Jutland - And the Journey Become

The journey soon became more extended, and the country less wild.
After passing Nörre-Vosborg, where the elder tree was in bloom, he had
the pleasure of travelling in a sort of carriage, for they met some of
the other guests who were going to the funeral feast, as it might be
called, and were invited into their conveyance. To be sure they had
all three to stuff themselves into a very narrow back seat, but that
was better, they thought, than walking. They drove over the uneven
heaths; the bullocks which drew their cart stopped whenever they came
to a little patch of green grass among the heather. The sun was
shining warmly, and it was wonderful to see, far in the distance, a
smoke that undulated, yet was clearer than the air—one could see
through it: it was as if rays of light were rolling and dancing over
the heath.

"It is the Lokéman, who is driving his sheep," was told Jörgen, and
that was enough for him. He fancied he was driving into the land of
marvellous adventures and fairy tales; yet he was only amidst
realities. How still it was there!

Far before them stretched the heath, but it looked like a beautifully
variegated carpet; the ling was in flower, the Cyprus-green juniper
bushes and the fresh oak shoots seemed like bouquets among the
heather. But for the many poisonous vipers, how delightful it would
have been to roll about there! The party spoke of them, and of the
numerous wolves that had abounded in that neighbourhood, on account of
which the district was called Ulvborg-Herred. The old man who was
driving related how, in his father's time, the horses had often to

fight a hard battle with these now[17] extirpated wild animals; and that
one morning, on coming out, he found one of his horses treading upon a
wolf he had killed; but the flesh was entirely stripped from the
horse's legs.