Glad they hear the sea-beach grating
Harsh beneath the small boat's stem--
Forth they leap, for no man waiting--
But the BLACK DEATH LANDS WITH THEM.

XVI.

Viewless--soundless--stalks the spectre
Thro' the city chill and pale,
Which like bride, this morn, had decked her
For the advent of that sail.
Oft by Bergen women, mourning,
Shall the dismal tale be told,
Of that lost ship home returning,
With "THE BLACK DEATH" in her hold!

I would gladly dwell on the pleasures of my second visit
to Christiansund, which has a charm of its own, independent
of its interest as the spot from whence we really "start
for home." But though strange lands, and unknown or
indifferent people, are legitimate subjects for travellers'
tales, our FRIENDS and their pleasant homes are NOT; so
I shall keep all I have to say of gratitude to our
excellent and hospitable Consul, Mr. Morch, and of
admiration for his charming wife, until I can tell you
viva voce how much I wish that you also knew them.

And now, though fairly off from Norway, and on our homeward
way, it was a tedious business--what with fogs, calms,
and headwinds--working towards Copenhagen. We rounded