Jan Vedder's Wife by Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr (i wanna iguana read aloud .txt) 📖

pictured Christ, and there he arranged, in his own way, all the treasures he had gathered during his roving life. Snorro's house was a wonderful place to the boys of Lerwick. They entered it with an almost awful delight. They sat hour after hour, listening to the kind, brave, good man, in whom every child found a friend and comforter. His old mates also dearly loved to spend their evenings with Snorro, and hear him tell about the dangers he had passed through, and the deeds he had done.

How fair! how calm and happy was this evening of a busy day! Yet in its sweet repose many a voice from the outside world reached the tired wayfarers. There were frequent letters from Jan's children, and they came from all countries, and brought all kinds of strange news. There were rare visits from old friends, messages and tokens of remembrance, and numerous books and papers that kept for them the echoes of the places they had left.

Neither did they feel the days long, or grow weary with inaction. Jan and Snorro, like the majority of men, whose life-work is finished, conceived a late but ardent affection for their mother earth. They each had gardens and small hot-houses, and they were always making experiments with vegetables and flowers. It was wonderful how much pleasure they got out of the patches of ground they tried to beautify. Then the fishing season always renewed their youth. The boats in which Jan or Snorro took a place were the lucky boats, and often both men sat together during the watch, as they had done long years before, and talked softly in the exquisite Shetland night of all the good that had come to them.

For the companionship between these two souls grew closer and fonder as they drew nearer to the heavenly horizon. They were more and more together, they walked the long watches again, and fought over their battles, and recalled the hours which had been link after link in that chain of truest love which had bound their hearts and lives together.

And Margaret, still beautiful, with hair as white as snow, and a face as fair and pink as a pale rose-leaf, sat smiling, and listening, and knitting beside them; no fears in any of their hearts to beat away, no strife to heal, the past unsighed for, the future sure, they made a picture of old age, well won,


"Serene and bright
And lovely as a Shetland night."



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Publication Date: 08-03-2010

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