hearth, and talked of all that he had seen and done during his
absence. "But where is Michael Snorro?" asked the doctor. "I thought
to have heard him talk to-night."

"Snorro stays by the yacht. His quarters are on her, and she is in his
charge. No one finds Snorro far from the post of duty," answered Jan
proudly. "He is the best sailor in her Majesty's service, and the best
fighter."

"That is likely," said Peter. "Since the days of Harold Halfager, the
Snorros have been called good fighters."

"And why not?" asked Suneva, with a proud toss of her handsome head.
"He is pure Norse. Will a Norseman turn from any fight in a good
cause? That he will not Peter, there is none can tell us better what
the Norseman is than thou can. Speak out now, for Jan and the minister
will be glad to hear thee."

Every Shetlander can recite. Suneva had taught Peter to believe that
no one could recite as well as he could; so he laid down his pipe,
and, with great spirit and enthusiasm, spoke thus:

"A swarthy strength with face of light,
As dark sword-iron is beaten bright;
A brave, frank look, with health aglow,
Bonny blue eyes and open brow;
A man who'll face to his last breath
The sternest facts of life and death;
His friend he welcomes heart-in-hand,
But foot to foot his foe must stand;
This is the daring Norseman.

The wild wave motion, weird and strange,
Rocks in him: seaward he must range.
He hides at heart of his rough life
A world of sweetness for his wife;

From his rude breast a babe can press
Soft milk of human tenderness,
Make his eyes water, his heart dance,
And sunrise in his countenance;
The mild, great-hearted Norseman.

Valiant and true, as Sagas tell,
The Norseman hateth lies like hell;
Hardy from cradle to the grave,
'Tis his religion to be brave;
Great, silent, fighting men, whose words
Were few, soon said, and out with swords!
One saw his heart cut from his side
Living--and smiled, and smiling, died,
The unconquerable Norseman!

Still in our race the Norse king reigns,
His best blood beats along our veins;
With his old glory we can glow,
And surely sail where he could row.
Is danger stirring? Up from sleep
Our war-dog wakes the watch to keep,
Stands with our banner over him,
True as of old, and stern and grim;
The brave, true-hearted Norseman.

When swords are gleaming you shall see
The