FISHERMAN KNUTE'S CHRISTMAS GIFT.

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BY NEPHI ANDERSON, AUTHOR OF “ADDED UPON,' THE CASTLE BUILDER," "MARCUS KING, MORMON," "THE HIGHER LAW," ETC.

I. FAITH.

And so Ingeborg and Knute were married-while the whole village wondered at the strange decree of fate that launched two such persons into the uncertain sea of wedded life.

To all outward appearances, the occasion was auspicious enough. The land of the North never looked brighter than on that day. It was an ideal spring day in northern Norway, a day when the sun sheds warmth and gladness on the awakening earth, and coaxes out from their hiding places the hardy flowers and buds. The mountains now were taking upon themselves a tinge of green, the smaller slopes were soft with young grass, and even the sea, usually wild and cold, lay as if peacefully asleep under the warming, soothing rays of the sun. Yes; it was a day full of God's sunlight when Ingeborg and Knute were married, a day such as sometimes is given to man to bring out also from him, as it does from nature, the best that is within, a day in which no man can have doubt in his heart.

They were married in Trondenes church, that ancient landmark of northern Norway. At a distance it looks like a great stone barn, standing on a point of land jutting out into the fjord, but when one gets nearer, he sees the parsonage at the rear, and the small grave-yard by the side. Within the church, it is dark and gloomy, and no wonder the bridal party hastened from its dismal atmosphere to the sunshine without, as soon as the ceremony had been performed.

Down by the wooden pier lay a fleet of boats-Nordland fishing-boats with high prows and square sails, and towards the boats. Knute and Ingeborg walked, followed by the company. They were a pair to be admired, at least, much as some of the more pessimistic shook their heads. Knute was a big, broad-shouldered man, dressed in a suit of black in which he looked as he felt, completely out of place. His large head was covered with a mass of curling brown hair which revealed a tinge of red as he walked bare-headed in the sun down to the water. His face was smoothly shaven, and glowed with the health that comes from the winds of the north.

Ingeborg was tall and fair. Her face was pale, save for the red on each cheek. Her hair was a light golden color, and hung in a long, gleamy braid down from under her silk kerchief. As she walked by the side of her husband, she looked up into his face with a smile, and tightened her grasp on his hand.

A breeze came from the land, and, though laden with the sweet scent of bursting buds, the company soon embarked in the boats, which were dancing at the end of their ropes. The sea breeze was more to their liking these Northlanders whose lives were spent in company with the screeching sea-birds that skimmed the waves.

Then the sails were hoisted, and there was a grand race for home. Knute had promised the first boat that arrived a prize worth having, and now there was a test of seamanship. Even when made, Knute vowed to win it for himself. He had Ingeborg only in his boat, and a light burden she was. Adjusting his sail properly, he came and sat by her on the tiller seat. The boat sped out into the fjord with a score of others close at hand. The breeze came strong from the open sea. Color was in every face, and joy and courage in every heart.

Ingeborg sat for some time looking at her handsome husband. "Knute," she said, "you are as eager as the rest. You surely do not wish to win your own prize."

"And why not," replied he, "I said the first boat that touched the pier should have it. That doesn't exclude my boat, the best in the fleet."

"What will the prize be, Knute?"

"Ah, little wife, something good."

"I hope Lars wins it," said she after a pause.
"Lars? Why?"

"Well, he needs something good."

Knute laughed aloud; then pulled the sail a little higher up the mast.

"Knute, I am so happy," said Ingeborg. Of course, he could see that, but she wished to tell him of it besides. For reply he put his arm around her and kissed her. She was content to nestle closely to him and the boat sped over the waves.

"Knute," she said, "we are beginning life's journey, do you know that?"

"Well, I thought I began some years ago," said he.

"Oh, no, you didn't. You have just been taking little journeys among the land-locked fjords; but now the big, boundless sea is before you. And, Knute, you'll have to steer straight and well, because you have such a precious cargo on board, you know." "Yes, I know," said Knute.

"But you say it so carelessly, dear." She laid her head on his shoulder. The shiny braid fell over into his hands. "I look on life to be so real, especially now. We-you and I are going to succeed. I am going to help you succeed—you must let me, and to do that we must plan together there must be no secrets between us. I hope it won't be long before you will have a boat that you can take to Bergen yourself with fish. They say there is much more money in that than to sell to the fish merchants up here. Then, perhaps, I can go with you to Bergen and see the city, and city life.

"You shall, dear."

"Yes; it will be pleasant; but I don't care so much for that as I do to see you become a man that people will look up to and trust dear, just as I look up to you and trust you."

Fisherman Knute had that day received a gift from God, priceless to him, if he but knew it; but he, as many another man, did not then realize that the Creator places within women some of his most precious souls, and in this form bestows them on man. Not then did he know it, but afterwards.

But Knute was happy, and so intently did he gaze on the

sunny head on his arm that he did not see that his boat was falling behind in the race, until he was half a mile to rearward.

"Oh, never mind," said she, when she saw his chagrin.

"But I do mind-and I shall beat them yet by running through the Shallows. It is a mile shorter."

"But, Knute, is there not danger there?"

"Not to one who knows the passage as well as I do. Never fear, little one, I know every rock and opening. We will go through the Shallows, and by the Promontory, and beat them yet" -and, as he shifted the helm to the new course, he gave a great shout to his friends down to leeward.

A long island lay to the right, around which the party would have to sail; but at the southern end there was a narrow passage, filled with rocks. The water was shallow, and when the least sea rolled it was thought too dangerous to risk a passage through; but now Knute pointed his boat straight for the cliffs which hung close over the water. His eyes and arms were steady, and the boat slacked not when the white foam flew over them as the waves dashed themselves into spray on the sunken rocks.

"Don't be afraid, dear," said Knute. "Right here is plenty of water, and through we safely go. See!"

True enough, though the rocks were so close that Ingeborg thought she could have reached out her hand and touched them. "There! once more we are ahead," exclaimed the fisherman. "They are not so smart, even if they caught me napping. Now we can beat them easily. Away we go for home, then."

"But, dear, why should you run risks just for this?" She trembled, yet was happy in the skill and bravery of the man she loved. "You wouldn't have me beaten the first day of our journey, would you? You said something about success, didn't you?" "Yes, I know, but”—

She looked towards the harbor where the fishing village clustered around the water. Some distance to the right of the town, a little white painted house stood up close under an overhanging ledge. On the rocky point that extended into the sea just below the house was planted a pole, from the top of which floated a Norwegian flag. This was Knute's house. This was where he was taking his wife. This was their future home, where she was to

work and watch, and that he was to come to, occasionally, from his work on sea and fjord.

Knute's boat touched the landing first, though there were some not far behind. Then, as the remainder of the party came up, there were hurrahs and expostulations and all kinds of commotion.

"Mates and people," said Knute, as he mounted an upturned boat, "the race was a good one, and fair, but you all have been outdone by the best sailor in the company, my wife, Ingeborg. The prize belongs to her. Come to the house, all of you."

This was received with cheers of approval, and up the stony path they all trooped. Then they gathered into the large front room of Fisherman Knute's house, and awaited the serving of the good things which were in store. Knute brought out a bottle of wine, and holding it aloft, said:

"This bottle of wine is the best that could be bought in Bergen, I present it to the winner of the race."

Ingeborg took the wine amid the cheers of the company. "Friends," she said, as she motioned for silence, I told Knute out on the fjord that some one other than he should win the prize"— "I did not win it," shouted Knute; "you, Ingeborg, you are the winner."

"But, Knute,” and the young wife straightened herself up to her full, fair height, "I have one prize today, and I do not wish to be greedy in such things. We, making that run through the shallows, were hardly fair. I think that should bar us from the prize, which ought to go to the next boat that touched the home landing and that was Lars Johnson's. Lars, take this bottle of wine to your wife, who is at home, I know, too ill to join us in this celebration."

At first there had been murmurs of dissent, but when the final announcement was made, it was received with a shout of approval, and soon the festivities were going in that hearty manner which characterizes those simple, good-hearted people of the North.

II. HOPE.

And now the full gladness of midsummer filled nature and all the people in that Northern land. It was midnight, yet the sun shone.