NINTH EVENING
The air was clear again.Several evenings hadpassed，and the Moon was in the first quarter.Again hegave me an outline for a sketch.Listen to what he toldme.
"I have followed polar bird and the swimmingwhale to the eastern coast of Greenland.Gaunt ice-cov-ered rocks and dark clouds hung over a valley，wheredwarf willows and bilberry bushes stood clothed in green.The blooming Iychnis exhaled sweet odours.My light wasfaint，my face pale as the water-lily that，torn from itsstem，has been drifting for weeks with the tide.Thecrown-shaped Northern Lights burned in the sky.Its ringwas broad，and from its circumference the rays shot likewhirling shafts of fire across the whole sky，changing fromgreen to red.The inhabitants of that icy region were as-sembling for dance and festivity;but accustomed to thisglorious spectacle，they scarcely deigned to glance at it.'Let us leave the souls of the dead to their ball-play withthe heads of the walruses，'they thought in their supersti-tion，and they turned their whole attention to the song anddance.In the midst of the circle，and divested of his furrycloak，stood a Greenlander，with his small drum，and heplayed and sang a song about catching the seal，and thechorus around chimed in with' Eia，Eia，Ah.'And intheir white furs they danced about in the circle，till youmight fancy it was polar bears'ball.
"And now a Court of Judgement was opened.ThoseGreenlanders who bad quarrelled stepped fortward，and theoffended person chanted forth the faults of his adversary inan extempore song，turning them sharply into ridicule，tothe sound of the drum and the measure of the dance.Thedefendant replied with satire as keen，while the audiencelaughed and gave their verdict.
The rocks heaved，the glaciers melted，and greatmasses of ice and snow came crashing down，shivering tofragments as they fell：it was a glorious Greenland summernight.A hundred paces away，under the open tent ofhides，lay a sick man.Life still flowed through his warm blood，but still he was to die;he himself felt it，and allwho stood round him knew it also;therefore his wife wasalready sewing round him the shroud of furs，that she mightnot afterwards obliged to touch the dead body.And sheasked，'Wilt thou be buried on the rock，in the firm snow?I will deck the spot with thy.kayak，and thy arrows，andthe angekokk shall dance over it.Or wouldst thou rather beburied in the sea?''In the sea，'he whispered，and nod-ded with a mournful smile.' Yes，it is a pleasant summertent，the sea，'observed the wife.'Thousands of sealssport there，the walrus shall lie at thy feet，and the huntwill be safe and merry!'And the yelling children tore theoutspread hide from the window-hole，that the dead manmight be carried to the ocean，the billowy ocean，that hadgiven him food in life，and that now，in death，was to af-ford him a place of rest.For his monument，he had thefloating，ever-changing icebergs，whereon the seal sleeps，while the storm bird flies round their summits."
TENTH EVENING
"I knew an old maid，" said the Moon."Every win-ter she wore a wrapper of yellow satin，and it always re-mained new，and was the only fashion she followed.Insummer she always wore the same straw hat，and I verilybelieve the very same grey-blue dress.
"She never went out，except across the street to anold female friend;and in later years she did not even takethis walk，for the old friend was dead.In her solitude myold maid was always busy at the window，which wasadorned in summer with pretty flowers，and in winter withcress，grown upon felt.During the last months I saw herno more at the window，but she was still alive.I knewthat，for I had not yet seen her begin the'long journey'，of which she often spoke with her friend.'Yes，yes，'she was in the habit of saying，'when I come to die，Ishall take a longer journey than I have made my whole lifelong.Our family vault is six miles from here.I shall becarried there，and shall sleep there among my family andrelatives.'Last night a hearse stopped at the house.Acoffin was carried out，and then I knew that she wasdead.They placed straw round the coffin，and the hearsedrove away.There slept the quiet old lady，who had notgone out of her house once for the last year.The hearserolled out through the town gate as briskly as if it weregoing for a pleasant excursion.On the high road the pacewas quicker yet.The coachman looked nervously roundevery now and then—I fancy he half expected to see hersitting on the coffin，in her yellow satin wrapper.Andbecause he was startled，he foolishly lashed his horses，while he held the reins so tightly that the poor beasts werein a foam!They were young and fiery.A hare jumped across the road and startled them，and they fairly ranaway."The sober old maid，who had for years and yearsmoved quietly round and round in a dull circle，wasnow，in death，rattled over stock and stone on the pub-lic highway.The coffin in its covering of straw tumbledout of the hearse，and was left on the high road，whilehorses，coachman，and hearse flew off in wild career.The lark rose up carolling from the field，twittering hermorning lay over the coffin，and presently perched uponit，picking with her beak at the straw covering，as thoughshe would tear it up.The lark rose up again，singing gai-ly，and I withdrew behind the red morning clouds."