That I, by the force of nature,

Might in some dim wise divine The depth of His infinite patience

To this wayward soul of mine.

I know not how others saw her,
But to me she was wholly fair,

And the light of the heaven she came from
Still lingered and gleamed in her hair;
For it was as wavy and golden,

And as many changes took,
As the shadows of sun-gilt ripples
On the yellow bed of a brook.

To what can I liken her smiling
Upon me, her kneeling lover,

How it leaped from her lips to her eyelids,
And dimpled her wholly over,
Till her outstretched hands smiled also,
And I almost seemed to see
The very heart of her mother

Sending sun through her veins to me!

She had been with us scarce a twelvemonth,
And it hardly seemed a day,
When a troop of wandering angels
Stole my little daughter away;
Or perhaps those heavenly Zingari 2
But loosed the hampering strings,
And when they had opened her cage-door,
My little bird used her wings.

But they left in her stead a changeling,
A little angel child,

That seems like her bud in full blossom, And smiles as she never smiled:

When I wake in the morning, I see it

Where she always used to lie,

And I feel as weak as a violet
Alone 'neath the awful sky.

As weak, yet as trustful also;

For the whole year long I see
All the wonders of faithful nature

Still worked for the love of me;
Winds wander, and dews drip earthward,
Rain falls, suns rise and set,

Earth whirls, and all but to prosper
A poor little violet.

This child is not mine as the first was,
I cannot sing it to rest,

I cannot lift it up fatherly

And bless it upon my breast;
Yet it lies in my little one's cradle,

And sits in my little one's chair,
And the light of the heaven she's gone to
Transfigures its golden hair.

J. R. Lowell.

XXII.

GOODY HARALD.

GOODY HARALD and her sons lived at a small settlement about eight miles away from Bodö. They had a nice little farm and a well-stocked egg vär, which had been in the family for several generations, and would probably descend from

father to son for many yet to come. They were the sole inhabitants of the little island, and their boat was the only means of communication with the families around. Goody Harald and her boys never felt dull. In summer the land had to be sown with seed; then there was the harvesting of the grain, and perhaps one or more sheep to kill and salt. In winter there was wood to cut, and the cows to tend, and articles about the house, or farm implements to be mended, flax to spin, and wool to dye; but the great source of profit came from the down supplied by the eider ducks.1

We must now describe an egg vär. The eider ducks are strictly preserved by those who live in this district; they become remarkably tame, and even allow themselves to be fondled by their owners. Goody Harald knew every nest on the island; some of them were built among stones artificially prepared, some in ledges of the rock. These nests. are composed of seaweed and other plants, and the ducks line them with a fine elastic down, which the female plucks from her breast for the purpose.

Goody always passed from nest to nest collecting the down; sometimes her favourites looked beseechingly at her, but she only cooed at them and said, "Line your nests, pretty birds, once more." And again the mother ducks plucked off the down ; if their own breasts failed, they applied to their mates. Goody stole the down a second time, but never a third; and her ducks knew this, for if the nests be rifled 2 too often they fly away and seek another spot in which to build.

They lay large, pale green eggs; some of them Goody sold, and the rest were hatched. At the first appearance of cold weather, away the ducks flew south until the next summer, when they returned to build in the old places.

It was a brilliant morning when the fisherman, with his wife and children, went in their boat to visit Goody Harald. Elsie felt very happy as she took the seat of honour in the new purchase. Karl steered, while Hans and Gunilda sat on either side of their mother, and the fisherman managed the sail. Oh, how grand it was to leave the landingstage in their own craft before an admiring group. They sailed rapidly, for the wind was in their favour.

It took rather more than two hours before they reached their destination. A green plot of vegetation, on which a cow was feeding, and a red-tiled roof marked Goody Harald's home; and around it were patches of rye, potatoes, and barley.

"Here are visitors, Olaf," called Goody Harald to her eldest son; "who can they be in such a smart new boat? It must be Fisherman Niels and Elsie. Yes, I am right; I see Gunilda. How glad I am! Run and help to pull in the boat; I will call the boys."

Thus speaking, Goody Harald turned towards the house and shouted "Franz! Peder!"

In a few minutes two lads appeared, rather younger than Karl and Hans.

By the time that the boat was drawn in, Goody and her sons had reached the water's edge, and

were ready to exchange warm greetings with their visitors.

Gunilda received her share of attention, and was soon tripping about everywhere, and peering into all the corners.

Fisherman Niels and Olaf remained on the beach, conversing and admiring the boat, while the young ones went off to the nests. They climbed over the rocks, and visited all the eider ducks. As soon as they had exhausted the home novelties, they went off in Goody Harald's punt to the neighbouring islands, and gathered ferns and flowers which blossomed in shady, warm nooks in the midst of great glaciers and snow-topped mountains. The party dined at noon. First they had fishpudding, made of dried cod, pounded, and baked in the oven. There was boiled salmon, for Olaf had been fortunate on the previous day and landed a very large one; also some boiled eider eggs; and, to crown the feast, an omelette.

"We are going to stir up the puffins1 after dinner," said Gunilda to her father. "Franz and Peder have promised to try and catch one for me to take home."

"What next, Gunilda?" exclaimed her mother, laughing.

"How do you catch the puffins ?" asked Fisherman Niels, addressing Franz.

"Easily enough," replied the boy; "they keep fast hold of one another's tails, and can be quickly dragged out of their nests. I know one in a capital place for Gunilda to see."