theireffortswereofnoavail.

thegoldenanchorforththeythrew;

towardsdenmarkthewestwindblew."

thisallhappenedalongtimeago;kingchristianvii,whosatonthedanishthrone,wasstillayoungman.muchhashappenedsincethen,muchhasalteredorbeenchanged.seaandmoorlandhavebeenturnedintogreenmeadows,stretchesofheatherhavebecomearableland,andintheshelterofthepeasant'scottages,apple-treesandrose-bushesgrow,thoughtheycertainlyrequiremuchcare,asthesharpwestwindblowsuponthem.inwestjutlandonemaygobackinthoughttooldtimes,fartherbackthanthedayswhenchristianviiruled.thepurpleheatherstillextendsformiles,withitsbarrowsandaerialspectacles,intersectedwithsandyunevenroads,justasitdidthen;towardsthewest,wherebroadstreamsrunintothebays,aremarshesandmeadowsencircledbylofty,sandyhills,which,likeachainofalps,raisetheirpointedsummitsnearthesea;theyareonlybrokenbyhighridgesofclay,fromwhichthesea,yearbyyear,bitesoutgreatmouthfuls,sothattheoverhangingbanksfalldownasifbytheshockofanearthquake.thusitistheretodayandthusitwaslongago,whenthehappypairweresailinginthebeautifulship.

itwasasunday,towardstheendofseptember;thesunwasshining,andthechimingofthechurchbellsinthebayofnissumwascarriedalongbythebreezelikeachainofsounds.thechurchestherearealmostentirelybuiltofhewnblocksofstone,eachlikeapieceofrock.thenorthseamightfoamoverthemandtheywouldnotbedisturbed.nearlyallofthemarewithoutsteeples,andthebellsarehungoutsidebetweentwobeams.theservicewasover,andthecongregationpassedoutintothechurchyard,wherenotatreeorbushwastobeseen;noflowerswereplantedthere,andtheyhadnotplacedasinglewreathuponanyofthegraves.itisjustthesamenow.roughmoundsshowwherethedeadhavebeenburied,andrankgrass,tossedbythewind,growsthicklyoverthewholechurchyard;hereandthereagravehasasortofmonument,ablockofhalf-decayedwood,rudelycutintheshapeofacoffin;theblocksarebroughtfromtheforestofwestjutland,buttheforestistheseaitself,andtheinhabitantsfindbeams,andplanks,andfragmentswhichthewaveshavecastuponthebeach.oneoftheseblockshadbeenplacedbylovinghandsonachild'sgrave,andoneofthewomenwhohadcomeoutofthechurchwalkeduptoit;shestoodthere,hereyesrestingontheweather-beatenmemorial,andafewmomentsafterwardsherhusbandjoinedher.theywerebothsilent,buthetookherhand,andtheywalkedtogetheracrossthepurpleheath,overmoorandmeadowtowardsthesandhills.foralongtimetheywentonwithoutspeaking.

"itwasagoodsermonto-day,"themansaidatlast."ifwehadnotgodtotrustin,weshouldhavenothing."

"yes,"repliedthewoman,"hesendsjoyandsorrow,andhehasarighttosendthem.to-morrowourlittlesonwouldhavebeenfiveyearsoldifwehadbeenpermittedtokeephim."

"itisnousefretting,wife,"saidtheman."theboyiswellprovidedfor.heiswherewehopeandpraytogoto."

theysaidnothingmore,butwentouttowardstheirhousesamongthesand-hills.allatonce,infrontofoneofthehouseswheretheseagrassdidnotkeepthesanddownwithitstwiningroots,whatseemedtobeacolumnofsmokeroseup.agustofwindrushedbetweenthehills,hurlingtheparticlesofsandhighintotheair;anothergust,andthestringsoffishhunguptodryflappedandbeatviolentlyagainstthewallsofthecottage;theneverythingwasquietoncemore,andthesunshonewithrenewedheat.

themanandhiswifewentintothecottage.theyhadsoontakenofftheirsundayclothesandcomeoutagain,hurryingovertheduneswhichstoodtherelikegreatwavesofsandsuddenlyarrestedintheircourse,whilethesandweedsanddunegrasswithitsbluishstalksspreadachangingcolouroverthem.afewneighboursalsocameout,andhelpedeachothertodrawtheboatshigheruponthebeach.thewindnowblewmorekeenly,itwaschillyandcold,andwhentheywentbackoverthesand-hills,sandandlittlesharpstonesblewintotheirfaces.thewavesrosehigh,crestedwithwhitefoam,andthewindcutofftheircrests,scatteringthefoamfarandwide.

eveningcame;therewasaswellingroarintheair,awailingormoaninglikethevoicesofdespairingspirits,thatsoundedabovethethunderofthewaves.thefisherman'slittlecottagewasontheverymargin,andthesandrattledagainstthewindowpanes;everynowandthenaviolentgustofwindshookthehousetoitswasdark,butaboutmidnightthemoonwouldrise.laterontheairbecameclearer,butthestormsweptovertheperturbedseawithundiminishedfury;thefisherfolkshadlongsincegonetobed,butinsuchweathertherewasnochanceofclosinganeye.presentlytherewasatappingatthewindow;thedoorwasopened,andavoicesaid:

"there'salargeshipstrandedonthefarthestreef."

inamomentthefisherpeoplesprungfromtheirbedsandhastilydressedthemselves.themoonhadrisen,anditwaslightenoughtomakethesurroundingobjectsvisibletothosewhocouldopentheireyesintheblindingcloudsofsand;theviolenceofthewindwasterrible,anditwasonlypossibletopassamongthesand-hillsifonecreptforwardbetweenthegusts;thesaltsprayflewupfromthesealikedown,andtheoceanfoamedlikearoaringcataracttowardsthebeach.onlyapractisedeyecoulddiscernthevesseloutintheoffing;shewasafinebrig,andthewavesnowliftedheroverthereef,threeorfourcables'lengthoutoftheusualchannel.shedrovetowardstheshore,struckonthesecondreef,andremainedfixed.

itwasimpossibletorenderassistance;thesearushedinuponthevessel,makingacleanbreachoverher.thoseonshorethoughttheyheardcriesforhelpfromthoseonboard,andcouldplainlydistinguishthebusybutuselesseffortsmadebythestrandedawavecamerollingonward.itfellwithenormousforceonthebowsprit,tearingitfromthevessel,andthesternwasliftedhighabovethewater.twopeoplewereseentoembraceandplungetogetherintothesea,andthenextmomentoneofthelargestwavesthatrolledtowardsthesand-hillsthrewabodyonthebeach.itwasawoman;thesailorssaidthatshewasquitedead,butthewomenthoughttheysawsignsoflifeinher,sothestrangerwascarriedacrossthesand-hillstothefisherman'scottage.howbeautifulandfairshewas!