Evening came; there was a swelling roar in theair， a wailing or moaning like the voices ofdespairing spirits， that sounded above thethunder of the waves. The fisherman's little cottagewas on the very margin， and the sand rattledagainst the window panes; every now and then aviolent gust of wind shook the house to itsfoundation. It was dark， but about midnight themoon would rise. Later on the air became clearer，but the storm swept over the perturbed sea withundiminished fury; the fisher folks had long sincegone to bed， but in such weather there was no chance of closing an eye. Presently there was atapping at the window; the door was opened， and a voice said：
“there's a large ship stranded on the farthest reef.”
In a moment the fisher people sprung from their beds and hastily dressed themselves. Themoon had risen， and it was light enough to make the surrounding objects visible to thosewho could open their eyes in the blinding clouds of sand; the violence of the wind wasterrible， and it was only possible to pass among the sand-hills if one crept forward betweenthe gusts; the salt spray flew up from the sea like down， and the ocean foamed like a roaringcataract towards the beach. Only a practised eye could discern the vessel out in the offing;she was a fine brig， and the waves now lifted her over the reef， three or four cables' lengthout of the usual channel. She drove towards the shore， struck on the second reef， andremained fixed.
It was impossible to render assistance; the sea rushed in upon the vessel， making aclean breach over her. Those on shore thought they heard cries for help from those onboard， and could plainly distinguish the busy but useless efforts made by the strandedsailors. Now a wave came rolling onward. It fell with enormous force on the bowsprit， tearingit from the vessel， and the stern was lifted high above the water. Two people were seen toembrace and plunge together into the sea， and the next moment one of the largest wavesthat rolled towards the sand-hills threw a body on the beach. It was a woman; the sailors saidthat she was quite dead， but the women thought they saw signs of life in her， so thestranger was carried across the sand-hills to the fisherman's cottage. How beautiful and fair shewas! She must be a GREat lady， they said.
they laid her upon the humble bed; there was not a yard of linen on it， only a woollencoverlet to keep the occupant warm.
Life returned to her， but she was delirious， and knew nothing of what had happened orwhere she was; and it was better so， for everything she loved and valued lay buried in thesea. The same thing happened to her ship as to the one spoken of in the song about “The Kingof England's Son.”
“Alas! how terrible to see the gallant bark sink rapidly.”
Fragments of the wreck and pieces of wood were washed ashore; they were all thatremained of the vessel. The wind still blew violently on the coast.
For a few moments the strange lady seemed to rest; but she awoke in pain， and utteredcries of anguish and fear. She opened her wonderfully beautiful eyes， and spoke a fewwords， but nobody understood her.—And lo! as a reward for the sorrow and suffering shehad undergone， she held in her arms a new-born babe. The child that was to have restedupon a magnificent couch， draped with silken curtains， in a luxurious home; it was to havebeen welcomed with joy to a life rich in all the good things of this world; and now Heaven hadordained that it should be born in this humble retreat， that it should not even receive a kissfrom its mother， for when the fisherman's wife laid the child upon the mother's bosom， itrested on a heart that beat no more—she was dead.
the child that was to have been reared amid wealth and luxury was cast into the world，washed by the sea among the sand-hills to share the fate and hardships of the poor.
Here we are reminded again of the song about “The King of England's Son，” for in itmention is made of the custom prevalent at the time， when knights and squires plunderedthose who had been saved from shipwreck. The ship had stranded some distance south ofNissum Bay， and the cruel， inhuman days， when， as we have just said， the inhabitants ofJutland treated the shipwrecked people so crudely were past， long ago. Affectionate sympathyand self-sacrifice for the unfortunate existed then， just as it does in our own time in many abright example. The dying mother and the unfortunate child would have found kindness andhelp wherever they had been cast by the winds， but nowhere would it have been more sincerethan in the cottage of the poor fisherman's wife， who had stood， only the day before，beside her child's grave， who would have been five years old that day if God had spared it toher.
No one knew who the dead stranger was， they could not even form a conjecture; thefragments of wreckage gave no clue to the matter.
No tidings reached Spain of the fate of the daughter and son-in-law. They did not arrive attheir destination， and violent storms had raged during the past weeks. At last the verdictwas given： “Foundered at sea—all lost.” But in the fisherman's cottage among the sand-hillsnear Huusby， there lived a little scion of the rich Spanish family.
Where Heaven sends food for two， a third can manage to find a meal， and in the depth ofthe sea there is many a dish of fish for the hungry.
they called the boy Jorgen.
“It must certainly be a Jewish child， its skin is so dark，” the people said.
“It might be an Italian or a Spaniard，” remarked the clergyman.