The Northman., May 13, 1920, Page 11, Image 11

THE NORTHMAN
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I THE EAGLE’S NEST I
By Bj0rnstjerne Bj0rnson
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Translated from the Norse.
'T'HE Endre Farms was the name of a
1 little settlement lying all • by itself,
surrounded by high mountains. It con­
sisted of level, fertile bottom land, tra­
versed and intersected by a wide creek
coming from the mountains. This creek
emptied into a small lake near by the
settlement, and at this point one had a
fair view far and wide over the country.
It was over this lake that the man had
come rowing who first broke ground in
the valley. His name was Endre, and
those now living there were his descen­
dants. Some said he had taken a refuge
to this place, a fugitive from justice. And
in this fact they would see the reason why
all of his family were so dark-complec-
tioned. Others explained this as due to
the mountains shutting out the sun’s ray£
even as early as 5 o’clock in the summer.
Above this settlement was hanging an
eagle’s nest. It was built on an overhang­
ing cliff high up oh the mountain. All
could see the she-eagle perched on the
nest, but none could reach it. The male
would soar over the settlement, dash
swiftly down and snatch up now a lamb,
and at other times a kid, and once he even
carried away a baby. It was not safe to
live in the settlement as long as the eagles
had their home on the mountain top.
There was an old-folk tale that 'once upon
a time two brothers had climbed up to the
nest and torn it down. But nowadays
there was no one capable of doing that.
Whenever two persons met in the Endre
Farms they would talk about the Eagle’s
nest. They knew when the eagles had re­
turned in the spring, knew where they had
done their last mischief and who had last
been the daring one to try to reach the
nest. The boys trained themselves from
childhood in climbing mountains and trees
in order to some day be able to reach the
nest and tear it down as those two
brothers had done.
At the time of this story the cleverest
boy in the settlement was Leif and he was
not of the Endre family. He had curly
hair and small eyes, was eager for all
kinds of games and well liked by the girls.
He used to boast that he would surely
reach the eagle’s nest some day; but the
old folks in the settlement thought he
should not be so loud about it. This ir­
ritated him and spurred him on to hazard
the climb even before he had reached ma­
ture age.
It was on a clear Sunday forenoon in
the early summer. The people gathered
in great numbers at the foot of the moun­
tain to look on. Old people advised
against it, but the young ones spurred him
on. He listened only to his own desire,
however, and waited until the mother
eagle left the nest. Then he swung him­
self to the limb of a tree several yards
from the ground. Along a cleft in the
mountain there was a growth of shrubs
and, following this cleft, he began to
climb. Gravel and little pebbles came
rolling down—otherwise all was quiet.
Only the creek kept on with its ceaseless,
monotonous, soft murmur.
Soon the mountain became steeper and
more overhanging; he was observed to be
hanging for a long while by one hand, feel­
ing for a foothold which he could not see.
Many, especially women, turned their
heads away, and they said he would not
have attempted this if his parents had
been alive. He obtained a hold, however,
then searched again, now with a hand,
then with a foot. He lost his hold—he
slipped, but again he held on. Those who
followed him with their eyes could hear
each other breathe, so still was it. Then
arose a tall young girl who had been sit­
ting all alone on a rock. Rumor had it
that she had promised herself to him ever
since she was a child, although he was not
of the Endre family. She held her arms
up to him and called out: “Leif, Leif, why
do you do this?” All the people turned
toward her; her father stood close beside
her, and he looked at her sternly, but she
paid no heed. “Come down again, Leif,”
she called, “you are dear to me and up
there you have naught to gain.” One
could see that he bethought himself for a
moment or two, but then he went on.
higher. He was sure of hand and foot,
and so it went well for a long while. But
then he became tired and was seen to rest
often. A small stone came rolling down
as an ill omen, and all who saw it followed
it with their eyes until it reached the
bottom. Some could not bear the strain
but walked off. The tall, girl was still
standing alone on yonder rock. She
wrung her hands and looked up to him.
Leif was taking a new grip with his hand
—but he lost his hold. She could see it
plainly. He struck out with the other
hand but missed. “Leif,” she screamed,
her voice echoing in the mountain, and the
others joined in. “He slides,” they cried
and held out their hands toward him, men
and women. He kept on sliding, faster
and faster—ever faster, carrying along
with him gravel, earth and stones. All
turned their heads away and then they
heard a scream and a grating sound along
the side of the mountain behind them,
followed by a heavy thud as if a big lump
of wet soil had struck the ground. When
they again took courage to turn around
and look, he was lying there, lacerated and
torn beyond recognition. The girl lay in
a swoon on the rock. Her father carried
her away.
The young folk who had been most
eager in spurring Leif on did not even
have the courage to come forward to help
him. Some of' them could not even bear
to look at him. So some of the older men
had to come forth and lend a hand. One
of them—the oldest ' among them—said
as he lifted the body: “This was sad;—
yet” he added as he looked up,—“it is well
that some things hang so high that not
everyone can reach them.”
A Saga of The Orkney Isles
(Concluded from page 9.)
was passed, but the freemen were given
the choice of buying their lands outright
so that the Earl might not inherit them
in the future. The greater number of the
landholders availed themselves of this
plan and once again there was an
abundance of funds to carry on the work
of building the cathedral.
When the work had progressed so that
the cathedral could be roofed the remains
of St. Magnus, which had already been
removed from Christ’s Church in Birsay,
were laid to rest in the magnificent new
minster. Many great men were also laid
there to rest, Earl Rognvald himself being
buried there in after years, and there,
also, rested the remains of King Haakon
11
for a time before being removed to
Bergen.
The years passed and the scroll of
history unrolled. Earls and prelates came
and departed; old customs faded; strong
structures crumbled into ruin and ruin
into dust; the Vikings sailed no more on
cruises of harry and plunder; civilization
advanced and men gave their energies
over to pastoral and productive pursuits;
hours of vice and virtue fled into Eternity
and fair locks whitened into the grave
and returned to ashes, but the destructive
hand of Time spared the Cathedral of St.
Magnus in Kirkwall.
Many and wonderful are the stories
which might be told by the ashlars of the
old red church could stones but speak.
How within those eroded walls old King
Haakon, who had come to conquer the
Western Isles, breathed his last while
Sverrir’s saga was read by faithful
friends; how the islands were placed in
pawn by a royal father for the dowry of
a Princess and passed into the dominion of
Scottish Kings; how the island became the
home of Scottish Earls; how when Earl
Patrick lay in Edinburgh awaiting his
doom as a traitor, his son held Kirkwall;
how during rebellion the old tower was
wrapped in smoke and echoed under the
rattle of musketry; how the last of the
Stewarts was turned from St. Magnus at
the point of the bayonet; the troopers of
Cromwell stalking up the aisles; the
swearing of the Covenant; the returning
of the bishops and after a time their final
departure; the changing to the staid
Presbyterian fashion and all the glories
and ignomies, the joys and sorrows of the
tide of every-day affairs. Swept by the
centuries it still stands a link between the
dead past and the living present through
which our fathers speak to us, as they
spoke to the legions going forward to the
defense of Democracy in their pause there
—spoke that silent language of the cen­
turies which but few fully understood, of
the many who looked upon the old Cathe­
dral of St. Magnus.
CONSISTENCY IN BUSINESS.
AV'E are told, sufficiently often to im-
press the statement, that “business
is business,” and from this we are led to
believe that commercial transactions are
governed by a code of ethics, rules laws or
principles which will bear analysis from a
standpoint of profit-making or what we
term business success, and of consistency
in its application. Time-honored terms in
connection with trade indicate the exis­
tence of such a code from the day when
men first began to barter, and in the na­
ture of things it should be a more perfect
and highly developed system today than at
any time in the history of the world, and
in use by commercial institutions of high
standing.
Corporations have in a large measure
succeeded individuals in the business
world, and as corporations are not only
conscienceless, but it has been charged in
sarcasm, “subject to no law.” This may
account for the peculiarly unbusiness-like
action of many firms of presumably high
standing. They do not hesitate to appeal
to a spirit of patriotism and loyalty to
their community which they, themselves,
signally fail to abide by. Consistency is
a bright and shining jewel in business as
well as in other things.
Noah certainly stored a lot of trouble
when he allowed those two Fords to get
aboard the ark with the other animals.