I could have continued my silence a very long time yet, for it has not
been a great autumn either on land or sea, but little summer storms, as
if for frolic, with small seas and loose wreckage, but unusually far
out, about three miles from land. But the long, dark lamp-lit evenings
are come, and this shoal of fish which I must write to you about and ask
what the end is going to be; for now we almost think that the sea up
north Stavanger way must be choke-full, as it was of herrings in the
good old days that are no more, but it is now big with coal-fish, mostly
north by the Reef, they say, but the undersigned and old Velas, who is a
still older man, got about four boxes of right nice coal-fish yesterday,
a little to the south-east. But half Jæren [Footnote: Jæderen, the coast
district near Stavanger.] was on the sea, boat upon boat, for the double
reason of the coal-fish and that they had not an earthly thing to do
upon the land, for this year the earth has yielded us everything well
and very early, but the straw is short, which, if the truth must be
told, is the only thing to complain of. But the farmers are making wry
faces, like the merchants in Östersöen when they complain of the
herrings, for they must always complain, except about the sheep, which
are going off very well to the Englishman, and I can't conceive what
there will be left of this kind of beast in Jæren, but it is all the
same to me, seeing that I have never liked the sheep at all until last
year, when he paid taxes for all Jæren, which was more than was expected
of him. And it would be well if any one were able to put bounds upon
this burning of sea-ware, which the devil or somebody has invented for
use as a medicine in Bergen--they say, but I do not believe it, because
it has a stink that goes into the innermost part of your nostrils and
into your tobacco besides. But then the east wind is good for something,
at least, for it sends the heaps of ware out to sea, and I can imagine
how it will surprise the Queen of England when she knows how we stink.
And I have a grievance of my own, viz., boys shooting with blunderbusses
and powder, and with so little wit that my eyes flash with anger every
time I see them creeping on their stomachs towards a starling or a
couple of lean ring-plovers, and I shout and cast stones to warn the
innocent creatures, since the farmer of Jæren is, as it were, his
thrall's thrall, and lets the servant-boys make a fool of him and play
the concertina all night, which might be put up with, but no powder and
shooting should be allowed, so that Jæren may not become a desert for
bird-life, and only concertinas left and rascals of boys on their
stomachs as above.
Yours very truly,
LAURITZ BOLDEMANN SEEHUS.
KRYDSVIG, December 25, 1889.