"Look at the calming sea.

The waves still tremble in the depths, and stem to fear the gale .-- Over my head is hovering the shadowy mist .-- My curls are wet with the filling dew." -- OSSIAN.
Otto had not as yet visited the sand-hills on the strand, the fishermen, or the peasants, among whom formerly he had spent all his spare time.
The beautiful summer's day drove him forth, his heart yearned to drink in the summer warmth.
Only the roads between the larger towns are here tolerable, or rather as tolerable as the country will allow.

The by-ways were only to be discerned by the traces of cart-wheels, which ran on beside each other; at certain places, to prevent the wheels sinking into the deep sand, ling had been spread; where this is not the case, and the tracks cross each other, a stranger would scarcely find the way.

Here the landmark places its unseen boundary between neighboring possessions.
Every farm, every cottage, every hill, was an old acquaintance to Otto.
He directed his steps toward Harbooere, a parish which, one may say, consists of sand and water, but which, nevertheless, is not to be called unfruitful.

A few of the inhabitants pursue agriculture, but the majority consists of fishermen, who dwell in small houses and have no land.
His first encounter upon his wandering was with one of those large covered wagons with which the so-called eelmen, between the days of St.
John and St.Bartholomew, go with eels toward the small towns lying to the south and east, and then, laden with apples and garden produce, return home--articles which are rapidly consumed by the common people.
The eelman stopped when he saw and recognized Otto.
"Welcome, Mr.Otto!" said he.