Has little story interest but is a minute and faithful picture of the life of a Danish peasant as lived by Pelle, a Swedish lad, who was taken to Denmark by his father. This work has been called the Jean Christophe of poverty. It spares the reader none of the hardness, coarseness and crudeness, but the spirit in the boy rises above all and redeems the book. Translated from the Danish by Jesse Muir and Bernard Miall
ite still under the deluge, only lowering his head a little. When the laughter had almost died away, he pointed at the pilot with his whip, and remarked to the bystanders--
"That's a wonderful clever kid for his age! Whose father art thou, my boy?" he went on, turning to the pilot.
This raised a laugh, and the thick-necked pilot swelled with rage. He seized hold of the body of the cart and shook it so that the farmer had a difficulty in keeping his seat. "You miserable old clodhopper, you pig-breeder, you dung-carter!" he roared. "What do you mean by coming here and saying 'thou' to grown-up people and calling them 'boy'? And giving your opinions on navigation into the bargain! Eh! you lousy old money-grubber! No, if you ever take off your greasy night-cap to anybody but your parish clerk, then take it off to the captain who can find his harbor in a fog like this. You can give him my kind regards and say I said so." And he let go of the cart so suddenly that it swung over to the other side.
"I may as