In the prospect of the long winter before them, the farmers are anxious to cultivate as meadow every available spot of grass land in the valley, and therefore during the summer months the cattle are sent to graze up in the forests and on the mountain sides, where each farm has its S[oe]ter usually several miles away from the farm itself. A part of the family take up their residence in the small wooden house prepared in the simplest way for their accommodation; a few plain wooden chairs and a table may be all the furniture, but everything is scrupulously clean, and here many a young girl may gain her first experience in housekeeping and the superintendence of the dairy. Early in the morning, when the dewy freshness of the air gives life and vigour to all around, the milkmaid will arise, and in clear beautiful tones sing a song of the country, and gather the cattle around her, giving to each a handful of salt, and calling them all by name. The mountains rise on all sides, and her song is re-echoed from cliff to cliff. Far in the distance amid the towering peaks, peep here and there the deep crevasses filled with everlasting snow; the icy surface gives a glacier-like appearance, and there you may see grand images of the sun reflected like gigantic stars. The herdsmen up in the S[oe]ters play skilfully upon a curious wooden instrument, peculiar to the country. This can be heard for miles, and should any of the cattle have strayed from the rest, they are guided back by the sweet sounds of the "Luur."] THE EAGLE'S NEST. THE FATHER. THE EAGLE'S NEST. Endregaarden was the name of a small solitary hamlet, surrounded by high mountains, from which flowed a broad river that divided the flat and fertile valley in two. The river ran into a lake that lay close to the hamlet, and from this spot there was a beautiful prospect. Once there came a man rowing over Endre Water; his name was Endre, and it was he who had first settled in the valley, and his kindred who now lived there. Some said he had decamped hither for murder's sake, and it was therefore his descendants were so dark; others said it was due to the mountains, that shut out the sun at five o'clock on midsummer day. Over this hamlet there hung an eagle's nest from the projecting cliffs up in the mountain, and though all could see when the eagle was sitting, the nest was quite out of reach. The male bird sailed over the hamlet, pouncing now on a lamb, now on a kid, once he had also taken a little child and borne away; therefore there was no security so long as the eagle had her nest in this mountain fastness. There was a tradition among the people, that in the olden time, two brothers had climbed up and destroyed the nest; but now there was no one who could do it.