, 1873-07-27
Bjornaon, tho Norwegian Poet, Cons
inE to America

Dtornson, tho eminont Norwegian poet and
novelist, Homo Of whose works arc known in this
country ia Raid to have his eyes turned to this
country as bis future home. writer in Swe:
dlah periodical givcs tho following touching &C,
count Of recent visit to tho poet, in which thif
intention ia announced:
swantwyk, Of which Dtornson is tho Vicar, il
but four hours from Trondihem. It occurred to
mo, rs Ind nothing special to do thore for d
day or two, that might Just as we'll drive oul
there and have Chat with tho great novelist
It WAS O'Clock in tho afternoon when my
oarriage stopped in trout Of tho parsonage. It il
o low, one-story wooden building that must laye
been ercotod at least 100 years ago. With it's
gahled roof, its heavy, timo-begrimed thatch, ite
small, round windows, and tho ivy covering ita
curious trent, BjorHona house IL ono which,
once seen, will never be forgotten. It is no won.
dor TINT mon who 1.-Two iu such houees have poetic
inspirations. Andersen told me one dny Tint tlo
old house at Odonse, wtera le was born, had in
spirod him with somo Of hiH happiest thoughts.
The May evening was balnly and boautiful. Pro
found tranquility reigned IN the quaint old vii.
work In tho aolda Only q fow chubby children
woro in tho unpayed street. I alighted and
stepped up to tho open door. A gool-naturol
looking, rather proposaessing, roHy-choekod fair-
hairod woman Of thirty-two or three received
me.
rs tho Vicar In 7" aslsed,
My husband iH in tho gardon.'
So that was tho poets wifo. followed hor
through the hallway into the yard, and thence to
Z" Father n abe snug out in her clear alto voice.
second aftorward, Djornyon's tall figure
emerged from behind It basket. Flo waH in his
shirt-sloovea, and hold a sprinkler in his hand
had not seen him for seven years. lie had
grown visibly olaor, and his fine, manly face
looked caroworn: Our mutual recognition was
instantaneous. Thora waH warm grasp of the
hand, and q kindly northern welcome.
And you nre going to leave us3" asked,
after tho 1iret greetings were over.
:, Yos, yes,n le said, knitting hn massive brow,
must" Hia wife, who stood by our side,
nodded ler head Hllontly, while d ahalow Of grief
stolo over hor lno, sunny couuteuaaco, We
went to the s|tting-raom-a, plainly furnished
Bjornson had written his last threo books. We
sIt down Frau DjornHon brought in the coffou-
pot, aud, while We Appe1 the fragrant beverage
! hoard tho whole autrowful story from the poets
lips, It was tho old talo Of ill~requtel literary
genius. What u ahamo for Norway! IIor great-
cat author, hor most popular novelist, llor sweet
est poet, her most charming fairy Htory-tollor 10
poor that lle dooa not know how to mako botL
0nds meet.
>.,'! "Yeu see :" tsa 1lornaon, "1hayo been Atrug-
but $3.50 year. For my BOOTS I Iayo hardly
received anything. Ny BON Olaf Blouli bo sent
to tho Lycoum. cannot afford it, Why should
I stay, thon, In Norway was told that my
books bad been we'll received in America For
~ 3ots@H A"Fc GooA Globo bLuuput OF Ino
English language; ; Gun now writo It with golno
dogroe Of iluen0y Our Norwoglaus In America
nro prosperous. Why should not do we'll thoro
likcwiso2 II do not succeed III writer, T
have atrong arms to work."
The good wifo now interpoeod. She said she
dreaded the long sea voyage, but ller husband
bad been unhappy III RwantwyR, for year or
longer, and dreamed day and night Of tho New
World.
Have you any oflors from partioa In Amor
iea 2" asked
"None at al, y replied BjoruHon, ~ shall go