Mother
and son were made of sterner stuff. Dalgas fought twice for his
country, the last time in 1864, as a captain of engineers.
It was no ordinary class, the one of 1851 that resumed its studies
in the military high school. Two of the students did not answer
roll-call; their names were written among the nation's heroic dead.
Some had scars and wore the cross for valor in battle. All were
first lieutenants, to be graduated as captains. Dalgas had himself
transferred from the artillery to the engineers, and was detailed as
road inspector. So the opportunity of his life came to him.
There were few railways in those days; the highways were still the
great arteries of traffic. Dalgas built roads that crossed the
heath, and he learned to know it and the strong and independent, if
narrow, people who clung to it with such a tenacious grip. He had a
natural liking for practical geology and for the chemistry of the
soil, and the deep cuts which his roads sometimes made gave him the
best of chances for following his bent. The heath lay as an open
book before him, and he studied it with delight. He found the traces
of the old forests, and noted their extent. Occasionally the pickaxe
uncovered peat deposits of unsuspected depth and value.
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