ands upon you. Like the sun you shone upon
us and made the best that was in us to grow, but I shall always keep a
deep artistic affection for what comes 'after twelve.'"

Henrik Cavling tells the following story of the poet in Paris:

"It was one of Bjoernson's peculiarities to go out as a rule without any
money in his pocket. He neither owned a purse nor knew the French
coins. His personal expenditures were restricted to the books he
bought, and now and then a theatre ticket. One day he carne excitedly
into the sitting-room, and asked:

"'Who took my five franc piece?' It was a five franc piece that he had
got somewhere or other and had stuck in his pocket to buy a theatre
ticket with. It turned out that the maid had found it and given it to
Fru Bjoernson. For it seemed quite unthinkable to her that the master
should have any money to take out with him.

"This complete indifference of Bjoernson to small matters sometimes
proved annoying. In this connection I may tell of a little trip he
once took with Jonas Lie.

"The two poets, who did not live far apart, had long counted with
pleasure upon a trip to Pere Lachaise, where they wished to visit
Alfred de Musset's grave. At last the day came, and with big soft hats
on their heads, and engaged earnestly in conversation, they drove away
through Paris.

"When they came to Pere Lachaise, and wanted to enter the cemetery, the
driver stopped them and asked for his pay. Then it appeared that
neither had any money, which they smilingly explained, and asked him in
bad French to wait and drive them home again. But the two gentlemen
with the big soft hats had not inspired the driver with any marked
degree of confidence. He made a scene, and attracted a great crowd of
the boys, loafers, and well-dressed Frenchmen who always collect on
critical occasions. The end of the affair was that the poets had to
get into their cab again and drive all the long way back without having
had a glimpse of the grave. When they reached Lie's lodgings, Lie went
in to get some money, while Bjoernson sat in the cab as a hostage.
Nevertheless, both poets maintained that they had had a pleasant
expedition. A Norwegian question, which had accidentally come up
between them, had made them forget all about Alfred de Musset."

Finally, a story may be given that is told by Bjoernson himself.

"I had a pair of old boots that I wanted to give to a beggar. But just
as I was going to give them