“This is the ‘Fort.’ That is, a mountain, where they have a collection of all the national keepsakes, just as if the nation were anticipating its end and making its last will and testament, gathering together all the mementoes of the past. It shows reverence for the ancestors, but nothing else.”
“What we have heard on this commemoration day seems to prove that the deeds of our forefathers have been engulfed in the ocean of time. One thing swims on the surface, another sinks to the bottom. Here we are sitting like the shadows of our former selves, and to you, who are alive, we must remain shadows.... Put out the lights!”
The giant Swede extinguished the lights and went out; the soldier followed close behind him and climbed into something which looked like a cage.
“If you say a word to anybody of what you have seen and heard,” said the giant, “you will be sorry for it.”
“I can quite believe that,” answered Cask, “but shall always remember it. That they should have squandered the old country in drink and pledge to the foreigner! It’s too bad—if it’s true.”
“Click” went the turbine; and the lift with soldier shot upwards to the “Fort.” And there stood, in the sunset, and the country looked just as it had looked when the chimes in the belfry Häsjoer chimed, and Gustav Wasa entered Stockholm, surrounded by his generals.
LITTLE BLUEWING FINDS THE GOLDPOWDER
The rich man had visited the poor island and fallen in love with it. He could not have said why, but he was charmed; probably the island resembled some memory of his childhood, or, perhaps, a beautiful dream.
He bought the island, built a villa, and planted all sorts of lovely trees, shrubs, and flowers. And all around was the sea; he had his own landing-stage, with a flag-staff and white boats; oak trees, as tall as a church, shaded his house, and cool breezes gently swept the green meadows. He had a wife, children, servants, cattle; he had everything, except one thing: it was but a trifle, but it was more important than anything else in the world, and yet he had forgotten it until the very last: he had no spring water. Wells were sunk and rocks were blasted, but all he got was brown, brackish water; it was filtered until it looked as clear as crystal, but it remained brackish. And that was where the shoe pinched.