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sea； and between the two is placed the broad high…road。 One carriage
after another rolls over it； but I did not follow them； for my eye
loves best to rest upon one point。 A Hun's Grave lies there； and the
sloe and blackthorn grow luxuriantly among the stones。 Here is true
poetry in nature。
〃And how do you think men appreciate this poetry？ I will tell
you what I heard there last evening and during the night。
〃First； two rich landed proprietors came driving by。 'Those are
glorious trees！' said the first。 'Certainly； there are ten loads of
firewood in each；' observed the other： 'it will be a hard winter；
and last year we got fourteen dollars a load'… and they were gone。
'The road here is wretched；' observed another man who drove past。
'That's the fault of those horrible trees；' replied his neighbour；
'there is no free current of air； the wind can only come from the
sea'… and they were gone。 The stage coach went rattling past。 All
the passengers were asleep at this beautiful spot。 The postillion blew
his horn； but he only thought； 'I can play capitally。 It sounds well
here。 I wonder if those in there like it？'… and the stage coach
vanished。 Then two young fellows came gallopping up on horseback。
There's youth and spirit in the blood here！ thought I； and； indeed；
they looked with a smile at the moss…grown hill and thick forest。 'I
should not dislike a walk here with the miller's Christine；' said one…
and they flew past。
〃The flowers scented the air； every breath of air was hushed； it
seemed as if the sea were a part of the sky that stretched above the
deep valley。 A carriage rolled by。 Six people were sitting in it。 Four
of them were asleep； the fifth was thinking of his new summer coat；
which would suit him admirably； the sixth turned to the coachman and
asked him if there were anything remarkable connected with yonder heap of stones。 'No；' replied the coachman； 'it's only a heap of stones； but the trees are remarkable。' 'How so？' 'Why I'll tell you how they are very remarkable。 You see； in winter； when the snow lies very deep； and has hidden the whole road so that nothing is to be seen； those trees serve me for a landmark。 I steer by them； so as not to drive into the sea； and you see that is why the trees are remarkable。'
〃Now came a painter。 He spoke not a word； but his eyes sparkled。
He began to whistle。 At this the nightingales sang louder than ever。
'Hold your tongues！' he cried testily； and he made accurate notes of
all the colours and transitions… blue； and lilac； and dark brown。
'That will make a beautiful picture；' he said。 He took it in just as a
mirror takes in a view； and as he worked he whistled a march of
Rossini。 And last of all came a poor girl。 She laid aside the burden
she carried； and sat down to rest upon the Hun's Grave。 Her pale
handsome face was bent in a listening attitude towards the forest。 Her
eyes brightened； she gazed earnestly at the sea and the sky； her hands
were folded； and I think she prayed； 'Our Father。' She herself could
not understand the feeling that swept through her； but I know that
this minute； and the beautiful natural scene； will live within her
memory for years； far more vividly and more truly than the painter
could portray it with his colours on paper。 My rays followed her
till the morning dawn kissed her brow。〃
EIGHTH EVENING
Heavy clouds obscured the sky； and the Moon did not make his
appearance at all。 I stood in my little room； more lonely than ever；
and looked up at the sky where he ought to have shown himself。 My
thoughts flew far away； up to my great friend； who every evening
told me such pretty tales； and showed me pictures。 Yes； he has had
an experience indeed。 He glided over the waters of the Deluge； and
smiled on Noah's ark just as he lately glanced down upon me； and
brought comfort and promise of a new world that was to spring forth
from the old。 When the Children of Israel sat weeping by the waters of Babylon； he glanced mournfully upon the willows where hung the
silent harps。 When Romeo climbed the balcony； and the promise of
true love fluttered like a cherub toward heaven； the round Moon
hung； half hidden among the dark cypresses； in the lucid air。 He saw
the captive giant at St。 Helena； looking from the lonely rock across
the wide ocean； while great thoughts swept through his soul。 Ah！
what tales the Moon can tell。 Human life is like a story to him。
To…night I shall not see thee again； old friend。 Tonight I can draw no
picture of the memories of thy visit。 And； as I looked dreamily
towards the clouds； the sky became bright。 There was a glancing light； and a beam from the Moon fell upon me。 It vanished again； and dark clouds flew past： but still it was a greeting； a friendly good…night
offered to me by the Moon。
NINTH EVENING
The air was clear again。 Several evenings had passed； and the Moon
was in the first quarter。 Again he gave me an outline for a sketch。
Listen to what he told me。
〃I have followed the polar bird and the swimming whale to the
eastern coast of Greenland。 Gaunt ice…covered rocks and dark clouds
hung over a valley； where dwarf willows and barberry bushes stood
clothed in green。 The blooming lychnis exhaled sweet odours。 My
light was faint； my face pale as the water lily that； torn from its
stem； has been drifting for weeks with the tide。 The crown…shaped
Northern Light burned fiercely in the sky。 Its ring was broad； and
from its circumference the rays shot like whirling shafts of fire
across the whole sky； flashing in changing radiance from green to red。
The inhabitants of that icy region were assembling for dance and
festivity； but； accustomed to this glorious spectacle； they scarcely
deigned to glance at it。 'Let us leave the soul of the dead to their
ball…play with the heads of the walruses；' they thought in their
superstition； and they turned their whole attention to the song and
dance。 In the midst of the circle； and divested of his furry cloak；
stood a Greenlander； with a small pipe； and he played and sang a
song about catching the seal； and the chorus around chimed in with；
'Eia； Eia； Ah。' And in their white furs they danced about in the
circle； till you might fancy it was a polar bear's ball。
〃And now a Court of Judgment was opened。 Those Greenlanders who had quarrelled stepped forward； and the offended person chanted forth the faults of his adversary in an extempore song； turning them sharply into ridicule； to the sound of the pipe and the measure of the dance。 The defendant replied with satire as keen； while the audience laughed； and gave their verdict。 The rocks heaved； the glaciers melted； and great masses of ice and snow came crashing down； shivering to fragments as they fall； it was a glorious Greenland summer night。 A hundred paces away； under the open tent of hides； lay a sick man。 Life still flowed through his warm blood； but still he was to die… he himself felt it； and all who stood round him knew it also； therefore his wife was already sewing round him the shroud of furs； that she might not afterwards be obliged to touch the dead body。 And she asked；
'Wilt thou be buried on the rock； in the firm snow？ I will deck the
spot with thy kaya