gloomy wood. But now the thought of relating her adventures at home
attracted her, and before she got out of the wood these adventures were
increased, since fate presented her with the good fortune of assisting,
with the help of her companion, an old woman, who had fallen with her
bundle of sticks, upon her legs again, and of carrying the said bundle
to her cottage, and of lighting her fire for her; with releasing two
sparrows which a boy had made captive; and, last of all, with releasing
the Assessor himself from a thorn-bush, which, as it appeared, would
have held him with such force as vexed even himself. Petrea's hands bled
in consequence of this operation, but that only made her the livelier.

When they came out of the wood, the rain had ceased altogether, the wind
had abated, and the setting sun illumined the heavens, and diffused over
the landscape a peculiar and beautiful radiance. The countenance of
Jeremias Munter was cheerful; he listened to the ascending song of the
lark, and said, "That is beautiful!" He looked upon the rain-drops which
hung on the young grass, and saw how heaven reflected itself in them,
and smiled, and said, "That is pure indeed!" Petrea gave to little
children that she met with all her savings from the feast at Axelholm,
and would willingly also have given them some of her clothes, had she
not had the fear of Louise and her mother before her eyes. She wished in
her bravery for more adventures, and more particularly for a longer way
than it at this time appeared to be; she thought she arrived at home too
soon; but the Assessor thought not, neither did the rest of the party,
who were beginning to be very uneasy on account of their long absence.
In the mean time Petrea and her companion had become very good friends
on the walk; Petrea was complimented for her courage, and Henrik
pathetically declaimed in her praise--

Not every one such height as Xenophon can gain,
As scholar and as hero, a laurel-wreath obtain;

and they laughed.

FOOTNOTES:

[12] half-dramatic poem, remarkable for its wit and humour, from the pen
of the Swedish poet Fahlcrantz.

CHAPTER X.

FIRESIDE SCENES.

"From home may be good, but at home is best!" said Elise from the bottom
of her heart, as she was once more in her own house, and beside her own
husband.

The young people said nothing in opposition to this sentiment as they
returned to their comfortable every-day life, which they now enlive