Jutland - Solitary Sand HIlls.

"I will come again," said he to himself. The Spanish coast, his
parents' native land, the very town where they had lived in grandeur
and happiness, he saw; but he knew nothing of kindred and a paternal
home, and his family knew as little of him.

The dirty ship-boy was not allowed to land for a long time, but the
last day the ship lay there he was sent on shore to bring off some
purchases that had been made.

There stood Jörgen in wretched clothes, that looked as if they had
been washed in a ditch and dried in the chimney: it was the first time
that he, a denizen of the solitary sand-hills, had seen a large town.
How high the houses were, how narrow the streets, swarming with human
beings; some hurrying this way, others going that way—it was like a
whirlpool of townspeople, peasants, monks, and soldiers. There were a
rushing along, a screaming, a jingling of the bells on the asses and
the mules, and the church bells ringing too. There were to be heard
singing and babbling, hammering and banging; for every trade had its
workshop either in the doorway or on the pavement. The sun was burning
hot, the air was heavy: it was as if one had entered a baker's oven
full of beetles, lady-birds, bees, and flies, that hummed and buzzed.
Jörgen scarcely knew, as the saying is, whether he was on his head or
his heels. Then he beheld, at a little distance, the immense portals
of the cathedral; light streamed forth from the arches that were so
dim and gloomy above; and there came a strong scent from the incense.
Even the poorest, most tattered beggars ascended the wide stairs to
the church, and the sailor who was with Jörgen[20] showed him the way in.
Jörgen stood in a sacred place; splendidly-painted pictures hung round
in richly-gilded frames; the holy Virgin, with the infant Jesus in her
arms, was on the altar amidst flowers and light; priests in their
magnificent robes were chanting; and beautiful, handsomely-dressed
choristers swung backwards and forwards silver censers. There was in
everything a splendour, a charm, that penetrated to Jörgen's very
soul, and overwhelmed him. The church and the faith of his parents and
his ancestors surrounded him, and touched a chord in his heart which
caused tears to start to his eyes.

From the church they proceeded to the market. He had many articles of
food and matters for the use of the cook, to carry. The way was long,
and he became very tired; so he stopped to rest outside of a large
handsome house, that had marble pillars, statues, and wide stairs. He
was leaning with his burden against the wall, when a finely-bedizened
porter came forward, raised his silver-mounted stick to him, and drove
him away—him, the grandchild of its owner, the heir of the family;
but none there knew this, nor did he himself.

He returned on board, was thumped and scolded, had little sleep and
much work. Such was his life! And it is very good for youth to put up
with hard usage, it is said. Yes, if it makes age good.

The period for which he had been engaged was expired—the vessel lay
again at Ringkiöbingfiord. He landed, and went home to Huusby-Klitter;
but his mother had died during his absence.

The winter which followed was a severe one. Snow storms drove over sea
and land: one could scarcely face them. How differently were not
things dealt out in this world! Such[21] freezing cold and drifting snow
here, whilst in Spain was burning heat, almost too great; and yet
when, one clear, frosty day at home, Jörgen saw swans flying in large
flocks from the sea over Nissumfiord, and towards Nörre-Vosborg, he
thought that the course they pursued was the best, and all summer
pleasures were to be found there. In fancy he saw the heath in bloom,
and mingling with it the ripe, juicy berries; the linden trees and
elder bushes at Nörre-Vosborg were in flower. He must return there
yet.