He turned his eyes from the river, as though by doing so he could drag his thoughts from Norway, when to his astonishment he all at once caught sight of his own national flag—the well known blue and white cross on the red ground. His breath came fast, he walked on quickly to get a nearer view of the building from which the flag floated. Hurriedly pushing open the door, he entered the place, and found himself in a church, which presented the most curious contrast to churches in general, for it was almost full of men, and the seven or eight women who were there made little impression, their voices being drowned in the hearty singing of the great bulk of the congregation. They began to sing just as he entered; the tune was one which he had known all his life, and a host of memories came back to him as he heard once more the slow and not too melodious singing, rendered striking, however, because of the fervor of the honest Norsemen. Tears, which all his troubles had not called forth, started now to his eyes as he listened to the words which carried him right out of the foreign land back to his childhood at Bergen. [Illustration: Sörg o kjare fader du, Jeg wil ik-ke sör-ge, Ik-ke med be kym-ret hu, Om min frem-tid spör-ge. Sörg du for mig al min tid, Sörg for mig og mi-ne; Gud al-mæg-tig naa-dig, blid, Sörg for al-le di-ne!] Translation. “Care, oh, dear Father, Thou, I will not care; Not with troubled mind About my future ask. Care thou for me all my life, Care for me and mine; God Almighty, gracious, good, Care for all Thine!” An onlooker, even a foreigner not understanding the language, could not fail to have been touched by the mere sight of this strange gathering in the heart of London,—the unpretentious building, the antique look of the clergyman in his gown and Elizabethan ruff, the ranks of men—numbering nearly four hundred—with their grave, weather-beaten faces, the greater number of them sailors, but with a sprinkling of business men living in the neighborhood, and the young Norseman who had just entered, with his pride broken down by memories of an old home, his love of Norway leading him to the realization that he was also a citizen of another country, and his stern face softened to that expression which is always so full of pathos—the expression of intent listening.