th whom he came in contact. His answers were
always thoughtful, and betrayed a good mind.

He was not a prig, by any means, who held aloof from sport and play; he
could laugh with the merriest, run a race with the swiftest, and try a
wrestling match with the strongest.

There was no one among the candidates for confirmation, that year, who
was so well liked as Nils. Gentle as he was and soft-spoken, there was a
manly spirit in him, and that always commands respect among boys.

He received much praise from the pastor, and no one envied him the kind
words that were addressed to him; for every one felt that they were
deserved. But the thought in Nils's mind during all the ceremony in the
church and in the parsonage was this:

"Now, perhaps, I shall be good enough to win the Nixy's favor. Now I
shall catch the wondrous strain."

It did not occur to him, in his eagerness, that such a reflection was
out of place in church; nor was it, perhaps, for the Nixy's strain was
constantly associated in his mind with all that was best in him; with
his highest aspirations, and his constant strivings for goodness and
nobleness in thought and deed.

It happened about this time that the old schoolmaster died, and in his
will it was found that he had bequeathed his fiddle to Nils. He had very
little else to leave, poor fellow; but if he had been a Croesus he could
not have given his favorite pupil anything that would have delighted him
more.

Nils played now early and late, except when he was in the woods with his
father. His fame went abroad through all the valley as the best fiddler
in seven parishes round, and people often came from afar to hear
him. There was a peculiar quality in his playing--something strangely
appealing, that brought the tears to one's eyes--yet so elusive that it
was impossible to repeat or describe it.

It was rumored among the villagers that he had caught the Nixy's
strain, and that it was that which touched the heart so deeply in his
improvisations. But Nils knew well that he had not caught the Nixy's
strain; though a faint echo--a haunting undertone--of that vaguely
remembered snatch of melody, heard now and then in the water's roar,
would steal at times into his music, when he was, perhaps, himself least
aware of it.

Invitations now came to him from far and wide to play at wedding and
dancing parties and funerals. There was no feast complete without Nils;
and soon this strange thing was noticed, tha