Note 9 — Chapter VIII
Reading edition
Like the Daoineshi of the Scotch Highlands, the Neck of Scandinavia shines in a talent for music. Poor creatures! the peasantry may well fancy they are fallen angels, who hope some day for forgiveness; for was not one heard, near Hornbogabro, in West Gotland, singing, to a sweet melody, “I know, and I know, and I know that my Redeemer liveth?” And did not a Neck, when some boys once said to him “What good is it for you to be sitting here and playing, for you will never enjoy eternal happiness,” begin to weep bitterly?