The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1875-09-17


and he would pout and sulk like IN offend.
ed child. until coaxed with good humor
again. ,hc never suspected : shade Of ridi.
Guile Of him in any ones manner 81, mind.
Wherever he was, he was invariably serv-
ed: first 1T table, and he was deeply az.
grived at departure from this custom
on the occasion Of st.the English Roses
arrival at the house, near Copenhagen,
where he wss then staying, he became
SILENT. sulked, would not eat and disap-
peared early in the evening. Tho next
morning their hotess came to the English
guest. and asked her il she would mind not
being helped first, ut made dear And sen
50 unhappy He! went to the kitchen and
told the. servants he; could sec they no
longer loved him, since they thought more
ofthe English lady than Of him. ~" ~
When he wanted to go out to walk,
every one must 60 !; if he changes his mind
and sat down to-, write. every one must
stay at home, for presently he would come
into the room and read shat he had writ.
ten, and would be much ruffled at the alb
sence Of an auditor Hewould walk up
to stranger and say They write in
such and such paper that I have such
thoughtful eyes,; do you think my eyes
so thoughtful Z" or Every one in the
world knows me; all the kings in Europe
have embraced me, severeigns come to meet
HE at their door," and all this as frank
ly as achild would ask you to- admire its
new frock. He never forgot his origin, nor
did he ever boast Of it; he would say sim.
ply. 1T was very good Of God to have
given a poor cobbler's son = great genius,
to have made me a great poet" The
harsh Danish tongue admits ofno foritu.
ra, and therefore, though his ideas we're
so poetical, he clothed them always in the
most direct and downright words, and he
never had any idea that there was any.
thing ought not to be said. He spoke
very little English, and was no Judge OF
the rendering the Danish into that
language; so that Mary Howltt's fiat,
bald, almost literal translation of his
novcls-if they may be so called-and
stories pleased him he could understand
them, he said. His voice was exquisitely
melodious his reading Of his own stories,
which he half acted, so expressive was his
gesture. was indiscribably delightful. He
held one spell.bound, seeing, hearing
nothing but him, and his story. telling was
even more charming. General converse.
ton he had none it was difficult to dis.
cover on what subjects he really did
know anything, for he never conversed F.;
he brought every topic that was started
back to himself, to the cloud.land in which
he lived. to the point in which his inter-
est entered. His talk was always like that
Of an i'ieally-gifted child-question, mar.
rative, fancy, but never meeting, or going
with, or borrowing, from other minds.
He would begin to tell a story-after few
minutes abstracted gazing at some little
object, straw, pebble, no matter what
most commonly a toy or tlower--and
pour out it's fancies in the plain, unadorn.
ed forms of the Danish, his voice exquisi.
tely modulated with every emotion or
meaning. and Eis great. ugly, ape-like
hands. which hooked as If nothing that
they touched could escape sullying OF
destruction, deftly cutting out the quaint
est designs in paper. with wonderful rap.
id,ty and delicacy as he spoke. Fairy.
scenes, dances, lovers seated under trees,
groups OF flowers and plants; these and
countless other objects would drop from
his curling, twisting, shipping scissors, as
fancy after fancy came from his lips
Nothing was soulless to the man with a
child's soul, great Imagination, and also
child's untroublcd belief. He did not
seem to have any difficult creed, and he
attended no place of worship; he had no
need Of spiritual help or comprehension
Of spiritual doubt or difficulty. The good
God and the Christ.child were the sum oil
his ideas, and he found them everywhere.
"God has made it so, it is right" or "God
has said it is wrong," was all his law and
he could no more have put his mind into
polc1nical attitude, than he could have
tuhbed or ridden to hounds. Ingenious
people, who insist on seeing everything
double, discern Pantheism under the quait
conceits Of this friend and confident Of the
fairy, and flower, and bird world; but
there is no such thing--at least it was
not in himself...no subtlety of any kind,
only the Overlooking fountain Of a won.
drous and inexhaustible fancy, to which
all living things came, and mirrored
themselves therein.
You lived in his stories while he was
telling them, and he lived in them always.
He would walk out with friend or two
at Petershoff, and be silent, almost sullcn
never failing to remark and return the
salutation OF passers.by, however for q
time; then he would begin to p ike about
on the ground with his invariablc stick.
looking exactly like an old bone-picker,
until he had found q bone, pebble, a
twig, a bit of rag, any unconsidered trifle
OF the wayside, when he would stand still,
scratching his left cheek, and look fixed.
ly ut the thing he had in the palm of his
hand. After little he would call his
companion up with gesture, and begin
'.Once in far.land there lived" &C., and
trace the bit Of bone back to the animal
it had belonged to, and to its brief life in
the pastures; the twig to its forest kin,
the pebble t. its countless fellows on the
illimitable shore in the morning Of time.
the rag to its threads in the loom and its
robe, until one began to wonder whether
it could be fancy, or were all true. He
loved children. storks and flowers with
something approaching passion. Of which
otherwise, there was no trace in him.
To children he yielded place, which no
t'big people, ever expected from him.
He would bear interruption by child,
and patiently answer its questions, al.
ways becoming more childlike himself in
doing so; lie understood children and
they understood him. after the occult
fashion Of the higher animals, and he
might be commonly seen built mp in a
bower Of childr en-, with one on each foot
where there was plenty Of room for it