FEBRUARY 1, 1914 



117 



the military high school some years and make a 

 lieutenant of him. He was as poor as a church 

 mouse, and would have been ever so happy to accept 

 this grand offer ; but he was engaged to my sweet 

 mother ; and because he was the man he was, he saw 

 a chance to marry pretty soon, and said " no," much 

 to his regret afterward, when we children came. 

 Well, one of these lieutenants had confided to him a 

 most exceedingly important key. What should hap- 

 pen ? My father attended a party and got intoxicat- 

 ed ; and, going home in the pitch-dark night, heard 

 the key falling down somewhere as he pulled out his 

 pocket-handkerchief. He lay down in the greatest 

 anxiety, groping for the key, when a man came that 

 way — the very lieutenant who had given him the 

 key, and would have paid for him for years. He 

 lighted a match and helped father, who felt nearly 

 sober from fear and despair. Of course, father ex- 

 pected to be scolded and arrested, and was miserable 

 for days. But the lieutenant (God bless him for his 

 heart and deep understanding of his fellow-man) 

 gave him back the key and never uttered one word 

 of anger or reproach. My father then swore a holy 

 oath. " It was and is to be the first and last time in 

 my life," and he kept his word till he died, 72 years 

 old, as an " over custom-house officer," as we call it, 

 in the king's service. This tale and his long life of 

 sacrifice for his children (we were eight — i. e., seven 

 sisters and a boy) made such an impression on me, 

 his only boy, that already, 14 years old, it was as 

 clear as day on my mind that I could not live 

 through the day when my father should be compelled 

 to lower his eyes before the world for the sake of 

 his boy. And as my father kept his promise holy, 

 I have kept mine. And now my three boys have 

 stood out brave after us two, although they have 

 been tempted enough. I have not been able to give 

 them pocket money worth speaking of. Well, at a 

 party some young fellows, some 20 and 22 years old, 

 laid 12 English shillings on the table to my boy if 

 he would drink a glass of pure whisky. He did not 

 touch it. 



Bees are doing well this year. In my district we 

 have the weather to rely on. Once I put my hives 

 on the scales every day a week. My best colony once 

 carried in 8 pounds. 



My parents allowed me to keep hens, as I was 

 but seven years old, and I have gone on with them 

 since then. I thank my prudent parents in their 

 graves ; for, thanks to this intense love of animals, 

 which sprang up then (I have or have had hens, 

 geese, turkeys, ducks, canaries (hatched them), 

 sheep, goats, doves, rabbits, peacocks, swine, and 

 even once for some weeks a horse). I have been 

 sticking to my home and poultry-yard and garden 

 every leisure hour of my life. You should see me and 

 my boys mining, shooting, and building terraces in 

 the rocks every spare hour, and digging and manur- 

 ing the garden. Well, the trees are yet small, but 

 yet every inch of the floor of a middle-sized room is 

 to-day, Sept. 22, covered with apples, and the pears 

 are yet on the trees. There are joys and blessings 

 in the footsteps of work. 



I believe mostly in hens and geese, and wish I 

 could afford to buy a reliable incubator that would 

 hatch these two sorts of eggs ; but I can not nor 

 dare buy one for fear it might be a failure. I once 

 made bold to buy a machine for grinding or cutting 

 bones for my poultry ; but it was quite an impossible 

 thing, and I had to throw it away as rubbish. In- 

 cubating under hens is all right, but it can not come 

 to much, which is a pity for a man without neigh- 

 bors, and with a place where chickens of all sorts 

 may roam about as much as ever they like. There 

 is a rivulet going through to a little pond in my 

 garden. 



If I get a photo of " Min lill vea imellanbergan " 

 (my little nook among the rooks), as it runs in a 

 most beautiful Swedish song, I shall have pleasure 



in sending you one. Perhaps you will shudder to 

 see people building their houses like birds' nests 

 among the precipitous rocks; but we live happily 

 there, I assure you, and our animals with us; and 

 such beautiful views, your heart would leap with 

 joy 1o see them, and you would fold your hands in 

 prayers and thanks to the great Lord who made this 

 grand earth. You should see the lovely farm my boy 

 has bought, and will now try to hold good with his 

 two empty hands. A workman in Norway lives more 

 beautifully than a prince in foreign countries as re- 

 gards the view. I am now trying to get him some 

 calves and one cow, for he has ever so much hay, 

 poor boy, and not a single cow. Now you are tired 

 of me long ago ; but you see you talk to me in every 

 Gleanings, and I never speak to you. My motto 

 has been all through life, " All or nothing," a whole 

 man in every thing, or, as a Norwegian saying 

 runs, " Not det skal vere Jul, skal det vere Jul," i. e., 

 when it is to be Christmas, then it is to be Christ- 

 mas — i. e., nothing by halves. I shall wait ever so 

 long, perhaps, before I write to you again ; but if 

 I do write, I will send you only two lines. If you 

 send the seed I shall have to thank you in my own 

 name and that of my noble boy who is fighting his 

 battle like a man. It is hard at times; but upon the 

 whole I know for certain, for I have seen much of 

 the world — one year at Oxford, on year at Paris, 

 and two years and a half as a teacher in a German 

 grammar school near Dresden, Saxony, living in 

 such a poor country. If my boy could get 2000 

 shillings he could buy a magnificent island covered 

 with plenty of wood and with excellent pasture, only 

 15 minutes from his home — an island whiA it took 

 me fully an hour to row around in a boat this sum- 

 mer ; so you see land may be cheap in Norway, and 

 a man may have his chances even here; but what 

 is the use of it when money is so scarce 1 



Harold Hovind, M. A., 



of the University of Christiania, Head Master 



of the High School of Tvedestrand. 



Tvedestrand, Norway, Sept. 15. 



Our readers will notice that we print the 

 above letter substantially as it came. Our 

 good friend's phraseology, coupled with his 

 many kind words, makes it seem almost as 

 if we were visiting in and around his north- 

 ern home. If I were not so well along in 

 years I should be tempted to take a trip to 

 Norway. It seems he was a friend and 

 acquaintance of the late Ivar S. Young, the 

 big Norwegian who paid us such a friendly 

 visit many years ago. 



My good friend, I can not understand 

 why your bone-cutter was a failure unless 

 it is because it is too hard work to grind 

 bones. 



I would not advise you to undertake to 

 hatch hen eggs and goose eggs at the same 

 time together. Although it has been done, 

 there are several reasons why it does not 

 pay. The manufacturers of our best incu- 

 bators do not recommend it. 



If I am correct, your locality is one of 

 the best spots on earth to see real high- 

 pressure gardening. May God speed you, 

 not only in agriculture, but in temperance, 

 righteousness, and in spreading the gospel 



