Year: 1873

Once upon time there was young
man who was very anxious to be poet |;
he wanted to become one by the fol-
lowing Easter, then he would marry
and live by making poetry, which, as
he knew, consisted merely in invention.
But he could not invent. He was born
too late; every subject had been taken
| up before he came into the world ev-
erything in it had been put into poetry
and written about.


"Ah! those lucky fellows who were
born thousand years ago " said he.
"How easily could they become i'm
mortal Lucky were they, even, who
were born hundred years ago, when
| there was still something left to write
poetry about nowadays the world is
| completely used up as far as poetry
| is concerned; how should I write any
into it?"


He mused over it SO long that he be-
| came, poor creature, quite Ill and stu
pid. Not doctor could do him any
good; but possibly the wise woman
| close by the field gate, which used to
open for those who drove or rode that
way. But she knew well enough to





wiser than the doctor who rides in his
own carriage and pays titaI-tax.
" must away to her, said the young
man.


The house she lived in was small and
cleanly, but -dreary place to look at !;
not tree nor flower grew near it.
There was beehive just outside the
door-very useful a small potato field
,-af, Al
sloe-tree which had finished blossoming,
and bore fruit such as draws the mouth
together if one tastes it before it has
been nipped by the frost.


Here / see the embodiment of our
unpoetic age !" thought the young man
and it was at any rate a thought, a
grain of gold that he had found at the
wise woman's threshold.


"Write that down." said she
"crumbs are bread, too. know why
you came here: you can't invent, and
yet you want to be poet bv Easter"


Everything is written down." said
time"


"No," said the woman "in the
olden time wise women were burnt, and
poets went about with empty stomachs
and holes at their elbows. The pres
y
ter than any but You do not look at
the matter in the proper way; you have
not opened your ears, and you never
say your prayers of an evening
There is abundance of all manner of
things, to tell and to write about, when
one only knows how to tell them. Y
may extract them from the growth and,
produce of the earth, draw them from
the running or the still water but you
must understand all about thunder
stand how to catch a sunbeam. Now
do Just try my spectacles for once put
my ear-trumpet to your ear, then say
your prayers and leave off thinking
about yourself"


The last was very difficult to do ;
more than wise woman could expect.
He took the spectacles and the ear
| trumpet, and forwith was posted in the
middle of the potato-field. She put
| large potato into his hand there was
| sound inside it. then came a song with
words, potato history, very interesting,
"A story of common life in ten chap
ters ten lines, however, were enough.
And what sang the potato? 1t sang
about itself and its family about the
arrival of the potato in Europe, the
prejudice it has experienced and the
sufferinRs it has undergone before it
4 stood acknowledged, as it is now, to be
a greater boon than lump of gold.
| "We were distributed by order of
the king at all the town. alls; circu-
| lar was sent about setting forth our
great utility but people did not be-
| lieve in it; at first they do not even
| know how to plant us. One would dig
/ a hole and throw the whole of his
bushel into it. Another would stick
| potato here and there deep into the soil,
| and then expect that it would shoot up
| into a complete tree from which tue po-
| tatoes might be shaken down. In due
time would come the plants and flowers
| and the watery berries, then it withered
away; no one thought of what lay in
the soil, the blessing, the potatoes.
Yes, we have had trials and suffering,
that is to say, our forefathers, and so
we, for it comes to the same thing.
| There's a story for you"


eyes, that is quite enough" said
! the woman. "Now look at the sloe
| tree"


We, too" said the sloe-tree, "have
| some near relations in the potatoes ma
| tive land, but more toward the north
than where they grow and they came
Norsemen from Norway, and they
| steered through fog and storm till they
came to the unknown land where, be-
yond ice and snow, they found plants
| and Green leaves, bushes with the
blush-black fruit of the vine, sloes
| which the frost turned into ripe grapes,
as we are. And they gave the land the
name Vineland, Greeland and Sloe-
land"


"That is quite romantic narrative" I"
said the young man.


| Well, now come with me, " said the
| wise woman and she conducted him to
| the beehive. He looked in what life
and activity bees were posted in all
| the avenues, tanning with their wings
| in order to keep a wholesome current
of air through all the large factory :;
| that was their business. Then from
the outside arrived, born with panniers
on their legs they brought flower
| dust, which was shaken out, sorted, and
prepared for honey or wax; some were
coming, some going. The queen-bee
wanted to fly, too, but then they would
all have had to go with her, and it was
not vet the proper time but fly she
would, so they bit off her majesty's
wings, and then she was obliged to
stay.


Now climb up the side of the ditch, "
said the wise woman "come and look
out into the high road, where there are
some people to be SEEN"


"That was a swarming multitude. !"
said the young man. 'Story upon
story what buzzing and murmuring!
l see nothing but black spots before my
eyes am falling backward l''


"No," said the old woman, ego
straight forward; go right into the
swarm of men; keep eyes and ears
open for them, and your heart, too, and
so you will quickly invent something.
But before you go, must have my
| spectacles and ear-tube again" And
she took both away from him.