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4 The Rattrap, 12074CHO4, About the author, Selma Lagerlöf (1858-1940) was a Swedish writer whose, stories have been translated into many languages. A, universal theme runs through all of them – a belief, that the essential goodness in a human being can be, awakened through understanding and love. This story, is set amidst the mines of Sweden, rich in iron ore,, which figure large in the history and legends of that, country. The story is told somewhat in the manner of a, fairy tale., Notice these expressions in the, Infer their meaning,, keep body and soul together, • plods along the road, • impenetrable prison, eased his way, things have gone downhil, hunger gleamed in his eyes, unwonted joy, nodded a haughty consent, fallen into a line of thought, O NCE, Once upon a time there was a man who went around selling, small rattraps of wire. He made them himself at odd, moments, from the material he got by begging in the stores, or at the big farms. But even so, the business was not, especially profitable, so he had to resort to both begging, and petty thievery to keep body and soul together. Even so,, his clothes were in rags, his cheeks were sunken, and, hunger gleamed in his eyes., No one can imagine how sad and monotonous life can, appear to such a vagabond, who plods along the road, left, to his own meditations. But one day this man had fallen, into a line of thought, which really seemed to him, entertaining. He had naturally been thinking of his rattraps, when suddenly he was struck by the idea that the whole, 1 of 14, o be repu

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world about him – the whole world with its lands and, seas, its cities and villages – was nothing but a big rattrap., It had never existed for any other purpose than to set baits, for people. It offered riches and joys, shelter and food, heat, and clothing, exactly as the rattrap offered cheese and, pork, and as soon as anyone let himself be tempted to, touch the bait, it closed in on him, and then everything, came to an end., The world had, of course, never been very kind to him,, so it gave him unwonted joy to think ill of it in this way. It, became a cherished pastime of his, during many dreary, ploddings, to think of people he knew who had let, themselves be caught in the dangerous snare, and of others, who were still circling around the bait., One dark evening as he was trudging along the road, he caught sight of a little gray cottage by the roadside, and, he knocked on the door to ask shelter for the night. Nor, was he refused. Instead of the sour faces which ordinarily, met him, the owner, who was an old man without wife or, child, was happy to get someone to talk to in his loneliness., Immediately he put the porridge pot on the fire and gave, him supper; then he carved off such a big slice from his, tobacco roll that it was enough both for the stranger's pipe, and his own. Finally he got out an old pack of cards and, played "mjolis' with his guest until bedtime., The old man was just as generous with his confidences, as with his porridge and tobacco. The guest was informed, at once that in his days of prosperity his host had been a, crofter at Raṁsjo Ironworks and had worked on the land., Now that he was no longer able to do day labour, it was his, cow which supported him. Yes, that bossy was, extraordinary. She could give milk for the creamery every, day, and last month he had received all of thirty kronor in, payment., The stranger must have seemed incredulous, for the, old man got up and went to the window, took down a leather, pouch which hung on a nail in the very window frame, and, picked out three wrinkled ten-kronor bills. These he held, up before the eyes of his guest, nodding knowingly, and, The Rattrap/33, 2 of 14

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however. He only went up to the wile pashed a pane,, then stuffed them back into the, Think as you read, pouch., The next day both men got up, in good season. The crofter was in, a hurry to milk his cow, and the, other man probably thought he, should not stay in bed when the, head of the house had gotten up., They left the cottage at the same, time. The crofter locked the door, and put the key in his pocket. The, man with the rattraps said good, bye and thank you, and thereupon, each went his own way., 1. From where did the peddler get, the idea of the world being a, rattrap?, 2. Why was he amused by this, idea?, 3. Did the peddler expect the kind, of hospitality that he reoeived, from the crofter?, 4. Why was the crofter so talkative, and friendly with the peddler?, 5. Why did he show the thirty, kroner to the peddler?, 6. Did the peddler respedt the, confidence reposed in himby, e crofter?, But half an hour later the, rattrap peddler stood again before, the door. He did not try to get in,, a, stuck in his hand, and got hold of the pouch with the, thirty kronor. He took the money and thrust it into his, own pocket. Then he hung the leather pouch very carefully, back in its place and went away., As he walked along with the money in his pocket he, felt quite pleased with his smartness. He realised, of course,, that at first he dared not continue on the public highway,, but must turn off the road, into the woods. During the, first hours this caused him no difficulty. Later in the day, it became worse, for it was a big and confusing forest which, he had gotten into. He tried, to be sure, to walk in a definite, direction, but the paths twisted back and forth so strangely!, He walked and walked without coming to the end of the, wood, and finally he realised that he had only been walking, around in the same part of the forest. All at once he recalled, his thoughts about the world and the rattrap. Now his, own turn had come. He had let himself be fooled by a bait, and had been caught. The whole forest, with its trunks, and branches, its thickets and fallen logs, closed in upon, him like an impenetrable prison from which he could, never escape., 34/Flamingo, 3 of 14

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During one of the long dark. Se just before, It was late in December. Darkness was already, descending over the forest. This increased the danger, and, increased also his gloom and despair. Finally he saw no, way out, and he sank down on the ground, tired to death,, thinking that his last moment had come. But just as he, laid his head on the ground, he heard a sound-a hard, regular thumping. There was no doubt as to what that, was. He raised himself. "Those are the hammer strokes, from an iron mill", he thought. “There must be people near, by". He summoned all his strength, got up, and staggered, in the direction of the sound., The Ramsjö Ironworks, which are now closed down,, were, not so long ago, a large plant, with smelter, rolling, mill, and forge. In the summertime long lines of heavily, loaded barges and scows slid down the canal, which led to, a large inland lake, and in the wintertime the roads near, the mill were black from all the coal, which sifted, down from the big charcoal crates., Christmas, the master smith and his helper sat in the, dark forge near the furnace waiting for the pig iron, which, had been put in the fire, to be ready to put on the anvil., Every now and then one of them got up to stir the glowing, mass with a long iron bar, returning in a few moments,, dripping with perspiration, though, as was the custom, he, wore nothing but a long shirt and a pair of wooden shoes., All the time there were many sounds to be heard in, the forge. The big bellows groaned and the burning coal, cracked. The fire boy shovelled charcoal into the maw of, the furnace with a great deal of clatter. Outside roared the, waterfall, and a sharp north wind whipped the rain against, the brick-tiled roof., It was probably on account of all this noise that the, blacksmith did not notice that a man had opened the gate, and entered the forge, until he stood close up to the furnace., Surely it was nothing unusual for poor vagabonds, without any better shelter for the night to be attracted to, the forge by the glow of light which escaped through the, sooty panes, and to come in to warm themselves in front of, The Rattrap/35, 4 of 14

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the fire. The blacksmiths glanced only casually and, indifferently at the intruder. He looked the way people of, his type usually did, with a long beard, dirty, ragged, and, with a bunch of rattraps dangling on his chest., He asked permission to stay, and the master blacksmith, nodded a haughty consent without honouring him with a, single word., The tramp did not say anything, either. He had not, come there to talk but only to warm himself and sleep., In those days the Ramsjö iron mill was owned by a, very prominent ironmaster, whose greatest ambition was, to ship out good iron to the market. He watched both night, and day to see that the work was done as well as possible,, and at this very moment he came into the forge on one of, his nightly rounds of inspection., Naturally the first thing he saw was the tall ragamuffin, who had eased his way so close to the furnace that steam, rose from his wet rags. The ironmaster did not follow the, example of the blacksmiths, who had hardly deigned to, look at the stranger. He walked close up to him, looked, him over very carefully, then tore off his slouch hat to get, a better view of his face., "But of course it is you, Nils Olof!" he said. "How you, do look!", The man with the rattraps had never before seen the, ironmaster at Ramsjö and did not even know what his, name was. But it occurred to him that if the fine gentleman, thought he was an old acquaintance, he might perhaps, throw him a couple of kronor. Therefore he did not want to, undeceive him all at once., "Yes, God knows things have gone downhill with me",, he said., "You should not have resigned from the regiment", said, the ironmaster. "That was the mistake. If only I had still, been in the service at the time, it never would have happened., Well, now of course you will come home with me.", To go along up to the manor house and be received by, the owner like an old regimental comrade – that, however,, did not please the tramp., 36/Flamingo, 5 of 14