Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books Transcriber's Notes: 1. Page scan source: http://books.google.com/books?id=f8QFAAAAQAAJ 2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe]. 3. This volume includes three stories: "Ovind," "The Eagle's Nest," and "The Father." OVIND: A Story of Country Life in Norway, BY BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON. TRANSLATED FROM THE NORWEGIAN "EN GLAD GUT," BY SIVERT AND ELIZABETH HJERLEID. LONDON: SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, AND CO. MIDDLESBROUGH: BURNETT AND HOOD. * * * 1869. TRANSLATORS' PREFACE. In offering to the public our Translation of Ovind, we wish to say that the work was commenced simply for the pleasure of it, and without any view to publication; but having completed it, we have decided to follow the advice of many of our friends who have read the book, and who think it a pity to keep in manuscript the translation of a work so original as this. It is therefore offered to the English reader, in the hope that it will meet with the same success in this country that it has done in others; for Björnstjerne Björnson, that singular man who seemed so long destined to be distinguished for naught but foolish pranks as a boy, and inaptitude at school and college, has won for himself high literary honors, not only in his native land but throughout Northern Europe. A restless nature, wandering in a wilderness of unfixed purpose, he has repeatedly been on the point of giving himself up as good for naught, until at last the sequestered valley, and the lowly and quiet life of his home, broke upon his wondering eye, in forms he had been seeking in that dreamy half-conscious instinct, which has so often been the harbinger of greatness. The "Bonde," that sturdy aristocrat of a northern settlement, a man of noble descent, a lord of his ground, and the mainstay of his country, covering under the rugged garb of his matter-of-fact life, a heart that beats warm with attachment to his fellow man, and an inborn pride, nurtured by Saga memories and family traditions,--is Björnson's text, and a text he handles well. His romances are true to nature, and the sombre grandeur of his land inspires him with ideas which we meet with only in his writings, and which are completely his own. There is a weird light over his whole mind, reflected in his works, which does not repel, but allures. In short, Björnson, of all men living, seems to have entered most entirely into the life of his nation as it is in its reality, the life which exists on the national traditions, customs, thought, handed down from generation to generation.