s in the far North, and serve me up lots of strange,
sailor's yarns, which I had heard a hundred times, but never could hear
too often. Ah! who will give me that happiness back again? No, no!
never more on land!--never more at sea! What should I do among my
shipmates? They would only laugh at me. Where should I find any heart
for my work? It would be nothing but an objectless striving.'

"It gives me real satisfaction to listen to you, youngster,' said the
old miner. 'I have been observing you, without your knowledge, for the
last hour or two, and have had my own enjoyment in so doing. All that
you have said and done has shown me that you possess a profoundly
thoughtful mind, and a character and nature pious, simple, and sincere.
Heaven could have given you no more precious gifts; but you were never
in all your born days in the least cut out for a sailor. How should the
wild, unsettled sailor's life suit a meditative, melancholy Neriker
like you?--for I can see that you come from Nerica by your features,
and whole appearance. You are right to say good-bye to that life for
ever. But you're not going to walk about idle, with your hands in your
pockets? Take my advice, Elis Froebom. Go to Falun, and be a miner. You
are young and strong. You'll soon be a first-class pick-hand; then a
hewer; presently a surveyor, and so get higher and higher. You have a
lot of ducats in your pocket. Take care of them; invest them; add more
to them. Very likely you'll soon get a "Hemmans" of your own, and then
a share in the works. Take my advice, Elis Froebom; be a miner.'

"The old man's words caused him a sort of fear.

"'What?' he cried. 'Would you have me leave the bright, sunny sky that
revives and refreshes me, and go down into that dreadful, hell-like
abyss, and dig and tunnel like a mole for metals and ores, merely to
gain a few wretched ducats? Oh, never!'

"'The usual thing,' said the old man. 'People despise what they have
had no chance of knowing anything about! As if all the constant
wearing, petty anxieties inseparable from business up here on the
surface, were nobler than the miner's work. To his skill, knowledge,
and untiring industry Nature lays bare her most secret treasures. You
speak of gain with contempt, Elis Froebom. Well, there's something
infinitely higher in question here, perhaps: the mole tunnels the
ground from blind instinct; but, it may be, in the deepest depths, by
the pale glimmer of the mine candle, men's