pleasure and enjoyment. The whole coast for miles and miles was full of playthings; it was a mosaic of pebbles, some red as coral or yellow as amber, and others again white and rounded and smoothed by the sea till they looked like birds’ eggs. The bleached skeletons of fish, the water plants dried by the wind, sea-weed white and glittering like long linen bands, waving between the stones,—all seemed made to give pleasure and amusement to the eye and the thoughts of this boy, who had an intelligent mind, and possessed many great faculties. He formed picture-frames and ships of shells to decorate the room. His foster-mother used to say he could make a stick into something wonderful from his own ideas, though he was so young and small. He had a sweet voice; melody seemed to flow naturally from his lips. And in his heart were hidden chords, which might have sounded over the world had he been placed anywhere else than in the fisherman’s hut by the North Sea.
One day, another ship was wrecked near the coast; and, among other things, a chest containing valuable bulbous flower-roots drifted on shore. Some were put into saucepans and cooked, for they were supposed to be good to eat; and others lay neglected on the sand till they became dry and shrivelled. They accomplished no purpose for which they had been formed; they unfolded not the rich colours whose germ was within them. Would it be better with Jurgen? The flower-bulbs had soon played their part in life, but he had still years of discipline before him. Neither he nor his friends remarked how one day followed another in its course, for there was always plenty to do and see. The sea itself was a great lesson-book, unfolding each day a new leaf of calm or storm,—the crested wave or the smooth surface.
Visits to the church were festive occasions; but, among other festal occasions in the fisherman’s house, one was always welcomed with joy. It occurred twice in the year, and was, in fact, the visit of the brother of Jurgen’s foster-mother, the eel-breeder of Zjaltring, in the neighbourhood of the Bon Hill. He used to come in a cart filled with eels. The cart was covered, and looked like a box, and was painted all over with blue and white flowers. It was drawn by two dun oxen, and Jurgen was allowed to guide them. The eel-breeder was a witty fellow anda merry guest; he always brought a measure of brandy with him. Each one took a glassful or a cupful if there were not enough glasses; even Jurgen was allowed to have a thimbleful that he might digest the fat eel, so the eel-breeder said. He always told one story over and over again; and if his hearers laughed, he would repeat it to them.
As Jurgen, during his childhood, and even later, would refer to this story of the eel-breeder’s, and make use of it in various ways, it may be as well that we should hear it also.
“An eel and her daughters were in a creek, and the young eels wanted to go farther up. ‘Don’t go too far,’ said their mother, ‘or the ugly eel-spearer might come and snap you up.’ But they went too far; and of eight daughters only three returned to the mother. They wept, and said, ‘We only went a little way beyond the entrance, and the ugly eel-spearer came directly and stabbed five of our sisters to death.’”
