LOVE OF THE SOIL Johan Bjargan returned to his cart where his wife Cina was waiting. Cina's face shone with hopeful happiness as Johan hobbled back from the cottage he had visited. He shook his head slowly and mumbled, "No, Cina, this is not the By we seek, but I think it is the next one to the north," Cina did not answer, but took her place at the cart, and they slowly trudged on over the dusty road. Their feet were sore to the point where each step was an agonizing ordeal, but there was nothing to do but go on. They were looking for their son Eric Johannesen who was living somewhere in Denmark. The distance to the next By was not far, but it was dark when Johan and Cina Bjargan finally reached the top of a small bak and saw the hamlet below. They rested at the top, and as they peered into the darkness that was only broken occasionally by a light from some cottage, they wondered what they would find there. After a while Johan clutched the handle of the cart and whispered, "We must hope, Cina," and they went on. The first hovel they came to belonged to a husman, and there they stopped, hoping and praying it would contain news of Eric. Together, Johan and Cina approached the habitation. The door was opened by the husman himself, who, like the rest of his class, was nearly exhausted by his long hours of toil. Johan asked for information of his son. The husman was silent for a moment and then answered. "Yes, I knowed Eric Johannesen; he lived in this By, but he moved away about two years ago and nobody knowed where." Johan's head dropped and in the greatest misery he turned to Cina who was staring at nothing, as if she were looking into the dreadful future. The husman told them to come in for the night and he would give them a little to eat. They moved to a shadow by the crude fire-place where, though they sat in a ghost-like silence, their minds were in a sickening turmoil. Johan's thoughts went back to his youth in Schleswig, Holstein. He had had to work hard, of course, but his parents owned the farm; it was free Danish soil. For generations and generations back his fathers had lived on that same land, that same beloved soil that he had tilled and wrested an existence from; it had been conquered generations before by his ancestors. They had been in peace and contentment because of their skill in subduing the land. It had been the family heritage for years and he had been over every inch of that sacred soil, and had lived with it, and vanquished it when it became rebellious, his entire life. He and his kone, Cina, had struggled and been happy there for nearly fifty years. Their land was their life anywhere, but it was the soil of his race that was to be coveted. If it LOVE OF THE SOIL was not Danish soil it did not bring contentment Johan must have. Eric had moved to the north with the intention of returning some day to receive the family heritage. They were pleasant memories to Johan; the old back-breaking days though they were, seemed beautiful after being deprived of a life on free soil. Then came the horrible memories of the war, the invasion by the Germans who wanted the land so they could build the Kiel Canal. They came over in great hordes, and conquered the land of their desire. After the conquest the decree was issued that the land should no longer be Danish territory; it should be German, a part of Germany. The people would have to speak German and adopt German customs. German soil!-no longer free Danish soil could his land be called. Johan and Cina had buried two children in Danish soil, his fathers for generations had been buried there; now it was German. No, it would be impossible to stay. They were Danes and on Danish soil they must live. They would go north and live with Eric. Their friends and neighbors had tried to discourage them, especially because of their age; but they could not bear to stay. So putting their necessities, and one hen into the cart, they had left the ancestral home. It was not sold; to sell the land would be like selling the bodies of their children who were in the earth. The journey had been torture, but they expected that, and now with no hope of finding Eric, the future looked sickening. They had few kronans left even though they had been given food often by the peasants. When Johan awoke from his stupor the peasant offered him and Cina some food, but they were not hungry. They were told where they could sleep, and then they went to brooding and dreaming again. The next morning Cina suggested that they might be able to become tenants in one of the dahls, so again they forced themselves to march. But it was a vain hope. All the good land was taken, and the landlords could not use them, because they were too old. They travelled for days but never could they find land for old tenants. They were given a little food at some places that could spare it, and thus they were kept alive. Finally, Johan and Cina came across a piece of rocky, barren land. No one claimed it, so there they stopped. It was getting towards fall and they would have to prepare for winter. They first must have shelter. Their days were long and hard as they worked on the simple dugout that was to be their home. They built it with rocks and mud. The roof was thatched and covered with dirt. It was a terrible thing to start the winter in, but there were others as poor and in as desperate conditions. After the dugout was made, they started to clear the recks from the best part of the land. The' work was tor-