The Castle Builder. Part II, I–F

THE CASTLE BUILDER. » BY NEPHI ANDERSON, AUTHOR OF ADDED UPON," "nMARCUS KING, MORMON," ETC.

PAKf SECOND. I.

NEW CONDITIONS —REMINISCENT. The rain came in great gushes from the storm clouds as they were driven inland from the sea. It sputtered down the tin pipes from the roofs, and filled the gutters with a brown flood. Quite a number of people on the street had been caught unawares, and were making rapid strides for shelter. Among them was Harald Einersen, Head Master in the West Akerby school. He, it seems, was rather more amused than annoyed over the fact that he had left his umbrella at home and was now getting a good soaking. His fur cap soon became heavy, and the drops of water trickled down to the lowest point of his closely-trimmed beard. The gas lamps, on the corner of the side-street up which he turned, cast their reflections on the wet stone pavement. The pools shone with light, at the corner, but some distance away from the well-lighted

windows of the business block, the mud resumed its natural, black color. Climbing up a number of steps, cut into the natural ledge of the hill, he soon turned into the hall of a house which stood on an elevation overlooking the town on one side, and the sea on the other. He stamped vigorously in the hall, and as he was hanging up his soaked coat and cap, a door opened and let in a stream of light. "Is that you, Einersen?" some one asked. "What isn't washed away. That is what I call rain." Harald

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stepped into the dining room, where Mrs. Jacobsen scolded him for not taking his umbrella. He took it all good naturedly, and smiled the while — smiled in a way which indicated that something was to be covered up by it. "Had it been in Bergen, now, I might have caused a runaway," said he. "What do you mean?" "Why, don't you know that in Bergen, when the horses see a man without an umbrella, they think him some strange object, get frightened, and run away!" Mrs. Jacobsen did not deign to encourage this levity, so she made no reply, but busied herself with the table. "I do not wish for any supper to night, explained Harald. "I

had lunch down town, not long ago. If there's a fire, I'll go into my room straightway; all right, thank you." His room was warm and cosy. The lamp was burning low on the table. He turned it up to a full blaze, then closed the shutters. He heard the rain beat against the glass. Then, drawing his chair up to the stove, he leaned his elbow on the table, took an envelope from his pocket, and drew from it a letter, which he read care- fully. Then folding it again, he replaced it in the envelope which he put into his pocket. He then opened the top door of the stove, and sat for a long time intently looking at the red coals. Another act in his life's drama was about to close. Soon, the curtain would fall. Well, perhaps the act just playedhad been long enough, and was time for a change it For nearly four years Harald Einersen had lived at Akerby; two years of that time, as a grade teacher, and nearly two years as Head Master; but now he had resigned, because his resignation had been expected, and the letter in his pocket stated that his serviceswould not be needed longer, after the end of the term — and for this state of affairs, he could give thanks to his one-time acquaintance, the Reverend A. Bange who had recently been appointed to the district of Akerby, Southern Norway. Harald felt in reminiscent mood. It was a good time for stock-taking, so he went back to his boyhood days at Opdal, and lived again in memory its hardships and pleasures. Then the moving to Nordland, and his fishing at Lofoten. One week of

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Tsright, summer weather at Sandstad was overflowing with remem- brances. Then his second year at Lofoten, his saving, his pinch- ing to gather money. Then his four long years of school life, breaking off his studies each year to catch cod with the Lofoten fleet. At times, how Oh, the joy, the hardships of those years !

short; at other times, how long and painful! But at last, the final examinations and his diplomas! He remembered how that on the day after he received it, he sold enough of his persona} property to buy a steamboat ticket to Vangen. He walked up to Opdal. It was in the month of June, and the woods were delight- ful. He found his grandmother residing with his father. She was on her death bed, but when she saw Harald come in, she raised up from her pillow, took his head between her thin hands and pressed it down on her shoulder. Then Harald produced his diploma, a large sheet which made a creaking noise when he un_ rolled it, and showed it to her. She understood in a minute what it was, though she could read only the large, printed words. Grandmother was satisfied. A few days thereafter, she died. And then he obtained the school at Akerby, and did so well in his work that he was promoted to Head Master. Harald arose from his seat, poked the fire, then aimlessly rearranged some books on the table. A violin hung on the wall. He took it down, tightened some of its strings,scraped the bow across it a number of times, then replaced On the wall hung it.

an old-fashioned clock, whose weights reached to the floor. He •

pushed the heavier weight up, then returned to his chair by the stove. So far he had realized every proper ambition of his life

save one — and they had been many. He now smiled at some of them, simple, childish castles, which had long since been built,

then torn down to make room for others, statelier, grander. These were some of them: to get away from herding sheep; to get enough to eat; to have a suit of clothes made by a tailor; to be- come a fisherman; to be able to handle a boat in a storm; to be master and owner of a boat at Lofoten, (this latter he could have been, as he had money enough to purchase one); to make his grandmother comfortable; to become a schoolmaster; to well, — no; one castle was yet unbuilt. The foundation stones had been

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laid longyears ago, and he had yet hopes that under the rank^ dead grass that covered them, there still lay the solid rocks fit to bear a beautiful superstructure. Harald's eyes wandered from the fire, and rested upon a photograph standing on his table. He moved it into a better light,and then steadily looked at it. It was the same Thora Bernhard that he had seen years ago, but now a woman in very deed. The face was fuller, but there were the same large eyes, full, wavy hair, and sweet, sad expression. Her shapely mouth, signature was underneath, dated at Paris. That little trip to Nordlandj eight years ago, had only been the initiative, for Thora had traveled the world over, since. She had written to him, tell- ing of the sights in other lands. He had answered, informing her of his progress at school. She had appeared pleased at the good news. On when he had been at Opdal, Thora three occasions had been away from home, so he had not seen her. Once, when she was at Pergen. he had made an effort to meet her, but he imagined that she wished to evade him; so from that time on, he was very careful. Her last letter bore a date two years old,

but the photograph had been received less than a year ago. The signature bore proof that she was yet Miss Thora Bernhard; and, as he gazed intently at it under the lamplight on his table, bright, beautiful hope swelled anew within his heart. The postman's knock aroused Harald, and he went to the door. In his mail was a letter from Nordland, from Uncle Erik. It recounted; first of all, that the season had been cold; the hay had barely been saved, and the barley had to be cut green. Last season's fishing, at Lofoten, however, had been good. Uncle Erik was not well enough to go, but his boats had done well. Dagmar was happily married, and lived in Maria's former home. Maria still lived with father and mother, and the children were growing big and wise. So, cousin Dagmar was married at last! Well, she had been, long enough about it. Married happily — good for Dagmar; she deserved a good husband. And they now lived in Maria and Johan's cosy house, under the cliffs. He remembered the picture that had formed itself in his mind the day that he had sailed'

across the fjord with Dagmar, and he smiled at the remembrance..

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Castle-building was such a pleasant occupation, anyway. What if all did not reach completion, or the stage of realization. Ma- terial for more was unlimited, and it cost nothing, save the pleas- ing task of gathering; and so, true to this theory, Harald, as he reviewed the photograph before him, built another- castle. Thora stood in the doorway looking down the road for his

coming. Her beautiful hair hung in two long braids down her shoulders — that was to please him. The white apron was a sign that dinner was ready. The house was a low, wooden structure, one of those airy, summer buildings which the well-to-do Nor- wegians were building, adorned with many projections and odd car- vings. At the rear stood the unbroken pine forest. In the fore- ground was a small patch of grass, with a path leading down from the door to the road which skirted the edge of the fjord. Mrs. Jacobsen knocked at his door, and the picture vanished. Would he not have some coffee, bread and butter, before he went to bed? but he declined, with thanks, much to his good landlady's disappointment. He replenished the fire, and then made an effort to look over some affairs pertaining to his school work; but his mind wandered. Why had Pastor Bange again crossed his path? He entertained an aversion for the man, ever since their meeting at Lof oten,and it seemed that the pastor had neither forgotten nor forgiven Harald for the stand he had taken that day at his cousin's burial. There would be no use in resenting the pastor's interfer- ence — Harald knew that to be useless.The best thing to do was to resign as gracefully as possible, which he had done. Perhaps he had been unwise in the active part he had taken in politics during the past year. Perhaps, also, he had expressed his reli- gious views rather freely, for his own worldly good, at least. Certainly, he neither could nor would change his most sacred be- liefs in the hopes of worldly preferment or gain. He had been compelled, because of his position, to present, at least, an outward form of orthodoxy, but had often of late, asked himself if he were doing right, even in that, when at heart he did not believe in many of the creeds and practices of the state religion. Many times Johan Bernsen's definition of religion came to him, and especially since he had become better acquainted with the laws of nature as revealed in the arts and sciences. Perhaps, after all, it was

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well that he was to get out of the teaching profession. A man had no business to teach something which he, himself, did not

thoroughly believe. Did the face, in the picture before him, smile? Harald Einer- sen, your imagination is very vivid to night. He went out. The rain had ceased.A steamer, all aglow with lights, was sailing across the bay. The town below him had grown quiet. The strong wind blew, and the waves were heard beating against the rocks below. Harald looked up into the sky. The clouds were scurrying by, now and then revealing patches of deep blue. Up towards the zenith he beheld the Polar star immovably fixed in the heavens, shining brightly and steadily, bringing to his mind Thora, and her words uttered that night on the fjord in Nord- land.

H.

HARALD DREAMS, —AN INTERVIEW WITH PASTOR BANGE. Harald Einersen's dreams did not end with the day. It was towards midnight when he fell asleep, and then he had a strange dream. He thought he stood on a hill overlooking a wide, green valley. As he gazed, wondering where he was, his grandmother came up the grassy slope towards him. There was nothing strange in the meeting, but it seemed that there had been no long separation. She spoke very earnestly, somewhat in her old man- ner, bidding him always defend the right and honor the truth, no matter how difficult the task might seem. Then what appeared to be another woman came up the hill. She had in her arms shoots, and roots of flowers and shrubbery, which, when she reached Harald, she placed on the ground. She approached him, took both his hands in hers, leaned over and touched her lips to his cheek; then picking up her plants again, she disappeared. Then he knew that his mother had kissed him. After this, Johan Bern- sen came in sight, and following him, other men and women, whom he did not know. These did not climb the hill, but pursued their journey down the valley. Johan waved his hand towards Harald as he passed. Men continued to come faster and faster, more

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and more, great crowds of them, till they seemed to fill the valley. He looked and beheld the multitude reach to the horizon. Still

they came, thousands, millions of them. The sight tilled him with awe The men were strong and stalwart, ! many of them with beards and long hair. The women were also wonderfully robust and beau- tiful, their hair falling in waves over their shoulders. The whole throng reminded him of the picture he had seen of his forefathers, the Vikings, as they appeared unequipped for war. As the throngs surged onward, Harald retreated further up the hill, fearful that he would be tramphd underfoot. "Fear not," said a voice at his side, and there stood his father, "these are Norsemen, your ancestors and mine, brave, noble and virtuous. They lived according to the light which God gave to them, and that is all any of us can do." Harald awoke with the morning, and with the announcement from his landlady that his coffee was ready. He drank his coffee as usual, from the small table at his bedside, and sipped it with his — pieces of cut sugar but the dream remained with him all the day. When it became known that the Head Master of West Akerby School was about to resign his position, speculation became rife

as to the reason. Mr. Einersen had certainly done his duty. He was well liked, both by teachers and' students. His political friends especially asked him what was the cause of his action, but they received no satisfactory reply. The fact was that Harald himself was not sure of the cause of his removal. He knew that Pastor Bange was implicated, but to what extent he did not know. He made up his mind not to make a stir about it the change — would give him a rest, and a chance, perhaps, at other labor but — for his own satisfaction, he desired to know the status of his case. He would go to Pastor Bange and ask. Harald no sooner came to this conclusion than he acted. The lamps were being lighted in the streets when he rang the bell at the parsonage. He had visited there many times when the former pastor was its occupant, but this visit was his first since Pastor Vaag had removed. A girl came to the door and ushered him into the stuffy little room in which the provider for men's souls re- ceived his visitors. The girl lighted a hanging-lamp and went about her duties.

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Harald seated himself on a very much-worn sofa. On the wall opposite hung a picture which had always given him the shivers. It represented Christ on the cross. The crown of thorns was piercing the flesh, and streams of blood were flowing down the face. Ah, what an expression of horror the artist had concent- ered in that face! How could people tolerate such alleged art in their best room! The door quietly opened, and Pastor Bange stepped in. The clergyman had aged considerably since his Nordland experience, but his face still bore that sanctimonious smile so characteristic of many preachers. The lips and chin were clean-shaven. The hair was thick, long, and mixed with gray. Two straggling tufts reached down upon each round, sleek cheek, Harald arose, and the pasto"r shook his hand, smiling placidly all the while, his teeth gleaming in the lamp-light. Harald sat down, and the pastor rested in a chair by the table under the lamp. "You are looking well. Pastor Bange," said Harald. He saw no use in being too blunt. "Nordland must have agreed with you." "I try to make any part of the Lord's vineyard, to which his pleasure calls me, agreeable with me," was the reply. "Very sensible, that," said Harald. "In life's various up's and down's, it is a blessing to be able to adjust one's self to each change." "Yes; and a change is ofttimesfor the best." Harald thought he detected a little aggressiveness in his tone, so he was reserved no longer. "What I came to see you about, Pastor Bange, is this resig- nation which I have been asked to hand in. I'm not going to find fault with it at all, as I intended not to teacTi much longer, any- way; but you know, folks will talk —while believe have given I I

satisfaction to most of our people — for my own assurance, yet, I

should like to know." The pastor said nothing, but his smile was as bland as ever. "You know something about it, don't you?" "Oh, yes," said the pastor. "You had something to do with it?"

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"Yes, I had something to do with it." "And what is the fault? may I ask." "Well, Mr. Einersen, I wish to be plain with you. It is part of my duty you know, to look after the educational interests of the people in my parish. I must see that the pure principles of Christianity are taught in our schools; and if I am anything of a shepherd of the fold of Christ, I must see that wolves are driven away." "I am a wolf, then?" "Ah, no; that was a mere figure, you understand. I wouldn't

say that, but your Christian teaching, I mean your teaching of our holy religion, has never been very strong — it has been very weak, in fact, and there is always danger of our children drifting into heresies, or even into infidelity, altogether, if we are too loose in this respect." "Have I been teaching heresies?" "Yes." "I am not aware of it. Will you please explain?" "Yes, I will. You remember sometime ago in the class in physics, you were talking about the qualities of matter —you re- member, don't you?" "I remember, very well." "You said that matter could not be destroyed — could only it

be changed in form." "The text-book said that." "Well; then one of the students asked how it is that, if matter could not be destroyed, it could be created. You, if I am informed rightly, explained that matter is equally uncreatable as it is indestructible. You said that substance is eternal. Then the boy — you remember him —said that he had learned in his cate- chism that God created the world out of nothing. Whereupon, — you explained that the Bible did not teach that it was merely the catechism." It was Harald's turn to smile at the recollection of the event which the pastor had narrated correctly enough. "Of course, Pastor Bange, that was the only thing in reason that I could say." "You implied that the catechism was wrong."

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"Certainly; when it came to a conflict between the catechism and the text-book on science, I decided in favor of the text-

book." "But the catechism teaches our children the Christian religion, and when you deride it, you weaken the faith of the learners." "But I could not knowingly teach an untruth for all that." "Teach an untruth! Don't you believe in the holy script- ures?" "I do; but the scriptures nowhere teach that God made the world out of nothing. There's a Bible. Show me?" "No; we'll not discuss the matter further." The pastor arose and walked to his desk in the corner; but Harald remained seated. Pastor Bange saw that he was not going, so returned to the seat by the table. He kept his composure very well. "That, Mr. Einersen, is but a sample of your unorthodox teachings. I don't say that you have meant any harm in it,but I will say that I consider it very unwise to keep you in your present position as Head Master of West Akerby School." The movement of the lips was meant for a smile. "Well, Pastor Bange, I am pleased that you have spoken so plainly to me, and now while we are about it, I may as well speak plainly, too — hope you I will —not"I leave" —but the pastor simply arose to adjust the lamp-wick want you to understand me, so that, if in the future we ever have dealings with each other, there will be a mutual understanding." "Yes," and the preacher clasped his hands piously in front of him. "I claim to be a Christian, continued the school-master. I be- lieve in Christ. I believe in the Bible, though there are many things there I cannot understand. I believe there are many good doctrines taught by the Evangelical Lutheran Church. I also be- lieve there are many truths in the Methodist church, in the Bap- tist church, and, in face, in all I am broad-minded churches. enough not to judge other men's faiths. I am liberal, enough, thank God, to allow all men a right to their beliefs. I never want to become so bigoted that I would deprive a fellow-being of a Christian burial, for instance" —the pastor did not wince at the

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thrust — am willing to accept truth from whatever source "I it

comes — hope I Ibe ever shall to discard willing when all error, my reason decides that it is error. As to saying that the Lutheran church is a repository of all God's truth, that is ridiculous. The church teaches —mind you, I do not say the Scriptures —many things that I have my doubts about. So, Pastor Bange, from your standpoint, I suppose you are justified in using your influence in having me removed from my position." " Are you through ? "

"Yes; I am through." " Then you'll excuse me, I know. I have an appointment in twenty minutes to preach at a missionary meeting, down in Strand street." Both arose, and Harald hastened out. The self-contained old priest smiled at him from the doorway, as he proceeded down the path. Harald did not go home. The evening was pleasant. The winter air was crisp. The fog had lifted, and, on such nights, he took delight in viewing the harbor or strolling along the strand, out from the town. Tonight, his desire for a walk was strong, so he swung briskly down Storgaden, across the market place, to the opening by the wharves. Here a fisher woman was swinging her arms to keep warm, and was trying to dispose of her last cod at sacrifice prices.Harald knew all the fisherwomen, for, during the day, there were many of them, and he usually stopped to chat with them; but this one lone woman out in the cold, attracted him especially that night. "Good evening, mother," he said, as he approached her, " haven't you sold out yet?" " Not yet, professor," said the woman, with a curtesy.

The school master took up two cod fish from the woman's barrow, all she had. "Pretty fine fish," he said, "but I have caught better ones How much are they worth?" "I paid twenty-five ore each for them. You may have them for that, seeing they are the last, and I can't keep them over." "All right, here's your money. Now pack up, and go home." The woman willingly did so, after she had wrapped the fish in

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a newspaper and handed them to the purchaser. Then she trudged off with her barrow. Harald followed her, until she had passed the market square, and then he stopped her. "Here, mother, how often do you eat fresh fish?" "Not very often, sir." "Well, I can't cook these fish, and I haven't a wife to cook them for me, so I'll give them to you, if you will promise not to go back- and try to sell them again, but take them home and eat them yourself." The woman looked at him and hesitated. Then she promised, taking the fish with apologies and profuse thanks. "Tut, tut," said the school master, "have a good supper tonight, and be sure you take out the livers and make molje for the children." Harald went on down the street towards the water. "It was worth fifty ore," he said to himself "to get such a look from a woman's eyes, as that fisherwoman gave me." A Salvation Army lass sold him a War Cry. As he looked under the ugly poke bonnet at the pretty face of the girl, the thought came to Harald that here was a brave soul. Indifferent to the scorn of the world, she went about doing her duty, as she understood it. Would Pastor Bange, would he, himself, do as much? Yet Pastor Bange would say that she was a poor, deluded soul, and Harald, also, was in danger of judging her.

As he neared the water where the warehouses were located, a strong odor of roasted coffee reached him. He hurried by, as the smell was never agreeable to him. As he passed "The Sailor's Home," he heard a merry company within: the sailor was on land again. Then he strode out on the open beach, where he loved to walk. He enjoyed feeling the firm yet yielding sand under his feet. Cliffs arose on one side; the water stretched far away on the other —and he was between. The rocks, immovable, bold, resisting; the sea, endless, powerful, restless. Here the elements displayed their majesty and power. The sea waged eternal warfare, yet the cliff laughed only, or roared, according to the fury of the onslaught. "Give me time," said the sea, "and I will conquer you — I will grind

you to atoms, and give you to the winds, or line my own bed with — you just give me time." But what thea? Would the mountain be destroyed? Only the form; the material would be there. The

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earth might melt with fervent heat; the ocean be turned into mist; the whole globe might be ground into dust, yei, the dust would be somewhere. 'Yet the world was made out of nothing made out of nothing! Harald laughed aloud at such heights of absurdity. His mind reverted to the interview with Pastor Bange. What a smooth man the pastor was; how strange that nearly all preachers whom he had known partook somewhat of the same bland nature Why should ministers of the gospel dress, and talk, and act, as if they belonged to another caste? Why should the study of religion make men foolish or unnatural? Better, then, return to the ancient, heathen worship of the forefathers. Their religion made them, at least, strong, and brave, and just, while the products of modern Christianity were, to an alarming extent, dull, and weak, and im- moral. Harald had never delved very deeply into religion. True, he had taken the usual superficial course of Biblical theology, but any profound thought he had never bestowed upon it. As he remem- bered, perhaps the nearest to was when he sat with his that grandmother reading the Bible for her. At confirmation, the prin- cipal impression was that, if he passed, he would be through with the priest. His later school studies had been mostly of a secular nature. Yet Harald had a strong religious disposition, perhaps, more after the manner of that expressed by his cousin Johan than that exhibited by the clergy of the day. As Harald went homeward, he passed through Strand street. As he neared the mission church there, he remembered that Pastor Bange was to preach. The church was full of people, and Harald slipped in, and stood by the door. An unusual occasion must have brought together the unusually large crowd. Pastor Bange was summing up his arguments which, Harald learned, were against certain heresies, that had lately crept into their midst. The most dangerous of these doctrines was that of hope for the departed, who have died unrepentant; that is, salvation for the dead. "We have nothing in Holy Writ to justify us in the belief that those who do not come to Christ in this life will ever have a chance in the life to come." "We have nothing here," and the pastor closed his Bible with a slam. "We have nothing here inspiring the belief that the heathen will be saved, but we have many words of God which dis-