bother the parish about him, for he monopolized space enough in
his lifetime; it isn't worth while to have him lie in the way now
he is dead. Should his corpse prevent a blessing to the parish
that would reach to a hundred generations, we surely would have
reason to say, that of all born here he has done us most harm."

Canute Aakre tossed back his disorderly hair, his eyes darted
fire, his whole frame appeared like a drawn bow.

"What sort of a blessing this is that you speak of, I have already
proved. It is of the same character as all the others which you
have brought to the parish, namely, a doubtful one. True enough
you have provided us with a new church; but, too, you have filled
it with a new spirit,--and not that of love. True, you have made
us new roads,--but also new roads to destruction, as is now
plainly evident in the misfortunes of many. True, you have
lessened our taxes to the public; but, too, you have increased
those to ourselves;--prosecutions, protests, and failures are no
blessing to a community. And you dare scoff at the man in his
grave whom the whole parish blesses! You dare say he lies in our
way,--yes, very likely he lies in your way. This is plainly to be
seen; but over this grave you shall fall! The spirit which has
reigned over you, and at the same time until now over us, was not
born to rule, only to serve. The churchyard shall surely remain
undisturbed; but to-day it numbers one more grave, namely, that of
your popularity, which shall now be interred in it."

Lars Hogstad rose, white as a sheet; he opened his mouth, but was
unable to speak a word, and the straw fell. After three or four
vain attempts to recover it and to find utterance, he belched