BY JOHANN JACOB AHRENBERG
Among Scandinavians it seems to be a common thing for the artistic impulse to drive in many directions at once. The Swedish-Finnish novelist Ahrenberg is architect as well as writer. He was born in 1847 at Wiborg, and studied in Helsingfors and at the Art Academy in Stockholm. He is now chief Government architect for his state. The first novels and tales that brought him into literary prominence were published in 1880, followed since then by many other East Finland pictures. Among these, “Jalo the Trotter,” the story of a superb horse and his two masters, is characteristic not only of the author’s style, but of his country as well.
JALO THE TROTTER
A FINNISH TALE
BY JACOB AHRENBERG
Translated by Mary J. Safford. Copyright, 1902, by The Current Literature Publishing Company.
It was late in the afternoon of an August day, but the sun was still pouring its hot slanting rays into Christian’s sitting-room. The flies were buzzing merrily around the head of the landlord, who sat by the window, apparently watching the two balsams blooming in broken china pots on the sill. Christian had been there a long time, staring between the leaves and flowers of the plants at the little gate of the fence, as if he was expecting some one.
He had already reached middle life, but looked considerably older. His eyes were sunk deep in their sockets, and wrinkles seamed his face. His wife, who was working busily at the loom, did not seem to have her mind wholly on her task; for, whenever Christian made the slightest movement, she glanced anxiously toward the door as if she, too, was expecting somebody.
Suddenly Laurikamen, the assessor of the district court, entered, greeted the couple, and shook hands ceremoniously with them. This guest, whose visit seemed to afford neither pleasure nor surprise, sat down at the table, and, after a short silence, lighted his pipe, and finally remarked that it really was far too hot for five o’clock in the afternoon, to which undeniably truthful remark Christian replied that the heat would at least do the oats good. Gradually the conversation grew more fluent; they discussed the questions of the day, the fall of stocks, the price of grain at home and in Russia, and the sessions of the court. Then the assessor had reached the point at which he was aiming. Rising deliberately, he went to the hearth, knocked the ashes from his pipe, and remarked, as if casually: