dinner he took the two of them w ith him and led 
 them through the fields, showing them the lands which be- 
 longed to the farm. Here he pointed out a field of his, there 
 a meadow, and in between these explanations he told them 
 of merry pranks the soldiers played during his campaigning 
 days, and about a hne trip he had had once upon a time to 
 Hamburg and Berlin, and teased Lisbeth. When Jorn Uhl 
 wanted to hear a word about the farming of this or that 
 field, he laughed, and put the question aside, saying, " Oh, 
 nonsense! That's mother's business." 
 
 At last when they had gone a good distance from the village, 
 and Lisbeth would have liked to turn back, he urged them 
 to go a little farther, to a hilltop that lay a little aside from 
 the path. When they had reached it, he pointed out to them 
 that this great field stretched as far as the river Au, whose
 
 38o J O R N U H L 
 
 bright waters lay broad and still before them, and was his 
 property. 
 
 " It's not worth much," said Jorn Uhl. 
 
 "Not worth much?" said his comrade. "You mean no 
 good for grazing and ploughing?" He stamped his heel into 
 the light earth. " But just look what's under it. Just dig 
 down five feet, what is there then, eh ? " 
 
 " Well? " said Jorn Uhl. " What then? " 
 " Clay, my lad, a mighty stratum of the finest clay." 
 "Clay?" 
 
 " Clay, man ! " cried his comrade, " and from clay you make 
 pottery and cement." 
 " You don't say so! " 
 
 "Well, do you see, Jorn? Do you see, Lisbeth Junker? 
 
 Just wait two years more and you'll see clay-fields opened here. 
 
 bown to Lowrie's. Wire rope ... eh? Then in barges 
 
 down the Au, and if they won't give me enough for it in 
 
 . Legerdorf, I'll build a cement factory for myself!" 
 
 " Well," said Jorn, " go in and win." Then he glanced at 
 the gray, sandy earth, and from it to the Au below them. 
 
 " You see, it's like this. I understand nothing about the 
 cement-making business, therefore I must either engage a tech- 
 nical man or must go to Hanover to some place or other myself, 
 and learn it." 
 
 Lisbeth laughed. " See," she said, mockingly, " why, you're 
 getting a bit of discretion already." But Jorn Uhl seemed 
 quite absorbed in his own thoughts. His eyes were fixed on 
 the ground, and he said not a word more. 
 
 When they were back home, Lisbeth went through the 
 garden with the housewife, but Jorn went to his friend's room, 
 where the latter had managed to fish out a couple of books 
 he had recently purchased, one on mineralogy, the other a 
 special theory about the working of clay-pits. He struck his 
 hand on the table and said, wrathfully, " What a shame it is 
 tliat I was so lazy at school! There I stand, now, perfectly 
 helpless, like the ox before the barn door." He pitched the 
 book over to Jorn, saying, " Of course, you can understand 
 it all, though nobody troubled himself a jot about your edu- 
 cation. You have helped yourself on further than I, and you 
 understand ten times as much as I do, who have had five
 
 JORN UHL 38r 
 
 hundred pounds wasted on me. Open the book at page 350. 
 Can you understand it? " 
 
 Jcirn understood it and explained it all to his comrade. 
 lie also took tiie other book and was able to teach him out 
 of it, too. His comrade forgot his anger and cheered up, say- 
 ing, "Why! old chap, jou must come again next week and 
 let us have some more talk about it." 
 
 Jorn Uhl nodded, and asked about the regulations of a 
 certain technical school, and how long one would have to 
 study there in order to get a certificate. At last he sat quite 
 silent, with compressed lips. It was a strange sight to see 
 his great, brown, horny iist lying upon that new, grand- 
 looking book. The book looked so small beneath it, like a 
 mere plaything. 
 
 Jorn and Lisbeth started so as to be well on the way toward 
 home before dusk. Ihe housewife took Jorn aside and told 
 him hovv^ pleased she was with Lisbeth, and talked to him 
 in a motherly fashion, saying that he should trust in the future 
 and no longer put oft" his betrothal. He would be sure to 
 be able to earn his living somewhere or other, and she hoped 
 he would soon come to see them again. Her son had been so 
 sensible to-day, she said. In the kitchen he had stood with 
 the tongs in his hand and asked her to help Jorn Uhl with a 
 little mone}'. So let Jorn come when he would, a few thousand 
 marks would always be at his disposal, for whatever he wanted 
 to buy or whatever business he wanted to start with them. 
 
 Jorn Uhl tried to thank her, but he could not. His eyes 
 were bright as he nodded to her, and he shook the thrifty 
 housewife's hand for a long time as they said good-by, and she 
 knew by the way he pressed it what he wanted to say. 
 
 The sun was low on the horizon when they reached the 
 highroad once more. 
 
 " Well," said Lisbeth, " now we're quite alone again. It 
 has been a delightful day, and the drive home is delightful, 
 too. . . . What do you say to the good lady ? " 
 
 " What do you say to her son ? " 
 
 "Oh, him? . . . What was that his mother was saying to 
 you just before we started?" 
 
 " Tush! Some old wife's gossip, you may be sure." 
 
 " Won't you tell me what it was? "
 
 382 JORN UHL 
 
 " No, not to-day. To-morrow, perhaps." He began to 
 ponder, and they drove on in silence. 
 
 After they had sat thus a good while he noticed her peculiar 
 demeanor, like that of a person in a mood of self-defence or 
 refusal. He looked up and saw her face full of pride. " Come," 
 he said, "what is tlie matter, Lisbeth? Out with it. Rain- 
 tweet! Just tell me what the little lass is thinking about." 
 
 " Do you think I didn't see out of the kitchen window what 
 that nice comrade of yours was telling you of his experiences, 
 with such gestures, too, and now you're angry. And I must 
 say I wouldn't have thought it of you, Jorn." 
 
 He laughed. " You are on the wrong track entirely, Lis- 
 beth, for I was glad about it. Does one get angry, think you, 
 with a man whom one meets on the way and asks, ' How 
 far is it to so-and-so? I hear it's seven miles.' And who 
 answers, ' No, it's only a few steps further.' I'm glad, I tell 
 you. For now I know you're not a mere prude." 
 
 " Oh, you and your prudery! He came driving by and was 
 kind and good to me, and he looked so clean and frank, and so 
 he kissed me." 
 
 " He is a lout! " said Jorn Uhl. " I tell you, he's a lout, to 
 kiss a girl who can't defend herself." 
 
 "Defend myself? I didn't try to! It happened just as 
 I W'anted it." 
 
 " It was a piece of downright blackguardism. That you 
 must admit. What, you! The proudest girl in all the land! 
 Alone with that fellow for hours on the highroad ! " 
 
 " It was about the time, Jorn, when you got married to 
 Lena Tarn." 
 
 He was silent. After a little while he caught her hand 
 and held it tight and said, " Dear old Lisbeth, I didn't know 
 anything about all that." 
 
 Speaking with diflficulty and with tears in her voice, she said, 
 " You were like ' Knowing Jack ' in the story, Jorn." 
 
 " You just see, Lisbeth. If you really and truly have enough 
 courage, you'll be married, too, before long. You just see! " 
 
 " There's one thing: I'll never marry a man who bores me." 
 
 Jorn Uhl laughed, and turned toward her, saying, " Shall 
 I let the horses graze a little by the roadside, like that fellow 
 did years ago on the Meldorf Road ? "
 
 J R N U H L 383 
 
 She shook her head and looked at him tlirough eyes shining 
 with tears. " It won't do, Jorn. It's still broad daylight." 
 
 "Is that all?" 
 
 She again shook her head. " Not here, Jurgen. It's nut 
 for us two to act like that. I'm thinking of Lena Tarn and 
 her child." She laid her hand firmly in his. 
 
 He nodded and said, '" It's a miracle. A downright miracle. 
 The finest girl in all the land, and Jorn Uhl, together. No 
 man has ever gone storming into the sun with such giant strides 
 as I, in these three days. Look, Lisbcth, we are driving 
 straight into the sun! Oh, if I only knew what to lay my 
 hand to! " 
 
 He grew silent again, and she let him have his way. But 
 when they turned into the soft sand road, and it grew dark, 
 she shifted a little on the seat as though she were not com- 
 fortable. So he put the whip into the socket and put his 
 arm around her and drew her close to his side, looking shyly 
 into her face. " Do you like sitting like this? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes," she said, and snuggled closer to his shoulder. " Now 
 I'll go to sleep." But she thought to herself, " Just catch me 
 going to sleep! I'll take precious good care not to sleep away 
 an hour like this." 
 
 Jorn Uhl sat still and stiff as a post and watched the trot- 
 ting horses and thought on his future and hers, fancying in 
 his honest way that she was asleep. But she, leaning against 
 him, looked with great, clear, motionless eyes toward one single 
 point. 
 
 When they pulled up at the big door of Haze Farm, he 
 said, " Now go away to bed, Lisbeth. You're tired. To- 
 morrow we'll talk the matter over." 
 
 She remained standing near him, as though she had still 
 something to say to him. Then he stroked her cheek and said, 
 " Don't be downhearted, Lisbeth, everA'thing will come right 
 in time." Then she went away without saying a word. 
 
 After he had attended to the horses, he went into the sit- 
 ting-room, still deep in thought. " I know now what the cause 
 of the trouble has been all these years. It's been something 
 wrong in me mjself. ... I have always hated all make- 
 believe and hypocrisy; in my father and brothers and in many 
 another man I've seen what harm self-deception does when 
 a man in his thought and action leaves what is real and true.
 
 384 JORN UHL 
 
 And I have seen how widespread the evil is, and from the 
 time I was eighteen up till now, I have always said to myself 
 in my pride, ' That's a fault, Jorn Uhl, that you're free from.' 
 But in these three days it has become clear to me, and I see 
 now that 1 myself have lived in self-deception and lies, and 
 got on the wrong track entirely. Yes, I, Jorn Uhl, haven't 
 looked myself and my affairs straight in the face; I have never 
 known myself. I have clung to the Uhl, which didn't belong 
 to me, and thereby have continued the lie the same as my 
 father and brothers did, and so I have shared their misfortunes. 
 I have worked and worked like a horse at a coal-winch, and 
 yet have always been over head and ears in worry. I thought 
 that my life's task was to save the Uhl. The Uhl? And 
 what is the Uhl, I'd like to know. What is the Uhl compared 
 with my own soul ? And compared with Lena Tarn's soul ? 
 And what though a man should gain the whole world and 
 hurt his soul! Who is there that would heal the hurt for him? 
 My soul has grown hard within me, and Lena Tarn's dead 
 and old Wieten's hair is white as snow. I began at the top, 
 away up there at the proud Uhl, and since then I've sunk and 
 sunk. If I had stayed here at the Haze, or had settled down 
 on some other little Geest farm, or had taken in hand some 
 modest work, with my own strength, then Lena Tarn would 
 have been well looked after, and Wieten would not have been so 
 old and white, and I would have been able to sing as I did 
 when I was a boy, and these fits of passion would not have 
 come over me. And then we'd have had some real ground to 
 stand on, and would have worked up to something respectable. 
 To begin modestly, that's the chief thing. To begin from the 
 lowest rung of the ladder. And that's what I am going to do 
 now, as true as God helps me. I'll begin with playing marbles, 
 and will be a child like the Boatman and my comrade over 
 there." 
 
 He lit a candle and went to the chest which stood in one 
 corner, and began hunting out one thing after another till 
 the floor around him was covered with books, maps, glasses, 
 and telescopes. He pulled up a chair, opened first one book 
 and then another, and settled down to it as industrious school- 
 boj's do, holding the hook before him like a ten-year-old lad 
 learning his lesson by heart. Then he laughed to himself and 
 let the book sink. " Faith, it's an odd sort of student you'll
 
 JORN UHL 385 
 
 be! " he said. " It's a student who will handle a drawing- 
 pencil like a spade, and make the compasses swing around as 
 if he'd got hold of a plough-handle. He'll gulp down science 
 like a thirsty soldier does cool water on a hot day, and he'll 
 open his eyes wide like a hunter lurking around a fox's den 
 in the twilight. Is it really possible, though? All these things 
 that were my stolen pleasure, yes, my downright stolen pleas- 
 ure, from the time I was a child, shall I now be allowed to 
 love them openl\ and honestly, like a trusted lover? I say, is 
 it possible? Shall I be able to look into books in broad daylight 
 without people saying, ' Just look at him ! That's the cracked 
 bookworm farmer.' " 
 
 With frowning eyes he stared into the dusk of the room. 
 " If my father had been an earnest man," he said, " and had 
 sat with us of an evening, he would have seen what my in- 
 clinations were, even in those early days. I would have been 
 saved a weary way and much distress and suffering, and 
 would have turned out a good-natured man with sunshine 
 in my heart and eyes. But now I will always have a brood- 
 ing mind and a brittle temper. And yet . . . I'll not be 
 faint-hearted. I have learned familiarity with the terrible in 
 life long ago, listening to Wieten's stories and then by Lena's 
 death-bed, and in long and fearful times of loneliness. I 
 came close up to the place where there is nothingness, and 
 I came close to God. What more can be in store for me? 
 A man must just begin at the beginning and believe in what 
 is good, both in God and in himself, that's the whole matter. 
 So I'll venture it. And if I can't make use of what I learn 
 because I am too old, or because I die first, then I suppose 
 God will have roads to build up there in heaven, and shafts 
 and ditches and canals to dig in worlds still incomplete, and 
 will give me some post as master of a shaft or keeper of a 
 lock. I'll throw out my lines as far as the very stars, and 
 sharpen my spade for a piece of contract work on the Milky 
 Way. I'll venture it as though I were but sixteen. 
 
 " Yes, faith. I'll do it, I will. And if I do it, it will be as 
 if the most beautiful and proudest woman . . . Tush! what 
 are all the women in the world to me? . . . My own lass, my 
 proud, bonnie lass, will stand behind my chair and will look 
 on me with glowing, tender eyes, and on my book, and will 
 wait till I have done with it. And when I have done with
 
 386 JORN UHL 
 
 it she'll laugh aloud with glee and speak of our marriage. And 
 here, close by the Haze forest, we shall be married. Faith! I'll 
 do it. It's worth the doing. And now I'll go straight away 
 and ask her whether she'll agree to the plan." 
 
 And then, just as he was, in his shirt-sleeves, without a 
 thought, wholly absorbed in his great plan for the future, he 
 went out of his room, straight across the big hall, and into 
 the little chamber where Lisbeth Junker was lying, and saw 
 her bed in the light of the clear autumn night not far from 
 the window. He grew a little nervous, in spite of himself, 
 as he stepped lightly toward her. She did not stir, but looked 
 at him with big, astonished eyes. " Is it you, Jiirgen? Come 
 here." She reached for his hand, made room a little, and drew 
 him down to her on the edge of the bed. " What is it you've 
 come about? " 
 
 He sat down a little stiffly, and slowly unfolded his plan to 
 her, and was at times a little embarrassed and again eloquent, 
 and would make a great sweep with his hand. 
 
 " And now the question is this," he said, '' whether you will 
 really have me, and whether you will wait two years for me." 
 
 She said, " Come closer to me and I'll tell you." And as 
 he obediently bent down to her, she threw her arms around 
 him and fondled and kissed him, pouring out a flood of words 
 of endearment. " You strange old Jorn Uhl ! You bookworm 
 farmer, you! It's all the same to me. Oh, you ' clever Jack! ' 
 All I want to know is that you love me. Come closer, Jorn. 
 Kiss me. Please kiss me. Oh, I'm so haughty and cold, am 
 I not? You see how haughty I am." 
 
 Jorn Uhl was simply dumb with astonishment. Stupid 
 Jorn Uhl! He sat on the edge of the bed and stroked her 
 cheeks and her hair, and looked into her beautiful ardent 
 face, and said, stammeringly, " Just . . . fancy , . . you lov- 
 ing . . . me. I ... I will wash my hands seven times a day, 
 and, Lisbeth . . , you must tell me how I'm to behave and 
 what I must do. For I go about everything the wrong way."
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 What need is there for us to go much further with Jorn 
 Uhl's story? Have we not gone through his life as a man 
 goes alone into some still and homely little village church, 
 looking at everything and treading lightly and cautiously, and 
 then seating himself at last awhile in silence opposite the altar? 
 For what more does Jorn Uhl want to make him a man ? 
 
 What can beautiful Hanover City and its high schools 
 alter more in his nature and character? It will show him 
 how one may press his way politely through streets thronged 
 with men, and how to build locks and railways and set up 
 cement-works. But his inner character, the core of the man, 
 can no longer be changed or modified. And that is as it should 
 be. For what more should one desire of a man than that he 
 should humbly reverence the great mystery of human existence 
 and the universe, and trust in and enjoy everything that is good? 
 
 There stands Jorn Uhl on the platform of the great railway 
 station, taking leave of ten or twelve fellow students, and one 
 of them, a German-American, whom his father, a tanner in 
 Buffalo, has sent oversea, delivers the farewell address. With 
 the one hand he holds his cloak close, for it is cold, foggy, 
 November weather, and chill draughts are passing through the 
 great hall. The other hand is stretched out toward the man 
 who is leaving them. 
 
 " Jiirgen Uhl, Provost of Wentorf, in this moment the pic- 
 ture of you comes back to me, of how you looked that morning 
 when you first entered our drawing-class. Your back was bent 
 like a coal-hea\'er's, your hands were horny, and your eyes 
 hungry. You came up to us frankly and gave us, one after 
 the other, that horny hand of yours, and told us briefly who 
 you were, whence you came, and what was your object in 
 coming. And from that hour forth we were all fond of you. 
 We took you into our midst and protected 3'ou, for we saw that 
 
 387
 
 388 JORN UHL 
 
 you were in danger of coming into collision with certain people. 
 AVe found you a room and bought white shirts and collars for 
 you ; we persuaded you to send your heavy top-boots back to 
 the Haze, and we dragged you away from your books when 
 you had taken a dogged grip of them and got your teeth into 
 them as a weasel does with a fork-handle. 
 
 " But while we were busying ourselves protecting you — 
 just fancy us protecting you — we soon saw what was in you, 
 ,and that you were a true descendant of those farmer-folk 
 \\\\o studied the sea and land and stars for themselves, and 
 built dikes that held firm, and ships that could buffet the 
 North Sea, and who kept their lips compressed till they grew 
 to be ever so thin, and who built themselves up a philosophy 
 of curiosity and awe for the world's secrets, a philosophy that 
 any serious man can get along with. While we were still bent 
 on protecting you, Jiirgen Uhl, and giving you a little town 
 polish, there we found ourselves, somehow or other, sitting at 
 your feet and learning from you and obeying you. You were 
 ten years older than us in understanding, and twenty years in 
 seriousness and experience. But in spite of that you treated us 
 as equals, and you had kindly eyes for our stupidity, and many 
 a piece of foolishness you put a stop to. You gave an ear to 
 what we had to tell of our experiences, and with a shrewd word 
 often broadened and enriched them. In short, you are our 
 Provost, Jiirgen Uhl, and our King." 
 
 Thereupon the youngest of the band pressed to the front. 
 He was a clergyman's son, from South Germany. 
 
 " I say, Dick," he said, " what rubbish you're talking. You 
 ought to know that Jiirgen can't stand such soft soap! " 
 
 " Just a moment, boys," said Jorn Uhl, looking at his 
 comrades of the drawing-school, one after the other. " You 
 know that I have had a long spell of loneliness and distress 
 in my life. By nature and through hard times I have grown 
 into a slow-going fellow who has to haul every word and every 
 gesture with rattling chains and buckets out of a deep well. 
 Even when I was at home there were kindly folk who would 
 come up to me and encourage me. You've read some of Fiete 
 Cray's letters, and Thiess Thiessen's name isn't unknown to 
 you, and I've told you of Heim Heiderieter, and as for the girl 
 I'm going to marry, why, you've drunk her health much oftener 
 than was good for you. The encouragement, then, that these
 
 J R N U H L 389 
 
 folk gave me you have continued, a thing that was necessary 
 enough for me. If you had made merry at my expense, and 
 wondered at me, and held aloof from me, then I should have 
 been utterly loncl>' here, for I would never have offered you 
 my hand a second time, But you were kind and open with me, 
 and, boys, I heartily thank you for it," 
 
 The train was standing ready, and Jorn Uhl got in. The 
 youngest of the party, the clerg:yman's son, carried his trunk 
 in for him, and pressed up to him, and said, " Mother writes 
 to me to give you her kind regards." 
 
 This clerg>'man's son had failed to pass the final school exam- 
 ination which is prescribed in Germany for those who wish 
 to enter a university, and for a year it had been doubtful 
 whether there would be one more good-for-nothing clergy- 
 man's son drifting about the world or not. In the parsonage, 
 away on the banks of the IVIain, there had been some bitter 
 scenes between father and son, and even between husband and 
 wife. The mother had said, " In our house there's too much 
 praying and too much outward holiness. That isn't the thing 
 for a healthy boy ; and now, together with the outward gar- 
 ment that he has taken a dislike to, he's going to throw away 
 what is good and everlasting. Love and Loyalty," And the 
 father had said, " Maybe you're right, wife. We preachers 
 easily run into the danger you speak of. Religion is a beau- 
 tiful and delicate thing, and revenges itself on the man who 
 adopts it as a profession. But if those were your opinions, 
 you should have told me so before. Instead of that you have 
 kept giving him, behind my back, of the money you made with 
 your poultry-yard, and he's spent it at the fat publican's, that 
 good-for-nothing parasite on respectable honest folk," Then 
 he had been sent to the drawing-school, and had fallen into 
 the hands of the long-faced Frisian farmer, who was butting 
 his head into science with the same dogged perseverance as a 
 steer butts the boards of its stall; and gradually a clear idea 
 of the nature of life began to glimmer up through his muddled 
 brain. Jorn Uhl had been able to send a good letter to the 
 lad's father, whereupon an answer had come from his mother 
 — an answer salted with tears. He has still got a touch of 
 restlessness in his blood. He will be working a few years later 
 under Jorn Uhl in Holstein. Then he will go abroad into 
 the world. Of course! He must needs convince himself,
 
 390 J O R N U H L 
 
 forsooth, that the earth is round, but after all he will leave 
 Germany as one who does it credit. 
 
 Hence the " kind regards." 
 
 Now the train is oflf. Gusts of wind push against the win- 
 dows, shining rain-drops trickle down the panes. In the gray 
 mists, away behind the gliding smoke, are seen the dim forms 
 of farms and villages, and forests and heaths. It is the sort 
 of weather when it does not seem worth while either to make 
 plans about life, or to expend any sort of mental energy on it. 
 For there seems no prospect that the rain will ever cease or 
 the sun ever shine again. 
 
 But Jorn Uhl and this wind and rain are old acquaintances. 
 This is the same wind and the same rain that used to fly 
 over the fields of the Uhl while he plodded along up one fur- 
 row and down another behind his plough. He knows you 
 must plough and plough even in gloomy weather, and one 
 must make up one's mind to wait, for the sun will come back 
 of itself. So there he sits with his hands on his knees, watch- 
 ing the gliding drops and the travelling banks of fog, and 
 thinking now of his boyhood at Wentorf, now of Fiete Cray, 
 anon of the tanner at Buffalo, anon of Wieten Penn, who 
 is sitting at home at the Haze, white-haired and bent with 
 age, and then anon of his comrade's clay-pits. There he will 
 now find work and bread. And then his thoughts go to Lis- 
 beth Junker and his boy, who has been living with her for the 
 last two years, eating at her table and sleeping near her bed. 
 But as he thinks on all this, a shadow rises, and his thoughts 
 are with his sister Elsbe. 
 
 In Hamburg he hurried through half the town. Often he 
 had to ask the way. At last he came to a part of the town 
 that was known to him, and there he fell in with a troop of 
 wandering school-children. And there was the shop-window 
 of the old aunt, and written above it, " All Sorts of School 
 Stationery, Sold by Ellen Walter." He pondered awhile. So 
 many thoughts were rushing through his head. But seeing 
 some of the little chaps pushing in with great eagerness, he 
 went with them. 
 
 She stood behind the counter, putting the boxes away without 
 looking up, and was saying, in her refined and dainty way, with 
 that dear, sweet, high voice of hers, " Just a moment, please."
 
 JORN UHL 391 
 
 " Oh, certainly," he said ; " please serve these gentlemen 
 first." 
 
 Then she let the box fall and held out her hand to him 
 over the counter and blushed, and was full of wonder and 
 astonishment, and said, " Your little boy will be out of school 
 directly, Jcirn. . . . What is it you want. Tommy? Two 
 penn'orth of nibs? Blotting-paper? Here, you can pay to- 
 morrow. An exercise-book with lines? Don't make so many 
 blots. Little ones, I have no time to-day — I have a dis- 
 tinguished visitor. Look, this great big man used to play with 
 me when he v\as just your size. ... So, Jiirgen, now we're 
 alone. My aunt is having her midday nap. Put your trunk 
 down here. . . . \'ou must be hungry. You . . . Jorn . . . 
 Don't, Jorn! . . . Don't make such a noise. . . . Jorn! . . . 
 Oh, what nonsense you talk! " 
 
 " Now your hair's coming down." 
 
 "And . . . Oh, Jorn, Elsbe has written, Jorn! Elsbe has 
 written a letter to the Haze. She's coming over from America. 
 Thiess is here already. He's got his old room again, and is 
 down at the wharves for every boat that comes in from New 
 York. Let me go, Jorn. ... I hear a step I know. Do you 
 see? There's our little laddie." 
 
 "Father! My word, what a fright I nearly got! Is that 
 really you? " 
 
 " Yes, it's me," said Jorn Uhl ; and he knelt down and 
 stroked his child's fair hair and looked into his bright eyes. 
 
 " But, I say, father, what do j'cu think of me going to 
 school! Lisbeth just simply carried me there, and there I was! 
 . . . Are you going to stay with us? " 
 
 " Yes, always." 
 
 " AVhat a yellow beard you've got, father! It looks just 
 like the rje-crops down by Ringelshorn. Do you remember, 
 father? . . . Are we going to the Uhl or to Thiess's, now? 
 Lisbeth says we're going to Thiess's." 
 
 " The Uhl no longer belongs to us, laddie. We are going 
 to the Haze first. Lisbeth, you tell him ... I don't know 
 how to set about it." 
 
 Then Lisbeth Junker, too, knelt before the little lad and 
 said, with smiling mouth. " Now. listen. Prince. . . . Shall I 
 tell you something? I should like very much to go to the 
 Haze along with you and father, but I'll tell you something.
 
 392 JORN UHL 
 
 I will only go with you on one condition. I don't like you 
 calling me Lisbeth. I would rather have you call me 
 ' mother.' . . . And your father. . . . He will have to call 
 me ' dear wife.' Do you both agree to that ? Else I won't go 
 with you." 
 
 Then the roguish glance he had inherited from Lena Tarn 
 came into the little boy's eyes as he looked at his father. 
 " What do you say to it, father? Shall we? . . . Well, come 
 here, then ! " 
 
 And he threw his arms around his mother's neck. 
 
 Fifty smutty, dirty coal-heavers observed the scene and 
 told their wives about it \\ hen they got home. They had 
 just left the steamers and w^ere going along Quay Street to 
 dinner. Each one had his drinking-mug at his side and each 
 one was in a hurry, when suddenly, coming from the coal- 
 yard quay, where, as everybody knows, the turf-boats from 
 Burg and Kuden are wharfed, they saw coming toward them 
 a little man who had been a familiar figure to most of them 
 for years past in the streets about the harbor. He was 
 carrying a little turf-sack on his back, and was stooped for- 
 ward, and his face was long and brown, and his eyes were 
 quick and blinking. Like swallows flying between the trees 
 in a garden his eyes flew about, searching among the crowds 
 of passers-by. Suddenly he saw somebody. 
 
 Paying no heed to what people might think, he let his 
 sack of turf slip to the ground, and shouted in a loud and 
 querulous voice, " Fiete! Dear old Fiete! Fiete Cray! Hullo 
 there! . . . That m.an there! With the gray waterproof!" 
 
 There was a stir in the street. People stood still and joked 
 and laughed. Many wanted to help him. 
 
 "Hullo, there, Fiete! Fiete Cray, turn around, man! Go 
 and carry the old fellow's sack for him." 
 
 Then the man who wore the gray waterproof turned around 
 and was astonished to see all the laughing faces turned in 
 his direction. " Have you chaps lost your senses or have I?" 
 
 "This way, Fiete — open your ej'es. The old fellow there 
 with the bag of turf." 
 
 The words " bag of turf " fell like a lasso over Fiete Cray's 
 soul and took it captive. His eyes wandered over the crowd 
 and caught sight of the little man, who with one hand was
 
 JORN UHL 393 
 
 holding fast the bag that two street urchins were tugging at, 
 and with the other he was making clutches and beckoning 
 toward him as though he were vainly trying to catch hold 
 of him. The old Haze farmer could not utter a word. Fiete 
 Cray ran up to him. He, too, paid no heed to what folk 
 might think. None whatever. He stroked the trembling old 
 man's face and picked up his hat, which was lying on the 
 road, and put it on for him. "Oh, you good old Thiess! 
 what a piece of luck you saw me! Can't get along any further, 
 eh? It's gone to your knees, has it? Come, Thiess, sit down 
 on the sack for a bit." Then he turned around to the throng- 
 ing bystanders. " Cientlemen," he said, using a word he had 
 picked up in America, " this is Thiess Thiessen, turf-farmer, 
 from over yonder behind the Haze, and at the present moment 
 he looks like a crooked old dried turf-sod himself. But my 
 name's Fiete Cray, as you all know. When I was a youngster 
 I had business dealings with Thiess Thiessen, and 1 and my 
 dogs would often drive up with our load of brushes and heather- 
 brooms in front of his house, and out of these visits sprang 
 a friendship which, as you see, hasn't grown rusty with time, 
 although in the meanwhile I've been fifteen years on the other 
 side of the water. If these facts are enough for you he and 
 I have nothing against your now taking yourselves off to 
 your midday repast. . . . Are you a bit better, Thiess? No? 
 Not yet? Well, let's sit here awhile. . . . We are not taking 
 up any collection to-day, friends. Just stand quietly where 
 you are and have a good look at us." 
 
 He seated himself on the other end of the turf-sack and 
 the crowd dispersed. 
 
 " Fiete, have you brought her with you?" 
 
 " I've been a great fool, Thiess." 
 
 " Tell me about it, laddie." 
 
 " I saw her on board my steamer. I saw her quite un- 
 expectedly. She was travelling steerage — she wouldn't go 
 second-class." 
 
 " Is she alone? " 
 
 " She has a little girl with her, a little mite of six or so 
 — just as little and dark and thin and shy as herself." 
 
 " Oh, deary me! And where have you got her? " 
 
 Then Fiete Cray struck the turf-sack with his fist and said, 
 " As we were landing, my eyes were everywhere. Everywhere,
 
 394 J O R N U H L 
 
 I tell you! That's the cursed way with us Grays, and so I 
 lost sight of her. She crept away somewhere — " 
 
 Thiess Thiessen sprang up. He got over the difficulty with 
 his knee somehow or other. He stood straight up. 
 
 "We'll go and look for her, Fiete, the whole night — the 
 whole night. We'll go to all the inns and to the police-station. 
 We'll ask for a little maid with a little child." 
 
 Fiete Cray slung the sack across his shoulder, and said, in 
 a hopeless voice, " It'll be a difficult thing to find her here. 
 She promised she would go to the Haze with me. That's 
 what we must hope for."
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 JoRN and Lisbeth were walking along the edge of the forest. 
 They had been into town looking at a house and buying 
 furniture. They were going to be quietly married at the Haze 
 on the day following Christmas Day, and then go back to the 
 town the same evening. 
 
 She clung so close to him that at the sturdy pace they were 
 going her dress flew to one side and caught his knee now and 
 again. 
 
 " I was nearly over, that time," he said. " The snow is 
 smooth enough to bring one down." He made her walk more 
 slowly. 
 
 She laughed. 
 
 " Join," she said, pressing close to his side again, " I'm so 
 happy." 
 
 " That's natural," he said. 
 
 " How do you mean, natural ? " 
 
 " Well," he said, giving her a roguish look, " it will soon 
 be Christmas Eve. Doesn't every child feel happy at the thought 
 of the Christmas tree?" 
 
 " Oh, Jorn," she said, shaking his arm, " do you think we'll 
 really be happy with each other, and for always?" 
 
 " Not a doubt of it," he said. " You see both of us know 
 who it is we are marrying, and that neither of us is a saint. 
 And each of us intends to let the other follow his own bent 
 and go his own way. That's why so many marriages turn 
 out failures, because the one wants to compel the other to 
 think and act exactly in the same way as himself. I, on the 
 contrary, think that each should try and bring out the other's 
 characteristics, — of course, within the limits of common sense, 
 — so that each may have a full, rounded individuality in his 
 helpmate. What nonsense people talk about man and wife 
 being like the oak and the ivy, cup and saucer, and such 
 
 395
 
 396 JORN UHL 
 
 like! No! Let them stand side by side, like a couple of 
 good trees of the same stock, only that the husband has to 
 take the windward side. That's all." 
 
 " How well }ou put it, Jorn ! " 
 
 " I've tested it with Lena Tarn. She went her way and I 
 went mine, and we got on first-rate." 
 
 In silence they both thought of Lena Tarn who was dead. 
 
 " At that time she seemed to have been created on purpose 
 for me," said Jorn, thoughtfully. " She was young and fresh, 
 and of dauntless energy. She was no great scholar — she had 
 not the slightest love of books. She didn't even read the news- 
 paper. She used to laugh and say, ' I got my reading over 
 when I was at school.' About the same time as one sheds 
 one's first teeth she was a droll, delightful creature. When- 
 ever I remember her and her ways, I can't help thinking of 
 Wieten's fairj^-stories. She had, as it were, grown up out of 
 the earth like a beautiful, strong young tree, that has learned 
 how to converse with sunshine and winds without the aid of 
 teachers and schoolmasters." 
 
 " What was she like in other ways — I mean, as a wife? " 
 
 "Oh! . . . You mean , . . Well, just like a child of 
 Nature. There came times when she cried aloud for love, and 
 others when she just despised that kind of thing." 
 
 She clasped his arm with her fingers, and said with down- 
 cast eyes: " I feel sad at times, Jorn, that you always talk so 
 sensibly to me. Once, two years ago, that time we were visiting 
 your comrade's farm, you were different, Jorn. Do you really 
 love me as much as you did Lena Tarn ? " 
 
 He put his arm around her and drew her to him so that 
 she stood close to his breast and couldn't move, and looked 
 into her eyes with such a glance that she hid her face on his 
 shoulder. " Go home, Lisbeth," he said, " or else you'll be 
 catching cold. I am going to take a run up into the village." 
 
 " You're going to see if Elsbe's there. Oh, Jorn, if she 
 were only to come! I'm coming with you," 
 
 When they reached the top of the hill whence one can see 
 far down the road that leads to Hamburg, by way of Itzehoe 
 into the loneliness of the Haze, there stood Fiete Cray, gazing 
 into the distance. But they found no one else there, and went 
 home.
 
 JORN UHL 397 
 
 Of an evening they would sit together in a rather depressed 
 mood, and not have much to say to one another. Wieten 
 would knit away at a pair of child's socks, and e\ery evening 
 would place a pair of soft, warm, felt slippers behind the big 
 porcelain stove. Thiess, too, would regularly hang the large 
 brass bed-warmer on the hook near the door. No one ever 
 asked for whom these things v\ere being kept in readiness. 
 Wieten had grown even more silent in these last years. 
 
 When Thiess said to her, " You ought to read a little, 
 Wieten," she used to answer, " I've gone through b.ucli a 
 great deal, and seen so much of life, why should 1 read, then, 
 or want to listen to what people say?" And when Thiess 
 asked her to tell them some of her stories, she would say, 
 " Such things all lead to nothing. After all, we human beings 
 can change nothing." She sat there thinking. She would 
 sit and think awhile, and then raise her head toward the 
 window, and then go out into the dark. Those inside heard 
 her light, slow steps in the hard, new-fallen snow, and they 
 knew that she was going her usual round, and peering out as 
 far as the starlight would allow her, to see whether the child 
 were yet coming. But no one said a word, and no one looked 
 up when she came in again and sat down wearily near the 
 big stove. 
 
 Soon afterward they would all go to rest. Thiess and 
 Jorn went into the room they shared together. " It's all over 
 with my sleepy fits," the old man would say to Jorn. " By 
 the time I had reached the sixties they were things of the past, 
 and now sleeplessness is beginning. Lie down, Jorn, laddie, 
 I'll walk up and down awhile." 
 
 Thiess Thiessen suffered more and more from this sleep- 
 lessness with increasing years, so much so that it was impossible 
 for him to lie still. W^hen he was seventy he used to wander 
 up and down between the bed and the window half the night 
 long, halting awhile near the window at each turn and gazing 
 out into the night. In these three weeks before Christmas this 
 habit of night-wandering and standing at the window had had 
 its beginning. 
 
 " Do you think she'll come, Jorn? If she doesn't come for 
 Christmas, she'll never come at all." 
 
 " And if she does come, what then? " 
 
 After awhile Thiess said: " I'll not worry at all about that;
 
 398 JORN UHL 
 
 if she only comes. . , . Do you hear? The east wind's getting 
 up. What if she were on the road now, the poor little soul ! " 
 
 Jorn Uhl stood near the other window and answered : " In 
 times gone by, when I was still very young, I thought there 
 were only two kinds of things that could confront a man — 
 things that can be bent, and those that can be broken^ But 
 afterward, in the sad years, I found out that there is a third 
 kind — things that come and stand for a moment, or maybe 
 for whole years, before one, like some great, wild, black 
 monster raising its cruel paws with claws dead and white. 
 What is one to do against it? Turn aside? Flatter? Lie? 
 There's no sense in that. There it stands, right in front of 
 you, and it is mad, Thiess, mad. It has no understanding. 
 It's a cruel, wild being. It's no good attacking it, for it's 
 much the stronger. Well, face to face with such a monster, 
 with such an overpowering fate, what alternative is there? 
 Only one. We must say to it, ' Whether you kill me or let 
 me live, whether you devour me and those I love or not, 
 whether you unsettle my understanding with your everlasting 
 threats and the sight of your claws or not, be that as you 
 choose ; ' but one thing I tell you, it all happens in the name 
 of God in Whom I put my trust, and firmly believe that His 
 cause — which is the good — will triumph, in me and every- 
 where. Do you see, Thiess? That's how I stand toward 
 Elsbe's fate." 
 
 The old man went backwards and forwards, and went to 
 the window and gazed out into the sky for a long time. 
 " Jorn," he said, in a low voice, " do j'ou really think that 
 everything that so happens — all the sad things that you and 
 I have lived through, all that Wieten Penn went through in 
 her youth, and the horrible things they brought about there 
 on the Uhl, and my sister's wretchedness — do you think that 
 all that has a good purpose? I mean, do you think there's any 
 sense in it? " 
 
 " Thiess," said Jorn, " if one doesn't believe that, where 
 shall an earnest, thoughtful man get courage enough to go on 
 living? See, one can clearly perceive that all created things 
 are put under the ban of sorrow and distress. Throughout 
 all creation there's a restless something surging up and down, 
 that puts one in mind of simmering water. But yet one can 
 see that there's sense in all this bubble and toil and trouble.
 
 J R N U H L 399 
 
 The evil only sinks after a great struggle, and the good 
 wrestles and strives laboriously to get to tiie top. Some mys- 
 terious force is constantly in action, pushing and shoving and 
 trying to create order like the shepherd and his dogs amongst 
 the flock. And happy the man who hears the gentle call of 
 the shepherd away through the storm and lends God a helping 
 hand in His laborious task." 
 
 " Hark! " said Thiess, " what's that? Did you hear it? " 
 " It's the frost crackling amongst the branches of the ash." 
 
 They waited and waited, and she did not come. Yet all 
 of them had the feeling that she was coming, and on the 
 road. Her hungry soul had stretched out its arms toward 
 home, in longing for those who were so dear to her. Her 
 spirit was passing through all the old paths at the Haze and 
 its presence was felt by those who were waiting for her there. 
 Thiess Thiessen went up secretly into the corn-loft and stood 
 there a long time in the bitter cold, gazing through the win- 
 dows far away toward the southeast. In the night old Wieten 
 started up crying, " She's standing in the snow and hasn't 
 the strength to go further!" Jorn Uhl was lost in thought, 
 and started as if in fright when Lisbeth spoke to him. Ficte 
 Cray was again away on the roads, asking everywhere along the 
 highway if an}' one had seen a young woman, slight and pale 
 looking, with thick dark hair, and with a little girl at her side. 
 But he came back, his mission unaccomplished. 
 
 Thus it came to pass that they had to keep a cheerless 
 Christmas. . . . Put out the love-light in thine eyes, Lisbeth 
 Junker! Stretch not thine hand toward thy beautiful bride, 
 Jorn Uhl. Thiess Thiessen and Fiete Cray, ye lovers of gossip 
 and genial talk, be on your guard lest your tongues grow 
 canty! 
 
 There came a cold mist, and with an idle wind it drew 
 thin gray shrouds over all the land. The sun stood like a 
 dull whitish spot that looked about the bigness of a house, 
 far away in the sky. And as it drew by, the mist left parts 
 of its loose tissue hanging on every tree and every hedge that 
 it passed. There lay the whole land covered with hoarfrost. 
 
 Stiller and stiller everything grew. The many thousand 
 voices. Life and rain and all the cries and sounds that usually 
 fill the air of this solitude, held their peace. The birds clustered
 
 400 J O R N U H L 
 
 noiselessly together near the houses, the rooks flew mute to 
 their shelter for the night, so afraid and full of presentiment 
 did all Nature feel. Folk that generally paid no heed to the 
 unceasing stir and whisper of the woods and skies and fields 
 were now amazed at the silence that had come over everything. 
 When two people met on the road they stood still, looked at 
 each other, made no move, then lifted their fingers and whis- 
 pered, " Listen! " 
 
 The fir-trees on the forest borders stood straight and slim, 
 clad in silver brocade from head to foot like brides ready 
 for the wedding, and behind them in drooping veils of white 
 stood waiting the great procession of bridesmaids. And this 
 fairy spell filled them half with the feeling of its beauty and 
 half with a shuddering fear. Each of them gazed at its neigh- 
 bors with eyes full of wonder till the dim light of day faded 
 and waned. But when it was evening the whole of their 
 eerie glory changed. They beheld each other wrapped in funeral 
 shrouds, shrouds all cold and stiff, and trimmed with a wealth 
 of fine, white lace. . . , Shuddering fear held sway over all 
 things. . . . There lay the village all glittering and new, 
 like a Christmas-box that had been laid in this soft white 
 valley, like a pretty toy in its case of cotton wool. And it 
 was as though giants came out of the woods from away by 
 the sea and squatted on the hills around about, and began 
 to play with the white houses and the fair white trees, and 
 mixed the houses up together, and pushed the people hither 
 and thither, and brought them together in couples, and then 
 set children by their side and made them grow old, and brought 
 them to the churchyard, and dug a little hole in the wide white 
 snow. And these games of the giants had lasted thousands of 
 years without the folk in the village noticing. 
 
 Yes, but people no longer believe such things because they 
 have no longer eyes to see them. And they have no longer 
 eyes to see them, because they no longer believe them. But 
 wondrous things have not been done away with in the world 
 merely because men shut their eyes and say they see nothing, 
 or because they open their eyes very wide and declare they 
 see everything. 
 
 Wonderful things happened that Christmas night, when 
 there was a danger that the haggard wife of that proud Harro 
 Heinsen, — who at this moment was leaning drunk against a
 
 JORN UHL 401 
 
 house-wall away in some street or other in Chicago, — a clunker 
 that this wife of his, I say, might after all miss her way home; 
 for she had made up her mind never to see Haze Farm and 
 those who lived in it again. She had gone about seeking a 
 shelter away up there in Schleswig, and had encountered a 
 last disappointment. It wore out what was left of her spirit. 
 She wandered off southwards with her child, and crossed the 
 Eider at Friedrichstadt. Traversing endless bare highways, 
 she passed, with her child's hand clasped in hers, through 
 snowed-in villages, not with the aim of reaching home, but 
 driven and pushed and in a dream. The image of Haze 
 Farm and the people who dwelt in it flitted ceaselessly before 
 her half-closed eyes, and she had perforce to follow it. 
 
 Dusk came on, and the evening mists in heavy, loose masses 
 crept over the land, with unseen hands building up the miracle 
 of the white, dead world. Here and there stars shot up as 
 in anger, piercing the mist, and a cold bluish light spread over 
 the fields. 
 
 " How much further is it, mother?" 
 
 " Not much further, my child." 
 
 " Can't we sit down here ? My feet are hurting me so." 
 
 "No, we mustn't. Do you see tiie light yonder? That's 
 where we're going." 
 
 " Do kind people live there? " 
 
 " Yes, they're kind people. ... I cannot, I cannot go to 
 them. Oh, where shall I go to with my child ? " 
 
 Then a man came by and, as he passed, said, " Where are 
 you going to, little woman?" 
 
 " I ... I am going a long way." 
 
 He came up closer to her, " Oh," he said, " you're the 
 daughter of Greta Thiessen. You're Jorn Uhl's sister. They'll 
 be glad enough you've come, lass. They've been looking for 
 you everj'where." 
 
 She said nothing, but thought to herself, " I'll be able to 
 get away from him," and so went along with him. 
 
 " Now, come," said the man, '' here's a short-cut. You know 
 the way past the Odel Krug, don't you ? You must have come 
 that way often enough when you were little." 
 
 She walked painfully and slowly along beside him. 
 
 " The child is tired," he said. " Come here, little one. That's 
 it. Don't be afraid. I'll carry you. Hi! Won't Jorn Uhl be
 
 402 J O R N U H L 
 
 glad, and Thiess will lose his slippers thrice to-night. And the 
 others! Why, It's Christmas itself I'm bringing home to 
 them." 
 
 He kept on carrying the child in spite of the way it made him 
 pant. At the cross-road he put her down, saying, " It's hardly 
 a quarter of an hour's walk now. Seest thou, lass? They 
 have a light burning in the doorway and in both the rooms 
 for thee." 
 
 He left her and went toward the village. She had not 
 recognized him, nor did she ever see him again, although she 
 lives at the Haze to this day. But she has never forgotten him. 
 
 The evening was come. Children had come over from the 
 village to Haze Farm, as was their olden custom, and had 
 beaten blown-up bladders with sticks and sung songs to the 
 monotonous noise, and got presents of nuts and apples and 
 cakes; and thrice did Thiess Thiessen go up the ladder into 
 the loft and cut a piece from the bacon that hung beneath the 
 sloping roof. 
 
 And Lisbeth Junker sent the others out and lit the Christ- 
 mas tree that Fiete Cray had brought from the woods, and 
 thought sadly to herself, " It's only for little Jiirgen's sake. 
 We grown-up people will be thinking of Elsbe and sha'n't 
 be able to take much pleasure in anything." 
 
 But when she had laid the new school-books for little Jiir- 
 gen beneath the Christmas tree, and had hidden his picture- 
 book and his first pair of skates under them, she cheered up 
 a little, and then a little more, and brought the shirts she had 
 made for Jorn. 
 
 " This pipe is for Thiess, and the two-and-sixpenny Atlas 
 into the bargain. What else could one give Thiess Thiessen ? " 
 
 " I've only one great wish, Lisbeth," said Thiess, '' and 
 that is that Elsbe and her child might be standing beneath 
 this Christmas tree to-night. Hist! . . . No, it's the wind." 
 
 " Now I'll call the names." 
 
 First of all came the little boy with his hand in that of his 
 father. He was a grave and thoughtful lad, and remained 
 quiet even when he saw the tree. He stood awhile in front 
 of it, and it was easily seen that in his heart he was rejoicing. 
 But he didn't show it except by his sly glance at Lisbeth 
 Junker when he stepped up to her and stood at her side. He 
 looked at the books and asked, "I say, who are they for?"
 
 J O R N U H L 403 
 
 Then he busied himself in looking through his possessions, 
 and the lights played over his fair hair. 
 
 Thiess and Wieten had never before seen a Christmas tree 
 in their life, and had no clear idea of what it meant. Fiete 
 Cray began walking up and down the room and humming 
 to himself, a habit that loneliness had taught him. Jorn Uhl 
 stood and stared at the tree, and the lights that were to have 
 shown the beautiful face of his betrothed showed him nothing 
 but the darkness of this hour. Mute and helpless they stood 
 there, feeling, " We can't keep Christmas, Put out the lights 
 on the Christmas tree, Lisbeth ; the light hurts us." 
 
 In that silent and painful moment, when two beautiful 
 proud eyes were brimming full of tears, they suddenly heard 
 a noise outside, as if two or three people were moving about 
 under the window. A thrill of terror ran through them, 
 and they stood as if fixed to the spot. Their hearts beat 
 violently, trembling in a great fear between hope and terror 
 at the supernatural. Jorn Uhl with a great effort rushed to 
 the door and went out. He strode across the great middle 
 room and dashed open the door. 
 
 Out there in the snow he saw what he had hoped. His 
 voice hardly obeyed him, as he said, " Is it you, Elsbe? Is it 
 you.'^ 
 
 "Oh! Jorn. ... Is that you, Jorn? This is the way I've 
 come back." 
 
 " Come inside, child. Come in. That's it. . . . Let me 
 take the little one. That's the way. . . . Now, come." 
 
 " Me, Jorn? . . . Jorn, what do I want here? . . ." 
 
 "Come, Elsbe, I say. Now do! . . . Lisbeth, come here a 
 moment. She's tired." 
 
 Thiess stood in the doorway and kept saying, " My little 
 Whitey!" stretching his hand out toward her, but unable to 
 move from the spot. 
 
 " Oh, Thiess, Thiess! How often I've told you you do 
 everything topsyturvy! . . . Oh, my God! . . . Wieten, your 
 hair is white." 
 
 "Here, let her sit in this chair, Lisbeth! Wieten, where 
 are the slippers? " 
 
 She sat in the warm chair near the big stove weeping, and 
 Wieten knelt before her and pulled off her wet shoes. Lis- 
 beth undid her jacket that was all encrusted with hoarfrost,
 
 404 J O R N U H L 
 
 and Jorn tried to take off the child's cloak and couldn't, while 
 Fiete Cray took hold of Thiess Thiessen, and said, " Here's a 
 chair for you, Thiess. Sit down." 
 
 The child was blinking at the Christmas tree. " Are we 
 going to stay here, mother? " 
 
 "The poor child!" said Thiess, "the poor child!" He 
 sprang up and got a plateful of cakes and filled the little one's 
 hands. 
 
 Jorn looked from the child to his sister. She lifted her 
 head and looked at him, and suddenly the vision of the whole 
 miser}^ of his youth and of hers flashed before him. He clenched 
 his hands and cried with a wild gesture, " Curse my father 
 for this! " 
 
 Then Lisbeth jumped up and ran toward him, weeping and 
 crying, "Oh, Jorn, do not forget me!" 
 
 " Leave me, leave me, Lisbeth! " he cried. " When I think 
 of how my mother's life was ruined, and all the peaceful happy 
 da)S made sordid and filled with misery by the treatment she 
 got, I . . ." 
 
 She fondled and coaxed and kissed him, and begged him 
 to rejoice that his sister was back home again. " She thinks 
 that you are angry with her! " 
 
 " What? " he cried. " I ? I angry with her? " And he ran 
 up to her, this broad-shouldered, austere man, and knelt before 
 the broken figure of his little sister, stroking her hand and call- 
 ing her all the pet names that he thought he had long forgotten, 
 and saying, " My father is to blame, and I am to blame. . . . 
 Am I not, Wieten? . . . Thiess, you tell me. Am I not to 
 blame, too?" Then he spoke great things about the future. 
 " You shall live like a princess here at the Haze, and no one 
 shall touch or harm you, and old Wieten will always be by you, 
 and Thiess will talk to you until, at least, you'll have to laugh 
 again." 
 
 She let it pass over her unheeded. She had laid her hand 
 upon her brother's hair and wept herself quiet. Gradually 
 her breath became heavy and deep, and her weeping more sub- 
 dued and wearier. She sank down like a traveller who has put 
 his heavy burden on the earth beside him, and sits down awhile 
 on some stone by the wayside. 
 
 Then Wieten and Lisbeth went out to prepare the beds. 
 At last the woman who had returned home and her child lay
 
 J O R N U H L 405 
 
 under the roof of the Maze in deep and heavy sleep. Jorn 
 Uhl stood at the window with Lisbeth Junker. 
 
 " There you've had a proof of it," said he. " A part of my 
 soul has grown hard and turned to ice." 
 
 And she repeated, " Don't look away over my head, Jorn. 
 Come quite close and look straight at me. You must be able 
 to see that I can help you, and will help you, as far as in me 
 lies! " 
 
 He looked down at her without a word, and as he looked 
 upon her and she held up her face with clear eyes toward him, 
 it seemed to him as if he were looking into some wide valley 
 in which, between the green of the meadows and the gloom 
 of beautiful trees, lay deep and tranquil lakes. His heart 
 grew lighter within him. He said, " I must always come to you, 
 Lisbeth, when I get these gloomy fits, mustn't I, lass?"
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 Years came and went. 
 
 Jorn Uhl took over the management of his comrade's fac- 
 tory, and helped, besides, at the building of the great canal 
 that goes right through Germany, and which we all are so 
 proud of. He built locks, too, on the Stor and the Buhnen, 
 and on the isles of Sylt and Rom, and in winter taught draw- 
 ing and mathematics in a college for working men. So people 
 came in time to look up to him as a man whose words and 
 knowledge could be thoroughly relied on. The boy who, long 
 years before in the school-sergeant's little room, had said, " It's 
 all one, Thiess, whether I become Provost or not, as long as 
 I learn something. And, mark you, I've made up my mind 
 to learn," — this boy, I say, had had to begin twice over from 
 the very first rung of the ladder. But life, after all, is long 
 enough to make oneself into something, if one only has faith 
 enough and a sturdy will. 
 
 But he didn't come through it all without a few scars. 
 
 As long as he lives, Jorn Uhl's character will show traces 
 of rifts and flaws here and there. Although his wife knows 
 his nature well, and although she is so blithe and strong, and 
 so loving toward him, she has never been altogether able to 
 smooth out these flaws, the remnants of evil days gone by. 
 
 It was some short time after the birth of her first child. 
 Heim Heiderieter, who was among the guests, had made a 
 somewhat indiscreet joke x'vhich set the room in a roar. As 
 the spirits of the party became more and more boisterous, Jorn 
 Uhl left the room. Dame Lisbeth missed him at once, and 
 went seeking all through the house for him. She found him 
 at last standing outside in the dark, and ^^'ent to him and 
 asked, "What are you standing out here alone for, Jorn? 
 Why don't you come in and sit with the others?" At first 
 she could get nothing out of him ; gradually, however, he 
 
 406
 
 J R N U H L 407 
 
 admitted that all this inerrymalcinj^ and laughter was intoler- 
 able to him : it brought too many old pictures up before his 
 mind. But he promised to pull himself together again and 
 go back into the room, and she wasn't to say anything about 
 it. She put her arms around him ; spoke affectionately, soothed 
 and fondled him, and went inside again. By and by he fol- 
 lowed her, and sat there at first taciturn and moody, listening 
 with an attentive face to what was said. After awhile he 
 lifted his glass and pledged one of the guests with half-em- 
 barrassed looks of kindness, and then he told a short story, and 
 then he glanced over at his wife. Lisbeth's eyes were bright 
 with tears as she nodded her pleasure and recognition. And 
 now he found her helping him, he succeeded in being blithe 
 and jovial along with the others. 
 
 It would often chance, too, that he would come back home 
 from some journey or other downhearted, silent, and tired, 
 as if he were half-frozen. And then when he heard the sound 
 of children's pranks and laughter inside as he entered the 
 house, he would turn as stiff as Lanky Sott of yore under 
 the leak in the spo<it. Then they'd look at each other and 
 run off to their mother in the kitchen, and after a swift, eager 
 council of war, they would come back into the sitting-room, 
 and keep very grave and quiet; after awhile one would come 
 up with some sore spot to be kissed, and another for help of 
 some sort, all of them treating him as thoughtfully as ever 
 they could. Then the first one smiled ; then the second would 
 risk a smile, too. Then they'd make off to the kitchen, shouting: 
 " I say, mother! father's thawing! " 
 
 Then he would shake his head at thein, and smilingly 
 threaten them, and brighten up, and the sky would be clear 
 again. 
 
 Years came and went. 
 
 One day the spirit of unrest came over Heim Heiderieter, 
 and he determined to visit the country around Ringelshorn 
 and Wentorf. He arrived without inishap or adventure at the 
 first houses of St. IVIaricndonn, on the edge of the heath, and 
 saw a sailor-lad of the Imperial Navy standing there, dressed 
 in a white duck suit, and stuffing the heather he had cut into 
 a sack. His mother, a haggard and overworked little woman, 
 was raking the remnants together.
 
 4o8 J R N U H L 
 
 "Where do you hail from, seaman?" asked Helm. 
 
 " Oh," said the sailor, " I've been out in the China Seas on 
 a man-o'-\var, and have just got four weeks' leave of absence." 
 
 Heim sat himself down awhile on the slope of the hill, and 
 listened awhile to the sailor yarns. At last, when Heim 
 thought of getting under weigh again, a thought struck him, 
 and he asked, " What's your name, then? " 
 
 " Stoffer Cray," said the sailor. 
 
 Heim thought, "Well, now, if that's a good beginning!" 
 and went on his way. 
 
 When he reached the first houses, he was in doubt as to 
 which road he should choose, and whether he would find the 
 Goldsoot if he kept along the Heide hills. Up to then he 
 had never approached the Soot from this side of the country. 
 So, at the first house he came to, he made inquiries from a 
 man who was standing before the door trimming a post for 
 a fence. The latter turned around and looked toward the 
 brownish hills that rose away over beyond the village, and 
 said : " That's a simple matter. You go down there past that 
 farmhouse on the left. Then you come to that tree on the 
 right; ye see it, eh? Why, then you strike the foot-track, 
 and go along it to where it forks, straight across that field 
 of rye. Then you go on straight ahead, and make a bee-line 
 for that gray horse there that's browsing up there at the top 
 in the heath. Do ye see? Then you go along the ridge, 
 close to the edge, keeping well to the right, till you come 
 across a big valley that slopes down to the marsh. In that 
 valley 3'ou're pretty sure to find the Goldsoot." 
 
 Heim Heiderieter nodded, as though taking it all in, although 
 all these directions were mere Dutch to him ; and on taking 
 leave of the man, he asked, " What's your name?" 
 
 " Stoffer Cray," said the man. 
 
 Heim gave a friendly nod, and went on, thinking, " Well, 
 I'm blest! Now, I just Avondcr what's going to happen next." 
 He managed to get through the upper village all right, with- 
 out getting entangled in talk with anybody, and made a straight 
 course for the gray horse that was standing up in the heath; 
 but as lie went he fell a-dreaming, after his usual fashion, and 
 tramped along with his eyes fixed on the heath at his feet. 
 When he awoke and looked up, lo! the gray horse was gone! 
 
 " Of course," said he; " there you are, now! Not a sign of
 
 J R N U H L 409 
 
 him. Strange thing that Nature seems to get out of gear as 
 soon as 1 start to go anywhere. That was the gray steed of 
 Woden." He trusted the good spirits and pressed forward 
 to the heights. Standing still at times and looking around, and 
 thinking all sort of things about the objects he saw, as was 
 his wont, he found himself at last in the middle of young oak 
 thickets, but had not the faintest notion of how he had 
 got there. "The Goldsoot's not to be found, anyhow!" he 
 said. " They've hidden it away somewhere. They don't want 
 me to see it, and are on for a little fun at my expense." liut 
 he didn't lose heart over it, but went on whistling merrily 
 and giving a laugh now and again. " \'ou sha'n't spoil my 
 good humor; I'm hanged if you shall," he said, and found 
 it pleasant enough up there on the heights, stumbling through 
 the heath and the oak thickets, with occasional glimpses out 
 over the wide marsh. Now and again he turned around, for 
 it seemed to him as though some one were calling out behind 
 him. He thought, " Of course, that's some more of their 
 mockery and pranks. Ill bet my life on it! " 
 
 And now he really did hear light, swift steps behind him, 
 and suddenly turned around in terror. There stood a bare- 
 footed, yellow-haired lad who was saying, " I'm to tell Heim 
 Heiderieter that he's on the wrong track. He has to go in this 
 direction!" and he shot ahead and entered a narrow foot- 
 path that wound through the waist-high brushwood of young 
 oaks. Heim walked behind in silence, wondering that the 
 lad never ran into anything. Not a single branch was moved, 
 not a single dry leaf was rustled as he passed. So the lad 
 led him down a steep path into the little valley that sloped 
 into the marsh. " Here is the Goldsoot," he said. 
 
 "Eh?" said Heim. "How do you know I'm looking for 
 the Goldsoot? " 
 
 " My father sent me here," said the boy. 
 
 Heim looked at him distrustfully. There was something 
 so fresh and frank in the lad, and yet something quite awk- 
 ward and new, as though he had been a root a moment or 
 so ago, and, just to meet an emergency, had for a time been 
 changed into a human being. Heim hoped to catch him stum- 
 bling, and said, " What's your teacher's name? " 
 Brodersen." 
 
 " Do you see? " said he. " That's not true. Hermann von
 
 4IO JORN UHL 
 
 Rhein is his name, and he's an old schoolmate of mine. I'm 
 not so stupid as other people think, my lad. Now just tell 
 me straight out what you're after." 
 
 The boy laughed, and dipped his bare toes into the water 
 of the Soot. Heim's eyes opened wide with expectation, and 
 he thought to himself, " Now, he'll spring in and nothing more 
 will be seen of him." 
 
 *' Why, the teacher you mean, he's away to Brunsbiittel," he 
 said, as he drew his foot out of the water and waited till the 
 mirror was placid again. " Now I can see the frog," he said. 
 
 " What frog? " said Heim, and he knelt down on the edge. 
 
 " There's a gray frog in the Soot. See, there, on the 
 bottom ! He's sitting on the moss." 
 
 " So he is! " said Heim. " That's the first time in all my 
 born days that I've seen a gray frog. Let's get him out! " 
 
 The boy laughed. " I think it's a dead one," he said, " and 
 its color's faded." 
 
 "What?" said Heim, "a faded, dead frog? Well, if that 
 doesn't beat everything! " He looked at the boy distrust- 
 fully, observing, " There are stupider boj^s than you in your 
 school, I should say. Eh, youngster?" 
 
 " You're right there," said the boy. 
 
 Heim got up off his knees. " Just show me if you know the 
 tables yet? Now, how much is once seven? " 
 
 The boy solved it. 
 
 " Hm! " said Heim. " You've managed to hit it. . . . Now, 
 you'd better go. Thank you for coming with me. And here 
 are a couple of nickels for you." 
 
 " Father says I'm not to take money." 
 
 "What? I should say you're not overrich by the look of 
 you. Eh? Suppose you folk down there haven't got more 
 bawbees than me, have you ? You pay your debts with col- 
 ored pebbles and mica quartz, don't you? . . . Gad! I verily 
 believe there's something uncanny about you after all. Just tell 
 me, so as to make sure, what you had to-day for dinner." 
 
 " Beans and bacon," said the boy, grinning and showing his 
 teeth. 
 
 " Well, I grant that sounds human enough." 
 
 The boy jumped up and ran away up the hill-slope. 
 
 "Heigh!" shouted Heim after him, "just tell me, laddie, 
 have you seen a gray mare that was said to be about here? "
 
 JORN UHL 4ii 
 
 " A gray mare? " said the boy. " What gray mare? Why, it 
 isn't a gray mare at all. It's a big, bare sand-patch. Sec! 
 there it is. It only looks like a gray mare from a distance." 
 
 Heim Heidcricter stood gazing first at the sand-patch and 
 then at the boy, who was now trotting away over the heath. 
 " Strange thing," he said, " that it's always me who has such 
 odd experiences. Inhere was something eerie about that boy, 
 I'm sure of it." 
 
 He went down into the valley again, and laid himself in the 
 long gray grass beside the small clear pool. 
 
 It was not long before he heard footsteps approaching from 
 down the valley, and saw a man, still in his prime, somewhere 
 in the forties, with hair and beard of the hue of rye-straw, 
 and oval face, and eyes wonderfully deep and true. Half- 
 scholar, half-farmer. Suddenly he saw it was Jorn Uhl, and 
 sprang to his feet. 
 
 After they had done shaking each other's hands, they lay 
 down in the grass, one on each side of the Goldsoot, and began 
 talking about old times. They had not seen each other for 
 two years. 
 
 "Old Wieten's dead," said Jorn; "you knew her, didn't 
 j'ou : 
 
 "Why, man, I should think I did! Do you know the sort 
 of life they used to lead over there at Haze Farm ? Thiess 
 would sit between the table and the stove, deep in the geog- 
 raphy of East Asia, with his feet propped up against the tiles. 
 And then he v\ould pitch yarns about what he had been 
 reading. But the old chap hasn't been farther away from 
 the Haze than the next village these ten years, never since 
 Elsbe's return. Wieten used to sit by the stove darning and 
 knitting, just as she used to do at the Uhl when she sat between 
 you and Fiete Cray." 
 
 " How do you come to know all that? " asked Jorn. 
 
 " Oh, many a chat I've had with old ^Vieten Pcnn. She 
 had a most wonderful store of knowledge in that old head of 
 hers. She knew all the thousand and one things that have 
 happened these fifty jears past in the little triangle that lies 
 between this quiet pool and the old town over yonder and 
 the church spire of Schonefeld, and she had a vivid recollec- 
 tion of all of them. That interpreted us, Jorn Uhl; yes. more 
 than all old Thiess's Manchurian lore. She was a woman
 
 412 JORN UHL 
 
 who always kept things pretty much to herself, though. She 
 had had to huild a high wall around that fantastic world 
 within her, because stupid people laughed when they got a 
 glimpse of it. 
 
 " And that's the reason why many deep and earnest people 
 are so taciturn, Jorn. But to me she sometimes opened the 
 door and let me see the house. You know, Jorn, what it's 
 like — a good Old Saxon farmhouse, a little low in the roof, 
 and wn"th many dark nooks and corners, but trusty and true. 
 . . . What do you say to Elsbe, Jorn? " 
 
 " No! what do you say? " 
 
 " I should have thought she would have married Fiete Cray. 
 And he asked her, that I know. But she was against it. Do 
 you know what she said, Jorn ? " 
 
 "What! do you mean to say you've been talking about it 
 with her?" 
 
 "Yes! why not, man? We're old friends, aren't we? 
 *■ You see, Heim,' saj's she, ' he's a Cray, and they're not the 
 most reliable people in the world, the Crays. And what's 
 more, I don't need him: I've got enough to mother already.' 
 . . . She's mistress of Haze Farm, Jorn, and manages it better 
 than Thiess ever did; and lays special stress on keeping six 
 or seven good milch-cows. Thiess has to obey her, and even 
 likes to do so. About Manchuria he can say what he likes, 
 even before her ; that's his special domain where nobody in- 
 terferes with him. But when he wants to get on to other 
 topics and talk about human life and God and the world, then 
 he has to wait till I come, and he can go outside with me. 
 In summer we sit on the embankment by the edge of the Haze, 
 in winter we go into the cowshed. . . . It's a pity, Jorn, that 
 Elsbe never marries; she would have made one of the right 
 sort of wives who keep always their husbands and children 
 warm." 
 
 Jorn Uhl gazed away before him. " She is content," he 
 said, " and so is Fiete Cray. What he dreamed as a boy has 
 all come true. He's now in charge of the Uhl, and can see 
 the low-roofed little cottage where he w-as born. He has 
 debts enough, almost as many as I once had ; but he bears 
 them more lightly than I did ; and the new railway line has 
 been a great lift for him. His business in all sorts of odds 
 and ends — in timber and firewood and coals and sand and what
 
 JORN UHL 413 
 
 not — is flourishing. IV'Iy heart's sore when I think of the clean, 
 neat old farmyard, and how it looks now, littered about with 
 everything; and I'm glad the old house is no longer standing. 
 Of a Sunday he'll sometimes drive over to the Haze and drink 
 a cup of coffee there, and chat with Elsbe and the old man. 
 I believe things will go on so, and they'll gradually grow old 
 without noticing it, and at last they'll lea\e it all and go 
 away." 
 
 " You've had a hard life of it, Jorn ; I often wonder what 
 you yourself think about it all." 
 
 " How would you like to write the story of my life, Heim? 
 But perhaps it's hardly the right stuff to make anvthing out 
 of?" 
 
 " Your life, Jorn Uhl, has been no commonplace one. Your 
 youth was still and quiet, decked out with all sorts of fantastic 
 pictures. As you grew up you were lonely, and in your lone- 
 liness, without any one's help, you struggled manfully with 
 Life's enigmas, and although you only managed to solve a 
 few of them, the trouble was not in vain. You went away 
 to fight for the land that lies around these water-rills of ours, 
 and you grew hard in fire and frost, and made progress in the 
 most important thing of all in life, jou learned to distinguish 
 the value of things. You learned what woman's love was 
 in all its intensity, and that is the second highest that Life 
 can give us. You laid Lena Tarn in her grave, and your 
 father and brothers, and you looked human misery in the face 
 and learned humility. You fought against a hard and hostile 
 fate without succumbing, and won your way through at last, 
 although you had to wait many a day for help. You worked 
 your way into science with clenched teeth and dauntless will, 
 at an age when many a one is thinking of retiring on his 
 income, and although building, ditching, and surveying have 
 now been your work and delight for many a year, you haven't 
 grown one-sided, but still take an interest in all the land that 
 lies beyond the reach of your surveying-chains, and still bother 
 yourself with the books written by a certain friend, Heim 
 Heiderieter by name. I wonder what stories one ought to 
 tell, Jorn, if such a deep and simple life isn't worth the 
 telling." 
 
 Jorn Vh\ looked at him with kindly, thoughtful eyes. 
 " What you say sounds well," said he. " And if I were to
 
 414 J O R N U H L 
 
 talk matters over with you, you could put many a thing in order 
 for me, that I have a feeling is still lying about meaninglessly. 
 It alvt^ays seems to me as though there is a big rent in my 
 life." 
 
 " I know," said Heim, stretching his arm out over the Gold- 
 soot toward him. " Look, Jorn. If you had had the kind, 
 clear-headed care of a mother, and had gone smoothly and 
 evenly into the study of science, you think your life would 
 have had a better course; while now, as you say quite rightly, 
 there is a break in it. You've got the feeling as though, some- 
 time or other, years ago, you got on to the wrong track, 
 and as if you were still upon a by-path, and could only catch 
 sight of the road you ought to be travelling from afar. But, 
 I tell you, Jorn, — you can ask any earnest man, — there's 
 something in every life that doesn't exactly tally, that's out 
 of tune, so to say, and do you know v.hy? If it were exactly 
 in tune the sound would be too thin. And if we were always 
 to go the way that mother would choose for us, we would 
 turn out dull, monotonous beings. We all have to take roads 
 heavy with sand, Jorn, before we get breadth and depth." 
 
 " Yes," said J5rn Uhl, " to have faith is everything." 
 
 "Right! That's everything! " 
 
 " Heim, Heim," said Jorn, " there come years when it isn't 
 
 easy. 
 
 Heim reached out over the Goldsoot again. " I know what 
 you're thinking of," he said. " But after all, help came at the 
 right time, didn't it? Wieten stood by you, and your little 
 son's laughter sounded in the farmyard. Then the door of 
 the manse opened to you — the broad green door with the 
 brass knocker. You got new heart there. Then came death 
 and served you hand and foot, and smoothed your way for 
 you. And then came a proud and bonnie girl and walked beside 
 you, and played marbles with you on the Rugenberg. Then 
 came your studies, and a fresh breeze blew into your life." 
 Jorn nodded, and said, " You know everything." 
 " I know but little, Jorn, and I don't like those who try to 
 make out they know everything; but it's a fine thing to be 
 able, sensibly and cleverly, to see good meanings hidden in 
 things, even in the clouds that pass over the face of the 
 
 skv. 
 
 " I can't express myself like you do," said Jorn, " but I'm
 
 JORN UHL 415 
 
 glad that I am of the same opinion. When I was a boy, I 
 fixed up a chest and a room for myself according to my fancy, 
 and used to think them the very hub of the universe, and from 
 there I spied out upon God and the world, and felt myself 
 on equal terms with both of them. But the older I grow the 
 more ignorant 1 am, and the greater is my reverence and 
 wonder." 
 
 " You are right," said Heim. " It's a mistake to indulge in 
 too much talking. One should make things clear by deeds, 
 not by words. But as we both of us have a stretch of work 
 behind us already, there is no harm in our talking about it. 
 After the battle the soldier's allowed to tell his comrades how 
 strokes were dealt and strokes were parried. Now I'm off. 
 Where are you going to?" 
 
 " I have been inspecting a lock in Brunsbiittel," said Jorn 
 Uhl, " and now I'm going over to the Haze on foot. Kind 
 remembrances to your wife and children, Heim! " 
 
 " The same to yours, especially the second eldest — a bonnie 
 little lass, Jorn." 
 
 " When you come to see us, mind you don't tell either her 
 or her mother that! " 
 
 They went up the valley to the heath road. 
 
 " And if I were to tell the story of your life," said Heim, 
 "what title ought I to give the book?" 
 
 Jorn stood still and said gravely, " My wife once proposed 
 'Crafty Jack'!" 
 
 "There's some sense in that, Jorn, upon my word! Oh, 
 these women, Jorn! But it's wrong, without a doubt. Every- 
 thing they say is only half-true, Jorn. They see things flat; 
 even an egg looks flat to them, because they only look at things 
 from one side." 
 
 " There's something true in it, though, Heim. I don't 
 know whether it's because I had no guiding hand in the most 
 critical years. It's not been an easy matter for me to find the 
 right track. I have the feeling that I have often gone long 
 roundabout ways when it was quite unnecessary." 
 
 Heim shook his head. " All of us who didn't follow others 
 and swear by them, but sought to understand things for our- 
 selves, have that feeling." 
 
 " Well," said Jorn, " if the title I suggested is no use, find 
 me another good old German name, and say when you've
 
 4i6 JORN UHL 
 
 finished your book, ' Although his path led through gloom 
 and tribulation, he was still a happy man. Because he was 
 humble and had faith.' But don't say too many wise things, 
 Heim. We can't unriddle it, after all." 
 
 THE END.
 
 DATE DUE 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 i 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 - 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 CAYLORD 
 
 
 
 rKIHTCOIN U.S.A.
 
 PT26n R42J613 1905 
 Frenssen, Gustav, 1863-1945 
 Joern Uhl. 
 
 yC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 III ii||iii|iiiir" ■ ■■■ 
 
 AA 000 638 978 
 
 1210 00213 3039