The Dains of the West Coast

I was born within a hundred miles of that stretch of water, but I was not born Norwegian. My mother and father were dains, and how they ever came to that bleak bite of land on the west coast I do not know. Outside of that there is nothing mysterious. They were poor people and unlettered. They came of generations of poor unlettered people who sowed their sons on the waves as it has been their customs since time began. But you who read Spencer and Darwin and have never seen the inside of a school, how did you learn to read and write? I queried. In the English Merchant Service, cabin-boy at twelve, ships-boy at

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