emselves. Yes, now he sang:

In winter's arms doth summer sleep
By winter covered calm she lay,
"Still!" he cried to the river's play,
To farm, and field and mountain steep.
Silence reigns o'er hill and dale,
No sound at home save ringing flail.

All that summer loved to see
Till she returns sleeps safely on.
In needed rest, the summer gone,
Sleep water, meadow-grass and tree,
Hid like the kernel in the nut
The earth lies crumbling round each root.

All the ills which summer knew,
Pest and blight for life and fruit
Winter's hosts have put to rout.
In peace she shall awake again
Purified by winds and snows,
Peace shall greet her as she goes.

A lovely dream has winter strown
On the sleeping mountain height;
Star high, pale in northern light,
From sight to sight it bears her on
Through the long, long hours of night,
Till she wakes shall be her flight.

He who we say brings naught but pain
Lives but for that he ne'er shall see.
He who is called a murderer, he
Preserves each year our land again,
Then hides himself by crag and hill
Till evening's breeze again blows chill.

All the little sleigh-bells accompanied the song, like the twitter of
sparrows. His voice echoed through the trees, the religious service of
a human soul in the white halls.

One day, felt Ella, paid for a thousand. One day may do what the
winter song relates. It may rock a weary summer, destroy its germs of
ill, renew the earth, make the nerves strong, and the darkest time
bright. In it are collected all our long dreams. What might she not
have become, poor little thing that she was, if she had had many such
days? What would she not then have become, for her children.

They now drew near to a long building with two wings; the whole built
of wood. In the courtyard a number of sledges were standing. There
were a great many people here then! A stableman took their horses; the
waiter who was to attend to them, a German, was quickly at hand, and a
bareheaded jovial man joined them as well--it was Peter Klausson. He
seemed to have been expecting them, and wished to relieve Ella of her
wraps, but he smelt of cognac or something of the sort, and to get rid
of him she inquired for the room in which they were to lunch. They
were shown into a warm cosy apartment where the table was laid. Aaroe
helped her off with her things.

"I could not endure