4 WITH CARL OF THE HILL 



contrived to keep the potatoes from the frost and to 

 hold the store of aspen branches which serve as winter 

 feed for a few black sheep. 



Carl's family consists of his wife and seven boys — 

 the youngest but a baby, the eldest a lad of about 

 nineteen. Physically Carl is the perfection of a type 

 not uncommon among the forest Swedes. Tall, 

 broad-shouldered, and deep-chested — lean in the flank 

 but perfectly proportioned — his athletic frame betrays 

 in every shift of poise and movement a daily training 

 to deeds of activity in the open air. His also are the 

 light blue eyes of his fathers, the old Norse. One is 

 struck at once by a remarkable difference between his 

 moustache and hair — the first tawny, the second silvery 

 white. It is not a handsome face, but a fine face — 

 quiet and strong. 



Carl never laughs, though this you find out but 

 slowly because of a certain sunniness that clothes the 

 man. It rings in his voice, it is echoed in his footstep, 

 it plays about his keen blue eyes. Better than this, his 

 eyes shine with lovelight (a beautiful old word) — the 

 light of an exceeding kindness for all fellow-things, 

 strongest perhaps towards childhood and old age, 

 towards everything that is weaker and more helpless 

 than himself. And now and then, looking at Carl, 



