CHAPTER II

by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

　　The goat was tethered near the house, but Oyvind wandered off, with hiseyes fixed on the cliff. The mother came and sat down beside him; heasked her to tell him stories about things that were far away, for nowthe goat was no longer enough to content him. So his mother told himhow once everything could talk: the mountain talked to the brook, andthe brook to the river, and the river to the sea, and the sea to thesky; he asked if the sky did not talk to any one, and was told that ittalked to the clouds, and the clouds to the trees, the trees to thegrass, the grass to the flies, the flies to the beasts, and the beaststo the children, but the children to grown people; and thus itcontinued until it had gone round in a circle, and neither knew whereit had begun. Oyvind gazed at the cliff, the trees, the sea, and thesky, and he had never truly seen them before. The cat came out justthen, and stretched itself out on the door-step, in the sunshine.

　　"What does the cat say?" asked Oyvind, and pointed.

　　The mother sang,—

　　"Evening sunshine softly is dying,

　　On the door-step lazy puss is lying.

　　'Two small mice,

　　Cream so thick and nice;

　　Four small bits of fish

　　Stole I from a dish;

　　Well-filled am I and sleek,

　　Am very languid and meek,'

　　Says the pussie."[1]