Strife and Peace | Page 4

kind of thing? I will wager that
there is not a single goose in Sweden which could compare with our
excellent Norway geese."
"No, not one, but a thousand, and all larger and fatter than these.
Everything in Sweden is larger and more excellent than in Norway."
"Larger? The people are decidedly smaller and weaker."
"Weaker? smaller? you should only see the people in Uddevalla, my
native city!"
"How can anybody be born in Uddevalla? Does anybody really live in
that city? How can anybody live in it? It is a shame to live in such a
city; it is a shame also only to drive through it. It is so miserably small,
that when the wheels of the travelling-carriage are at one end, the horse
has already put his head out at the other. Do not talk about Uddevalla!"
"No, with you it certainly is not worth while to talk about it, because
you have never seen anything else besides Norwegian villages, and
cannot, on that account, form any idea to yourself of a proper Swedish
city."
"Defend me from ever seeing such cities--defend me! And then your
Swedish lakes! what wretched puddles they are, beside our glorious
Norwegian ocean!"

"Puddles! Our lakes! Great enough to drown the whole of Norway in!"
"Ha, ha, ha! And the whole of Sweden is beside our Norwegian ocean
no bigger than my cap! And this ocean would incessantly flow over
Sweden, did not our Norway magnanimously defend it with its granite
breast."
"Sweden defends itself, and needs no other help! Sweden is a fine
country!"
"Not half as fine as Norway. Norway reaches heaven with its
mountains; Norway comes nearest to the Creator."
"Norway may well be presumptuous, but God loves Sweden the best."
"Norway, say I!"
"Sweden, say I!"
"Norway! Norway for ever! We will see whose throw goes the highest,
who wins for his country. Norway first and highest!" and with this,
Harald threw a stone high into the air.
"Sweden first and last!" exclaimed Susanna, whilst she slung a stone
with all her might.
Fate willed it that the two stones struck against each other in the air,
after which they both fell with a great plump down into the spring
around which the small creatures had assembled themselves. The geese
screamed; the hens and ducks flew up in terror; the turkey-hens flew
into the wood, where the turkey-cock followed them, forgetting all his
dignity; all the doves had vanished in a moment,--and with crimsoned
cheeks and violent contention as to whose stone went the highest, stood
Harald and Susanna alone beside the agitated and muddied water of
discord.
The moment is perhaps not the most auspicious, but yet we will make
use of it, in order to give a slight sketch of the two contending persons.

Harald Bergman had speaking, somewhat sharp features, in which an
expression of great gravity could easily be exchanged for one of equal
waggery. The dark hair fell in graceful waves over a brow in which one
saw that clear thought was entertained. His figure was finely
proportioned, and his movements showed great freedom and vigour.
He had been brought up in a respectable family, had enjoyed a careful
education, and was regarded by friends and acquaintances as a young
man of extraordinary promise. Just as he had left the S. seminary, and
was intending a journey into foreign countries, in order to increase still
more his knowledge of agriculture, chance brought him acquainted
with the widow of Colonel Hjelm, at the time in which she was
returning to her native country, and in consequence thereof he altered
his plans. In a letter to his sister, he expresses himself on this subject in
the following manner:
"I cannot properly describe to you, Alette, the impression which she
made upon me. I might describe to you her tall growth, her noble
bearing, her countenance, where, spite of many wrinkles and a
pale-yellow complexion, traces of great beauty are incontrovertible; the
lofty forehead, around which black locks sprinkled with grey, press
forth from beneath her simple cap. I might tell of her deep, serious eyes,
of her low and yet solemn voice; and yet thou couldst form to thyself
no representation of that which makes her so uncommon. I have been
told that her life has been as much distinguished by exemplary virtue as
by suffering--and virtue and suffering have called forth in her a quiet
greatness, a greatness which is never attained to by the favourites of
fortune and of nature, which stamps her whole being. She seemed to
me as if all the frivolities of the world passed by her unremarked. I felt
for her an involuntary reverence, such as I had never felt before for any
human being; and at the same time a