Rensselaer Republican, Volume 23, Number 1, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 September 1890 — THE HAPPY BOY. [ARTICLE]

THE HAPPY BOY.

iT * u " r ““* “t BI BJQRHSTJERNK BJOKXSON. (Translated by H. R. 0.1 CHAPTER lll—Continued. For at least ten minutes he stood Still on the same spot, and it is doubt, ful when he would have moved, if, after his emotion, he had not been seized with such a shivering fit that he j&ook all over.* Then he went out; he acknowledged freely to himself that he too cowardly to go in; therefore, he now adopted another plan. From a wood-box which stood in the oorner he had just left, he took a pine knot, ■went up into the barn, shut the door after him, and Btruck a. light, When he had lighted the pine knot he held it up to the nail where Anders hung up his lantern, when he came early in the morning to thresh. Baard took out his gold watch and hung it on the nail, 4>ut out the light and left; and then he was so light of heart that he bounded over the tnowlike a young boy. The next day he heard that the barn had burned down that same night Probably sparks had fallen from the pine knot which lighted him while hanging up the watch. This overwhelmed him to such a degree that he sat that day like a sick man, took out his psalm book, and sung so that the people in the house thought he had gone crazy. But when evening came he went out; it was bright moonshine. He walked to his brother's farm, dug about where the fire had been, and found, sure enough, a. little melted lump of gold; that was the watch. It was with that in his hand he went in to his brother that evening, begged for peace, and was going to explain everything. But it has been before related how his business terminated. A little girl had seen him dig about the spot of the fire; some boys going to a dance had seen him, the Sunday evening before, walk down toward the barn; people in the house related how strange he appeared on Monday, and, as everybody knew that he and his brother'Werejbitter enemies, information jlvas given and an inquiry was made. No one could prove anything against him, but suspicion rested on him. Now, less than ever, could he make any approaches to his brother Anders had thought of Baard when the barn burned down, but had mentioned his suspicions to no one. And when he saw Baard enter his room the next evening, pale and distressed, he thought immediately, now he is seized with repentance, but for such an awful deed to his brother he shall never have forgiveness. Afterwards he heard how people had seen him go down to the barn the same evening it burned; and, although nothing came to light at the examination, he firmly believed that Baard was the guilty one. They met at the examination—Baard with his good clothes, Anders in his patched ones; Baard looked over to him, and his eyes entreated so that Anders felt it in the depth of his heart. He does not wish me to say anything, thought Anders, and when he was asked if he suspected his brother he answered loudly and distinctly, “No.” Anders took to hard drinking from that day, and soon began to show the effects of it. But it was still worse with Baard, although he did not drink; he was no longer to be known as the same man. Late one evening there came a poor woman into the 1 ttle room which Baard rented, and asked him to follow her out a minute. He knew her; it was his brother’s wife Baard understood directly what errand brought her, turned pale as a corpse dressed himself, and followed her without uttering a word. There shone a faint light from Anders’ window, it twinkled and disappeared; and they went in the direction of it, for there was no path across the snow. When Baard stood for the second time before 4s brother’s door, he noticed a pecu liai odor of sickness which made him feel ill. They went in. A little child was si ting overinthechimney-corner, eating coal, and was quite biaok in thi face, but looked up, and laughed with its white teeth; it was his brother’s child. But over in the bed, with all sorts of clothes thrown over him, lay Anders, emaciated, with smooth high forehead, and looking with hollow eyes at his brother. Baard’s knees shopk; he sat down at the foot of the bed and burst into violent sobs. The sick man looked jt him steadfastly and was silent A t length he bade his wife go out but Baard made a sign to her that she 6hsuld remain; and now two brothers Vegan tv talk together. They explained everything f.om the day whun they had bid for the watch, up lo the one when tnoy now met Baard concluded by taking out the lump of gold, which he always carried with him; and 1- was new made clear between ,the two brothers, that in all these years they had not felt happy a single day. Anders did not say much, for he was not strong enough; but Baard rev inainrd sitting by his bedside as long as Anders was I*l. • ‘Now, lam quite well, 1 ” said Anders, one morning when he awoke: “Now, brother, we shall live long together .and never leave each other just as in old times.” Bt> that day he died. Board took t*.» riff* end child borne jt Tlth liix., ac-d the* fared well from fit utne. What the brothers had kei of togvtoer, vprung out through Its ecu darkness, and was known to the peeplo of the district, and Bant'd becune the most respected man

among them. AU greeted as one who had knqwn great sorrow and found happiness again, or as one who had been absent a long time. ‘Baard’s firmness of character increased with the friendliness which surrounded him; he became a God-fearing man, and wished to find some occupation, he said, and SO the old corpora.! became schoolmaster. What he impressed on the children, first and last, was charity; and he himself practiced it, so that the children loved him at once as a playmate and as a father. Such was the story of the old schoolmaster. It made such an impression on Oeyvind’s mind, that it became the source both of religion and of wisdom for him. The schoolmaster had got to be an almost supernatural being for him, although he sat there so sociably and scolded away 60 gently. Not to know every lesson for him was impossible; and if he got a smile or a stroke on his head after he had recited it, he was warm and happy for the whole day.

It always made the deepest impression on the children, when the schoolmaster, before singing, made a little speech to them, and at least once a week, read aloud some little verses, which were about loving one’s neighbor. When he read the first of these verses, his voice trembled, although he had now read it twenty or thirty years. But when the whole hymn was said, and be had paused a moment, he looked at them and his eyes twinkled: • •Up! you young rascals, and go peaceably home, without making any noise; go quietly, that I may hear good reports of you, little folkB.” While they were making the worst possible confusion to find their books and dinner pails, he shouted above the noise,— “Come again to-morrow as soon as it is light, or I shall come and whip you; come again at the right time* girls and boys, ana wewill be industrious.” CHAPTER IV. Of Oeyvind's further progress there is little to relate, until a year before confirmation. He read in the morning, worked during the day and played in the evening. As he had an unusually lively disposition it was not long before the children of the neighborhood gladly resorted where he was to be found. In front of the farm a high hill ran down to the bay, with the cliff on one side and the wood on the other, as has been before described; and during the whole winter it was a coasting ground every pleasant evening and on Sundays for all the children of the district. Oeyvind wa9 leader on the hill, owned two sleds, “The Fast Troiter” and “The Slow Coach;” the latter he lent to larger parties, the former he steered himself, taking Marit in his lap. It was one Christmas, when the boy as well as the girl might be about sixteen or seventeen years old, and were both to be confirmed in the spring. The last day of the year there was to be a great party at the upper Heide farm, at Marit’s grandparents, by whom she had been brought up, and who had eon promising her this party for throe years; but It was not till the holidays of this year that it was brought about. There Oeyvind was invited. Itwas a half clear, mild evening; no stars were to be seen; the next day it could not help raining. A sleepy kind of wind blew over the snow, which was swept away here and there on the white Heide fields; in other spots it had drifted. Along the side of the road, where there lay but little snow, there was ice which stretched along blue-black between the bdow and the bare field, and peeped out in patches as far as one could see. Along the mountains there had been avalanches; in their track it was dark and bare, but on both sides bright and covered with snow, eveept where the birch trees were packed together in black masses. There was no water to bo seen, but half-naked marshes and morasses lay under the deeply fissured, melancholy looking mountain. The farms lay in thick clusters in the middle of tho plain; in the darkness of the winter evening, they looked like black lamps, from which light shot over the fields, now from one window, now from another; to judge by the lights, it seemed as if they were busy inside. Children, grown up and half grown up, were flocking together from all directions; the smaller number walked along the road; but they, too, left it when they came near the farms; and there stole along one under the shadow of the stable, a couple near the granary; some ran for a long time behind the barn, screaming like foxes, others answered far away like oats, one stood behind the wash house, and barxefl like a cross, old, crack-voiced dog, until there became a general hunt. The girls came along in great flocks, and had some boys, mostly little boys, with them, who gathrred around them along the road* to seem like young men. When such a swarm of girls arrived at the farm, and one or a couple of the grown up boys saw them, the girls separated, flew into the passages between the buildings, or down into the garden, and had to be dragged into the louse, one by one. Some were so bashful that Marit had to he sent for, and compel them to come in. Sometimes, there came one who had not originally been invited, and whose intention was not at all to go in, but only to look on, until it turned out that she would just take one little dance. Those whom Marit liked much, she invited into a little room where the old people themselves were, the old man sitting smoking and grandmamma walking about. There they got something to drink, and were kindly spoken to. Oeyvind was not among them, and that struck him as rather strange. The bestqddler of the district coaid

not come so- early, 60 until his arrival they had to get along with the old one, a workman, who went by the name of Gray Knut. He knew four dances, viz., two spring dances, a Hailing, and an old, so-called Napoleon waltz; but little by little he had been obliged to turn the Hailing into schottisch by altering the time, and a spring dance in the same manner had become polka mazourka. Now he struck up, and the dance began. Oeyvind did not dare to join in immediately, for too many grown up ones were there; but the halfgrown up ones soon banded togethre, pushed each other forward, drank a little strong ale* for encouragement, and then Oeyvind came forward with them. It grew hot in the room; the merriment and ale went to their heads. Marit was taken out on the floor more than tho others that evening, probably because the party was, at her grandparents’, and this caused Oeyvind also often to look over at her; but she was always dancing with others. He wished very much to dance with her himself, and so he sat through one dance so as to rush over to her ag soon as it was over; and this he did) out. a tall, darkcomplexioned fellow with thick hair threw himself in front of him.

•'■Back, youngster!” he shouted, pushing Ueyvlnd so that the latter nearly fell backwards over Marit. Nothing Hire this had ever happened to him before, never had any one been otherwise than kind to him, never had he been called “youngster” when he wished to join in; he blushed scarlet, but said nothing, and drew back to where the new fiddler*, who had just arrived, had sat down and was busy tuning up his fiddle. All was still among the flock; they were waiting to hear the first loud notes of “himself.” He tried and tuned; it lasted a long time, but finally he dashed in with a spring dance; the boys shouted and jumped, and couple after couple swung into the circle. Oeyvind looked at Marit as she danced with the thick? haired man; she laughed over the man’s shoulder, so that her white teeth glistened, and Oeyvind was conscious of a strange, sharp pain in his breast for the first time in his life. - He looked longer and longer at her, but in whatever way he looked it seemed to him as if Marit were quite grown up; it cannot be, he thought, for she still coasts down hill with us. But grown up she was, nevertheless; and the thick-haired man pulled her, after the dance was over, down on his lap; she glided off, still remaining, however, sitting by his side.

Oeyvind looked at the man; he wore a fine, blue cloth suit, blue checked Bhirt and silk cravat; his face was small, with sharp blue eyes, and laughing, scornful mouth. He was handseme. Oey vind looked more and more —looked at last at himself; he had got new trousers at Christmas, with which he was much pleased, but now he saw it was only gray frieze: his jacket was of the same material, but old and dark; bis vest of checked homespun was also old, and with two metal buttons and one black one. He looked around, and thought very few were so poorly dressed as he. Marit had on a black waist of fine stuff, a silver brooch in her neckerchief, and a folded * silk kerchief in her hand. She wore on the back of her head a llttie blaek silk cap, which was tied under the chin with broad, striped silk ribbon. She was red and white, laughed, the man talked with her and laughed, the music struck up and they were to dance again. A comrade came out and sat down by his side. “Why! don't you dance, Oey vind?” he asked, kindly. “Oh, no,” said Oey vind; “I don’t like it.” “Don’t look like it?" asked his comrade; but before he could continue, Oveyvind said— __ _ “Who is that one in the blue cloth suit, who is dano.ng with Marit?” • That is John Hatlen; the one who has been away at an agriculturaT school a long time, and is going to take the farm now.” At the same moment, Marit and John sat down. “Who is that boy with light hair, sitting over by the fiddler, glowering at me?" asked John. At that, Marit laughed, and said—- “ That is the laborer’s boy at Pladsen.” Oeyvind had indeed always known he was a laborer's boy: but before now he had never felt it. It seemed to him as though he were shrunk in body shorter than all the others; in order to hold his head up he had to try and think of all which had hitherto made him happy and proud, from the coast-ing-hill to eaoh encouraging word. When he also thought of his father and mother, who were now sitting at home, thinking that he Was happy, it seemed as if he could hardly keep from crying. All about him were laughing and joking, the fiddle scraped close up to his ear; there was a moment in which it seemed as if some-, thing black rose up before him; but then he remembered the school with all his comrades and the schoolmaster, who patted him, and the minister, who at the last examination had given him a book, and said he was a clever boy his father had himself sat by listening to him, and had smiled over to him. “Be good, now, Oeyvind," he thought the schoolmaster said, taking him on his lap as when he wa3 little. “Dear me! it is of so little account, all put together; and in fact all people are kind; it only appears as though they were not We' two will become clever, Oeyvind, as clever as John Hatlen; will get good clothes, and dance with Marit in a light room, a hundred people smile and talk together, church and ring together, bride and bridegroom, the minister and I in the ohoir who laugh over to you, and mother in the house, and large farm, twenty cows, three horses, and Marit good and land as at school.” *V i - The dance ceased; Oeyvind saw ' ' ....... , -•

Marit on the bench in front of hitr, and John by her side with his face close up to hers; he felt the sharp pain again in his breast, and it was as if |e said to himself, it is really true, I am suffering. At the sam e moment Marit rose, and came straight over to where he was sitting. She bent down over him and said—- “ You shall not sit and stare so jealously at me; you niight understand people notice it; take some one now and dance.” He did not answer, but looked .a her, and could not keep back the tears which filled his eyes. She had already risen to go, when she saw it and stopped; she became suddenly re as fire, turned round and wentto her place, but there she turned again and sat down on another seat. John followed her immediately. Oeyvind rose from the bench, went out among the people in the court, sat down in a little porch; and then, not knowing what he should do there, rose, but sat down again, for he might jußt as well sit there as in another place. He did not care about going home, nor did he care to go in again; it was quite the same to him. He was not capable of reflecting on any thing which had passed; he did not wish to think of it; nor would he think of the future, for there was nothing to which he looked forward. But what is it, then, I am thinking of? he asked himself half aloud; and when he heard his own voice, he thought, you can still speak, can you laugh P And he tried it; yes, he could laugh; and S 3 he laughed, loud, still louder; and then he thought it was too funny that he should sit there quite alone and laugh. But Hans, the comrade who had sat by h.s side, came out after him. ••For heaven’s sake, what a e you laughing at?” he asked, and stopped in front of the porch. At that Oeys vind was silent. Hands remained standing, as if he wore were waiting to see what would happen next; Oeyvind rose, lookel carefully around, and then said in a low voice: “No, I will tell you, Hans, why I have been so happy before; it is because I have not really cared for any one; but from the day we care for some one, we are no longer happy,” and he burst into tears. “Oeyvind!” was whispered out in the court, “Oeyvind!” was repeated again a little louder. It must be she, he thought, “Yes,” he answered, also whispering, wiped his eyes quickly, and came forward. A woman stole softly over the court-yard. “Are you there?” she asked. “Yes,” he answered, and stood still. • ‘Who is with you?” “It is Hans.” “But Hans would go? ,J “No, no,” begged Oeyvind.She came now close up to them, but slowly; and it was Marit. “You went away so soon,” she said to Oeyvind. He did not know what he should answer to this; thereupon, she also grew confused, and they were all three silent. But Hans stole away little by little. The two remained, not looking at each other, nor stirring. Then she said in a whisper: “I have gono the whole evening with some Christmas goodies in my pocket for you, Oeyvind; but I have not had any chance to give them’ to you before.” She pulled out a few apples, a slice of a cake from town, and a little half-pint bottle, which she thrust over toward him, and said he could keep. Oeyvind took them. “Thank you,” said he, and stretched out his hand; hers was warm; he dropped it immediately, as if he had burnt himself. “You have danced a good deal this evening?” ••Yes, I have,” she answered; “but you have not danced much,” she added. * . - “No, I have not.” . “Why not?” •Oh—” “Oeyvind.” “What?” “Why did you sit and look so at me?” “Oh, —Marit!” “Yes?” Why didn’t you like to have me look at you?” “There were so many people." “You danced a good deal with John Hatlen this evening.” “Oh, yes!” “He dances well." “Do you think so?" “Oh, yes! Ido not know how it is, but this evening I can not bear to have you dance with him, Marit.” He turned away; it cost him an effort to say it. “I do not understand you, Oeyvind.” “Nor do I understand it myself; it is bo stupid of me. Farewell. Marit; I am going now.” He took a step without looking round. Then. she called after him—“lt is a mistake what you thought you saw, Oeyvind." He stopped. “That you are already a grown-up girl is not a mistake.” He did not say what she had expected, and so she was Silent. But in the mean time she saw the light from a pipe directly in front of her; it was her grandfather, who had just turned the corner, and was passing by. He stopped—“So you are here, are you, Marit?” “Yes,” .. _ • ‘Whom are you talking to?” “Oeyvind.” ""’ ••Whom, do you say?” “Oeyvind Pladsen.” “Oh! the workman’s boy at Pladsen come and follow me in directly.” [to bb cojiTrauro] No Injunction Needed, In a Pennsylvania graveyard is this notice: “Keep out of this jrasd.” When the people of the neighborhood are doing all they can to do so without telling. ~