that he was so used to being out in all sorts of weather that he didn't mind the
cold. The other was well fed and well dressed, and looked like a prosperous and
self-complacent farmer.
"Stop now!," said the farmer, when they were opposite the island where the boy
lay. At the same time he plunged the spear into the water. When he drew it out
again a long, fine eel came with it.
"Look at that!" he said as he released the eel from the spear. "That wasn't a
bad catch, eh? Now we have so many that I think we can turn back."
His comrade did not lift the oars, but sat looking around. "It is lovely out
here on the lake to-night," said he. And so it was. The water was perfectly
calm, so that its entire surface lay in undisturbed rest, save the narrow strips
where the boat had gone forward. This lay like a path of gold, and glittered in
the firelight. The sky was a clear deep blue, and thickly studded with stars.
The shores were hidden by the reed islands, except toward the west, where Mount
Omberg loomed high and dark, cutting away a big, three-cornered piece of the
domelike sky.
The farmer turned his head to get the light out of his eyes, then looked about
him. "Yes, it is lovely here in Östergylln," said he. "Still the best thing
about the province is not its beauty." "Then what is it that's best?" asked the
oarsman. "That it has always been a respected and honoured province." "That may
be true enough." "And then this, that one knows it will always continue to be
so." "But how in the world can one know that?," said the one who sat at the
oars.
The farmer straightened up where he stood and braced himself with the spear.
"There is an old legend which has been handed down from father to son in my
family; and in it one learns what will happen to Östergötland." "Then you may as
well tell it to me," said the oarsman. "We do not tell it to any one and every
one, but I don't wish to keep it a secret from an old comrade.
"At Ulvåsa, here in Östergötland," he continued (and one could tell by the tone
of his voice that he talked of something which he had heard from others, and
knew by heart), "many, many years ago, there lived a lady who had the gift of
looking into the future, and telling people what was going to happen to them ­
just as certainly and accurately as though it had already occurred. For this she
became widely noted; and it is easy to understand why people from both far and
near came to her, to find out what they were to pass through of good or evil.
"One day, when Ulvåsa-lady sat in her hall and spun, as was the custom in former
days, a poor peasant came into the room and seated himself on the bench near the
door.
"'I wonder what you are sitting and thinking about, dear lady,' said the peasant
after a little.
"'I am sitting and thinking about high and holy things,' she answered. 'Then it
is not fitting, perhaps, that I ask you about something which weighs on my
heart,' said the peasant.
"'It is probably nothing else that weighs on your heart than that you may reap
much grain on your field. But I am accustomed to receive communications from the
Emperor, as to how it will go with his crown; and from the Pope, as to how it
will go with his keys.' 'Such things cannot be easy to answer,' said the
peasant. 'I have heard also that no one goes from here without being
dissatisfied with what he has heard.'
"When the peasant said that, he noticed that Ulvåsa-lady bit her lip, and moved
higher up on the bench. 'So this is what you have heard of me,' said she. 'Then
you may as well tempt fortune by asking me about the thing you wish to know; and
you shall see whether or not I can answer so that you will be satisfied.'
"After this the peasant did not hesitate to state his errand. He said that he
had come to ask how it would go with Östergötland in the future. There was
nothing which was so dear to him as his native province, and he felt that he
would be happy until his dying day if he could get a satisfactory reply to his
query.
"'Oh! if that is all you wish to know,' said the wise lady; 'then I think that
you will be content. For here, where I now sit, I can tell you that it will be
like this with Östergötland: it will always have something to boast of ahead of
other provinces.'
"'Yes, that was a good answer, dear lady' said the peasant, 'and I should be
entirely at peace if I only knew how such a thing could be possible.'
"'Why should it not be possible?' said Ulvåsa-lady. 'Don't you know that
Östergötland is already renowned? Or think you there is any place in Sweden that
can boast of owning, at the same time, two such cloisters as the ones in
Alvastra and Vreta, and such a beautiful cathedral as the one in Linköping?'
"'That may be so,' said the peasant. 'But I'm an old man, and I know that
people's minds are changeable. I fear that there will come a time when they
won't give us any glory, for either Alvastra or Vreta, or even for the
cathedral.'
"'Herein you may be right,' said Ulvåsa-lady, 'but you need not doubt prophecy
on that account. I shall now build up a new cloister on Vadstena, and this will
become the most celebrated in the North. Thither both the high and the lowly
shall make pilgrimages, and all shall sing the praises of the province because
it has so holy a place within its confines.'
"The peasant replied that he was right glad to know this. But he also knew, of
course, that everything was perishable; and he wondered much what would give
distinction to the province, if Vadstena Cloister should once fall into
disrepute.
"'You are not easy to satisfy,' said Ulvåsa-lady, 'but surely I can see far
enough ahead to tell you that before Vadstena Cloister shall have lost its
splendour there will be a castle erected close by, which will be the most
magnificent of its period. Kings and dukes will be guests there, and it shall be
accounted an honour to the whole province that it owns such an ornament.'
"'This I am also glad to hear,' said the peasant. 'But I'm an old man, and I
know how it generally turns out with this world's glories. And if the castle
goes to ruin, I wonder much what there will be that can attract the people's
attention to this province.'
"'It's not a little that you want to know,' said Ulvåsa-lady, 'but, certainly, I
can look far enough into the future to see that there will be life and movement
in the forests around Finspång. I see how cabins and smithies arise there, and I
believe that the whole province shall become renowned because iron will be
moulded within its confines.'
"The peasant didn't deny that he was delighted to hear this. 'But if it should
go so badly that even Finspång's foundry went down in importance, then it would
hardly be possible that any new thing could arise of which Östergötland might
boast.'
"'You are not easy to please,' said Ulvåsa-lady, 'but I can see so far into the
future that I mark how, along the lake shores, great manors, large as castles,
are built by gentlemen who have carried on wars in foreign lands. I believe that
the manors will bring the province just as much honour as anything else that I
have mentioned.'
"'But if there comes a time when no one lauds the great manors?' insisted the
peasant.
"'You need not be uneasy at all events,' said Ulvåsa-lady. 'I see how
health-springs bubble on Medevi meadows, by Vättern's shores. I believe that the
wells at Medevi will bring the land as much praise as you can desire.'
"'That is a mighty good thing to know,' said the peasant. 'But if there comes a
time when people will seek their health at other springs?'
"'You must not give yourself any anxiety on that account,' answered Ulvåsa-lady.
'I see how people dig and labour, from Motala to Mem. They dig a canal right
through the country, and Östergötland's praise is again on every one's lips.'
"But, nevertheless, the peasant looked distraught.
"'I see that the rapids in Motala stream begin to draw wheels,' said Ulvåsa-lady
­ and now two bright red spots came to her cheeks, for she began to be impatient
­ 'I hear hammers resound in Motala, and looms clatter in Norrköping.'
"'Yes, that's good to know,' said the peasant, 'but everything is perishable,
and I'm afraid that even this can be forgotten, and go into oblivion.'
"When the peasant was not satisfied even now, there was an end to the lady's
patience. 'You say that everything is perishable' said she, 'but now I shall
name something which will always be like itself; and that is that such arrogant
and pig-headed peasants as you will always be found in this province ­ until the
end of time.'
"Hardly had Ulvåsa-lady finished speaking before the peasant rose ­ happy and
satisfied ­ and thanked her for a good answer. Now, at last, he was satisfied,
he said.
"Then said Ulvåsa-lady: 'Verily, I understand now how you look at it.'
" 'Well, I look at it in this way, dear lady,' spoke the peasant, 'that
everything which kings and priests and noblemen and merchants build and
accomplish, can only endure only for a few years. But when you tell me that in
Östergötland there will always be peasants who are honour-loving and
persevering, then I know also that it will be able to preserve its ancient
glory. For it is only those who go bent under the eternal labour with the soil,
who can hold this land in good repute and honour ­ from one time to another.'"
[Next]
Chapter XXI.
"Chapter XXI." by Selma Lagerlöf (1858-1940), translated by Velma Swanston
Howard.
From: The Wonderful Adventures of Nils. by Selma Lagerlöf. New York: Doubleday,
Page & Company, 1922, pp. 257-261.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THE HOMESPUN CLOTH
Saturday, April twenty-third.
THE boy rode forward ­ away up in the air. He had the great Östergötland plain
under him, and he sat and counted the many white churches which towered above
the small leafy groves around them. It wasn't long until he had counted fifty.
After that he became confused and lost track of the counting.
Nearly all the farms were built up with large, white-painted two-story houses,
which looked so imposing that the boy couldn't help admiring them. "There can't
be any peasants in this land," he said to himself, "since I do not see any
farms."
Immediately all the wild geese shrieked: "Here the peasants live like gentlemen!
Here the peasants live like gentlemen!"
On the plains the ice and snow had disappeared and the spring work had been
started. "What kind of long crabs are those crawling over the fields?" asked the
boy. "Ploughs and oxen. Ploughs and oxen," answered the wild geese.
The oxen moved so slowly down on the fields, that one could scarcely perceive
they were in motion, and the geese shouted to them: "You won't get there before
next year! You won't get there before next year!" But the oxen were equal to the
occasion. They raised their muzzles in the air and bellowed: "We do more good in
an hour than such as you do in a whole lifetime.
In a few places the ploughs were drawn by horses. They went along with much more
eagerness and haste than the oxen; but the geese couldn't keep from teasing
these either. "Aren't you ashamed to be doing ox-duty?" they cried. "Aren't you
ashamed yourselves to be doing lazy man's duty?" the horses neighed back at
them.
But while horses and oxen were at work in the fields, the stable ram walked
about in the barnyard. He was newly clipped and irritable; he knocked over the
small boys, chased the shepherd dog into his kennel, and then strutted about as
though he alone were lord of the whole place. "Rammie, Rammie, what have you
done with your wool?" asked the wild geese, who rode by up in the air. "That I
have sent to Drag's woollen mills in Norrköping," replied the ram with a long,
drawnout bleat. "Rammie, Rammie, what have you done with your horns?" asked the
geese. But any horns the rammie had never possessed, to his sorrow, and one
couldn't offer him a greater insult than to ask after them. He ran around a long
time, and butted at the air, so furious was he.
Along the country road came a man driving a herd of Skåne pigs that were not
more than a few weeks old, and were to be sold up country. They trotted along
bravely, little as they were, and kept close together ­ as if seeking
protection. "Nuff, nuff, nuff, we came away too soon from father and mother.
Nuff, nuff, nuff, what is to become of us poor children?" squealed the little
pigs. The wild geese didn't have the heart to tease such poor little creatures.
"It will be better for you than you can ever believe," they cried encouragingly,
as they flew past them.
"DOWN IN THE ROAD STOOD OSA, THE GOOSE-GIRL, AND HER BROTHER, LITTLE MATS,
LOOKING AT A TINY WOODEN SHOE"
The wild geese were never so merry as when flying over a flat country. Then they
