246 LETTERS FROM HIGH LATITUDES. [XIII. 



xv. 

 Heavy seems their boat returning, 



Weighted with a world of care ! 

 Oh, ye blind ones — none discerning 



What the spectral freight ye bear. 

 Glad they hear the sea-beach grating 



Harsh beneath the small boat's stem- 

 Forth they leap, for no man waiting — 



But the Black Death lands with them. 



XVI. 



Viewless — soundless — stalks the spectre 



Thro' the city chill and pale, 

 Which like bride, this morn, had decked her 



For the advent of that sail. 

 Oft by Bergen women, mourning, 



Shall the dismal tale be told, 

 Of that lost ship home returning, 



With " The Black Death " in her hold ! 



I would gladly dwell on the pleasures of my second visit 

 to Christiansund, which has a charm of its own, independent 

 of its interest as the spot from whence we really " start for 

 home." But though strange lands, and unknown or indiffe- 

 rent people, are legitimate subjects for travellers' tales, our 

 friends and their pleasant homes are not ; so I shall keep all 

 I have to say of gratitude to our excellent and hospitable 

 Consul, Mr. Morch, and of admiration for his charming wife,' 

 until I can tell you viva voce how much I wish that you 

 also knew them. 



And now, though fairly off from Norway, and on our 

 homeward way, it was a tedious business — what with fogs, 

 calms, and headwinds — working towards Copenhagen. We 

 rounded the Scaw in a thick mist, saw the remains of four 

 ships that had run aground upon it, and were nearly run into 

 ourselves by a clumsy merchantman, whom we had the re- 

 lief of being able to abuse in our native vernacular, and the 

 most racy sea-slang. 



Those five last days were certainly the only tedious period 

 of the whole cruise. I suppose there is something magnetic 



