a national event), when an old couple, simple country people, were
standing on the headland at the entrance to the harbour of Stockholm,
looking at the dark watercourse under the dim stars, and watching
a man who was busy with a dark, undefinable object on the landing
bridge. They stood there for a long, long time, now gazing at the
dark watercourse, now looking at the brilliant lights of the town.

At last a light appeared on the fjord, then another, then many
lights. The old man seized the woman's hand and pressed it, and
in silence, under the stars, they thanked God for having safely
brought home their son whom they had mourned as dead for a whole
year.

It is true, he had not been the leader of the expedition, but he
had been one of the crew. And now he was to dine with the long,
receive an order, and, in addition to a sum of money from the
nation, which Parliament had voted for the purpose, an appointment
which would mean bread and butter for the rest of his life.

The lights grew in size as they approached; a small steamer was
towing a big dark craft, which, seen close by, looked as plain and
simple as most great things do.

And now the man on the bridge, who had been very busy about the
dark object, struck a match.

"Whatever is it?" said the old man, much puzzled. "It looks like
huge wax candles."

They went nearer to examine it more closely.