done it before me. And here comes no postman to surprise me. As suddenly
as I have begun the game, I end it again, as children do. But for a moment
I was transported back to the dear, foolish bliss of childhood.

Perhaps it was the anticipation of soon seeing men again that made me
playful and happy!

Next day, just as a raw mist descends on mountain and forest, I reach the
Lapp's house. I enter. But though I meet with nothing but kindness, a Lapp
hut contains little that is interesting. There are spoons and knives of
bone on the peat wall, and a small paraffin lamp hangs from the roof. The
Lapp himself is a dull nonentity who can neither tell fortunes nor
conjure. His daughter has gone across the field; she has learned to read,
but not to write, at the village school. The two old people, husband and
wife, are fools. The whole family share a sort of animal dumbness; if I
ask them a question, I may or may not get half a reply: "Mm-no, mm-yes." I
am not a Lapp, and so they distrust me.

All the afternoon the mist lay white on the forest. I slept a while. In
the evening, the sky was clear again, and there were a few degrees of
frost. I left the hut. The moon stood full and silent above the earth.

Heigh-ho--what untuned strings!

But where are the birds all gone away,
and what kind of place is this?
Here where I stand nothing moves or stirs,
in this world that is dead, no event occurs;
I stand in a silvermine.
My eyes sweep round, but I sorely miss