Tales From Two Hemispheres | Page 7

offenses he had duly expiated at a house
of correction. Since that time he had vanished from Halfdan's horizon.
He had still the same broad freckled face, now covered with a lusty
growth of coarse red beard, the same rebellious head of hair, which
refused to yield to the subduing influences of the comb, the same
plebeian hands and feet, and uncouth clumsiness of form. But his linen
was irreproachable, and a certain dash in his manner, and the loud
fashionableness of his attire, gave unmistakable evidences of
prosperity.

"Come, Bjerk," said he in a tone of good- fellowship, which was not
without its sting to the idealistic republican, "you must take up a better
business than selling yesterday's `Tribune.' That won't pay here, you
know. Come along to our office and I will see if something can't be
done for you."
"But I should be sorry to give you trouble," stammered Halfdan, whose
native pride, even in his present wretchedness, protested against
accepting a favor from one whom he had been wont to regard as his
inferior.
"Nonsense, my boy. Hurry up, I haven't much time to spare. The office
is only two blocks from here. You don't look as if you could afford to
throw away a friendly offer."
The last words suddenly roused Halfdan from his apathy; for he felt
that they were true. A drowning man cannot afford to make nice
distinctions--cannot afford to ask whether the helping hand that is
extended to him be that of an equal or an inferior. So he swallowed his
humiliation and threaded his way through the bewildering turmoil of
Broadway, by the side of his officious friend.
They entered a large, elegantly furnished office, where clerks with
sleek and severely apathetic countenances stood scribbling at their
desks.
"You will have to amuse yourself as best you can," said Olson. "Mr.
Van Kirk will be here in twenty minutes. I haven't time to entertain
you."
A dreary half hour passed. Then the door opened and a tall, handsome
man, with a full grayish beard, and a commanding presence, entered
and took his seat at a desk in a smaller adjoining office. He opened,
with great dispatch, a pile of letters which lay on the desk before him,
called out in a sharp, ringing tone for a clerk, who promptly appeared,
handed him half-a-dozen letters, accompanying each with a brief
direction, took some clean paper from a drawer and fell to writing.
There was something brisk, determined, and business-like in his

manner, which made it seem very hopeless to Halfdan to appear before
him as a petitioner. Presently Olson entered the private office, closing
the door behind him, and a few minutes later re-appeared and
summoned Halfdan into the chief's presence.
"You are a Norwegian, I hear," said the merchant, looking around over
his shoulder at the supplicant, with a preoccupied air. "You want work.
What can you do?"
What can you do? A fatal question. But here was clearly no opportunity
for mental debate. So, summoning all his courage, but feeling
nevertheless very faint, he answered:
"I have passed both examen artium and philosophicum,[2] and got my
laud clear in the former, but in the latter haud on the first point."
[2] Examen artium is the entrance examination to the Norwegian
University, and philosophicum the first degree. The ranks given at
these are Laudabilis prae ceteris (in student's parlance, prae), laudabilis
or laud, haud illaudabilis, or haud, etc.

Mr. Van Kirk wheeled round on his chair and faced the speaker:
"That is all Greek to me," he said, in a severe tone. "Can you keep
accounts?"
"No. I am afraid not."
Keeping accounts was not deemed a classical accomplishment in
Norway. It was only "trade- rats" who troubled themselves about such
gross things, and if our Norseman had not been too absorbed with the
problem of his destiny, he would have been justly indignant at having
such a question put to him.
"Then you don't know book-keeping?"
"I think not. I never tried it."

"Then you may be sure you don't know it. But you must certainly have
tried your hand at something. Is there nothing you can think of which
might help you to get a living?"
"I can play the piano--and--and the violin."
"Very well, then. You may come this afternoon to my house. Mr. Olson
will tell you the address. I will give you a note to Mrs. Van Kirk.
Perhaps she will engage you as a music teacher for the children. Good
morning."

IV.
At half-past four o'clock in the afternoon, Halfdan found himself
standing in a large, dimly lighted drawing-room, whose brilliant
upholstery, luxurious carpets, and fantastically twisted furniture
dazzled and bewildered his senses. All was so strange, so strange;
nowhere a familiar object to give