Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang.

They found the doors securely barred,
They found the watch-dog in the yard,
There was no foot-print in the grass,
And none had seen the stranger pass.
Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang.

King Olaf crossed himself and said,
"I know that Odin the Great is dead;
Sure is the triumph of our Faith,
The white-haired stranger was his wraith."
Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang.

* * * * *




GALA-DAYS.

II.


The descent from Patmore and poetry to New York is somewhat abrupt, not to
say precipitous, but we made it in safety; and so shall you, if you will
be agile. New York is a pleasant little Dutch city, on a dot of island a
few miles southwest of Massachusetts. For a city entirely unobtrusive and
unpretending, it has really great attractions and solid merit; but the
superior importance of other places will not permit me to tarry long