themselves along the ground, as if fearing
storms and the sea-mist. Here, like a nomadic people, but without
flocks, do the so-called Tartar bands wander up and down, with their
peculiar language and peculiar ceremonies. Suddenly there shows itself
in the interior of the heathy wilderness a colony--another, a strange
people, German emigrants, who through industry compel the meagre country
to fruitfulness.

From Veile, Otto wished to take the road through Viborg, as the most
direct and the shortest to his grandfather's estate, which lay between
Nisumfjord and Lemvig.

The first heath-bushes accosted him as dear friends of his childhood.
The beautiful beech-woods lay behind him, the expanse of heath began;
but the heath was dear to him: it was this landscape which formed the
basis of many dear recollections.

The country became ever higher with brown heights, beyond which nothing
was visible; houses and farms became more rare, the cherry orchards
transformed themselves into cabbage-gardens. Only single spots were free
from heather, and here grew grass, but short, and like moss or duckweed
which grows upon ponds: here birds congregated by hundreds, and
fluttered twittering into the air as the carriage drove past.

"You know where to find the green spot in the heath, and how to become
happy through it," sighed Otto. "Could I only follow your example!"

At a greater distance rose bare hills, without ling or ploughed land;
the prickly heath looked brown and yellow on the sharp declivities. A
little boy and girl herded sheep by the way-side; the boy played the
Pandean pipe, the little girl sang a psalm,--it was the best song which
she knew how to sing to the traveller, in order to win a little present
from him.

The day was warm and beautiful, but the evening brought the cold mist
from the sea, which, however, in the interior of the country loses
something of its power.

"That is a kiss of welcome from my home," said Otto; "the death-kiss of
the mermaid! In Funen they call it the elf maiden."

Within the last few years a number of children have been sent from the
Orphan Asylum to the heath, in order that, instead of Copenhagen
rogues, they may become honest Jutland peasants. Otto had a boy of this
description for his coachman. The lad was very contented, and yet Otto
became low-spirited from his relation. Recollections from his own life
stirred within his breast. "Return thanks to God," said he, and gave the
lad a c