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A Danish Parsonage

by John Fulford Vicary · English · Gutenberg #30617 · 428,119 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: A Danish Parsonage

Author: John Fulford Vicary


        
Release date: December 6, 2009 [eBook #30617]
                Most recently updated: January 5, 2021

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/30617

Credits: Produced by Jim Adcock from images obtained from the Internet Archive.


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DANISH PARSONAGE ***




Produced by Jim Adcock from images obtained from the Internet Archive.








    A DANISH PARSONAGE




    BY

    AN ANGLER




    LONDON


    KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH & CO., 1, PATERNOSTER SQUARE


    1884



(The rights of translation and of reproduction are reserved.)




    CONTENTS

    CHAPTER I.

Introductory

    CHAPTER II.

The Danish Parsonage--Trout fishing on the Gudenaa

    CHAPTER III.

Rosendal

    CHAPTER IV.

The Danish Church--The clerical party in Denmark

    CHAPTER V.

Danish parishioners--The piano--English and Danish horses

    CHAPTER VI.

Pike, perch, and eel fishing--A silver wedding at a Danish
proprietor's

    CHAPTER VII.

Danish horse-breeding--A fatal accident

    CHAPTER VIII.

The superstition of the Huldr--The tradition of Gefion--Of
Churches--The legend of the sunken mansion--Of the boar Limgrim

    CHAPTER IX.

Kaempehøie or tumuli--Hidden treasure--Ghosts--Spectral
Huntsmen--Witches--Gypsies--The book of Cyprianus--Nissen--Elle folk

    CHAPTER X.

The purchase of Rosendal--Pike fishing--Karl Lindal rides the English
horse

    CHAPTER XI.

The legend of the Damhest--The Helhest--The Kirkelam--The
Gravso--Burying alive to propitiate supernatural power--Traditions of
robbers--The Basilisk--The Lindorm--Lygtemænd

    CHAPTER XII.

Horse racing in Denmark--A horse race

    CHAPTER XIII.

Trout fishing in hot weather--Danish ladies riding--A practical visit
to Rosendal

    CHAPTER XIV.

Folketro--Havmænd--Havfruer--The gnome of the elder
tree--Varulv--Marer--Strandvarsler--Kirkegrim

    CHAPTER XV.

The Pastor and his daughter--The Scotch landscape gardener--Folkeviser

    CHAPTER XVI.

Trout fishing--The legend of the Aamænd--Changelings--Wise men and
wise women--Dværge--Tyge Brahe--Herr Eske Brok--The family Rosenkrands

    CHAPTER XVII.

A drive through part of Jutland--Silkeborg--Himmelbjerg Traditions of
Holger Danske--Walling sinners up

    CHAPTER XVIII.

Horsens--Veile--Legends--The Swedes in Jutland--Hamlet--Abbot Muus--A
found treasure--The priest at Urlev--Koldinghuus

    CHAPTER XIX.

Holsted--Folke Eventyr--The story of the priest and his clerk--Of the
queen who was walled up seventeen years--Of the Trold and the
boy--Esbjerg

    CHAPTER XX.

In England--Hardy Place--Mrs. Hardy--Correspondence with Denmark

    CHAPTER XXI.

Mrs. Hardy visits Denmark--Helga Lindal--The yacht sails for
Copenhagen

    CHAPTER XXII.

Yachting from Copenhagen to Christiania--Helga Lindal's Birthday

    CHAPTER XXIII.

Christiania to Aarhus--Pastor Lindal and the yacht--John Hardy's
wedding-day is fixed--The Domkirke at Aarhus--Traditions and legends

    CHAPTER XXIV.

Pastor Lindal joins the yacht for a cruise amongst the Danish
islands--Samsø and traditions--Endelave and the giantess--Odense and
its historical traditions--Nyborg--King Christian and the monkey--The
ghost of Queen Helvig--Mærkedage--Svendborg--St. Jørgen and the
Lindorm--The murdered lady--Weather days

    CHAPTER XXV.

Vordingborg--Mariebo and traditions--Legend of Borre
Island--Phanefjord and Grønsund--Legends of Phane and Grøn--The
pilgrim stone--Drive to Møen's Klint--The Underjordiske--Margrethe
Skælvig's wedding-dress--The twenty pigs and Gamle
Erik--Præstø--Stevn's Klint--Hoierup--The termination "rup"
explained--Copenhagen to Aarhus

     CHAPTER XXVI.

Pastor Lindal's views as to his parish--His daughter's as to her
wedding-dress--The marriage--John Hardy and his wife's arrival at
Hardy Place--With the Pastor--A daughter-in-law's duty--Pastor
Lindal's strong opinions on the English church system--



    ARGUMENT

The Viking, _tenax propositi_, if he planned an expedition, carried it
out, through all obstacles, or died in the attempt.

The descendants, softened in manner and cast of thought by centuries
of time, retain the same singleness of purpose.

There is no other thought of the duty of life except to do it. If self
has to be sacrificed, it is done without reserve.

The result is that there are men and women who are the reflection of
duty, and although this occurs in all lands, yet nowhere does it exist
in greater purity than in the descendants of the Viking.




    A DANISH PARSONAGE




CHAPTER I.


    "_Piscator_. Oh, sir! doubt not but that Angling is
    an art. Is it not an art to deceive a Trout with an artificial
    fly?--a Trout that is more sharp-sighted than any Hawk you
    have named, and more watchful and timorous than your
    high-mettled Merlin is bold. And yet I doubt not to catch a
    brace or two to-morrow for a friend's breakfast."
    --_The Complete Angler._


John Hardy had lived with his mother at Hardy Place. His father had
died when he was six years of age, and there was consequently a long
minority of fifteen years. The greatest influence in John Hardy's life
was a trout stream that ran winding through an English landscape for
four miles in the Hardys' property. John Hardy fished it as a
schoolboy, and it was the greatest triumph he experienced as a lad, to
catch more trout in it with a fly than the numerous fly-fishers to
whom Mrs. Hardy's kindness gave permission. When college days came,
John Hardy, ever intent on fishing, went to Norway in the vacation
with the checkered result of getting an occasional salmon, and in the
smaller streams on the fjelds a quantity of small trout. The grand
scenery in the fjords, and the kindly nature of the people, led John
Hardy to more remote districts, where sport was better, the fare and
quarters worse, but some acquisition of Scandinavian language a
necessity.

Thus John Hardy not only gradually acquired a knowledge of many
dialects in Scandinavia, but the ability to read and understand the
simpler books in the language. He travelled and fished through Norway
and Sweden, and by degrees learnt, from the necessity of speaking it,
more and more of the Danish language, the language of Scandinavia, as
English relatively is to broad Scotch. This naturally led to his going
to Denmark, and his travelling through Jutland and the Danish islands.
In Jutland he accidentally fished in a West Jutland river, and to his
surprise found the difficult but good fishing that his heart longed
for.

John Hardy returned home, and was at Hardy Place with his mother the
whole winter, and then, as April came round with the fishing season,
John became restless, and told his mother of his Danish fishing
experiences, and left for Copenhagen. His mother said, "Write me once
a week, John, and bring me home a Scandinavian princess for your
wife." John Hardy promised to write, but said he thought Scandinavian
princesses did not rise to a fly. His mother's face grew grave, and
she said, "You should marry soon, John; you are twenty-eight, and I
want to see you married to a wife to whom you can trust Hardy Place
and the care of your mother in her old age."

"I can find no one yet, dear mother," said John Hardy. "I cannot bear
you should have any one at Hardy Place you did not only like but
love."

"Bless you, John," said his mother. "I trust in your love; and I know
some men are such gentlemen, and so was your father, and so are you,
John."

So Hardy left for Copenhagen by the English steamer from Hull to St.
Petersburg, and was landed in the pilot-boat at Elsinore, and went
thence by rail to Copenhagen. On the journey John Hardy thought that
his best course was to get lodgings with a respectable family in
Jutland near the Gudenaa, the little river that embouches in the
Randers fjord and flows through part of Jutland, and is the principal
river in it.

John Hardy had taken from his bankers introductions to persons in
Copenhagen, to whom he had communicated his wishes. The result was an
advertisement in the _Berlinske Tidende_ that an Englishman required
lodgings near the Gudenaa, with an opportunity of being taught the
Danish language. The replies were many and of a very varied character,
as might be anticipated from such an advertisement.

But John Hardy received a reply from a Danish clergyman in Jutland,
which struck his fancy beyond the rest. It was as follows:--

"In reply to the advertisement in the _Berlinske Tidende_ of
yesterday's date, I beg to offer lodgings in my house. It is a small
parsonage in Jutland, and the Gudenaa is near. There is a towing-path
on the banks, and where such exists the fishing is free, consequently
no difficulty will arise as to permission to fish. The fishing is not
particularly good, and if great anticipations exist on this score, I
must say that they will not, in my opinion, be realized. Small fish on
which the trout feed are abundant, as also the cadis worm and fly, and
the trout do not take readily an artificial bait, either fly or
minnow. I cannot, therefore, say that I think many trout can be
caught. There is also much fishing with small nets. I can, however,
teach Danish to an Englishman, although my knowledge of English is
imperfect; but on the other hand, if the advertiser will teach my two
sons, of sixteen and fourteen years of age, English, I should require
no payment from him. I am a widower, with a daughter and the two sons
already named. I can only add that he would be received kindly, and
treated as a member of my family."

The straightforwardness of this communication had its effect on John
Hardy's open character, and he replied that he would accept the
conditions stipulated, but that he could do so only on a payment of a
monthly sum, which he was advised in Copenhagen was a full
compensation, and rather more than would be expected, for the
accommodation and cost that might be incurred by the Danish Pastor.

The reply from the Jutland parsonage was: "The evident consideration
shown by your answer to my letter should be sufficient, but before you
come here will you kindly give me references in Copenhagen, or, if
that be difficult, in England, where I might make inquiry. I am the
Pastor of the parish where I reside, and it is due to my position that
I should make inquiry before I can admit any one to my house under any
circumstances. I do not wish to ask what is not right or reasonable,
but as I am situated it is a necessity, however advantageous your
coming here might be to me."

This reply impressed John Hardy more than the previous communication,
and he replied with the address of a bank in Copenhagen, with
reference to his own bankers in London, for which John Hardy had to
wait a week in Copenhagen. These replies were to the effect that John
Hardy was a gentleman of position and character in England, and that
any amount that might be incurred by him for expenses in Denmark would
at once be paid by the Danish bank.

John Hardy, it must be confessed, would rather have been fishing in
the Gudenaa than waiting for references that would show he was to be
trusted in a Danish household; but he was assured in Copenhagen that
in Jutland an introduction is not only necessary, but that it should
be supported by references, which when once done in a satisfactory
manner, then the natural kindness of the Jutland people would be open
to him. John Hardy's later experiences led him to recognize how true
the advice he received in Copenhagen was in this respect.

He left Copenhagen by the steamer for Aarhus, and went by rail to a
small station on the railway, where the Pastor met him with a
two-horse vehicle, that made the small distance of eight English miles
a journey of nearly three hours. The Pastor was a man of fifty, with a
fresh complexion and a kindly face, and asked many questions of John
Hardy's family and friends, his position in England, his age, the
income from his landed property, and his views and intentions in life.

John Hardy had, however, heard he must expect this, and answered
simply and frankly.

When at length the little Danish parsonage was reached, with its
whitewashed garden wall, with poplar trees and lilac bushes, John
Hardy felt it was a relief to escape the close cross-examination to
which he had been so long subjected, and to see the Pastor's two boys
running out with eager curiosity to inspect the Englishman, and assist
in taking his luggage to the room apportioned to him.

"We shall have dinner shortly," said the Pastor. "Helga is not here to
meet us, and that is a sign that we shall not wait long. Karl and Axel
will show you your room and bring anything you may want, and help you
to unpack your portmanteaus."

John Hardy went to his room--a room with little furniture, but adapted
as a sitting-room or bedroom. The two boys, with the desire that all
boys have to be useful to a guest, assisted in undoing his luggage,
and John Hardy was soon ready to follow them to the little dining-room
of the parsonage.

The table was laid with a little bunch of wild flowers and grasses
here and there, but with little else. The Pastor received Hardy in a
more friendly manner than he had exhibited before, and his daughter
Helga appeared from a door leading from the kitchen, and was
introduced by her father. John Hardy saw a tall woman of twenty, with
fair hair and violet eyes, and bowed. The dinner was borne in by two
women-servants, and Helga signed to John Hardy where he should sit.

There was little conversation at dinner. John Hardy, for his part, was
hungry, and also knew little Danish; but gradually, as the more
substantial dishes disappeared, conversation arose, and John Hardy
turned its direction to the fishing in the Gudenaa.

"Your frank letters to me," said Hardy, "would not lead me to expect
much; but there are trout in the Gudenaa, and it might be that a few
might be caught."

"You will not catch them with a fly, after the English fashion," said
Karl. "An Englishman that came from Randers has been here, and he
caught three only in a whole day."

"I fear Karl is right," said the Pastor. "There is such an abundance
of fish-food in the Gudenaa, that a means of catching them that leaves
no option to the fish is apparently the only successful method."

"That is the very position that interests me," replied Hardy. "The
difficulty is the only pleasure in the sport."

"They fish with the lines set at night, baited with a small fish, and
catch, not only trout, but eels," said Karl. "You might try that. But
they do not catch many."

Helga had brought her father a large porcelain pipe with a long stem,
and the Pastor was smoking slowly and vigorously. Coffee was brought
in, and Helga offered Hardy a large pipe like her father's. This he
declined.

"Do you not smoke?" said the Pastor.

"Yes," replied Hardy; "but we are not accustomed to do so in a lady's
presence in England; and what an English gentleman would do in England
he should do in Denmark."

"Good," said the Pastor, "very good. But it is our custom to smoke.
The practice is habitual with us. Helga, will you speak?"

"I should be sorry you did not smoke, Herr Hardy," said Helga. "My
father likes to have some one smoking at the same time. It will be a
comfort to him."

So John lit a cigar with some misgiving; and he sent Karl up to his
room for a courier-bag, in which he had some fishing-books with
trout-flies. Karl and Axel looked at the English trout-flies with
interest.

"Those feathered things," said Karl, "I have seen used, but they only
catch small trout, and now and then a bleak. I have seen Englishmen
use them here from Randers."

John Hardy selected three flies and put them on a casting-line, and
wound it round his hat, and he said, "Now, will you two boys go with
me to fish at six o'clock to-morrow morning?"

"Yes, that will we," said Karl. "Kirstin will call us, and will have
coffee ready an hour earlier than usual, if you wish it."

"Am I disturbing your house, Herr Pastor," said Hardy, "by suggesting
this to your boys?"

"By no means," said the Pastor. "It is now Thursday, and we shall not
expect you to begin to teach them English until Monday, and the boys
can have a free time until then. We have breakfast at ten to eleven,
and you would have time to fish a little; and Kirstin will give you
some bread and butter and coffee at six."

"There is nothing unusual in this, Herr Hardy," said Frøken Helga, in
reply to a look of surprise from Hardy. "It will put us to no
inconvenience."

"That may be," said the Pastor; "but I think you should clearly
understand that you are not likely to catch any trout."

"That," said Hardy, "we must leave to the trout to decide."




CHAPTER II.


    "_Piscator._ Good morrow, sir! What, up and dressed
    so early!
    "_Viator._ Yes, sir. I have been dressed this half hour, for I
    rested so well and have so great a mind either to take or to
    see a trout taken in your fine river that I could no longer
    lie a-bed.
    "_Piscator._ I am glad to see you so brisk this morning and so
    eager of sport, though I must tell you, this day proves so
    calm, and the sun rises so bright, as promises no great
    success to the angler; but however, we will try, and one way
    or the other, we shall sure do something."
    --_The Complete Angler._


Kirstin, the elder of Pastor Karl Lindar's women servants, was about
forty-five--a large-framed woman with a hard face. She possessed, in
common with the Jutland lower class, a shrewd sense, yet highly
suspicious, but at the bottom strong good nature. She had been with
Pastor Lindal more than twenty years, and her devotion to him and his
was complete. At all times she gave her advice, whether asked or
unasked, on every topic, and materially assisted in economizing the
pastor's narrow income. Her work was done with the exactitude of a
clock, neat and precise; and if the work in the house was by any cause
increased, she rose earlier and went to bed later, rejoicing in her
capacity for work and usefulness. The influence her steady character
had in the house was great, and on the Pastor's daughter, Frøken
Helga's leaving an educational institution at Copenhagen, Kirstin's
strict sense of duty created an impression that Frøken Helga never
lost. She awoke to the fact of what her duty was--that it was to her
father and his home. Kirstin's manner was not kindly, and she could
give sharp answers, but the woman's kindly nature often showed itself
in a strong light. Outside the Pastor's house she was respected and
liked, and always went by the name of Præsten's Kirstin.

At half-past five the morning of the day after John Hardy's arrival at
the parsonage, Kirstin knocked at the door of his room, and brought in
the accustomed coffee and its belongings.

John Hardy was dressed, as he was always an early riser, and was
attaching two large Irish lake trout flies to a stronger casting line
than he had selected the night before.

"Morn," said Kirstin. "I tell the gentleman that Karl and Axel have
had coffee. Has the gentleman anything to command?"

"Tell them I am ready to go fishing," said Hardy; "but if we catch any
trout and the trout are in the kitchen by ten o'clock, can we have
them cooked for breakfast?"

"If the gentleman's fish are there, the frying-pan is ready," replied
Kirstin; "but the Herr Pastor would not wish the gentleman to be
without a breakfast."

It was clear Kirstin doubted a trout breakfast's possibility. John
Hardy began to doubt too; but he took his fishing-rod, a light
sixteen-foot fly rod, and called the two boys, who rushed into his
room eager to a degree.

"Herr Hardy," said Axel, "they all say you will catch nothing--do you
think you will?"

The anxiety in the boy's face amused Hardy, who gave him the
fishing-bag to carry, and his brother Karl the landing-net.

John Hardy went to the bridge close to the parsonage, and looked up
the river. The country was flat, chiefly arable land, with meadows
here and there of coarse grass. The river had a peaty colour, and
resembled in its flow some portions of the Thames.

"Do you know where the deepest water is up the river, boys?" inquired
Hardy.

"Up by the tile works," said the boys both at once, "and above that it
is not deep."

Hardy walked up the towing-path, keeping his eye on the river, but not
a trout moved. He saw the abundance of bleak and smaller fish, and it
occurred to him that it was easy to account for the non-success of the
fly-fishers in the Gudenaa. The fish would not be often feeding, as
trout food existed in such quantity; and besides, to a voracious trout
a plump little fish was more acceptable than an ephemera. If there
were any fish feeding they would be in the shallows.

Hardy tried small trout flies, but without success; not a fish moved,
and the boys' faces had a disappointed look. He changed his casting
line for the one with the Irish lake trout flies, and was soon fast in
a trout. This Karl, in his excitement to get into the landing-net,
nearly lost, but Hardy let the fish have line, and then drew it again
within reach of the landing-net. This fish was full of food, and
corroborated the Pastor's statement. The trout resembles the Hampshire
trout, but the colours were more brightly painted. Hardy fished
steadily for two hours, with the result of landing eight trout
averaging a pound each, to the boys' intense delight. Kirstin and
their father had both doubted Hardy, but there were the fish and could
be cooked for breakfast. The boys never doubted Hardy after.

"Axel, little man," said John Hardy, "run to the kitchen with the
fish, and tell Kirstin that the Englishman wants to know if the
frying-pan is ready."

Axel was off like a hare.

When Karl and Hardy reached the parsonage, the Pastor was at the door.
"I see no fish," said he, "and I am glad I did not lead you to expect
any success in that direction."

"We have not been very successful," said Hardy, quietly taking down
his rod. "A knowledge of the habits of the fish in different rivers,
and a knowledge of the rivers is necessary, and this an intimate
acquaintance only gives."

"Yes, but, father," put in Kari, "Herr Hardy has caught a lot; he
would not let us keep the small ones, but kept eight of the biggest.
Axel has ran on with them. Kirstin told me the frying-pan would be
ready, but not the gentleman's fish."

When John Hardy was called to breakfast--a Danish breakfast
corresponds much to an early English lunch--he found Karl and Axel's
tongues wagging like a dog's tail at dinner-time, they were so full of
the fishing. They had caught a few roach in the river, and about once
in a moon a trout, and John Hardy's completer knowledge had impressed
them. Hardy bowed to Frøken Helga, and would have shaken hands, but
she pointed to a seat, and Hardy sat down. The Pastor said grace, and
attacked the trout with much appreciation of their merits.

"We tried to cast a line out, father, with Herr Hardy's rod," said
Axel, "but could not, the line fell all of a heap, while Herr Hardy
threw it a long way; it hovered over the water for a second, and fell
slowly on the water. The flies appeared like live insects."

"You know, father," put in Karl, "the wider shallow in the river above
the tile works? I saw a trout rise there, and pointed it out to Herr
Hardy, He watched it, and when the trout rose again he walked straight
into the river and caught it by a long cast. It was the biggest fish."

"I have undertaken to teach you two boys English," said Hardy; "and if
you will try and learn, I will teach you how to fish and give you rods
and flies as well."

"A thousand thanks, Herr Hardy," said Karl and Axel, with delight.

"You have already prepared the way for performing your part of our
contract, Herr Hardy," said the Pastor; "I can only hope I shall
execute mine so well. With the boys' hearts in the work the rest is
easy;" and Pastor Lindal regarded his manly and self-possessed guest
with interest.

John Hardy could now in the full light of a day in May consider Pastor
Lindal; his age was apparently over fifty, his features were clear cut
and handsome, his eyes blue, and his hair had been a light-brown.
There was an impression of probity about him that struck Hardy
forcibly. His manner was a trifle awkward to Hardy's notion, but it
was kindly. His daughter Helga was like her father. Her complexion was
clear and her voice musical. Her manner was, Hardy thought, not
refined. It was simple and straightforward, and to John Hardy she
appeared to want the ladylike tone of an English lady. The two boys
Karl and Axel were like English lads of the same age, frank and open,
and Hardy liked them.

The Pastor had his pipe in full glow--his daughter had filled it--and
Hardy, taught by his experience of the previous evening, lit a cigar.
The Pastor said that he had his duties to attend to, and some of his
parish children as he called them to visit, and that his daughter
Helga had also her visits to make. Hardy replied that he should write
to his mother and some business letters, and if dinner was at four, as
the Pastor had intimated, that he should like to fish in the evening,
to relieve Kirstin's doubts as to whether the frying-pan would be
wanted for breakfast on the morrow by catching some trout the night
before.

"And you will take us, Herr Hardy?" said Karl and Axel with some
anxiety.

"Come to my room at three," said Hardy; "I will begin to teach you how
to fish. I have a lighter fly rod, and we will prepare the tackle."

After dinner John Hardy and the boys went to the river. Hardy had a
sixteen-foot minnow rod, and put up a twelve-foot fly rod for the
boys, and showed them how to cast it. They took it in turns, and Karl
caught a trout. Hardy waded the shallows, fishing with a minnow, and
the trout for an hour were on the feed. The largest trout he caught
was over three pounds, and seventeen weighed nineteen pounds, by
Hardy's English spring balance.

John Hardy changed his clothes and came down to the room occupied by
Pastor Lindal and his family as a sitting-room, and found Frøken Helga
playing on an old piano to the Pastor, who was smoking in his easy
chair. She at once ceased.

"We have caught more and larger fish, Herr Pastor," said Hardy; "the
fishing in the Gudenaa is good, and any doubt as to there being trout
for breakfast, and, if you wish, dinner, to-morrow, is at an end."

"You English are a thorough people," said the Pastor; "whether it be
sport or business, science or skill, you are to the front."

"Our faith is that we owe it to our Danish ancestors," said Hardy;
"the hard tenacity of the Vikings is what we admire most in history."

"My faith is that it is the free and independent spirit of your
institutions for ages," replied the Pastor. "You now enjoy the changes
wrought by Cromwell, for which the English people then were ripe. But
do light your cigar, and hear a suggestion I have to make for
to-morrow. There is an old Danish place near here, called Rosendal.
Its special beauty is the idyllic landscape of beech trees, a lake,
and a valley where they grow such roses as will resist our Danish
climate. The house is an old house, but has been restored by
successive owners. The place is visited by people far and near. It is
thoroughly Danish, and especially Jydsk (Jutlandsk). It is only two
English miles from here, and my daughter Helga's only enthusiasm is
Rosendal. She will go with you, with Karl and Axel. Is the walk too
far?"

"No, certainly not," said Hardy; "do we go before breakfast or after?"

"Helga, order breakfast earlier," said the Pastor.

"Yes, father," said Frøken Helga; "but is it necessary for me to go to
Rosendal, the boys can show Herr Hardy the way?"

"You always like to go there and enjoy it," said her father. "You have
been in the house some days preparing to receive Herr Hardy, and the
walk will do you good. Go by all means."




CHAPTER III.


    "And I will make thee beds of roses,
    And then a thousand fragrant posies,
    A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
    Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle."
    _The Complete Angler._


John Hardy had risen early, and had time before breakfast to inspect
the surroundings of the little Danish parsonage. The house was low, of
two stories, with a large cellarage underneath, in which was stored
articles of all kinds that might be injured by the frost of winter.
The roof was brown tiles, with a high pitch, so that the snow should
slip off easily. The chief entrance was through a little shrubbery
surrounded by a white-washed wall leading up to a few steps to the
front door. The living rooms were to the left of the inner hall, and
the Pastor's study to the right, which was so arranged that access was
easy from the front door, or by passing through an inner vestibule to
the back of the house. The kitchen was to the rear of the left side,
and the outbuildings, which consisted of stables for cows, horses, and
sheep, were to the back of the main building. The Pastor had two
horses, for the farm work of his glebe, and these were used for
journeys to the railway station or elsewhere in an old four-wheel
conveyance, which could scarcely be termed a carriage or a waggon. In
fact, it answered both purposes. The rooms were warmed by iron stoves,
in the winter, the fuel used being chiefly wood and turf. The Pastor
had a sort of turbary right, which supplied him with the latter. The
shrubbery in front of the main building was planted with poplars,
lilacs, and laburnum. The grass on the lawn was coarse and rough, and
an occasional cow was tethered on it, which did not improve the
quality of the herbage.

The income from all sources of Pastor Lindal was small, according to
English views, but it was sufficient to enable him to maintain a happy
home and to do his duty to his parish with strict economy. The
difficulty was the future of his sons and daughter.

After breakfast, in which the trout caught by Hardy the previous
evening occupied a conspicuous position, the Pastor said--

"When you return I shall be interested, Herr Hardy, to hear your views
of Rosendal. The place is, as I told you, Danish; but I should like to
hear how it looks through English spectacles."

"You have told me, Herr Pastor," said Hardy, "that Frøken Helga has an
enthusiasm for Rosendal. I fear I shall be interested thereby, as she
goes with us."

Hardy looked at Frøken Helga, who looked annoyed; and he saw he had
said something which displeased her.

The way to Rosendal was over the sandy road for two English miles,
when the entrance gate was reached, leading up an avenue of lime trees
that had been pollarded. The storms would certainly have pollarded
them in a more irregular manner than the hand of man. The house was a
much larger house than Pastor Lindal's parsonage, but after the same
fashion. The entrance steps were wider, but the whole arrangement of
the mansion was after the same plan. There was the same too near
proximity of the stables and cow houses, possibly essential in cold
weather, for their being attended to. The view from the front of the
house was to a lake of about thirty acres. On each side of the lake
were very large beech trees, with juniper bushes underneath; and the
effect was, as the Pastor had said, idyllic. A narrow valley was
planted with roses, and through it a path led to the lake, hence the
name Rosendal. The beech trees were of great age, and the rising
ground on each side had protected them from the prevailing winds. The
effect on the eye, in comparison with the nakedness of the surrounding
country, was forcible, and John Hardy was impressed by the natural and
distinctive beauty of the place.

Frøken Helga had scarcely replied to his attempts at conversation on
the way to Rosendal. She had run races with her brothers and entered
into all their whims and caprices, but to John Hardy she had only
replied in monosyllables; but when she saw the effect the beauty of
the place had on Hardy, she said--

"Is it not a pretty place?"

"It has its peculiar beauty, Frøken Helga," replied Hardy.

"I would rather live here than any place I know," said Helga. "The
peace and calm of the beech woods, and the fret of the wind waves on
the shore of the lake, suggest thoughts that are unspeakable to me."

Hardy started. She had spoken in a simple manner, but he felt that she
experienced all she uttered. He now understood Pastor Lindal's words
that Rosendal was Helga's enthusiasm. Then there was an appreciation
of nature and her mysteries that Hardy had thought impossible out of
English refinement and its influence.

"Can we go through the house?" said Hardy, as if with a sudden
determination. "I wish to see it."

"The Forvalter or bailiff lives in the house, and if he is not at home
his wife is, or their servant," replied Helga.

The house had reception-rooms after the older Danish fashion, and were
such as could be made comfortable, even to an English tenant. John
Hardy asked the bailiff's wife if she could point out the boundary of
the property; and this was done from the rising ground behind the
house. A visit to the valley of roses was made, and a stroll through
the beech woods. Karl and Axel had ran to the shores of the lake, and
had hunted along its banks to find wild ducks' eggs, happily without
success.

On the way back to Pastor Lindal's parsonage, John Hardy attempted a
conversation with Frøken Helga; but it failed utterly. She talked with
her brothers and walked with them. Hardy saw he was avoided. He had
seen the same conduct in young girls in France, and attributed it to
the same reason, and said nothing more.

The Pastor, when his pipe had been, as usual, filled by Helga after
dinner, and at the first vigorous puffs, addressed Hardy.

"Let me hear about Rosendal, Herr Hardy. I can listen, but when Helga
has filled my pipe, can make any allowance then, for anybody's
prejudices, even an Englishman's."

"Rosendal is a place with an accidental, peculiar beauty," said Hardy.
"The configuration of the land is adapted to form a shelter to the
beech trees, while the little lake is just in the right place to
produce a pretty effect. The landscape is, as you say, a Jutland
landscape; the grass in the meadows is coarse, and the arable land
sandy."

"You speak like a photograph, Herr Hardy," said Pastor Lindal. "But
did you not like the house and grounds?"

"The house is Danish, of a past fashion," replied Hardy, "and there is
no difference in plan from your parsonage. The stables and outhouses
are too near the house, and so is the kitchen garden; it may be
convenient, but it is not to our English taste. The grounds are not
made the best of; but this is a subject in which the climate must be
consulted. The specimen trees we use for the purpose would, many of
them, grow dwarfed, or not at all."

"I have heard much of the English taste in this respect," said the
Pastor. "I should like to see an English residence, in contrast to our
dear Rosendal."

"That you can judge of by some photographs of Hardy Place, my
residence in England," said Hardy. "I will fetch them."

He shortly after appeared with a set of four photographs, and a strong
reading-glass.

"There," said Hardy, "is the front of Hardy Place. You will observe
the arrangement of the lawn, and you will see the fineness of the
turf, which you will see nowhere else than in England. The
conservatory is to the right of the front entrance, to be sheltered
from the east wind; the house faces south. You will see by these other
photographs different views of the house and its surroundings. The
stables and gardens, for vegetables and fruit, are at some distance;
while the home farm, equivalent to your Bondegaard, is an English mile
distant. This gives greater privacy; while at Rosendal, the stables
and house and farm are practically under one roof."

"Herr Hardy would say, father, that we Danes want the refinement of
the English," said Frøken Helga, who did not like the correct
criticism of a place she loved so well.

"When I asked you the name of the owner of Rosendal," said Hardy,
looking at her, "the answer I received from you might have led my
thoughts in that direction, Frøken Helga."

"I gave no answer!" retorted Helga.

"Just so," said Hardy, smiling.

Helga understood him.

The Pastor and his two boys had been looking at the photographs with
much interest. "It is a Slot [a palace], and there is good taste
throughout. And do you live there, Herr Hardy?"

"Yes," replied Hardy, "except when I take a foreign tour. My mother
resides there. My father died when I was young. But would not Frøken
Helga like to see the photographs?"

Helga did not look up from the knitting, which was her constant
employment every spare moment; so Hardy addressed himself to her
father, as if he had not put the question.

"Before I came here," said Hardy, "I read in the _Berlinske Tidende_
an advertisement for the sale of Rosendal, which to-day appears to be
the same place.

"Yes," said Pastor Lindal. "It is the property of a Baron Krag; he
will sell it if he can obtain about double its value. He has the
argument on his side, that it is an exceptional place, and should sell
at an exceptional price; hitherto he has not found a buyer on these
terms. The property is small in extent."

About a week after this conversation, John Hardy received the
following letter from Copenhagen:--

"I was honoured by your letter of the 10th of this month, and, in
pursuance of your wishes, called at the Bank and enquired of you, and
presented your letter, requesting them to give me information about
you. They replied that they had heard from your London bankers that
you had a considerable sum at your disposition in their hands, and
that your yearly income was considerable, and that any services I
rendered you would be promptly paid for. I accordingly send
particulars of Rosendal, which I have already procured for other
clients; and I send sketch of the estate. The price is much in excess
of its value, 300,000 kroner (18 kroner is equal to £1 sterling). The
price that has been bid is 200,000 kroner, and possibly an advance may
be obtained on that. I wish to point out to you that 200,000 kroner is
beyond the value of Rosendal in an economical sense, and the same
money in the Danish funds would yield twice the income.

"The cows, horses, and sheep, agricultural implements, all go to the
purchaser. The land is managed by a bailiff, and the sources of income
are chiefly from the sale of butter, barley, and produce. There is a
small tile works; and a certain quantity of turf can be sold yearly.
The income is therefore uncertain.

"I think it also my duty to lay clearly before you, that if you wish
to introduce any alteration in our Danish system of farming, that it
would not be successful. There would be a passive antagonism with the
people, who, if you let them be steered by a good bailiff, would give
you no trouble. In the direction of any improvement, however, new
agricultural implements from England of the simpler kind would be well
received and adopted. The Danish cattle also are suitable to the
country, and the introduction of English high class-breeds might not
answer.

"If you did not reside at Rosendal, the bailiff's accounts could be
checked either by me or any other person you thought proper, and the
place visited twice yearly, to report the condition and the state of
the property.

"I will ascertain the exact sum that will be accepted, if you desire
it; but it will take time--negotiations for large properties are often
much protracted in Denmark.

"I wait, therefore, the honour of your reply, and respectfully greet
you.

"Obediently,
"Axel Steindal,
"_Prokuratør._"




CHAPTER IV.


    "Many a one
    Owes to his country his religion,
    And in another, would as strongly grow
    Had but his mother or his nurse taught him so."
    _The Complete Angler._


The church at Vandstrup lay on rising ground from the river. It was
white-washed, covered with red tiles, and surrounded by a white-washed
wall enclosing God's acre, in which so many slept the last long sleep.
There were a few poplars planted close to the church-yard wall, and a
few weather-beaten ash trees, with a single dwarfed weeping willow
over a grave. On Sunday, John Hardy watched with interest the
church-going people collecting by the church gate. The men in dark
Wadmel jackets with bright buttons, and the women with red ribands
bound on their caps and knitted sleeves. The women left their wooden
shoes in the dry ditch by the roadside, and put on leather shoes, and
waited for the Pastor's arrival. Accuracy of time was not expected,
and only when the Pastor appeared did the men throng into the church
on one side and the women on the other. The interior of the church was
simple to a degree. John Hardy with Karl and Axel sat on the men's
side, and Frøken Helga and Kirstin on the other. The service was
similar to that of the English Protestant service, although relics of
what would be now called Romanism remained. There were candles on the
altar, and the Pastor chanted some portion of the service. John Hardy
longed for the sermon. The thorough honest feeling exhibited by the
Pastor's character in his home, with his evident refinement and
education, had excited his curiosity as to what the sermon would be.

The text of the sermon was from the fifth chapter of St. Matthew, part
of ver. 42: "Give to him that asketh thee!"

"When a man comes and asks anything of you, what should you give? The
best thing is sympathy and love; material gifts he may want, but these
kindliness will dictate, and kindliness is the real gold of life. If
no power exists to give what is necessary to assist your neighbour in
a material sense, yet to your ability give; and if you give at all,
give kindly. Those of you who want not material things, yet may want
kind sympathy when God smiteth with sorrow. Recollect, then, that that
is the time for kindliness to be proved that is golden."

This was the epitome of the sermon, and John Hardy could not hear a
sound in the church, so intently was it listened to.

"I could understand your sermon, Herr Pastor," said Hardy; "it was
preached in such simple Danish, and I liked it. But what interested me
was the earnestness with which you were listened to: every word was
heard by every one of your congregation, and I could see felt."

"It was not always so," said Pastor Lindal. "I have won the sympathy
and friendship of the children of my parish by years of work amongst
them. The character of the Jutland people is suspicious--there is a
strange mixture of shrewdness and stolidity; they are slow to
appreciate, but when once their sympathy is won, they are fast
friends. It is impossible for a sermon to have any effect without you
have won their friendship on other days than Sundays."

John Hardy said nothing, but he thought that the application was true
to other lands than Denmark, particularly England.

The Pastor had to perform another service at an Annex Kirke (a
subsidiary church), and left after a short meal to do so. Frøken Helga
went to her room, and Karl and Axel implored Hardy to go fishing; but
he refused. "It is not right to do so," he said; "we have to keep the
Sunday, and fishing is not keeping the Sunday."

"But everybody does here, and more than, other days," said Karl.

"That may be," said Hardy; "but I cannot do what I do not think is
right."

Kirstin was present and heard this conversation, and it met her
evident approval. She told the boys that the Englishman must not be
teased on a Sunday, that he might wish to read his Bible, and that he
must not be disturbed. The boys left the room in bad humour.

"Kirstin," said Hardy, "my being here will, I dare say, give you more
trouble, and I wish to recognize it. I am an Englishman accustomed to
many servants, and may be careless of what trouble I give. You must
not judge me by what is the custom in Denmark. Here is forty kroner;
will you kindly give what you think fit to others in the house, and
keep the rest yourself?"

"No," said Kirstin, "I will have no money. Herr Pastor says you will
pay for your stay here by teaching, and it rests with him; also it is
too much."

Hardy had to pocket his money again with a dissatisfied look, but
Kirstin understood him; and his face, on which nature had written
"gentleman," and which she had closely observed since Hardy's arrival,
appealed to her.

"I have seen the gentleman," said Kirstin, "look at Frøken Helga, and
I will tell the gentleman something that may serve him. Frøken Helga
can never marry. Her duty is to her father and her brothers, and she
knows and feels that."

John Hardy was not in love with Frøken Helga; but yet this simple
Jutland peasant had divined what might occur, and had forewarned him.
The explanation of Helga's conduct towards him was clear. He saw that
she daily visited the people in the parish, and told the Pastor what
was necessary to tell him, and that her usefulness in the parsonage
and in every corner of it was a want that she filled. Kirstin
understood all this, and saw that it could not be interrupted without
a breach of duty.

John Hardy went to his room, and did not come out of it until they
were all assembled that Sunday evening in the little dining-room.

The Pastor was tired, but very conversational; and when his great
porcelain pipe had been filled as usual by Helga with Kanaster, he
said, "I was struck by your evident interest in our service; but I was
pleased to hear that you refused to go fishing with Karl and Axel,
because the sabbath should be kept. Now, we have not that view,
although it is the best view; and I say frankly that if you had taken
the boys fishing, I should have not objected; but you said you felt it
was not right, and I honour the thought. There is with us in Denmark a
strong feeling against the Established Church, and a political
question arose some years ago which will well illustrate it. On the
7th of January, 1868, a bill was brought before our Lower House of
Parliament as to military service, and the question was raised whether
theological candidates should be eligible for military service. The
issue was raised in the Lower House of Representatives and fought
there. It then passed into the Higher House of Representatives, and
was fought there. The strife was long and intensely bitter, the
greater part of the population of Denmark becoming partisans for or
partisans against the clerical party. After the fight in the Higher
House, it was again referred to the Lower, and refought there, and so
again to the Higher House, with two interludes of appeals to the
country. The clerical party described the position of the clergy in a
florid style. They declaimed that poets and painters had represented
the life of a Danish priest as a beautiful idyl, each scene in
relative harmony with surrounding nature, whose heart is not touched
as wandering in the path-fields he hears the bells of the country
church ringing in the morning of the sabbath. How lovely is the little
white church, with its red roof and quaint gables, amidst its woods
and meadows! The little parsonage standing in its own garden, with a
little belt of trees close to the church, while around it flock the
little country houses, as a hen gathers her chickens. Nothing is more
exquisite than the perfect affection and peace that exists between the
country clergyman and his congregation. He is the teacher of the
young, the comforter of the old, in each house a welcome guest, and
the estimation in which his holy calling is held invests him with
respect. In spiritual need or worldly care every one of his
congregation hasten to their minister. He is the curer of souls,
adviser, father, friend. The homes of his flock are his own, and it is
his pride to confer happiness and promote contentment."

"That is a bright picture," said Hardy.

"Yes," said Pastor Lindal; "but the opposite party drew another, which
attracted many partisans. They said his reverence has a good time of
it. He has a house which is better than a Danish farmer's, and a farm
which is just as good. He has horses, cows, pigs, sheep, and poultry.
He has, moreover, tithes and dues of many kinds; and besides these, it
is necessary to stick a dollar in his fist whenever one must make use
of him. Whilst the Danish farmer has to sweat behind his plough, the
clergyman sits at his ease smoking his pipe in his study, and has
nothing more to do than to preach on a Sunday, and to hear the
children read once a week. Everything that is congenial to the taste
of the Danish farmer, the clergyman turns up his nose at. He abuses
the leaders of the people, and only reads conservative newspapers, and
on election days he votes against all his parish. The farmer maintains
and pays him, but his conviction is that he is better than any farmer.
What, therefore, can be more stiff-necked of him than to refuse to
serve his country with his own, reverend person? Off with his black
coat and clap on a red, and let the corporal teach him. He is a
learned fellow, but, doubtless, stupid at drill."

"That last," said Hardy, "is a reference to Holberg's play of 'Erasmus
Montanus.'"

"Yes," said Pastor Lindal; "and it amused the country. But they got
hold of another idea, and tore it to shreds: they said if the flock
goes to war, the shepherd should not be absent. The result, however,
was that theological candidates are liable to military service, and it
makes a difference of possibly twenty men yearly. It, however, proves
one thing, and that is, the Lower House had got hold of the clerical
gown, and were determined, with bull-dog tenacity, to rend it."

"A similar question in England," said Hardy, "would have produced the
same result."

"That I can well believe," said the Pastor; "but with you a
congregation can be sold to the highest bidder, and is. There is no
thought in England of adjusting the payment for church work to the
work done, and so long as this exists it is a dangerous feature."

"Without doubt," said Hardy.

Before going to bed, Hardy said to Frøken Helga, "Good night," as he
had done on previous nights, without more than a bow; but to his
surprise she held out her hand, and said--

"Thank you, Herr Hardy; I have rarely seen my father so interested to
talk with any one, and it is kind of you to interest him."

"It is the contrary, Frøken Helga; he interests me," said Hardy.




CHAPTER V.


    "Hunting trains up the younger nobility to the use
    of manly exercises in their riper age."
    --_The Complete Angler._


To John Hardy the days passed pleasantly at the little Danish
parsonage. He taught the boys English a short time daily, and their
bright faces and strong desire to learn made Hardy interested in their
progress. If they were inclined to be inattentive, which was rare, the
hint that he should not take them with him fishing secured earnest and
immediate attention. The Pastor saw that the boys made progress in
learning English with Hardy, and he himself taught them several hours
daily, or, if he were absent, he set them work to do, and his daughter
Helga sat in the room until the Pastor returned.

Hardy accompanied him in his visits to his Sognebørn (literally,
parish children), and he gradually became acquainted with the Danish
farmers, and was known in the parish as Præsten's Englænder, or the
parson's Englishman. He was amused by the habits of many of the men,
in treating him as if he was a harmless idiot, to be humoured and
always answered in the affirmative. Stories were told him of how in
some parts of the river there were trout et Par Alen long (about four
feet), but to amuse the idiot for the moment.

The peculiarity of knickerbockers received much consideration, and it
was a frequent question if Hardy adopted that dress for a sickness in
his legs. Hardy's knowledge of farming and the management of cattle,
particularly horses, was an unfailing source of conversation. There
are many good horses bred in Jutland for sale in England, Germany, and
Sweden. The original breed appeared to Hardy to be either Hungarian or
Polish. These horses are well adapted for light carriage work; and
many a horse foaled on a Jutland farm has been in a London carriage,
to the considerable profit of the importer.

The evenings at the parsonage passed in conversation with the Pastor,
who held a sort of tobacco parliament. Hardy was a good listener, and
was anxious to perfect himself in the Danish language. Frøken Helga
knitted and listened. The boys learned lessons or played games. The
Pastor liked to hear his daughter sing; but it would be doing that
worthy man strong injustice to say he liked the piano, which was very
old and worse than worthless. It was to Hardy's ear torture to hear it
in contrast with Frøken Helga's clear voice. At last he could stand it
no longer, and the matter came to a crisis.

"Herr Pastor," said Hardy, "when at the exhibition of Copenhagen, of
your national industry, I was much struck by the tone of a piano by a
Copenhagen maker, and I have ordered one, and I shall be much indebted
to you if you will allow it to be sent here until I return to
England."

"There will be much extra expense attached to that plan," replied the
Pastor, "and, besides, it might get injured here."

"Those considerations I am fully prepared for," said Hardy; "but if I
may take the leaf from my mouth, as you Danes say, or speak plainly,
your piano is worn out, and is spoiling Frøken Helga's ear and taste
for music. Her voice is excellent, and rings as clearly as a silver
bell; but then the jingle of the piano is like the toothache."

"We are all accustomed to it," said the Pastor; "but I only hear
Helga's voice."

So the piano appeared, and a man to tune it, and Frøken Helga played
it. The tone was good, and the Pastor listened to the old Danish songs
he had heard so many times with delight.

One evening Helga had to make a visit to a sick woman, and the Pastor
puffed away at his teacup of a pipe, with longer puffs than usual.
Hardy saw there was something in the way, and at last it struck him
that he missed his daughter's song. He had once told Hardy that her
voice was like her mother's.

Hardy sat down to the piano, and played and sang an English ballad,
and then another. He then sang a plaintive German song, with a manly
pathos and taste, that showed the well-bred gentleman he was.

The Pastor applauded loudly, and Hardy turned round, and, lo! there
was Frøken Helga, with a look on her face that Hardy never forgot, so
intense was her surprise.

"Helga," said her father, "go and thank Herr Hardy for his singing to
me instead of you; he saw I missed you, my child, and he sang to
divert me."

"A thousand thanks!" said Helga, using a common Danish expression. "I
never heard so beautiful a song! But why did you not tell us that you
could play and sing before?"

"Because I preferred Frøken Helga's voice to that of Præsten's
Englænder," said Hardy.

Nothing would induce Frøken Helga to sing that evening; her father
almost commanded her, but she would not. At last she said, "I cannot,
father; Herr Hardy sings too well."

This speech was not forgotten for a long time, and Karl and Axel
teased their sister with perpetual questions as to whether they or she
was not doing something or other too well. If Karl caught no trout, he
explained to his sister that he was afraid of fishing too well. If
Axel had dirty hands, his explanation was that he was afraid of
washing them too well.

John Hardy had visited the Gudenaa within walking distance, or boating
distance, and he wished to make longer expeditions from the parsonage.
He inspected several of the farms near, and at last arranged with
farmer Niels Jacobsen to rent stabling for three horses. He then wrote
the following letter, addressed to a groom at Hardy Place:--

"Robert Garth,

"I want you to bring Buffalo to me in Denmark. The horse is to be
taken to Harwich, and thence on board the steamer for Esbjerg. The
steamers are fitted up with stables for horses, and there will be no
difficulty. When you come to Esbjerg, take train to Horsens, where I
will meet you. A telegram must be sent me to Vandstrup Præstegaard, to
say when you will arrive at Horsens. Bring two hunting saddles and
bridles, and some of the snaffle bits that I like.

"Show this letter to the steward, and he will let you have what money
he thinks is necessary for your journey.

"Yours truly,

"John Hardy."

In little more than a week, Buffalo and Robert Garth were in Niels
Jacobsen's stables.

Buffalo was a good English-bred horse, a good jumper, with a chest
like a wall, and hind-quarters up to weight. Niels Jacobsen and his
neighbours had collected and criticized.

"Gild bevars! sikken en Hest!" ["God preserve us, what a horse!"] said
Niels, sucking away at his pipe, with a chorus echoing the same words
from his neighbours. There was no doubt of their approval, and Buffalo
had a succession of visitors and admirers for days.

Hardy had communicated to Pastor Lindal that he intended to have one
of his horses and a groom from England, and had great difficulty in
preventing the Pastor turning out his own small stable to make room
for Buffalo; but this Hardy would not allow. Robert Garth lodged at
Jacobsen's, and Hardy, with that thoughtfulness he always had for
those about him, arranged for his man's meals and sleeping quarters as
nearly as possible to an English groom's notions.

"Well, Bob," said Hardy, "you will shake down after a bit; but what I
want you to do is, to help me to pick out a pair of light carriage
horses from here. I have seen a lot, and you will have plenty to
choose from. They will suit my mother, and I wish to take them over as
a present to her."

"I have seen some of them Danish horses," said Robert Garth, "and not
half bad horses either; but it is the infernal lingo. They keep
smoking them big wood pipes, and when they don't smoke they chews, and
then they spits."

"Where did you see any Danish horses?" asked Hardy.

"At Sir Charles'; he had a pair, hardly up to fifteen hands, but very
pretty steppers, with a thinish mane, a trifle small below the knee,"
said Garth.

"That's the very thing," said Hardy.

As soon as it was known that the priest's Englishman wanted to buy two
Jutland horses, plenty offered; and Karl and Axel were intensely
interested in the trial of the horses, which went on in a rough piece
of land close to the parsonage.

When the horses were brought up, Hardy mounted one, and Robert Garth
criticized. Hardy put the horse through its paces, and if his judgment
was not favourable, it was declined; but if doubtful. Garth rode it,
and Hardy looked on. A couple of horses were thus selected, and both
had Robert Garth's unqualified approval.

"They are both as handsome as paint, and as sound as bells," said
Garth.

"Are you a horse-dealer?" asked Pastor Lindal, of Hardy, one evening.

"No, certainly not," replied Hardy.

"You have shown every qualification for it," said the Pastor.

"Possibly," said Hardy. "I see I have done this also too well. I only
wanted the horses for my mother's carriage. She likes an open light
carriage, and it is difficult to procure really good horses in England
of a suitable size. The horses I have bought will suit her exactly, if
we have good luck with them; that is, that they turn out well, and we
have no accident with them. I shall buy a light four-wheel carriage at
Horsens, and my groom will drive them, and we shall then see if it be
necessary to discard either or both, before they are taken to
England."

"But why did you send for a horse from England?" said Pastor Lindal,
to whom a horse was a horse and a cow was a cow.

"I fear because I like a good horse," replied Hardy. "Your Jutland
horses are not adapted to the saddle, except for lady's hacks, or
light carriage work; my English horse would jump the ditches that
abound in your Danish fields, and would, for instance, jump your
garden wall."

"That I am sure no horse can," said the Pastor, decidedly.

"Does he mean, father," said Frøken Helga, "that his horse can jump
our garden wall?"

"Yes," said Hardy; "it is scarcely five feet. But will you promise,
Frøken Helga, that if my horse does jump the wall, that you will not
say that the horse does it too well? It is not me, but the horse that
jumps the wall."

Helga looked annoyed at the reference made to her saying that he sang
and played too well for any one to follow after him, but she said
nothing.

Karl and Axel had listened. They too thought it impossible; but they
believed in Hardy.

"Well, Karl," said Hardy, "don't you believe in me and the English
horse?"

"No," said Karl. "A horse cannot jump the garden wall by himself, much
more with a man on his back; no horse could do it. But I believe you
can do anything."

"Well, Herr Pastor," said Hardy, "I have no one who believes in me or
my horse. Frøken Helga regards me with suspicion; and no one in
Jutland appears to believe more than they see."

"Yes; but it is impossible," said Pastor Lindal.

The next day after breakfast, Buffalo and one of the Danish horses
were taken to the parsonage by Robert Garth. Buffalo had an English
saddle on, and looked fully recovered from his journey to Denmark, and
fit for anything. The Pastor, his daughter, and his two boys came out
to see the English horse. Frøken Helga had not seen it before, and it
struck her as being the handsomest horse she had ever seen; and she
observed the respect the English groom showed Hardy.

"What do you think of the oats, Bob?" said Hardy.

"First-rate," said Garth, touching his hat; "they have picked Buffalo
up wonderful, and he is fit to go anywhere."

Hardy mounted his horse. His mother had sent over his hunting
breeches, and when mounted, the Pastor was struck with the manly
figure of the quiet-mannered Englishman.

"The horse will not take even such a jump as your garden wall," said
Hardy, "in cold blood. I will give him a gallop down the field below,
and then bring him up and jump the wall. You will see the grand spread
of his stride as he gallops."

Hardy rode like an English country gentleman accustomed to the saddle,
and the great wide strides taken by Buffalo even the Pastor observed
with astonishment. Suddenly Hardy turned and came at the garden wall,
with Buffalo well in hand, who rose to the jump and cleared it easily,
and out through a break in the shrubbery over the wall at the other
side.

Hardy rode quietly in through the entrance gate and dismounted. It was
clear, by the demeanour of the English groom, that he saw nothing
unusual in what had passed; but it was very different with the Danish
family. The boys cheered, but Frøken Helga had disappeared.

"If you were not accustomed to do this," said the Pastor, "I should
consider it was not right to risk so good a horse and your own limbs.
A fall must be dangerous to you and your horse."

"Yes; a fall would be, and is," said Hardy. "I have broken my arm and
a collar-bone by falls when hunting."

"Now, Herr Pastor," added Hardy, "you will see the difference between
my English horse and one of the best horses we could buy here."

"He can't jump a yard, master," said Garth; "it is no use trying him."

Hardy mounted the Danish horse, and the difference was apparent in
pace and action.

"Bob," said Hardy, "they are no use for saddle horses, except for
ladies; but they will do well for what we bought them."

"Right you are, master!" said Garth, as Hardy remounted Buffalo, and
went for a ride.



CHAPTER VI.


    "Next, note that the eel seldom stirs in the day,
    but then hides himself; and therefore is usually caught by
    night, with one of those baits of which I have spoken."
    --_The Complete Angler._


The two Danish horses were driven by Garth, and, in his hands, soon
grew accustomed to harness and the light carriage John Hardy had
purchased at Horsens. Longer expeditions were made to fish the smaller
Danish streams, and, to the great gratification of Karl and Axel, to
Silkeborg. The lakes at Silkeborg, with their idyllic picturesqueness,
interested Hardy, while the pike and the perch fishing yielded good
sport. Hardy was skilful in spinning a heavy minnow deep in the water,
casting it from a boat, and thus attracting the heaviest perch. A
paternoster also in his hands caught a quantity of perch. Pike were
caught by casting a dead roach, with a rod with upright rings, and
Hardy threw his bait with a length and certainty that the Danish
fishermen were not accustomed to. The bait would fall into a little
spot of water amongst the reeds. A jerk and pull made the dead fish
appear like a wounded live one; when out would rush Herr _Esox lucius_
from his lair, and, after expostulating in the usual manner, would
come into the boat with the sullen look of
how-I-should-like-to-bite-the-calf-of-your-leg, peculiar to Herr
Esox's genus.

The Danish fishermen at Silkeborg began to entertain the notion that
John Hardy, if his stay was prolonged, would depopulate the lakes of
both pike and perch; and they hugged the idea with affection that at
least he could not catch eels, with which the lakes abound.

"Can you catch eels, Herr Hardy?" said Karl. "The fishermen say you
may be able to catch pike and perch, but you do not know how to catch
eels with a line in the lakes."

"Yes," replied Hardy, "if you and Axel will undertake to take them off
the hooks when caught; it is not an agreeable bit of work."

"Yes, that will we," said Karl and Axel at once.

They had then no idea of the difficulty of getting off the slime of an
eel from their clothes, and what very pointed personal remarks would
be made by Kirstin, when they returned to Vandstrup Præstegaard.

The preparations for catching eels with lines was of immense interest
to the boys. Hardy had several stakes made with sharpened ends. The
stakes were driven into a shallow part of the lake, and a line
attached to each, of about thirty yards' length. The line was a cotton
one, with copper wire twisted in it; and to each line, at the distance
of every six feet, was attached a strong gimp hook, baited with a dead
minnow. The lines were laid down at dusk, with a weight at the end of
about half a pound. A boat was chartered, and the lines visited at
intervals the half part of the night. By drawing the line, it was easy
to detect if an eel was on the line. The result was the constant
employment of Karl and Axel in taking eels off the lines; and the next
day their clothes were white and shiny, with slime from the eels.

"You are so good to us, Herr Hardy," said Karl, "I wish you would live
always with us."

"We do not live only to catch fish," said Hardy; "each of us has his
duty and work to do; but there is no reason why we should not enjoy
the beautiful world God has given us, when we do our duty first. My
duty I know; yours you have yet to learn."

These simple words had a strong impression on the two lads, and were
never forgotten; and when Karl and Axel returned to their father's
house, they told him what Hardy had said, and he never forgot it
either.

"I think," said the Pastor to his daughter, "that Herr Hardy is as
good as he is kind."

One little circumstance that now occurred it is necessary to mention.
Hardy had been some time at the parsonage, and he therefore offered to
pay what he had agreed to pay for his board and lodging.

The Pastor refused to accept payment, "You have come here, and whilst
here have repaid us again and again by your kind ways and manners. My
two boys have grown in a few weeks to be gentle and considerate in
their conduct. They were rough and wild before. You have taught them
English, and their progress has astonished me. I have taught them
daily, but you have succeeded in teaching more in a few weeks than I
have years. I cannot repay this. I can only say I will receive no
money of yours."

"But I am well able to pay the moderate sum you stated that was your
wish I should pay, and I will pay it with pleasure."

"That may be," said the Pastor, "but the principle is the same. I
could not honestly take anything from you."

"Then I must leave," said Hardy; "I could not remain here at your
charge. I see I put you to more expenditure than is usual with you,
and I could not continue to do so."

"You are, of course, at liberty to leave when you wish," said the
Pastor; "but if you will give way in this, I shall feel I have at
least recognized in the only way in my power what you have done for me
and mine."

There was no doubt of the sincerity of the Pastor's meaning. His open
face was as clear to read as print.

Frøken Helga was present at this interview, and Hardy looked at her in
the hope of finding in her expression as to what he should do. She was
knitting as usual. He thought there was a feeling that she wished the
matter should drop, so Hardy said--

"Well, Herr Pastor, all I can say is that the money is at your
disposition, and if you refuse to take it when I go away I shall pay
it to the Fattigkasse (poor box); and I must insist I have done
nothing more than any Englishman would do."

"Good, very good!" said the Pastor. "Let us shake hands, and there is
an end of it."

As Hardy took the Pastor's hand, he thought Frøken Helga's face bore
an expression of approval, but her retiring manner made it impossible
to discover what her thoughts really were.

A few days after, at breakfast, the Pastor said to Hardy, "There is an
invitation for you to go to Gods-eier (landowner) Jensen's. They are
going to celebrate their silver wedding. They have also invited me and
my daughter Helga. Jensen breeds horses, and his reason for asking you
is probably because he has heard of your English horse. Niels Jacobsen
has talked with him about it. He saw him at a market some days ago.
You can, of course, decline; and, at any rate, you can do as you wish.
We shall go because they are friends of ours, and it would be a want
of respect not to go on such an occasion as a silver wedding. There
will be several persons there, and there will be a dinner at about
three, and a dance after, in which the younger people will join."

"Thank you," said Hardy; "I should like to see more of Danish society,
and I should wish to go for that reason."

John Hardy did not say that he had a strong wish to see Frøken Helga
in society. He had seen her only at home, perpetually knitting and
occupied in the management of the affairs of the parsonage. He
observed, when she expressed a wish, that neither the wayward boys nor
the strong-minded Kirstin had the least thought of acting in
opposition to it, and he felt an interest in the opportunity of seeing
her in society, and observing whether there would be the same
unbending nature.

The invitation was therefore accepted.

The distance was about five English miles, and Garth drove the pair of
Danish horses in the neat livery of Hardy Place; and the Pastor and
his daughter sat together, while Hardy sat beside Garth. He did this
because he thought that Frøken Helga would rather dispense with his
society.

"They will do eight miles," said Garth, "but I do not believe they
will do more; they go what you may call pretty, but there is not much
stay in them, and if you drive them out of their pace, they are cut
down at once."

"Yes, Bob," said Hardy; "but they will suit my mother, and they are
just what she wants and would like."

"Yes," said Bob Garth, "there is that; but they starves them so much
when they are young, and that does not make sinew or bone."

Notwithstanding Garth's predictions, the Jensen's mansion was reached
in half an hour from Vandstrup Præstegaard, and Garth drove up with a
flourish that impressed Herr Jensen, who was on the door steps.

"Are these the horses the Englishman bought a few days ago, Herr
Pastor Lindal?" asked Herr Jensen.

"Yes," said Pastor Lindal. "But how are you, and how is Fru Lindal and
your family?"

"They are all right, thank you, Herr Pastor," replied Herr Jensen.
"But I never saw horses so managed! Why, they could be sold in
Hamburgh for a lot of money. They are fit for any carriage anywhere."

If Fru Jensen had not appeared on the scene, it is possible that her
husband's interest in the horses might have been prolonged
indefinitely; but she conducted Frøken Helga Lindal into the house,
introduced herself to John Hardy, and told the Pastor to tell the
English groom where to put up his horses and where to wait until he
should be required to return to Vandstrup Præstegaard.

Herr Jensen looked at the Englishman with interest, as he stood before
him in his evening dress, broad-shouldered with fine limbs, his
clothes fitting well, and looking like a wedge from his broad chest
down to his feet.

They went into an assembly-room, where many guests were gathered.
There were several landowners of the district with their families, and
John Hardy's simple manners and unmistakable stamp of gentleman made a
favourable impression. He was introduced to a Frøken Jaeger, and was
told he would have to take her in to dinner. Hardy bowed.

"How old are you?" said Frøken Jaeger.

"Twenty-eight," replied Hardy.

"What is your profession?" inquired Frøken Jaeger.

"Landowner," replied Hardy. And Hardy was subjected to a
cross-examination that elicited from him that his father was dead
years ago, that his mother lived at Hardy Place, that he was a
magistrate for the English county where he resided, and was also an
officer in the yeomanry cavalry.

"Then why do you not wear a uniform?" inquired Frøken Jaeger, with
some asperity.

"Because it is not allowed, and I do not wish it, when in a foreign
country," replied Hardy.

It is to be feared that if the cross-examination had been much longer,
that Hardy would have declined to answer any more questions, and have
exhibited some of that insularity that is so common in Englishmen; but
dinner was announced, and Hardy offered his arm, and Frøken Jaeger was
soon occupied in other and more material subjects. She was about
thirty-five, according to Hardy's judgment, and had a long sharp nose
and an equally sharp chin, tending ultimately to form what some people
ungenerously call nutcrackers; but her appetite was good, and it left
an opportunity to Hardy to observe his fellow guests.

The Pastor sat near his host, and his daughter was paired with a young
Danish landowner, who paid her great attention. Her dress was simple,
with an ornament or two inherited from her mother; but her clear
complexion, her tall figure and clean-cut features impressed Hardy.
She talked with every one with animation, and Hardy could scarcely
realize the comparison between the quiet figure steadily knitting with
ear and eye always at her father's service to the perfect Danish lady
before him.

There were several toasts proposed during the dinner. The event of the
day had to be particularly recognized, which was done with much
enthusiasm. Then followed other toasts, and Hardy's health was drunk,
to which he had to reply. He rose quickly, and said in Danish that his
knowledge of the language was yet so imperfect that he could say
little more than thanks, but that he would add that he owed a debt of
kindness to the Danes with whom he had been brought in contact, and he
thanked them and his host for their kindness and consideration to a
foreigner. Hardy read in Frøken Helga's face that what he had said was
what had her approval, and that he had said enough.

"You appear to look at Frøken Helga Lindal, Herr Hardy," said Frøken
Jaeger; "are you engaged to her?"

"No," said Hardy.

"But what do you think of her?"

"That she is an excellent daughter," replied Hardy.

"And that she would make an excellent wife?" said Frøken Jaeger.

"Possibly," said Hardy, with a determination to say nothing more.

The dinner party broke up. The elder people of the male sort adjourned
to a very strong tobacco-parliament and cards; the younger went into
the assembly-room, which was now converted into a ball-room. Frøken
Jaeger said, "Herr Hardy, I have put your name down in my list of
dances for the first dance, and you will dance with me."

Hardy went to Frøken Helga Lindal, and besought her to deliver him
from Frøken Jaeger; but she declined, and said, "You have to dance
with Frøken Jaeger; you have taken her in to dinner, and it is our
custom."

"Then," said Hardy, "let me have one dance with you, a waltz?"

Helga gave him her list, and he wrote his name down for the first
waltz possible.

"Is it your father's wish to stay here a long time, Frøken Helga?"
asked Hardy.

"No; but it depends on you," replied Helga. "He will not leave until
you wish, but I know the sooner he is home the better for him. But
Herr Jensen will want to talk to you about his horses."

"I will see him at once," said Hardy, "and tell him I will ride over
to-morrow to see his horses, and that will, I think, prevent any delay
arising from that cause."

So Hardy went into the tobacco-parliament, and arranged with Herr
Jensen to see him the following day, and the catechising Frøken Jaeger
had to wait while the dance and the waltz she loved so well had begun;
but Hardy's appearance and his good dancing allayed her rising anger.

"Do you dance much in England?" said Frøken Jaeger.

"No," said Hardy; "I do not like it."

At length the time came for his dance with Frøken Helga Lindal, and as
they stood up the personal beauty of both was remarked. Helga's
elastic movement on Hardy's arm, the ease with which she danced in
perfect time, and her bright manner had its effect on Hardy. He was
not quite sure but that he had just told Frøken Jaeger a story, in
saying that he did not like dancing.

"You dance well, Frøken Helga!" said Hardy.

"I can do nothing so well as you," replied Helga. "But my father would
wish to leave, and if you can arrange it, I shall thank you so much.
You can do what you like; we cannot."

A short time after, they were sitting behind the trotting horses, and
the Pastor thanked Hardy for his consideration. "They are kind
people," said he, "but they do not think that my duty is never to be
away from my home, so that I can be called at any moment to do what
duty may arise, and which, if I should delay or omit, would be wrong."

"It is a strict view," said Hardy, "but it is the right one. I cannot
say it is general in England."




CHAPTER VII.


    "If the prayer be good, the commoner the better.
    Prayer in the Church's words,
    As well as sense, of all prayers bears the bell."
    _The Complete Angler._


The next day after the late breakfast at the parsonage, John Hardy
rode over to the Jensen's on Buffalo, and Garth followed on one of the
Danish horses, and was received with much warmth. Herr Jensen walked
round and round Buffalo, for he loved a horse, and admired the length
of his step as Buffalo walked. He had heard the story of his jumping
the wall at Vandstrup Præstegaard, and his desire to see him perform
in that capacity was so great, that Hardy put him through a gallop and
over a few fences, and Herr Jensen approved loudly. Fru Jensen was
present and her two daughters, Mathilde and Maria Jensen.

Hardy's quiet manner when he dismounted and made his respects to the
ladies, as if he had just trotted his horse up the avenue, struck
them, and they forgave him on the spot for leaving so early the night
before. Hardy went into the old Danish Herregaard (country house), and
was received with the usual Danish hospitality. The ladies talked
incessantly of the proceedings of the night before, and Hardy had to
bear the result of Frøken Jaeger's severe cross-examination to the
fullest particular. She had told all Hardy's answers to her questions,
and they were possessed with Hardy's position in England, so far as he
had chosen to answer Frøken Jaeger, and the ladies were ready to
pursue the inquiry further; but, fortunately for Hardy, Herr Jensen
was anxious to show him his farm, and particularly his horses. Hardy
at once assented, and Herr Jensen took him to see his brood mares and
foals, with a few young horses not yet sold, which Herr Jensen was
holding for a higher price than the people he sold to at Hamburgh
would pay him. Garth accompanied them.

"I have sold horses often to England," said Jensen; "but they will pay
a price upon each particular horse. Some they will pay £40 for, some
they will pay £18 for; and when the horses arrive at Hull, they will
say there is some fault or defect in the higher paid-for horses, and
the consequence is that I prefer selling to the Germans. They pay £25
to £30 a horse, and take, perhaps, twenty or thirty yearly; and many
of the best go to England after being trained, and the rest are sold
in Germany or elsewhere; but I never hear any complaints of defects or
the like."

"That I can well understand," said Hardy. "In England, a really good
horse has no price. If he is wanted, any price will be paid; but a
horse with a fault is nowhere."

"Our horses," said Jensen, "are good horses for light weights; but in
England they are used chiefly for carriages now. I have two horses
here that would make good saddle horses, and I wish you could try
them."

The two horses Herr Jensen referred to were in a pasture, tethered to
an iron spike driven in the ground, with a rope giving them a range of
a few yards of grass.

"What do you think of these two horses, Bob?" said Hardy to Garth.

"Very good park hacks," said Garth, "and just the thing for a lady to
ride."

"My man will try one of the horses if you like," said Hardy. "He is
accustomed to horses."

Garth fetched the saddle he had rode over in, and a light snaffle
bridle, and mounted, and, after the usual difficulties that always
occur with colts, he rode the horse, sitting firm and easy in the
saddle, to Herr Jensen's great admiration.

"He is a good horse," said Garth. "But, master, ask the governor one
question, and that is how he feeds them in the winter."

"What does he say?" asked Herr Jensen.

"He asks how you feed your horses in the winter," replied Hardy.

"That is the difficulty," said Jensen. "We have little to give them in
the winter and spring, and it is hard work to keep them alive. We cut
our grass in the meadows twice yearly; the first hay is good, the
second is not so good by a long way."

"Our notion is that a horse should always be kept well," said Hardy,
"or his bone and sinew want firmness."

"There is no doubt of that," said Herr Jensen. "We understand that
very well; but yet what can we do? We breed horses to make money by
them. If we fed them as you say, we could not get the cost back."

"I have heard the same story in England," said Hardy; "a farmer has to
treat his farm as a business, and, Herr Jensen, you are quite right in
doing so."

Hardy went over Herr Jensen's farm, and his knowledge of farming in
all its branches so interested Herr Jensen, that it was late when they
returned to the Herregaard. Dinner was ready, and Hardy had to bear a
running fire of criticism from Fru Jensen and her daughters. He had
not, they said, observed the particular merits of many of the Danish
ladies who had been present at the dance of the previous evening, but
doubtless he was preoccupied.

"No," said Hardy, "I was not preoccupied. My difficulty is that I do
not know Danish well, and Herr Jensen has had the greatest difficulty
to understand me about horses; how, then, could I understand so
difficult a subject as a Danish lady?"

"Frøken Jaeger says, you said that Frøken Helga Lindal would make an
excellent wife," said Fru Jensen.

"Yes," said Hardy. "She asked me, and I said it was possible."

Hardy said this in so strong a manner that it was even apparent to
Herr Jensen that he did not wish the conversation extended, so Herr
Jensen proposed a cigar and an adjournment to his own room.

Hardy left at six o'clock, and rode to Vandstrup. On his way thither
an occurrence happened that Hardy never forgot.

Hardy, followed by Garth, had ridden on to within an English mile of
Vandstrup, when he saw a waggon overturned, and a man lying underneath
it. The horses were kicking in their harness, as they lay in the ditch
by the roadside. The waggon was the same as is usually employed by the
Danish farmer, for his farm work, and was heavy in construction. Hardy
galloped up, and found the man lying under the waggon evidently
seriously injured. He was a workman called Nils Rasmussen, and had
taken a load of turf, in company with another man with a similar load
in another waggon, to a village near Vandstrup. The turf discharged,
there was the opportunity of getting drunk; and the horses of both
waggons were driven hard down a slope in the road by their drunken
drivers, and coming in contact, Nils Rasmussen was thrown out, and the
waggon fell on him, whilst the struggling of the horses every moment
increased the serious injuries he was receiving.

Garth cut the horses free, and Nils Rasmussen was taken from under the
waggon. Several people came running up, and one of them rode Hardy's
Danish horse for the district doctor. Hardy assisted in carrying the
injured man to his home, and sent Garth to the stables on Buffalo,
with instructions to come to Rasmussen's house for orders. It was
clear the case was serious from the first Hardy undressed the man, and
found that he had more than one limb broken, while from the froth and
blood in the mouth, internal injuries were present.

When Garth returned, he was sent to the parsonage, with a request for
a pair of dry clean sheets, a bottle of cognac, and some of Hardy's
linen handkerchiefs. Garth returned in a white heat, without the
articles he was sent for. Hardy had supposed that the news of the
accident would have reached the parsonage, and after enumerating the
articles required, he added a request that they should be given to
Garth to take to Rasmussen's. Kirstin read the note, and put several
questions to Garth, which, from his ignorance of Danish, it was
impossible for him to answer; "When suddenly," said Garth, "she
appeared to get into a rage. She rushed at me, beat me about the head,
and shouted at me."

The district doctor now came in, and Hardy's attention was occupied.
He told him what he had seen of the accident, and the symptoms of
injury internally. The doctor was used to cases either more or less
grave of a similar character, and he showed much cool professional
skill. "I will remain here," e said to Hardy, "until sent for. The
case is hopeless, and all that can be done is to watch by him."

When the doctor left, Hardy decided to remain, as Nils Rasmussen's
wife and family were incapable of being of the slightest use. He sent
Garth to his lodgings, with orders to come to Rasmussen's at six the
next morning.

Meanwhile Hardy had been expected at the parsonage, and it grew later
and later.

"He is stopping with the Jensens," said the Pastor,

"No, he is not!" burst out Kirstin; "he is at Rasmussen's. He sent
that man of his here a while since for a pair of sheets and a bottle
of the best brandy to take to Rasmussen's, and you can see the writing
he sent by his servant."

The Pastor took the scrap of paper and read it aloud.

"It is that bold, bad hussey, Karen Rasmussen!" said Kirstin.

"How can you know that?" said Frøken Helga.

"Know it!" exclaimed Kirstin; "I am sure of it. No man can be so good
as the Englishman appears to be."

The Pastor and his family retired to rest with a shock of grief and
pain. "He must leave at once," thought the Pastor.

Shortly after six the next morning, Garth fetched one of Rasmussen's
neighbours, whom he sent with the following note to the pastor,
written on a similar scrap of paper as his unfortunate communication
of the previous evening, and torn from his note-book.

"Dear Herr Pastor,

"Nils Rasmussen, the workman at Jorgensens, is sinking fast. You have,
of course, heard of the accident? The district doctor at once saw the
case was beyond all hope. Will you come immediately?

"Yours faithfully,

"John Hardy."

As the Pastor left his house, he met one after another of Nils
Rasmussen's neighbours coming for him. He heard of John Hardy's
assistance and care, and that he had been the whole night acting as
nurse, as the family were incapable.

As the Pastor entered, he met Hardy.

"It is too late, Herr Pastor," said the latter; "the man is dead. But
go in and speak to the wife, and I will wait for you. Here is twenty
kroner, which you can give her; the expenses of the funeral I will
bear, and I can arrange that she shall receive ten kroner weekly,
through the post-office, until they can help themselves."

In half an hour the Pastor came out, and he said, "Hardy, I thank you
for your attention to this poor man. You have done nothing more than
what was right you should do, and what any one else should have done;
but you have done your duty with a kindliness that does you honour."

Hardy said nothing, the horror of watching a man dying in agony for a
whole night had unstrung his steady nerves. On reaching the parsonage,
he went to his room, and, wearied out, at last fell asleep.

The Pastor, after the usual morning prayers with his household, said,
"Stay, Kirstin! You have wickedly cast shame on an honest man; you
have attributed sin to another without cause. You have heard that
Rasmussen is dead, and how he died; but you do not know that the man
you foully slandered had done his utmost for his brother man. When I
came to Rasmussen's house, Herr Hardy's clothes were covered with dirt
and blood. He had tended the dying man the whole night; he had torn up
his linen shirt and under-clothing for bandages; and when I was about
to speak to the widow, he gave me money for present need, and has
ordered it so that she shall not want for the future. And yet this is
the man to whom you would impute sin and shame. Ask forgiveness of
God, and beg Herr Hardy's pardon. Go!"

The hard-natured Jutland woman was overcome. Frøken Helga's eyes
filled with tears, and she went and kissed her father.

"We were wrong to think evil of another, under any circumstances,"
said the Pastor, "or to allow suspicion of evil to grow in our minds."

Hardy was ignorant of the little episode thus acted in the Pastor's
household, and when he came down from his room some time later, he
found a breakfast waiting for him, the Pastor shook hands with him,
and asked how he was.

"I feel what I have gone through this night," replied Hardy, "but am
quite well."

"An honest answer," said the Pastor.

"But, little father," said Frøken Helga, "can you not tell Herr Hardy
that he has been kind and good?"

Praise from her father's lips for a duty well done was with Helga more
than gold or incense; and how wrong had they not all been towards
Hardy!

"Your father has already said enough," said Hardy.

"Then I will speak for myself," said Helga, "and say that I thank you
for your goodness to Rasmussen and his family;" and she took his hand
and kissed it.

Hardy saw she was governed by a momentary impulse, but it evinced a
warm sympathy for what she considered a good act, and impressed him
the more so as her manner was always towards him cold and retiring.

At this juncture Kirstin appeared in an unusual state of agitation.

"I have come," she said, "to ask Herr Hardy's pardon, for what I have
said and done."

"My servant reports to me that you beat him yesterday," said Hardy,
"and as you did not beat me I have nothing to forgive. I have told my
man, if you do so again, to lay the matter before the authorities. He
will have to come here in acting as my servant; but if you beat him
because you cannot understand him, he must be protected, the more so
as his orders are not to strike you, under any circumstances. The
matter has been brought to the Herr Pastor's knowledge, and that is
enough, and you can go out."

There was a stern dignity in John Hardy's manner, always present in a
man of his type when accustomed to obedience.

Kirstin hesitated. "You can go out, Kirstin," repeated Hardy; and she
obeyed.

Frøken Helga's implicit faith in the rigid character of Kirstin was
shaken.

Rasmussen's funeral took place shortly after, and on the Sunday the
Pastor referred to Hardy's conduct.

"It may hurt the sensibility of the Englishman who is with us, that I
should refer to him thus publicly; but it is my duty, while the
occurrence of Rasmussen's death has the force of its being recent to
point out, not that it was his simple duty to do what he did, but the
way and manner that duty was done showed a Christian charity that no
one of us could do more than imitate."

"I question whether you are right, to praise the conduct of an
individual from the pulpit, Herr Pastor," said Hardy.

"My duty," said the Pastor, gravely, "is to preach the parable of the
Good Samaritan, and the recent occurrence will interest many who would
not be interested otherwise."

"My father has done what is right," said his daughter, with warmth. "I
should have done the same."



CHAPTER VIII.


    "Oh, how happy here's our leisure!
    Oh, how innocent our pleasure!"
    _The Complete Angler._


John Hardy received a letter from his mother, dated from Hardy Place.

"My dearest John,

"Your weekly letters have become shorter, and I have read between the
lines that you are keeping back something from your mother; but this
doubt has been made a certainty from a letter of Robert Garth's to his
friends here. He writes, so I hear, that the 'governor' is sweet on a
parson's daughter in Denmark. Now, I know, dearest John, that you will
always be the true gentleman your father was; but this has distressed
me, because you say yourself nothing. Do come home to me. I miss the
sound of your footstep, the manly voice that reminds me of your
father, and, above all, your kindly manner to your mother. Write at
once, as my anxiety is more than I can bear."

There was more in the letter, breathing the same deep affectionate
solicitude a mother alone feels. John Hardy wrote at once.

"My dearest Mother,

"If I had anything to tell you, I should have told you long ago. I
have described Pastor Lindal's family to you in my letters, and, I can
only add, my respect for him grows daily. He does his duty with a
simplicity that is difficult to be understood in England, and I have
learnt to look forward to hearing his Sunday sermons, from their
freshness such as single-mindedness alone gives. I feel more the
earnestness of religion and the simplicity with which it should be
invested from the influence of his character. I know you will say that
this has nothing to do with Frøken Helga Lindal, his daughter, and you
want to hear of her. All I can say is, that her character is what
would attract you. She does her duty in the Pastor's household with
simple exactness; she assists in visiting the parish, and is of
material use to her father in this respect. She is spoken of
everywhere and by all in praise and regard, and she is like her
father--simple and true. I cannot say that I do not admire so perfect
a nature, but I do not feel now a wish to ask her to be my wife, and
if I did she would say 'no.' Her father is a widower, and his daughter
is his right hand. His two boys, who are really good lads, have to be
considered, and Frøken Helga's influence over them is complete. Her
leaving her father would leave him unassisted, and his two sons
without the influence she alone possesses. She knows and sees this,
and would sacrifice her life to her sense of duty. If she cared for
me, there would be no difference; that would be sacrificed too. I can
assure you that I shall never bring any one to Hardy Place that my
mother cannot receive as her daughter. The kind affection and care you
have always shown me is dearer to me than houses and land and wealth
or the strongest feelings of selfishness.

"I hope, dear mother, that this will set your mind at rest.

"If you wish me to come home, I will do so; but I wish to stay longer,
and when you see there is no real cause for anxiety, you may have no
objection. The days pass pleasantly here. I teach the two boys English
every day. They fish with me for trout in the river, the Gudenaa, and
we make excursions together, and occasionally we visit a Danish family
in the neighbourhood; and the genuine kindness I receive everywhere
interests me. In the evenings Pastor Lindal is conversational, and his
conversation is like his sermons, always fresh. There is no one
thought harped upon and torn to tatters. To say he is a man of
original thought would not describe him--it is individuality and
simplicity; there is nothing extraordinary or unusual, but a clearness
of colour, like a diamond, which is the more valuable when it has no
colour."

John Hardy wrote a little more on home affairs at Hardy Place, and
closed his letter.

In the evening, when the Pastor's pipe was as usual lighted by his
daughter, Hardy asked him as to the superstitions in Denmark, and if
they then were prevalent and had any force.

"They are endless," said the Pastor, "and in every conceivable
direction. There is no land so full of traditional superstition as
Jutland."

"When in Norway," said Hardy, "the superstition that struck me most
was that of the Huldr, who in different districts was differently
described. Generally the Huldr was described as a tall fair woman,
with a yellow bodice and a blue skirt, with long fair yellow hair
loose over the shoulders; but she was as hollow as a kneading trough,
and had a cow's tail. She was described as coming to the Sæter farms
on the fjelds, after they were vacated by the Norwegian farmers, with
a quantity of cattle and milking cans; and I have heard the cattle
call sang by Norwegians that they have heard the Huldr sing. I have
spoken with people who have seen the Huldr, and described her to me
with a vividness as if it were a real personage. I have heard people
say they have seen her knitting, sitting on a rock with a ball of
worsted thrown out before her, to entice mortals to take it up, when
they must follow where she would lead."

"We have not that superstition in Jutland," said the Pastor; "that is
begotten of the lonely life in the isolated farms in the fields in
Norway and their interminable woods and natural wildness of nature.
Our superstitions are, as I said, endless. They consist of historical
traditions of a supernatural character, of traditions attached to
places, as old houses, churches, also of particular men, of hidden
treasure, of robbers, and the like. Then there are the more
supernatural superstitions, as of witches, ghosts, the devil, of
Trolds, of mermen and mermaids, of Nissen, like your English pixey, of
the three-legged horse that inhabits the churchyards, the were-wolf,
the gnome that inhabits the elder tree, the nightmare, or, as we call
it, Maren. There is also the tradition of gigantic dragons or
serpents, called by us Lindorm, in which your story of St. George and
the dragon prominently figures. There are also minor superstitions of
the will-o'-the-wisp, the bird called in English the goatsucker, and
the classical Basilisk."

"But surely all those superstitions cannot exist now?" inquired Hardy.

"I do not say they do; but they are hidden to a greater extent in the
recesses of the hearts of the people than you would imagine."

"Can you relate anything of these superstitions?" said Hardy. "It
would interest me beyond everything."

"Yes," said the Pastor. "I will give you an example in any one of the
particular traditions I have mentioned, and I will begin with the
historical superstition, as I mentioned that first.

"When King Gylfe reigned in Sweden, a woman came to him, and she
enchanted him so by her singing that he gave her leave to plough so
much of his land as she could in a day with four oxen, and what she
thus ploughed should be hers. This woman was of the race of the giants
(Aseme). She took her four sons and changed them into oxen, and
attached them to the plough. She ploughed out the place she had
chosen, and thus created the island of Sjælland. She did this from the
Mælar lake in Sweden; and it is said that where there is a point of
land in Sjælland there is in the Mælar lake a bay, and vice versa, so
that both the Mælar lake and Sjælland island have one form, one is
land, the other water. This tradition is common over Denmark, and with
us has become classical. The woman's name was Gefion."

"I have seen a delineation of the tradition," said Hardy, "at one of
your Danish palaces, on a ceiling at Fredriksborg."

"Yes, it is there; but you will find it everywhere in Denmark,"
replied the Pastor. "Of traditions of churches, they are endless; but
we will take one example, possibly by no means the best. When Hadderup
church, between Viborg and Holstebro, was building, the Trolds tore
down every night what had been erected in the day. It was therefore
determined to attach two calves to a load of stones in a waggon, and
where the calves were found in the morning to build the church. This,
however, did not answer, and at last an agreement was made with the
Trolds that they should allow the church to be built, on the condition
that they should have the first bride that went to the church. This
succeeded, and the church was built. When the first bridal procession
should, however, go to the church, at a particular place a sudden mist
fell upon them, and when it cleared off the bride had disappeared."

"A very striking tradition," said Hardy. "It has a good deal of
picturesque colouring."

"Yes," said the Pastor, "and that is why I told you that particular
tradition. But of places there is a tradition of Silkeborg, with
nothing supernatural about it; but as you have been there fishing, it
may interest you to know why it has obtained that name. The story is,
that a bishop wished to build a house there, but he was uncertain
where; so he threw his silk hat into the water as he sailed on the
Gudenaa, and he determined that where his silk hat came to land, that
there would he build his house. The hat came ashore at Silkeborg. The
bishop, however, could not have sailed up the Gudenaa, and the
probability is he must have gone down the lake, as the Gudenaa runs
from the lake through Jutland to the sea at Randers."

"There is a similar tradition," said Hardy, "in Iceland. When the
Norwegian chiefs were conquered by Harold the Fair-haired, about 870,
they cast the carved oak supports of their chairs, that they were
accustomed to sit in at the head of their tables, surrounded by their
dependents, and decided that where these drove ashore, they would
found a colony; and where they did drive ashore was on the shores of
Iceland. It may possibly have influenced the tradition you relate of
Silkeborg."

"Possibly," said the Pastor; "but of traditions of places, there are
very many, and, as an example, there was in Randers province an
island, and on the island a mansion; and when the family owning it
were absent, three women-servants determined to play the priest a
trick. They dressed up a sow like a sick person in bed, and sent for
the priest to administer the sacrament to a dying person. The priest,
however, saw the wicked deception, and at once left the island in his
boat. Immediately the whole island sank as soon as he lifted his foot
from the shore of the island. But a table swam towards him, on which
was his Bible, which in his anger and haste he had forgotten to take
with him. Where the island sank can, it is said, yet be seen the three
chimneys of the mansion deep down in the water; and there are some
high trees growing up through the water, to which, when they grow high
enough, will the enemies of Denmark come and fasten their ships."

"This story is only one of a class to the same effect," continued the
Pastor. "It has many variations to a similar effect. You have heard of
Limfjord in North Jutland. It derives its name after our tradition to
the following: At the birth of Christ a Trold woman was so enraged at
the circumstance of his birth that she produced a monster at a birth,
and this monster gradually took the form of a boar; and it is related
that when the boar was in the woods, its bristles were higher than the
tops of the trees. This boar was called Limgrim, and rooted up the
land so as to create the inlet of the sea that we call Limfjord; the
name originally was Limgrimsfjord, since abbreviated to Limfjord."

"What is your view of the origin of these traditions?" asked Hardy.

"They are to me," said the Pastor, "an evidence of the continuous
change the world undergoes, has undergone, and will undergo. The older
the tradition, the more antagonistic it is to the known laws of
nature; the later the tradition, the less improbable it is. We have
seen how heathenism, with its unreasonable and wild vagaries, gave way
to the early Christian Church. Then arose the ultramontane Church,
which was succeeded by the purer light let in by Morten Luther; and
changes are taking place, and will take place; and the use of these
old traditions is to teach us that change must be. Age succeeds to
age, and generation to generation. The science of geology teaches the
same lesson. As we learn more of it, and more accurately of it, we
gradually grasp the thought that endless ages have wrought changes,
and will continue to work at the discretion of the Great Power that we
feel and know exists. We can only say that the works of the Lord are
wonderful, and trust in him."

"Have you heard of the religion of Buddha?" said Hardy. "With all our
present researches into it, we know comparatively little; but, taken
broadly, it is a doctrine of slow development. A life exists, and
gradually earthly passion ceases, and a state of perfect rest is
reached, but through an endless series of change."

"Yes," replied Pastor Lindal; "but it is a religion of the
imagination. It has a certain beauty and a poetic charm, while the
Christian religion has the reality of the principle that kindliness is
the real gold of life, which I have learnt from you."

Hardy felt that in his letters to his mother he had correctly
described Pastor Lindal.

Frøken Helga had continued knitting as usual, but that she listened to
every word her father uttered was clear to Hardy; and when he rose to
go to his room for the night, she said, "Thank you, Herr Hardy; you
have interested my father to speak in the way he only can."




CHAPTER IX.


    "But he that unto others leads the way
    In public prayer,
    Should do it so,
    As all that hear may know
    They need not fear
    To tune their hearts unto his tongue."
    _The Complete Angler._


The next day, as soon as signs of the tobacco parliament were apparent
by Frøken Helga filling and lighting her father's pipe, Karl and Axel,
who had been interested in listening to the conversation on traditions
the previous evening, besought Hardy to lead Pastor Lindal to the same
subject.

"The many ancient burial places existing all over Jutland," said
Hardy, "must have given rise to traditions of hidden treasure. Our
English word for these tumuli is barrows."

"And ours," said the Pastor, "is Kæmpehøi, or Kæmpedysse, meaning a
fighting man's burial place; the verb to fight is kæmpe, and present
Danish. It was, however, a custom to bury treasure in secluded places,
and to kill a slave at the place that his ghost might guard the
treasure. There is a tumulus or barrow between Viborg and Holstebro.
It is related that this barrow was formerly always covered with a blue
mist, and that a copper kettle full of money was buried there. One
night, however, two men dug down to the kettle, and seized it by the
handle; but immediately wonderful things happened, with a view of
preventing them from taking away the kettle and the money--first, they
saw a black dog with a red hot tongue; next, a cock drawing a load of
hay; then a carriage with four black horses. The men, however, pursued
their occupation without uttering a word. But at last came a man, lame
in one foot, halting by, and he said, 'Look, the town is on fire!' The
two men looked, and sure enough the town appeared to them to be on
fire. One of them uttered an exclamation, and the kettle and the
treasure sank in the earth far beyond their reach. There are many of
these stories, but the principle inculcated is, that when digging for
treasure it must be carried out in perfect silence. You will have
observed that a great many of the tumuli you have met with in Denmark
have been opened. This has chiefly been done by the hidden-treasure
seekers; but it has had one good result, and that is, it has enriched
the museums in Denmark, especially that of Northern Antiquities in
Copenhagen. You have probably seen the museum in Bergen, Norway. You
will have seen precisely the same type of subjects there as in
Copenhagen; and in the tumuli in Norway, Sweden, and Denmark, what has
been found is, _coeteris paribus_, identical in type."

"You said just now that a slave was killed at places where treasure
was hidden," said Hardy; "is there much belief in that direction?"

"Yes; the belief in ghosts was very strong," replied the Pastor, "and
still exists. The general view was that if a man's conduct was
criminal in a high degree, that within three days after he 'walked;'
that is, his ghost appeared at the places he had been attached to when
in life, attended by more or less supernatural attributes. This, of
course, arose from our Saviour's resurrection on the third day; but as
to this, I will tell you a tradition that is an exception. There was
once a man who was exceptionally wicked and bad; he was a thief and a
robber, never went to church, and committed all manner of crimes. When
he died and was buried in the churchyard, and the people who had
attended the funeral had returned to the man's house to drink the
Gravøl--that is the beer that was specially brewed for consumption at
a funeral--lo! there was the dead and buried man sitting on the roof
of the house, glaring down on all those who ventured to look up at
him. The priest was sent for, and he exorcised the ghost, and ordered
him to remain, until the world's end, at the bottom of a moss bog, and
to keep him there had a sharp stake driven through him; but,
notwithstanding, the ghost rises at night, but as he cannot, from the
exorcising of the priest, assume human form, he flies about in the
likeness of the bird we call the night raven until cock crow."

"In English," said Hardy, "the night jar. It was the practice in
England to bury suicides with a stake driven through their bodies at
four cross-ways. It is possible that this arose from a desire to
prevent the ghost of the dead person from troubling the living, and
being at a four cross-ways, that it should not know which direction to
take."

"It may be so," said Pastor Lindal; "but in discussing these things we
are apt, as in philology, to assume our own comparisons to be correct.
We have also the traditions of spectral huntsmen, with the
accompaniment of horses and hounds with red-hot glowing tongues; and,
singularly enough, the tradition often occurs that their quarry was
the Elle-kvinder, that is women of the elves, but who are described as
of the size of ordinary women. The spectral huntsmen have often been
seen with the Elle-kvinder tied to their saddles by their hair."

"Your traditions of witches," said Hardy, "appear to be similar to
ours. You appear to have burnt and thrown them into ponds to drown
after the same cruel custom as in England."

"True," replied the Pastor, "and the description in Macbeth of witches
answers to our traditions. On St. John's night witches were supposed
to fly to Bloksberg, a mythical place in Norway, upon broomsticks and
in brewing tubs. There they met Gamle Erik, the evil one, who entered
their names in his ledger, and instructed them in witchcraft, and,
after executing the witches' dance, they returned to their respective
homes in the same fashion. This tradition is common to other
countries, but in Jutland the belief was that the favourite form a
witch adopted was that of a hare, which evaded the huntsmen, and could
not be shot except by a piece of silver, which must have been
inherited--a piece of silver purchased or given had no effect. The
witch was then found in the person of some old woman with a wound, who
was forthwith dealt with in the cruel fashion then the rule. The
gypsies, or, as they are called with us, Tâtarfolk, from their eastern
origin, drove a good business by professing to cure the effects of
witchcraft; they generally managed to cause the ill effect, however,
before they cured it. They would give a drug to a farmer's cow, and
call a few days after and offer to drive away the witch that possessed
the cow. They would take with them a black furry doll tied to a
string. A hole was dug several feet deep in the cowhouse; suddenly the
black furry thing was at the bottom of the hole, just sufficient for
some of the people to see it when it disappeared. That was the witch;
the cow was, of course, cured by an antidote."

"The gypsy is common enough in England," said Hardy; "but they do less
in telling fortunes or in thieving farmyards then formerly was their
custom. They appear to do a good business in small wares, as brushes
and mats, which they take about in vans."

"The gypsy," said the Pastor, "where superstition exists, trade upon
it, and in old times in Denmark this brought them a rich harvest. They
persuaded the farmers' wives that they must have inherited silver, or
they could do nothing against evil influences, and acquired thereby
many an old-fashioned heirloom. With us they have never pursued, as
you suggest, a steady trade."

"Have you not a tradition of a book called Cyprianus?" asked Hardy.

"The idea of the book is from the Sibyll's books of Roman history,"
replied Pastor Lindal. "The contents of Cyprianus is very differently
described. It is related of it that it is a book of prophecy of
material events, that is not in a religious sense. Also, it is
described as containing formula for raising the devil, or a number of
small devils, who immediately demand work to do, and whom it is fatal
not to keep employed. There are many stories based on this, chiefly
related of persons who accidentally find a Cyprianus and read some of
it, when the hobgoblins appear, and the difficulty of the situation
increases until some person versed in the use of the book applies the
formula that sends the hobgoblins to their proper places."

"The devil I have always heard in Norway as taking the form of a black
dog," said Hardy.

"It is the same in our traditions," said Pastor Lindal. "An
extraordinary belief was that a carriage at certain times and places
would not move, and that the horses could not draw it. The remedy then
was, for those who knew how, to take off one hind wheel of the
carriage and put it in the carriage, when the devil would have to act
as hind wheel to the end of the journey, much to his supposed
discomfort. There are many stories of this."

"Hans Christian Andersen's stories have made us acquainted with
Nissen, or the house goblin," said Hardy.

"There is little more to tell you then," said the Pastor, "except that
Nissen's description is defined by our traditions in Jutland to be a
little fellow with sharp cat-formed ears, and to have fingers only,
and no thumb. He is supposed to inhabit particular farm-houses and
their range of buildings, and, when there is a scarcity of fodder,
will steal from another farm; and if there be another Nissen there,
they will fight each for the interests of the farm he frequents. He
will play tricks on the people working at the farms, particularly so
if every Thursday night his porridge is neglected to be put in its
accustomed place, generally in the threshing barn."

"But have you no traditions of underground people?" asked Hardy.

"The stories of underground people are more abundant than any other
class of tradition," replied the Pastor. "We call them Underjordiske,
which means underground people; but by it is included Elle folk or
elves, Trolds or goblins, and Bjærg folk or hill people. Their homes
are chiefly placed by tradition in the tumuli or barrows to which we
have before referred; and at times a tumulus is seen as standing on
four pillars, while the Underjordiske dance underneath and drink ale
and mead. At times it is related that they come out of their dwellings
in the barrows with their red cows, or to air their money, or clean
their kitchen utensils. Through all these stories the manner of life
of the Underjordiske is the same as that of the Danish Bønde or
farmer. They are not, however, always supposed to live in the barrows,
as several stories exist of the Bjærg folk coming to a Bønde and
asking him to shift his stable to another place, as the dung from his
cattle falls on his (the Bjærgmand's) dining-table, and it is
disagreeable. If the Bønde obeys, he is promised prosperity, and
everything thrives on his farm. They can also, however, be revengeful,
and are dangerous generally. Their particular aversion is church
bells, and it is generally attributed to their influence that there
are so few Underjordiske seen nowadays."

"Can you relate any stories of them?" asked Hardy.

"Very many," replied the Pastor. "There are several collections of
these traditions, and although each collection is generally the same
in character, yet the details and stories themselves widely differ.
But I will tell you two of the stories. A Trold lived in a barrow
between two church towers, about a mile from each other. This Trold
had a wife, who was of Christian folk. It was necessary to get the
services of a midwife, and the Trold fetched the nearest, and gave her
for her services what appeared to be two pieces of charcoal; but the
Trold's wife told her to take them home, but warned her that as soon
as she put one foot outside she should suddenly jump aside, as the
Trold would cast a glowing hot-iron rod at her. She followed the
advice and went home, when the charcoal turned to silver money. The
two women, however, became friends, and the midwife often spun flax
for the Trold; but she was forbidden to wet her fingers with Christian
spittle, and they brought her a little crock to hold water for her to
wet her fingers in. This continued for some time, when at last the
Trold wife came to the midwife and said, 'My husband, the Trold, will
stay here no longer. He says he cannot bear the two ding-dong danging
church towers.' So they left, flying, it is said, through the air on a
long stick, with all their belongings."

"A story with some imagery," said Hardy.

"The next, however, is more so," said the Pastor. "On a St. John's
night, or, as we call it, Sankt. Hans. Nat, the Bjærg folk and Elle
folk had collected to make merry. A man came riding by from Viborg,
and he could see the assembled Underjordiske enjoying the feast. An
Ellekone, or elf wife, went round with a large silver tankard, and
offered drink to every one, and came at last to the horseman. He
pretended to drink, but threw the contents of the tankard over his
shoulder, put spurs to his horse, and galloped off. But the Ellekone
was after him, and came nearer and nearer; her breasts were so long
that they fell on her knees and impeded her. She therefore threw them,
one after the other, over her shoulders, and continued the chase with
renewed speed. Fortunately he was close to the river, and dashed
through it. The Ellekone caught the hind shoe of his horse, and tore
it off; but she could not go over the water. The tankard was said to
be the largest ever seen in Denmark."

"The story is a common one to many countries, but it scarcely exists
with so much clear and distinct imagery as in your recital, Herr
Pastor," said Hardy.

"I think now we have had enough of traditions for one evening," said
the Pastor.

"What is your opinion of the effect of these traditions on the minds
of the people generally?" asked Hardy.

"It is difficult to say," said the Pastor; "we can but guess at their
effect. As education and civilization progress, they lose their
superstitious influence and interest and amuse. There is a wild
picturesque imagery that must appeal to the most educated mind. They
afford subjects to painters; but I have never seen a picture yet based
on these traditions that grasped the graphic thought of the recital of
the tradition. In a religious sense they do no harm; they excite the
imagination of the people only to prepare their minds for the
simplicity of the Christian faith, at least they assist to do so. When
I visit my Sognebørn (literally, parish children), I tell the children
these traditions, and when they grow older they like to hear anything
I have to say; it assists me in suggesting religious thought when
their minds are ripe for it."

Frøken Helga, who had all the evening knitted and listened to her
father, dropped her knitting and went to him and caressed him. "Dear
little father," she said, "you are always good and thoughtful."

"I think so also," said Hardy.




CHAPTER X.


    "But I am the most pleased with this little house
    of anything I ever saw: it stands in a kind of peninsula too,
    with a delicate clear river about it. I dare hardly go in,
    lest I should not like it so well within as without, but by
    your leave I will try."
    --_The Complete Angler._


The next day John Hardy received a letter from Prokuratør Steindal of
Copenhagen.

"Your honoured instructions as to Rosendal I have attended to. The
price they will sell for I have approximately arrived at, but I cannot
advise you to buy. The value of Rosendal is not so great as the price
asked, and it appears to me that you should hesitate before making a
purchase that will pay you so little income. I feel it my duty to say
that whatever your instructions may be, that I cannot act on them
without a personal interview. If you wish, therefore, to pursue the
matter further, you should come to Copenhagen and discuss it with me.
I cannot advise a client to make a purchase to his prejudice; if I did
so, I should not only acquire a bad reputation, but it would not be
right for me to do so. I await, therefore, the honour of your reply."

John Hardy went to Copenhagen, and returned in a few days to Vandstrup
Præstegaard.

The next day the Pastor had received the _Jyllands Post_, the local
newspaper. When Hardy appeared at the breakfast table, he said,
"Rosendal is sold to Prokuratør Steindal of Copenhagen, and it is
extra-ordinary that I have received a letter from him to say that I
and my family have leave to visit Rosendal when we wish to do so, and
that my two sons, Karl and Axel, have leave to catch all the pike in
Rosendal lake. There is the usual notice of the sale in the _Jyllands
Post_, and from the letter from Steindal, it must be true."

"I have no doubt of its truth," said Hardy. "I would only suggest that
we at once went to fish for the pike at Rosendal lake; my servant can
bring the carriage, and I can ride my English horse, so that Frøken
Helga can enjoy another visit to Rosendal."

"But," said the Pastor, "the permission to fish does not extend to
you, Herr Hardy."

"That may be," said Hardy, "but that is no reason why my advice should
not be rendered as to how to catch the pike."

Robert Garth brought the carriage and drove, and Hardy rode his horse
Buffalo. The weather was pleasant, and the drive was enjoyable.

When they came to Rosendal, the respectful demeanour of the bailiff
towards Hardy struck the Pastor. Hardy placed his forefinger across
his lips. The bailiff told Hardy that if they wished to have lunch in
the mansion they could do so, after a walk in the beechwoods and by
the lake and rosary.

"The boys are so intent on the pike fishing," said Hardy, "that I will
go with them. We shall try and catch a pike, and send it up to the
bailiff's wife to be baked, and will then leave our lines and join
you."

"But, Herr Hardy, you have no permission to fish; it only extends to
Karl and Axel," said the Pastor, with some firmness.

"Then I think I must leave the boys to their own devices," said Hardy;
"but I fear no pike will appear for our lunch."

"It is better so than we should trespass on a stranger's kindness,"
said the Pastor.

So Hardy walked with the Pastor and his daughter through the
beechwoods and by the lake.

"I think now in the summer-time, with the beech trees in full leaf,
and the reeds by the lake, and the grass in the meadows in full
growth, that Rosendal is nearly at its best," said Frøken Helga.

"It has its beauty always," said her father. "I have seen it in
spring, and in summer, and in autumn, and in winter; it has a charm of
its own. It appeals to us with its idyllic nature."

"You are right, little father," said Helga; "it has always its
peculiar beauty. There is no place I love so much."

Hardy, who had bought Rosendal, felt as if he was deceiving the open
and kindly natures of the Pastor and his daughter, and he determined
to keep the secret no longer. He would but wait an opportunity to
clear the matter up.

When they returned to the mansion of Rosendal, Garth and the bailiff's
wife had prepared the refreshments they had taken with them. Garth
waited at table. The bailiff's wife, however, appeared disquieted, and
the Pastor asked what was the matter.

"Only that the owner of Rosendal should sit at the head of the table,
instead of between two boys," replied she.

"The owner of Rosendal!" exclaimed the Pastor.

"Yes. There he sits!" said the bailiff's wife, pointing at Hardy.

"How do you know I am the owner of Rosendal?" asked Hardy.

"Because the Prokuratør Steindal has written my man to say so," said
the bailiff's wife, "and we have expected it all along."

"If that be the case, Herr Pastor, you might have allowed me to catch
a pike for lunch," said Hardy; "for the boys did not."

"But have you bought Rosendal, Herr Hardy?" asked Frøken Helga.

"I did so when in Copenhagen," said Hardy. "Is there any reason why I
should not?"

"But why have you not said a word to us?" asked Pastor Lindal.

"Because it was so uncertain, and because I wished, as a surprise to
you, to say that any enjoyment of Rosendal stands at your disposition
and your family's," replied Hardy.

They all looked at Hardy, but there was no doubt of the sincerity of
his meaning.

"And may we come here and catch the pike?" asked Karl, with some
anxiety.

"Yes, if you can, every fin of them," replied Hardy; "and we will, if
the Pastor will now allow me, catch some this afternoon. I dare say
Rasmussen's widow would like as many as we can catch. We will set a
lot of lines and leave them, and roam about the place and visit them
later, and the chances are, if there be pike, we shall catch a few."

They wandered through the grounds and over the house and buildings
with renewed interest.

"Do you understand the management of such a property, Hardy?" inquired
Pastor Lindal, who, since the Rasmussen incident, rarely addressed him
otherwise than by his name simply.

"I understand farming and the management of landed property in
England," replied Hardy; "and it does not appear to me so very
difficult to manage so small a place as Rosendal, with common sense
and the assistance of so good a class of people as are already on the
estate. I shall not, for instance, begin to cut down the beech trees,
or drain the lake, although in an economical sense both would pay to
do. The lake could be drained to a good meadow; draining at the same
time the meadows adjoining, while the beech trees could be sold, and
the land they occupy turned into tillage. The house is a poor
residence and out of repair, so are the farm-buildings; but the place
has its peculiar charm, which I should not interrupt."

Pastor Lindal regarded the practical self-possessed Englishman with
surprise.

Hardy observed a look of displeasure in Helga's face at the thought of
so pretty a situation being turned into a practical farm, so he said--

"I have not possession yet, and shall not have until after I leave
Denmark this summer, and I could do nothing now; but my intention is
to consult a professional English landscape gardener, with the view of
increasing the attraction of Rosendal. He would do nothing that would
appear inconsistent with the natural beauty of the place."

"But he will cut it up and make all sorts of changes!" said Helga, in
a disappointed tone.

"Yes," said Hardy; "and I see you think that it would not be the same
old Rosendal to you again; but you have not seen how pretty the
surroundings of our English homes are made by these means, and the
exercise of judicious taste."

"But it would not be the same Rosendal to me," said Helga,
unconsciously uttering the very thought Hardy had read in her handsome
face.

"Possibly not," replied Hardy; "but your first exclamation would be
that you could not have believed Rosendal could have been made so
beautiful. A natural gem must be polished to exhibit its full beauty."

"That may be; but the thought of seeing Rosendal changed, Hardy, is
what strikes us," said the Pastor.

"Well, Herr Pastor, there is one thing I will do," said Hardy, "and
that is, before I do anything the plans shall be submitted to your and
Frøken Helga's judgment."

"Which, I fear, we shall not understand," said the Pastor.

"Yes, you will, because you will have the plan of the estate, as it
now exists, before you as well as the plan of the proposed
alterations; but, as far as I myself can see, no striking change would
be desirable, or would be suggested."

"But why have you bought Rosendal, Herr Hardy?" asked Helga, looking
full at him. She had all a woman's curiosity, and it was inexplicable
to her what motive Hardy could have had for his purchase.

"I will tell you when my mother comes here next year," said Hardy.

"You have bought it for a residence for your mother, then?" said
Helga, inquiringly.

"I cannot say I have," replied Hardy.

They had come to the shores of the little lake, where the two boys had
been anxiously watching the trimmers that Garth had assisted them in
setting round the reeds; but although they saw several fish were on,
Garth would not let them take the boat to the lines until his master
came. Hardy saw the situation, and said--

"Don't wait, Bob; take the lads to the lines, and let them pull them
up."

Several pike were brought ashore, but none of any size. It had been
the habit of the former owner of Rosendal to use nets, and take out
the largest fish, so as not to allow a few monsters to tyrannize over
the rest of the fish in the lake. The boys had seen similar tackle to
the English trimmers, but neither so neat nor effective.

"We do not consider this method of fishing a fair way in England,"
said Hardy; "it is adopted by poachers, to steal fish from private
ponds, and it is not popular with anglers. The approved method is to
troll for pike."

"Very interesting to the fish, if they only knew it," said the Pastor.
"I fear when on the hooks they would scarcely appreciate the
distinction. For my part, I do not like the mode of fishing you have
just practised, as a little fish is kept in misery until the pike
chops him with his teeth, or it dies on the hook."

"You are quite right to condemn it in that way," said Hardy; and,
turning to Karl and Axel, added, "You hear what your father says; so
when you wish to fish here you must troll, as you saw me do at
Silkeborg; and as only one can troll in the boat at one time, I will
give you my trolling-rod and gear, so that you can fish when you
like."

"Thank you, so much, Herr Hardy," said the boys at once. "You are
always good, and think so much about us."

"You are kind. Hardy," said the Pastor; while Frøken Helga looked as
if she did not understand Hardy.

As they walked up to the mansion from the lake, they went through the
valley of roses, which has before been described as giving the name to
Rosendal.

"What do you say, Frøken Helga, to this place?" asked Hardy. "Is there
no room for improvement here? There are a few ragged rose bushes
widely distributed, and in the whole valley of roses scarcely a dozen
roses in bloom at a time of the year when there should be abundance."

"More roses might be planted, Herr Hardy," said Helga; "but your view
would be to plant a straight row of standards, with a gravel walk down
the middle."

"You are like Kirstin, always imputing evil to me," said Hardy. "Such
a walk would destroy the natural effect of the valley, and would be a
sin to do."

Helga started. She did not know that Hardy was ignorant of Kirstin's
conduct towards him. The Pastor, with his delicate instinct, at once
saw that Hardy was ignorant of Kirstin's tale of shame, or he would
not have referred to it.

"Whatever Hardy does, Helga," said the Pastor, "will be thoughtfully
done."

"No doubt of it," said Helga; "he is a cool and calculating
Englishman." She was vexed at the illusion to Kirstin.

When they came close to the mansion, Hardy said, "Now, here the
grounds do not require alteration, provided they were always covered
with snow, which, however frequent, is not what we can fall back upon
in a summer residence, which Rosendal is. There is the straight drive
up to the door steps, a clump of bushes each side of a bit of meadow
grass, and that is all; and there is a straight view from the house to
the lake, there is no break or change, nothing catches the eye except
the tethered cows. It is like the toy houses made at Leipsic for
children to play with. Surely a change that introduces a thought of
beauty in the landscape would not be destructive to Rosendal, Frøken
Helga."

"You appear, Herr Hardy, to find fault with everything Danish," said
Helga, sharply; "our horses are inferior, our houses are, and even our
gardens are."

"But I never said you were," broke in Hardy, with a laugh.

"No; but I see you think it," retorted Helga. "You have heard me say
that I like Rosendal as it is, and you exhibit your English ideas to
show how uncivilized and wanting in taste I am."

"But are you not imputing evil," said Hardy, "like Kirstin, the
grossly suspicious?"

Helga blushed and said nothing, and Pastor Lindal determined to tell
Hardy what Kirstin had imputed to him.

As Garth brought round the horses and a man led out Buffalo, Karl was
struck with a great wish to ride the English horse. He asked Hardy
hesitatingly. Hardy told him to ask his father, who looked at Hardy.

"The horse is likely to give him a fall," he said, "and he might get
an awkward fall; but boys should learn to ride, and I have no
objections if you have not."

The Pastor assented, the stirrups were shortened, and Karl mounted.

"Don't pull at his mouth," said Hardy; "he does not like a stranger
interfering with his mouth."

"And might I jump him over a ditch on the way home?" begged Karl.

"You may; but I think you had better leave that alone," said Hardy.

Garth drove, and Hardy chatted with the Pastor, but kept his eye fixed
on Karl. Buffalo went along at a smooth trot after the carriage--so
far, so well; but when they came to the meadow running down to the
Gudenaa, Karl rode into the meadow and galloped at a water ditch in
the same manner as he had often seen Hardy do. Buffalo stretched out
and took the ditch like a bird, making a longer jump than was at all
necessary. There was a loud splash and a scream from Frøken Helga, and
Buffalo, with an empty saddle, was galloping away.

Hardy took the reins from Garth, as he said coolly, "Pick the lad out
of the ditch, and catch the horse. There is nothing to fear, Herr
Pastor."

Garth called the horse, which stopped. He then assisted Karl out of
the ditch, who was covered with peaty slime, wiped the mud from his
face and mouth, and pointed to the carriage. Garth then crossed the
ditch on a plank bridge and caught Buffalo, and rode him over the
ditch, coming to the side of the carriage. Karl looked foolish.

"There, is nothing to be ashamed of, Karl," said Hardy. "I had many a
fall before I learnt how to stick on. It is what we all have to go
through. Come up by the side of me, little man; you would make your
father and sister in a mess."

The Pastor and his daughter were, for the moment, much frightened by
the incident; but Hardy's manner of treating it as a matter of course
reassured them.

"There was no cause for alarm, Herr Pastor," said Hardy. "Karl can, if
he will, assure you that the mud at the bottom of the ditch was as
soft as eider down. Garth, ride on; I will drive up to the parsonage,
and thence to the stables."

"Thank you for a pleasant day, Hardy," said the Pastor, as he went
into his house.

"Stop, Herr Pastor! here are the pike that were caught in the lake.
Take what you like, and I will send the rest to Widow Rasmussen."

The pike cooked that day for dinner was, Hardy thought, a fish with as
strong a flavour of mud as any fish could possibly possess. The
horse-radish sauce, and the sage and bread with which it was stuffed,
availed nothing, and Hardy formed a resolution with regard to the lake
that afterwards had the result of its being stocked with trout instead
of pike.




CHAPTER XI.


    "_Piscator._--I love such mirth as does not make
    friends ashamed to look upon one another the next
    morning."--_The Complete Angler._


When the tobacco parliament began the evening after the excursion to
Rosendal, Pastor Lindal said, "I have told Herr Hardy the nature of
Kirstin's imputations against him, and what he said to-day to you,
Helga, was in ignorance of that. I am quite sure that he would never
have referred to Kirstin in the way he did had he known everything.
His only thought was that Kirstin was generally suspicious and that
was all. He had no idea that when you criticized his treatment of
Rosendal that he was comparing your conduct with what was bad."

Helga looked puzzled; but after a while she rose up from her seat, and
extended her hand to Hardy. "I hope you will forgive me, Herr Hardy,
if I have not understood you."

"Thank you," said Hardy. "I had hoped that my character was so simple
that it left nothing to the imagination or to construction. It appears
to me to be a work of time to acquire the approving confidence of any
one in Jutland."

"I begin to think you are true," said Helga. "You have said no single
word which has not been borne out; but your opinions differ from ours,
and that widely."

"There is, of course," said Hardy, "the difference of nationality, but
in the wide world what is best is best, and if anything I do or say
differs from your national feeling, yet if it be right and best it is
best."

"Good, very good," said the Pastor. "We are all in the hands of a
Higher Power, and we have to obey it. It is not for us to criticize
and doubt, but to obey."

"But it is not a question of religion," said Helga, "if we Danes
differ in opinion from the English or if our customs are different."

"Just so," said the Pastor; "but God is over all. Nation may call to
nation and generation to generation; but, as Herr Hardy suggests,
nationalities may differ, but what is best in thought and deed will
come to the front."

"But why should he despise us?" asked Helga.

"Herr Hardy despises nothing," replied her father. "He sees and
appreciates what is good in us, and sympathizes with the stability of
the Danish character, but he naturally values the broader thought in
everyday life of the English people."

"That is because he is an Englishman," retorted Helga.

"You forget, Helga, that Herr Hardy is present," said her father, "and
what you have said would pain him. If he be an Englishman he cannot
help it, and if he should be English in thought and character it is
not what you should condemn. He is only true to himself. Since he has
been with us, what has his conduct been?"

Helga knitted in silence; she felt the justice of her father's reproof
and her injustice to Hardy.

Hardy, to change the conversation, said to Karl, "Well, Karl, you have
not told us how soft you found the ditch that you went to the bottom
of."

"I do not know how I fell off," said Karl. "I was suddenly under water
in the ditch."

"You fell off as Buffalo was about to jump. He checked his stride
before he jumped, and then you tumbled off," said Hardy.

"What should I have done?" asked Karl.

"Stuck on," replied Hardy. "You have to learn the motion of the horse
when jumping, which only practise gives."

"It was like the Damhest," said the Pastor, "which is a legendary
horse that comes out of mill-dams, ponds, or lakes, at night, and
entices people to ride it, when it jumps into the water. The best
story of it is from Thisted, a little to the north-west of this. Three
tipsy Bønder (farmers) were going home, when one of them wished for a
horse, that they might ride home, when, lo! there appeared a
long-backed black horse, on whose back they all clambered, and there
appeared room for many more. As the last man got up he exclaimed--

'Herre, Jesu Kors
Aldrig saae jeg saadan Hors.'

'By the Lord Jesu's cross,
Never saw I such a horse.'

Instantly at that holy name the horse disappeared from under them, and
the three Bønder were lying on the ground. The Danish word for horse
is 'hest,' but the Jutland people use the word 'hors,' in their
dialect."

"There is a similar legend in the Shetland Islands; but, then, it is a
little horse that jumps into the sea, with the unfortunate person it
has enticed to mount it," said Hardy.

"There is also a similar legend in France," said the Pastor. "The
horse is called 'Le Lutin.' We have another legendary horse, that is
said to abide in churchyards, and has three legs. The legend has
arisen from the practice in old times of burying a living horse at the
funeral of a man of distinction. This horse's ghost is called the
'Helhest.' If any one meets it, it is a sign to him of an early death.
It is a tradition of the cathedral at Aarhus, that such a horse is
occasionally seen there. A man whose window looked out to the
cathedral exclaimed one day to a neighbour, 'What horse is that?'
There is none,' said his neighbour. 'Then it must be the Helhest,'
said the other, who shortly after died. It is said that in the
cathedral at Roeskilde, there is a narrow stone on which, in old
times, people used to spit, because a Helhest was buried there. The
word 'hel' is from 'hæl,' a heel, because the horse lacked one hoof or
heel. The legend appears to have existed in the Roman times, as they
called it Unipes, or the one-footed."

"The pronunciation of 'hel' in Danish is as if it were spelt in
English as 'hæl'" said Hardy. "I certainly never heard that legend
before."

"There are other legends of animals," said Pastor Lindal. "There is
the Kirkelam, or the church lamb. This arose from the practice, when a
church was founded, to bury under the altar a living lamb, to prevent,
it was said, the church from sinking. This lamb's ghost was called the
Kirkelam, and, if at any time a child was about to die, the church
lamb was supposed to appear at the threshold of the door. In
Carlslunde church tower there is a bas-relief of a lamb, to show that
a living lamb was buried there when the church was built. It is
related that a woman was sent for to nurse another woman who was very
ill; as she went through the churchyard, she was aware of something
like a dog or a cat rubbing itself against her clothes. She stooped
down to look at it, in the half light of the evening, when, lo! it was
the church lamb. The sick woman died at the very same instant, so runs
the legend."

"The legend of the Kirkelam," said Hardy, "is distinctive, insomuch as
it appears symbolical, and not based, as most legends are, on the
fancies and wild imaginations of the people."

"In the olden times of Christianity," said Pastor Lindal, "it was
found necessary to employ symbols, and to take measures to occupy the
attention of an ignorant people, and it is possible that thus the
practice arose to be followed by the legend."

"It was a heathen practice to bury living creatures," continued the
Pastor, "to avert the plague, when sometimes they buried children, or
for other fantastic reasons. Thus, there is the legend of the Gravso,
meaning the buried sow. The reason for its having been buried alive is
lost. The sow is supposed to appear in the streets of towns, and when
it appears is an omen of bad luck or death. Sometimes it is said that
it runs between people's legs, and takes them on its back, and leaves
them in strange places."

"You said just now that children were buried to avert or stay the
plague, when it visited Denmark," said Hardy; "does there exist any
authentic record of such, or does it rest entirely on tradition?"

"I fear we must admit it to have occurred," replied Pastor Lindal.
"The records of it are too many and consistent to doubt the truth of
the practice. There is a tradition of a place in Jutland where all the
inhabitants died of the plague, and the inhabitants of an adjoining
town averted the spread of the pestilence by buying a child of a
gypsy, and burying it alive, which tradition says had the desired
result. There is also a tradition that on the east side of a certain
church in Jutland no one is buried, because a child was buried there
to stay the plague. At another place, two children were purchased of
very poor parents, and were buried alive in a sandhill, to stay the
pestilence then raging in the district. The people gave them some
bread and butter, to induce them to go into the living grave prepared
for them; and when the first spadeful of sand was thrown into the
hole, one of the children cried out, 'Mother, they are throwing sand
on my bread and butter!' Comparing this with the treatment of witches,
or women suspected of witchcraft, at the same epoch, it is not at all
impossible that such senseless and cruel customs prevailed. The
stories of robbers that may be well attributed to the same period have
all a cruel tinge."

"Can you tell us any?" asked Hardy.

"A very great many. One story has been adopted and embellished, and
has appeared in many lands, and it is possible that you may have heard
it, so wide has the same story spread. The story is that a rich man
had an only daughter, and amongst many suitors was a young stranger of
singularly bold manners, and she accepted him with her father's full
consent. But, as it happened, she went out for a walk in a wood near,
and she came to a cave. She was astonished to find that this cave was
inhabited and divided into rooms. There were chairs and a table and
kitchen utensils in the first room, in the second room there was much
old silver plate and costly articles, but in the inner room of all
there were portions of dead bodies. She was terrified, and would have
fled from these horrors, but she heard steps at the entrance of the
cave, and the robbers entered. She hid herself under a bed, and, to
her horror, she saw the man she had promised to marry bring in a
woman, whom he brutally murdered; and as he could not get a gold ring
off that was on her finger, he chopped it off with an axe, with such
violence that it rolled underneath the bed where she was. The robber
could not find it, and gave up the search. At night, the robbers all
departed on a plundering expedition, when she hastened home. She said,
however, nothing of what had happened. The wedding-day was fixed, and
the wedding guests assembled; but when the festivities were at the
highest, she produced the finger of the dead woman, with the ring on
it! The bridegroom turned pale, and, after being put to the torture,
confessed many murders, and was, with his band, executed with the
cruelty then practised; that is, their entrails were cut out by the
executioner, the bodies severed into pieces, and hung up to rot on a
gallows."

"The whole story is a very cruel picture," said Hardy.

"So the stories of robbers all are," said the Pastor. "There is a
story of a robber called Langekniv, or 'long knife.' His practice was
to kill people by casting a heavy knife at them, with a string
attached to it, so that he could possess himself of the knife again
with celerity. He committed many murders. But one day a pedlar was
going across a lonely heath, when he saw Langekniv coming. The pedlar
fell down at first with fright, but afterwards pretended to be nearly
dead from illness; and when Langekniv came up, he said, 'Take my pack
and my money, and fetch a doctor; I am dying.' Langekniv thought that
with a man who could be so easily robbed, it was not necessary to do
more than he was asked; but as soon as he turned to go away, the
pedlar struck him with his staff a blow on the ankle, that disabled
him from running. He then ran for assistance, and Langekniv, after
making it very hot for his captors by casting his long knife, was
seized, and bound, and put in a cart, and was executed. When his
entrails was being cut out by the executioner, he was asked if it
hurt, and Langekniv replied that it was not so bad as the toothache.

"There is one robber story, however, that illustrates the
extraordinary manner in which a clue to a murder can sometimes be
acquired. A pedlar was passing in a lonely hollow of a road on a heath
in Jutland, when two robbers attacked him, and killed him under
circumstances of great cruelty. A flock of wild geese was flying over
head, and the pedlar said the birds of the air shall witness against
you of my murder. Years went by, when, one day, the people were
waiting in the churchyard for the priest to come to service. A flock
of geese was flying overhead, when a horse-dealer from Holstein, a
stranger to the place, said, 'There goes the pedlar's witnesses.'
These words excited attention. The man lost all control over himself,
and confessed the murder."

"A very extraordinary story," said Hardy, "but a very possible one.
But have you not traditions of very supernatural things, as the story
of the Kraken?"

"There is the tradition of the Basilisk, as we call it, and that of
the Lindorm. The legend of the Basilisk is, of course, of classic
origin. It is that when a cock becomes very old, it lays an egg, and
the heat of a dungheap hatches it, and a Basilisk is produced. It is
so hideous a monster, that whoever looks on it can no longer live, but
melts away. It is also said that the Basilisk inhabits wells, and that
it is dangerous to look down a well, as to encounter the gaze of a
Basilisk would be to turn the beholder to stone. There is also another
variation of the legend. The egg when laid by the cock must be hatched
by a toad; but when the Basilisk is hatched, if it be first seen by a
human being, it at once dies, but if the contrary, the beholder dies."

"There is a novel written by Sir Walter Scott," said Hardy, "under the
title of 'Count Robert of Paris' in which he describes the Varanger
guard. It is possible that as such a body of men did exist, that such
legends were brought back by them."

"It may be," said Pastor Lindal; "but in all such matters we may
dogmatize, and be very wide of the mark, although we cannot deny the
possibility."

"But what about the Lindorm?" asked Hardy.

"The Lindorm is a legendary serpent," replied the Pastor. "Your
English story of St. George and the dragon is a contest with a
Lindorm, and we have many variations of the story. The principal
incidents, however, coincide with your English story. One story of a
Lindorm is, that a girl went out to milk her master's cows, and as she
went over the fields she saw a little spotted snake. It appeared so
pretty that she took it home and kept it in a box. Every day she fed
it with milk and what else she could get that it would eat, but it
became at last so large that it could not be kept in the box any
longer. It ran after the girl wherever she went, and drank out of the
milk-pails, as she milked the cows. This the house mother (the
farmer's wife) objected to, and she said the snake should be killed to
prevent further mischief; but the snake was not killed, and further
mischief did occur. It became so big that it was not satisfied with
what was given it, but seized the cattle, one after another, and ate
them. It soon became the terror of the district. A wise woman,
however, advised that a bull calf should be reared with fresh milk and
wheat bread, to destroy the Lindorm. Meanwhile it had attained such a
size, that every day a cow had to be given it, or an old horse, to
prevent its taking the more valuable cattle. When, however, the bull
calf was three years old, it was strong enough to combat the Lindorm,
and killed it; but when the combat took place, the snake struck a
large stone with its tail, and cut thereby a furrow in it, and the
stone is shown to this day as a proof of the legend."

"A very interesting legend," said Hardy. "Are there more?"

"There is a remarkable one," replied Pastor Lindal, "as one of the
legends of the old cathedral at Aarhus. Many years ago, it was
observed that the bodies buried in the churchyard, then belonging to
the cathedral, were taken away, no one knew how. At last, it was
observed that a Lindorm had its habitation under the cathedral, and
came out every night, and devoured the corpses. As it was feared that
not only this would continue, but also that the foundations of the
cathedral might be undermined by the excavations made by the Lindorm,
it was determined to seek means to destroy it. At this time a glazier
came to Aarhus, and when he heard the danger in which the cathedral
was placed, he promised to help the town councillors to get rid of the
Lindorm. He made a box of looking-glass so large that he could himself
go into it, and to which there was only one opening, and which was not
larger than that he could use his sword with effect. He had this box
taken into the cathedral by daylight, and when midnight came he
lighted four wax candles, which he placed in the four corners of the
box. When the Lindorm came up the aisle of the cathedral and saw its
reflection in the looking-glass, it thought that it was another
Lindorm, with whom it could pair, and was so occupied in its
contemplation that the glazier had the opportunity of cutting its
throat with his sword, and it died of the wound thus given. The
poisonous nature of the blood that flowed from the Lindorm, however,
caused the glazier's death."

"That is certainly a striking legend," said Hardy.

"There is also a legend of a Lindorm that encircled a church and
devoured the people as they came out, as it appeared only after their
being in it. It had its head at one entrance and its tail at the
other, and destroyed the people with both. The people then made a hole
in the church wall, through which they escaped. Another legend is that
a Lindorm bathes once a year in a lake, which after has a green film
on it. This, however, you may have observed in the lakes at Silkeborg
this summer, arising from the quantity of weed growth during the
hotter weather."

"I have observed what you mention," said Hardy, "and I should expect
it is not the first time that an ordinary natural occurrence has been
attributed to supernatural causes."

"That applies," said the Pastor, "also to what you call in England
will-o-the-wisp. We call this in Danish, Lygtemænd, or men with
lanterns. The tradition is that they are spirits of wicked people,
particularly of men who have measured land falsely, and so acquired an
advantage over their neighbours. They are supposed to desire to
mislead the traveller, and entice him into bogs and swamps. It is said
that the best means to prevent being thus deceived is to turn one's
hat, so that the back part should come to the front; care, however,
must be taken not to point at a Lygtemænd, as he is then dangerous.
Such is the tradition."

"Your legends, this evening, have been more than usually interesting,
Herr Pastor," said Hardy. "It would appear as if, with such a mass of
legendary lore, you would have men growing up and becoming authors of
the richest fancy."

"Hans Christian Andersen is an instance," said the Pastor, "so is
Ingemann, and, of late, Carl Andersen, the curator of Rosenborg
palace. There are others also. It is no doubt that the human fancy,
when led into extraordinary lines of thought, is influenced to produce
them."




CHAPTER XII.


    "Who hunts, doth oft in danger ride;
    Who hawks, lures oft both far and wide;
    Who uses games, shall often prove
    A loser; but he who falls in love
    Is fettered in fond Cupid's snare.
    My Angle breeds me no such care."
    _The Complete Angler._


An idea had occurred to Godseier Jensen which had filled the mind of
the worthy proprietor and horse breeder. He had discussed the idea
with his neighbours in all its branches, and had appealed to his
paternal Government to assist him. The idea was a horse race, after
the English model. Tentative advertisements appeared in the Danish and
Swedish papers, and the replies in the support of the idea came in
from all sides. A few Swedish noblemen owned race-horses, and they
gave in their adhesion and support. The local horse-breeders and
dealers were eager in its support, and the Government expressed their
intention of assisting, in the hope that it might encourage the
breeding of better class horses.

John Hardy was early consulted in the movement, and heard a great deal
of good advice and well-intentioned talk on the subject of horses and
horse racing in particular. A prominent feature in the idea was
naturally where the races should be held, and on this point John
Hardy, at one time, thought the whole affair would fall through.

A field was, however, found that gave a course round it of one and a
quarter English miles, the soil was light, and the field did not make
the best racing ground; but there was no better to be secured for the
purpose, and the consequence was it was determined on. A grand stand
was erected, and the course staked out, the day fixed, and the entries
for the races were anxiously waited for by Herr Jensen, who acted as
honorary secretary. They at last were able to arrange several flat
races, a hurdle race--the hurdles rather low--a trotting match, a
steeple-chase, and a consolation race. The steeple-chase course was
down a sharpish incline, with a water jump at the bottom, and some
fences specially erected, and about the middle of the course a stone
wall of loose stones. This course was well in view of the grand stand,
as well as from the middle of the flat-race course.

John Hardy was implored by proprietor Jensen to enter Buffalo for the
steeple-chase, but he declined, on the ground that he preferred to
look on, and did not like risking so favourite a horse in a
steeple-chase race. Herr Jensen was in despair; he himself and all his
friends and acquaintances felt more interest in the steeple-chase than
all the rest put together. The only entries for the race were some
horses belonging to a cavalry regiment, but of these there were only
four. The pressure that was brought to bear on Hardy was so great,
that he saw he should give serious offence if he did not let Buffalo
be entered for the steeple-chase. He, however, explained to proprietor
Jensen that his servant, Robert Garth, would ride, but that his orders
would be to ride carefully, avoid the other horses, and not press
Buffalo. Now a fresh difficulty arose. The cavalry horses were entered
by the subalterns of the regiment, who would ride the horses
themselves, and the Englishman was going to send his servant to ride
against them. There was the insular pride and bad taste of the English
exemplified, and, in the end, John Hardy had to ride his own horse,
very much against his will.

The auspicious day dawned, and crowds attended, bearing positive
testimony to the popularity of Herr Jensen's idea.

The Pastor declined to go; he said he thought it was no place for him.
"It is a day of amusement where a black coat and the notion of a
sermon appears out of place."

The Jensens insisted on taking Frøken Helga and her two brothers, who,
since they had heard that Hardy was to ride, were intensely excited.

"I have prayed that you will win, Herr Hardy," said Axel, who was
always a quiet lad in manner, and had become more so since his
acquaintance with Hardy.

"I am going to take care of my good horse, Axel," said Hardy. "I do
not intend to risk his being injured by throwing him down or letting
the other horses get too near, and, besides, I should not like to
win."

"And why not?" said Helga. "I cannot understand a man riding in a race
and not doing his best to win it."

"Your sympathies are with the cavalry officers, and I should please
you best by not winning," said Hardy.

"There is your professed superiority again," retorted Helga; "you say
you are going to let the others win, suggesting that you could win the
race if you chose to do so. I do not believe you can, and think you
are afraid to ride hard. You speak of taking care of your horse, which
means yourself."

John Hardy looked her full in the face, with a stern expression he
sometimes had. What she had said would have galled any man, and Hardy
felt it keenly.

The races began, and were well ridden, and ridden to win. There was no
betting that John Hardy heard of. He and his servant Garth were asked,
on the horses being trotted out, as to the probable winners, which
they were able to indicate from their knowledge of what is and is not
racing condition in a horse, and they were generally correct.

The trotting match was a failure; there were several entries, but only
one horse trotted both heats round the course, the others had not been
trained properly or sufficiently. The hurdle race yielded much
amusement; many horses had entered for that race, and several refused
to jump at all, and there were many falls, to the delight of the
populace, and only three horses went through the race, which was won
by a neck, the three coming well in together.

When the steeple-chase race was prepared for, Garth brought up
Buffalo, looking, as he always did, a grand horse, and amongst the
more horsey of the Danes there was much praise of him. John Hardy
mounted; he had taken off his coat, waistcoat, and braces, and Garth
had tied a blue silk handkerchief on his head. There was a quiet look
of efficiency about John Hardy that was a contrast to the heavy
mustachios cultivated by the cavalry officers and their rather weedy
steeds. There was trouble in getting a start from the restiveness of
one of the cavalry horses and the difficulty his rider experienced in
managing it, but once away they swept down the slope, Buffalo two
horse lengths behind. The water jump reached, the cavalry horses
rushed into it, and Hardy had a difficulty in steering clear of the
floundering men and horses and letting Buffalo fly the water jump. The
water jump had been specially prepared, and was very shallow, and
Danish horses appeared to have considered it was best to gallop
through it. As it was the rule of the race that the jump must be
taken, they were, by that rule, out of the race. They, however, kept
on and rode well, taking the fences and wall, with Buffalo going wide
of them in the rear. When they came to the rising ground again,
corresponding to the slope they had ridden down, the Danish horses
began to show signs of being ridden out of hand, and Buffalo passed
easily in a canter, taking his fences as quietly as if at exercise,
and came in an easy winner. The course had been about four to five
English miles, a little too long, thought Hardy, for the Danish
horses. Proprietor Jensen came forward to congratulate Hardy, and to
thank him for enabling the race to be made interesting to them all.

The prize was a silver cup, but Hardy declined to accept it, to the
astonishment of stout proprietor Jensen and his friends.

"What in the name of the devil's skin and bones does the man mean?"
said Herr Jensen, with some heat. "Why, you have won it, and rode so
well that it has been a pleasure to us all to see you."

"The race has not been a fair one," said Hardy; "my horse has been
specially trained for this sort of work, the horses I rode against
have not, I therefore wish the cup given to the second horse."

The Danish officers pressed Hardy to take the cup, but Hardy was firm.
They spoke to him in that manly way habitual with Danish gentlemen,
and Hardy liked them. They went up to Buffalo, which Robert Garth was
leading up and down to cool; and Hardy induced one of the officers to
try Buffalo at one of the small fences erected for the hurdle race;
and when he came back, the Danish cavalry officer said, "Why, you
could have ridden away from us from the first!"

"No doubt," said Hardy.

"And you did not, because you did not wish to let the race appear a
hollow one," said the officer, "and it would disappoint so many."

"I only entered my horse for the race," said Hardy, "under great
pressure, not until I saw I should give offence to Godseier Jensen and
many others who have been kind to me. They wanted to see my horse
race. I intended to have let my servant ride, but when I heard I
should have to ride against Danish gentlemen, I rode myself."

"What a charger he would make!" said one of the cavalry officers.

"He is too light in bone," said Hardy. "I am an officer in the
yeomanry cavalry of my country, and use a bigger framed horse as a
charger."

"We will take the cup because it is your wish, Herr Hardy," said the
officer, "but you must come and dine with some of us to-morrow, and
bring your horse, and let the other men of our regiment see it. We are
much obliged to you. You have taught us what we have heard of, and
that is a hunting-seat. Cavalry men cannot go well across country,
riding, as we do, with a cavalry seat. We dine at three. Ask for Baron
Jarlsberg."

Hardy accepted, and went up to the grand stand where Fru Jensen and
her daughters were and Frøken Helga Lindal. He had changed his clothes
for a black morning coat and tweed trousers. The last race was being
ran.

"Herr Jensen has sent me to see you to your carriage, Fru Jensen,"
said Hardy; "he is much occupied with his duties of honorary
secretary, and settling the usual disputes that arise."

"And was that you with a blue handkerchief round your head and nothing
on but a flannel shirt?" asked Fru Jensen.

"Yes," said Hardy; "but I had other garments on than a flannel shirt."

"Of course," said Fru Jensen, "of course; but if I were your mother, I
should be afraid of your catching cold."

"But when, Fru Jensen, we ride a race, we have to be dressed for it,
and the less clothes we have the better."

"And you have won the race, I hear," said Fru Jensen; "but I did not
know who won, and I see it is a silver cup. It will be something to
take back to England. Your father, Helga, will be glad to hear Herr
Hardy is to have a silver cup."

Helga had perception enough to see that she had wounded Hardy in the
early part of the day and that he had not forgotten it. He said
nothing to her, but gave Fru Jensen his arm, and conducted them to the
Jensen's carriage, a heavy four-wheeled conveyance, arranged to carry
eight, by seats placed one after the other in a sort of four-wheeled
dogcart with a long body.

It had been a great desire of proprietor Jensen to have a dinner of a
public character after the races, but this it was found not
practicable to carry out within anything like a reasonable hour,
according to Danish notions, and the consequence was Herr Jensen had
to content himself with asking as many of his own friends and his
friends' friends as he could to his own Herregaard. He was in the best
possible humour. The races had gone off without a hitch, and every one
had congratulated him. He had been told he had made a great hit with
his Englishman, as the officers of the Danish cavalry regiment were
delighted with him. It was, however, positively necessary that the
worthy proprietor should return home to receive his friends.

"Where is the Englishman?" he inquired, as he came to the carriage.

"Here," said Hardy. "The ladies are waiting for you, and the carriage
is ready to start."

John Hardy was going to sit by the side of one of Herr Jensen's
daughters, but he would not have it. The proprietor must talk over the
races with Hardy, and he did, so volubly that Hardy could scarcely
understand him. "I never saw anything so smart as the way you took
those fences after passing the other horses! It was grand to see your
horse going easily over about a foot above them; and the way you came
in past the judges was splendid. I must say I did not like your
refusal to take the prize; it was only a cup that cost us about £5 of
your money, but it was the prize for all that, and was well won. If it
was the smallness of its value," said the worthy proprietor, carried
away by his enthusiasm, "I would give you a dozen such. They lost the
race at once by not taking the water jump and galloping their horses
through it without jumping it. I saw you were in a difficulty, but the
way you held your horse and took the water jump was good. I did like
the way also in which you spoke to the cavalry officers and letting
one of them ride your horse over one of the hurdle jumps, and so let
him see that they had been nowhere, and that you could have beaten
them at any point of the race. After all, I think you were right to
give up the cup with such a superior horse, but very few men would
have done it, but the way you did it is what has made such a good
impression. Come and stay with me as long as you like! There is a
little river through my property with trout in it, you may catch them
all if you like."

"Thank you, Herr Jensen," said Hardy, "but I return to England
shortly. I will, however, come over, with your permission, and fish
your river, which is a little tributary to the Gudenaa, and I hear has
some good trout in it. We have not liked to ask your leave, because
you might have other friends for whom you would wish to reserve the
fishing."

"If I had," said the proprietor, "I would give it you; nothing would
give me greater pleasure than to return your kindness to me. You gave
up your own wishes about the racing only to oblige me; you did not
wish to ride or risk your horse, but you did it to oblige me."

"Thank you very much," said Hardy. "May I take Pastor Lindal's two
sons, Karl and Axel, with me to fish? They will not depopulate the
stream."

"You may take anybody," said Herr Jensen, warmly.

Frøken Helga heard this conversation, and it showed her how
differently Hardy had acted from what she had suggested to him in the
morning before the races. Herr Jensen's unqualified praise had let her
see how good Hardy had been, and how considerate for others, and she
had accused him of being a coward and only caring for himself.

When they came to proprietor Jensen's Herregaard, Hardy jumped out of
the carriage, and assisted Fru Jensen and her daughters out, but to
Frøken Helga Lindal he only extended his arm, so that she might rest
her hand on it on her descending from the carriage. She would have
spoken, but Hardy was gone.

The dinner at proprietor Jensen's was a very lively affair. Early in
the dinner he proposed the Englishman's health, and Hardy responded
briefly; and then came many other toasts, and the ultimate conclusion
was there was nothing like horse-racing, and as the evening wore on,
so did the fogginess of the subject. Hardy had sent Garth to his
stables with Buffalo after the race, and told him to fetch them at
Herr Jensen's Herregaard at an early hour with the carriage, and Hardy
drove himself, talking to Garth, who sat beside him. Karl and Axel had
preferred to stay to see the last festivities of the races and to walk
home, consequently Frøken Helga sat by herself in the carriage, and
Hardy, after seeing her safely in and well cared for, did not address
a word to her. They drove to the parsonage, and Hardy drove to the
stables with Garth, to see Buffalo after his extra work that day, and
Hardy walked back.

The Pastor was smoking his pipe, listening to the events of the day as
described by Karl and Axel. "You won your race. Hardy," said Pastor
Lindal; "and the boys say easily."

"Yes, I won the race I rode," said Hardy.

"And, father, he would not take the cup, that is the prize he won; he
said his horse was a better horse, and gave it to the man who came in
second, and a long way behind he was," said Karl.

Frøken Helga knitted, but did not look up.

"And did you not see the race, Helga?"

"Yes, father," said Helga; "and I saw Herr Hardy win it."

"But what is the matter, Helga?" asked her father, with some hardness.

"Father, I have been wrong," said Helga. "Herr Hardy said he did not
wish to risk his horse, and that he did not wish to win the race, but
that he could easily if he chose. I did not like his professing to be
so superior over us Danes, and I told him so, and that he was afraid
to ride his horse, and that he knew he would not win. I now know that
what he said was quite true, and that he has behaved well."

"You should have heard how they cheered him when he came in," said
Karl.

"I do think, Helga, if you made so insulting a speech to Herr Hardy,"
said the Pastor, with some asperity, "that it should be withdrawn. To
tell a man that he is a coward and has false pride is too galling, and
when not a single ground for it exists the more so. You might thereby
have tempted him to risk his life, to say nothing of his horse."

Helga burst into tears.

Hardy rose and held out his hand to her. "I hope," he said, "you will
think no more of this; I shall not. Your saying what you have to your
father is enough for me. I do hope you will believe me when I say that
after so frank an admission that I shall only respect the strong
national feeling that prompted you. I admit a Danish gentleman can do
all I can and possibly more."

"You are a gentleman, Hardy," said the Pastor.

Helga took Hardy's hand coldly, and left the room. She had made a
mistake and had atoned, that was all.

The next day Hardy rode Buffalo, attended by Garth on one of the
Danish horses, to the quarters of the cavalry regiment, and was
received with much kindness. A dinner had been arranged at a hotel
near, and the men and officers of the regiment regarded Buffalo with
much interest. One after the other asked leave to mount him and ride
him a short distance over a bit of grass adjoining the cavalry
barracks. Hardy let them inspect the horse to their hearts' content.
His winning the race so easily the day before had its special value.
Hardy's knowledge of cavalry accoutrements and horses was another
point of common interest. He rode several of the best horses of the
regiment, but preferred changing their heavy military bridles to his
own light snaffle, and the effect was marked, and was noted by the
cavalry officers.

At dinner, the cup of the day before was produced, and Hardy had to
drink out of it.

"It is your cup and fairly won, but we appreciate the feeling that
gives it to us," said Baron Jarlsberg, "and we shall keep it in the
regiment as a memento of an English horse beating the best horses in a
Danish cavalry regiment."

Hardy rode to the parsonage, after a very pleasant time, with many
expressions of good feeling from the Danish officers.




CHAPTER XIII.


    "These are to be angled for with a short line not
    much more than half the length of your rod, if the air be
    still, or with longer very near, or all out as long as your
    rod, if you have any wind to carry it from you."
    --_The Complete Angler._


Two days after the horse race recorded in the last chapter, John Hardy
had asked the Pastor's permission to take Karl and Axel with him to
fish Godseier Jensen's tributary to the Gudenaa. They had breakfast
early, and Hardy asked for a little lunch to take with them, to which
the Pastor willingly assented.

"Hardy," said the Pastor, "may I ask you one thing, and that is, have
you spoken to Kirstin about what I told you?"

"No," replied Hardy. "Why should I? There is nothing that is necessary
for me to say. She is your servant and not mine. If she be suspicious
naturally and accuses me of gross misconduct, it is not for me to
reprove her, although, if you believed it, I should clear myself, as I
value your good opinion. Surely that is not necessary?"

"No, by no means," said Pastor Lindal; "but I thought a reproof from
you----"

"You have given her reproof sufficient," interrupted Hardy, "and so
have I, and there is no need to repeat it. It is true, I spoke to her
without full knowledge of her conduct, but to say more is neither
necessary nor expedient."

The Pastor was surprised at the decided tone Hardy used. It had been
his intention to clear the matter up, so that nothing should rest in
Hardy's mind against Kirstin. He now understood that Hardy thought no
more of the matter than that a woman-servant in his employ had said a
foolish thing. This was a small matter, but it raised Hardy much in
the worthy Pastor's estimation.

Hardy had sent a note to proprietor Jensen, to say he was coming over
to fish on his property, and to ask leave to put his horses in his
stable. So Garth drove, and they got out of the carriage near the
stream they were to fish, and Karl and Axel were soon busy in putting
up the rods Hardy had given them. The stream ran through a flat
meadow, and here and there was covered with reeds. There was little
flow in the stream, but where it was deeper there were no reeds. The
water rush was abundant on the banks, growing along the flat banks and
out in the water. Hardy had heard there were plenty of trout there,
but it appeared difficult to catch them. The day was warm and still,
and it did not look at all propitious. Karl and Axel threw their flies
into the water for a long time with no result--not a trout moved.
Hardy did not fish, but looked on. It was clear the trout were not on
the feed, and, moreover, the sun was high and the day bright. Hardy
sat down and smoked. The two boys came back to him after their futile
attempts to fish. They saw Hardy had not wetted his line, but had
attached a dyed casting line to it, on which was a large but light
thin wired hook. He then sent the boys hunting for grasshoppers and
fernwebs, and letting out so much of the reel line as, with the
casting line, would be as long as his rod, he let the grasshopper that
he had put on the hook fall lightly on the water, and be carried down
by the sluggish stream; there was a swirl in the water, and Hardy was
fast in a big trout. The day, however, was so hot and bright that,
after catching eight trout with much difficulty and steady fishing,
Hardy decided to call at the Jensen's Herregaard, and give them the
fish he had caught, and fish in the evening, when the sun was less
powerful. The heat, as it sometimes is in Denmark, was excessive. He
had been seen coming up the avenue of lime trees, and the stout
proprietor came out to meet him, with his face full of pleasure and
kindness, for he liked John Hardy.

"Welcome, and glad to see you!" exclaimed Herr Jensen. "It is too hot
and bright for fishing, and you have been wise to come up to the
house. I thought it probable that you would not fish much, and I
remained at home in the hope you might call."

"We have caught a few trout for you," said Hardy; "but the heat in
your flat country such a day as this is more than I care to bear. Your
trout are larger on the average than in the Gudenaa, and are splendid
fish. I have fished in many lands, and never saw better. The few fish
we have caught to-day average a pound, but they are very young fish,
and I never saw fish the same age so large."

"How can you tell how old they are?" asked Herr Jensen, incredulously.

"Why, you look at a horse's mouth, don't you? and it is the same with
trout," replied Hardy; "that is, to some extent. The teeth get larger
at the base, the jaw bone thickens with age, and the snout gets
longer. I have often seen trout that have been reared from ova, and
whose age was consequently known, and have closely observed their
mouths. The fish in your stream grow fast from the great abundance of
the food that trout thrive best on."

"But come in out of the heat," said Herr Jensen, "and have a snaps or
a glass of wine. My friends who come here to fish rarely catch so many
trout in a whole day's fishing; and that when they consider the
weather favourable; but you English appear to be born with a rod and a
gun."

Karl and Axel proposed going with Robert Garth to see the proprietor's
horses and live stock, and, as they knew a little English, they got on
very well with Garth, whom they considered a paragon of a servant. His
respectful demeanour towards Hardy impressed them, and the way he did
his work about the horses was always a matter of interest.

Hardy went into the proprietor's spacious reception room, which was
well but plainly furnished, with its aspect of neatness so dear to a
Danish house mother.

Fru Jensen and her two daughters were knitting, but rose to welcome
Hardy, with the genial friendliness habitual with Danish ladies. They
insisted on his staying to dinner, but Hardy objected, as he had Karl
and Axel with him as well as his servant; but all objections were
futile, and Fru Jensen left the room, to give the necessary directions
for a very substantial dinner.

Mathilde Jensen was about two and twenty, with a fresh complexion,
blue eyes, and light hair, and a cheerful manner. "How is your
beautiful horse, Herr Hardy?" she asked.

"Quite fit to run another race," replied Hardy. "But do not you Danish
ladies ride?"

"Yes. We have each our own horse, and we often ride with father and by
ourselves short distances," said Frøken Mathilde; "but they are not
such good horses as those you have purchased in Denmark."

"They are never satisfied with their horses," said the proprietor;
"they are always wanting me to buy a horse of a different colour than
what they have got--first it's chesnut, and then dark bay."

"Would you like to ride one of my Danish horses?" said Hardy. "They
have been frequently ridden."

"No, no; don't go putting that in their heads, Herr Hardy!" protested
the proprietor. "They never had a petticoat on their backs."

"If Frøken Mathilde would lend her side saddle and an old skirt, my
man shall try both the horses, while we are here," said Hardy. "I have
no lady's saddle here, but from what I know of the horses there is no
doubt but that they will carry a lady quietly, and better backs for a
lady I have seldom seen."

Proprietor Jensen's desire to see an English groom, whom he saw
understood his business, handling his favourite animal, a horse,
overcame whatever scruples he may have had as to its leading to his
daughters riding Hardy's horses, and in a few minutes one of the
horses was mounted by Garth, with a skirt tied to his waist, and the
horse trotted and cantered up and down the avenue. The other horse was
also tried. The English groom's perfect riding was much praised by the
proprietor.

"Do let me ride, father, just once up and down," begged Frøken
Mathilde; and before her father could object, she had slipped the
skirt that Garth had just untied from his waist over her dress and
mounted, with Garth's assistance.

It was a pretty sight to see the handsome girl's enjoyment of riding
the well-trained horse, as she rode up to where her father and mother
and Hardy were standing.

"Oh, father!" she exclaimed, "you must get me a horse like this, or I
shall die, I know I shall;" and she went up and kissed her father in a
coaxing manner.

"What nonsense!" said the prudent Fru Jensen. "One horse is as good as
another for you."

"Well, well, we'll see," growled the proprietor, but pleased,
nevertheless, to see his daughter, like himself, fond of horses.

At dinner the conversation turned on Rosendal, which the Jensens had
heard Hardy had purchased.

"It is a pretty place," said the proprietor, "but the farm is not
much. But why did you buy it? It cannot be as a speculation, as the
price is excessive."

"He intends to marry Helga Lindal and live there so that she will not
be too far from her father, to whom she is so much attached," said
Mathilde Jensen, laughing. "I can explain it all for him."

"Thank you, for disposing of my affairs so nicely," said Hardy; "you
have saved me a good deal of explanation."

"Yes, but Pastor Lindal's daughter is going to marry the Kapellan
(curate) he once had, a Kapellan Holm. She refused him, but her father
wishes it, as Holm is a good man," said Fru Jensen.

"In Denmark, you must know," said the proprietor, "that it is the
custom for a Pastor's daughter always to marry the Kapellan."

Hardy understood now the secret of Frøken Helga Lindal's manner. She
was attached to this Kapellan Holm.

"But what are you going to do with Rosendal?" asked Herr Jensen. "It
is a matter of interest to us; it is not far, and we should like such
a neighbour as Herr Hardy."

"The first thing I intend to do is to improve the grounds and repair
the house, but I do not contemplate making much alteration."

"I should so like to see Rosendal!" said Mathilde Jensen; and her
younger sister, Marie Jensen, expressed the same wish.

"Why, you have seen it again and again," said their mother. "You want
Herr Hardy to take you."

"So we do, little mother," said both the girls, "and we want him to
let us ride his horses."

"Snak!" said their father. The Danish word "snak" has its peculiar
expressive force, its meaning in English being that nonsense is being
talked.

"Garth shall bring over both horses to-morrow," said Hardy, "and I
will ride over; and I dare say Herr Jensen will accompany us, and lend
my man a horse, as we should want him at Rosendal. If you assent, I
will send a message to the bailiff, as you might like a little
refreshment there."

"A most excellent plan, Herr Hardy!" exclaimed Frøken Mathilde; "but
it leaves little mother home alone, which is the only fault in it. But
you will drive, won't you, little father, and take mother and Herr
Hardy's groom?"

Of course everything was ordered as Frøken Mathilde Jensen wished. She
had made her father make many a sacrifice of his money and own wishes,
but she repaid him with her real affection for him.

As the evening drew on, Hardy and the two boys left, and tried the
proprietor's little stream with a fly. The trout rose freely, and
Hardy caught about a dozen. The fish rose best to a gray-winged sedge
fly, when thrown high over the water and falling slowly and softly
near the reeds. Karl and Axel had little success, the perfect
stillness of the water to them was a difficulty.

When they arrived at the parsonage, the Pastor was smoking in his
accustomed chair, and his daughter was singing to him. She stopped as
soon as she heard the carriage wheels. And after speaking a few words
to the Pastor, Hardy went to his room. Karl and Axel remained, and,
like other boys who go about very little, were very full of the day's
experiences. The trying the horses was described, and Frøken Mathilde
Jensen's explanation of why Hardy had bought Rosendal was given in
full, with Fru Jensen's statement as to Kapellan Holm; so that when
John Hardy came from his room, he saw that something had passed which
had disturbed both the Pastor and his daughter. He at once judged
correctly what had occurred. The boys were in the habit of saying what
was uppermost.

It was clear, then, that what Proprietor Jensen had said about Frøken
Helga was correct.

"We have caught a few trout," said Hardy, "and taken a few to the
Jensens, who were so good as to make us stay to dinner, with the kind
hospitality so conspicuous in Denmark."

"They are hospitable people," said the Pastor.

"But great gossips," added the daughter, who had scarcely noticed
Hardy since his return. She got up and left the room.

Hardy determined to risk a question. "Your daughter is, the Jensens
say, attached to a Kapellan Holm, Herr Pastor?" said he, inquiringly.

"No, decidedly not," said the Pastor. "I am sorry to say she dislikes
him; his manner is not pleasant, and she considers him addicted to
drink, of which I have never observed any sign. He is a good man, a
little boisterous in manner. He is coming here to assist me in the
winter, and will live with us. He is now in Copenhagen."

Hardy thought Helga Lindal difficult to understand. That she would
marry a man that the Pastor had described was not consistent with her
character; but, then, women do inconsistent things. Her manner to him
was not courteous--it was unfriendly; but now and then she would speak
warmly and gratefully for any kindness Hardy showed her father.

"Godseier Jensen and his family are going to Rosendal to-morrow," said
Hardy, after smoking some time in silence.

"Yes," said Karl; "the Frøken Jensens want to ride Herr Hardy's
horses."

Helga had returned, and heard what Karl said.

"Frøken Mathilde Jensen is a girl with a cheerful character, open and
honest, like the Danes naturally are," said Hardy.

"I think she is a great deal too forward!" said Helga, sharply.

Hardy looked at her; it was clear she meant what she said. To his view
there was nothing to condemn in Mathilde Jensen's conduct. She had
good animal spirits, was natural in manner, and affectionate to her
parents, who rather spoilt her.

The next day Hardy rode his English horse to the Jensens' Herregaard,
and Garth followed with both the Danish horses.

The Jensens were all on the doorsteps, as Hardy trotted up. The
proprietor received him warmly, and his family did the like. He walked
round Hardy's horse and admired him, as he had done on a previous
occasion.

"It is the breadth of his loins," he said, "that sends him over his
jumps. I never saw anything so fine as when he passed the other
horses, taking his leaps like nothing; and how he came in with a grand
stride, by the winning post!"

"As you breed horses, Herr Jensen," said Hardy, "you should import an
English mare of Buffalo's stamp; it would enormously improve your
breeding stud. A stallion would not do so well, and would be very
costly. It is a slower process, but a more certain one."

"Yes; but we Danes are poor," said the proprietor, "and I cannot
afford the purchase of such a mare."

"When I return to England, I will see what I can do for you," said
Hardy.

The side saddles were placed on Hardy's Danish horses, and they went
to Rosendal, the Frøken Jensens enjoying the ride greatly.

Fru Jensen went through the dairy and criticized, her husband did the
same with the farm buildings, and gave Hardy useful and practical
advice, which Hardy noted down and afterwards followed.

They strolled through the beech woods, and saw the valley of roses in
its ragged and neglected condition. But the good proprietor would
insist on seeing the farm, and on this also he gave Hardy many
practical hints. They returned to the mansion and had such a lunch as
Hardy had been able to arrange, which delighted Frøken Mathilde Jensen
from its incompleteness.

"The fact is, Herr Hardy," she said, "you want a wife. You have no
idea how to manage anything. We have none of us a napkin, and
everything is served abominably."

"I hope to induce my mother to come here next summer," said Hardy; but
he knew Mrs. Hardy of Hardy Place would scarcely adapt herself to the
situation Frøken Mathilde suggested.

"No doubt your mother will do everything," said Frøken Mathilde, "but
a wife is the one thing needful."

"Possibly," said Hardy. "I will consult my mother on the subject."

"I do not like, Mathilde," said Fru Jensen, "your saying such things
to Herr Hardy. It is not what I should have said when I was your age."

"That may be, little mother," replied Frøken Mathilde; "but Englishmen
are very dull, and you had none to talk to."

As they rode back to the Jensens' Herregaard, the two girls wanted to
race the horses back, to Herr Jensen's and his wife's great alarm.

Hardy told them their parents did not wish it, and that, as they did
not, he did not; and he, instead of riding with them, rode by the side
of the proprietor's carriage. And when they arrived at the Herregaard,
the girls dismounted, and Frøken Mathilde said, with much emphasis--

"Herr Hardy, we thank you for your kindness to us, but we both vote
that you are frightfully dull and a bore; but we like you very much."

The hospitable proprietor would not hear of Hardy's leaving; a glass
of schnaps was inevitable and a smoke, and Rosendal was discussed
again and again, and its advantages and defects considered from every
point of view.

At last, Hardy left, and rode to Vandstrup Præstegaard, in time for a
later dinner than usual Hardy told the Pastor of the practical advice
Proprietor Jensen had given him, and the Pastor commented on it and
approved.

Frøken Helga asked if the Fru Jensen had given him any advice.

"Yes," said Hardy, "and very good advice, about the management of the
people and dairy." But, he added, the Frøken Jensens had decidedly
advised him to marry, so as to have some one to manage these details
for him; but he had replied that he must consult his mother on such a
subject.

"And which you intend to do, Herr Hardy?" asked Helga.

"Certainly," said Hardy.




CHAPTER XIV.


    "Good God, how sweet are all things here!
    How beautiful the fields appear!
    How cleanly do we feed and lie!
    Lord, what good hours do we keep;
    How quietly we sleep!
    What peace! what unanimity!
    How different from the lewd fashion
    Is all our business, all our recreation!"
    _The Complete Angler._


Frøken Helga had filled the porcelain pipe with Kanaster one evening,
when she said to her father that he should relate to Herr Hardy what
he knew of Folketro.

"What is Folketro?" asked Hardy.

"It is the belief in supernatural subjects; for instance, the belief
in the merman is a Folketro."

"I know the beautiful old ballad that is sung in Norway of the merman
king rising from the sea in a jewelled dress, where the king's
daughter had come to fish with a line of silk. He sings to her, and,
charmed with his song, she gives him both her hands, and he draws her
under the sea."

"Yes, we all know that ballad," said the Pastor; "it is known to all
Scandinavians. We have, however, in Jutland, a tradition founded upon
it. Two poor people who lived near Aarhus had an only daughter, called
Grethe. One day she was sent to the seashore to fetch sand, when a
Havmand (merman) rose up out in the sea. His beard was greener than
the salt sea, but otherwise his form was fair, and he enticed the girl
to follow him into the sea, by the promise of as much silver as she
could wish for. She went to the bottom of the sea, and was married to
the Havmand ('Hav' is a Danish word for the sea), and had five
children. One day she sat rocking the cradle of her youngest child,
when she heard the church bells ring ashore. She had almost forgotten
what she had learnt of Christian faith, but the longing was so great
to go to church that she wept bitterly. The merman at length allowed
her to go, and she went to church. She had not been there long before
the merman came to the church and called 'Grethe! Grethe!' She heard
him call, but remained; this occurred three times, when the merman was
heard loudly lamenting, as he returned to the sea. Grethe remained
with her parents, and the merman is often heard bitterly grieving the
loss of Grethe."

"The same tradition occurs in many lands," said Hardy.

"Yes, but that is the one we have here in Jutland," replied Pastor
Lindal. "There is a story that comes from the neighbourhood of
Ringkiøbing, which may have a similarity with traditions elsewhere
also; but the Jutland story is as follows: For a long time no ship had
been wrecked on the west coast of Jutland, and consequently the
Havmand had been a long time without a victim. So he went on land and
threw a hook at the cattle on the sand hills, whither they frequently
wandered from the farms, and dragged them into the sea. Close to the
sea lived a Bonde, who had two red yearlings, which he did not wish to
lose; so he coupled them together with twigs of the mountain ash, over
which the Havmand had no power. However, he threw his hook at them,
but could not drag the yearlings down to the sea, as they were
protected by the virtue in the mountain ash. His hook stuck in its
twigs, and the yearlings came home with it, and the Bonde hung it up
in his house by the chimney. One day, when his wife was at home alone,
the Havmand came and took away the hook, and said, 'The first calves
of red cows, with a mountain ash couple, the Havmand could not drag to
the sea, and for want of my hook I have missed many a good catch.' So
the Havmand returned to the sea, and since then has never taken any
cattle from that part of the coast."

"It is very possible that the cattle were stolen by people landing
from the sea," said Hardy.

"Probably," said the Pastor. "There is another story of a Havmand's
body being washed up by the sea, close to the church, and it was
buried in the churchyard. But the sea every year washed away so much
of the sandy coast that the people were afraid the church would be
washed away; so they dug up the Havmand, and found him sitting at the
bottom of the grave, sucking one of his toes. They carried him down to
the sea, for which he thanked them, and said that now the sea should
ever cast up as much sand as it washed away, and both the church and
churchyard should never suffer from the encroachments of the sea."

"A story with more apparent improbability than usual. But the
impression appears to exist that these supernatural beings could never
really die. Is it not so?" inquired Hardy.

"It would appear so," replied the Pastor; "but in the case of Trolds
or Underjordiske, their deaths are occasionally referred to in the
traditions about them."

"But are there no legends of mermaids?" said Hardy.

"Many," replied the Pastor. "The Danish word is 'Havfru,' or
sea-woman. On the Jutland coast a mermaid or Havfru was accustomed to
drive her cattle up from the sea, so that they could graze in the
fields ashore. This the Bønder did not like. They, therefore, one
night, surrounded the cattle, and secured both them and the Havfru in
an enclosure, and refused to let them go until they had been paid for
the grass the sea cattle had consumed from their fields. As she had no
money, they demanded that she should give them the belt that she wore
round her waist, which appeared to be covered with precious stones. To
ransom herself and cattle, she at length consented, and the Bønder
received the belt; but as she went to the sea-shore she said to the
biggest bull of her herd, 'Root up,' and the bull rooted the earth up
that was over the sand in their meadows, and the consequence was the
wind blew the sand so that it buried the church. The Bønder,
therefore, had small joy of the belt, particularly when they found it
was only common rushes."

"There is a ballad," said Hardy, "that I met with in Norway of Count
Magnus and the Havfru. She promised him a sword, a horse, and a ship
of miraculous powers; but he was true to his earthly love."

"The people often sing it here," said the Pastor, "and a good ballad
it is. It is, however, well known in England. There was a common
belief that there were cattle in the sea, and it is related that a man
once saw a red cow constantly in the evening feeding on his standing
corn. He asked his neighbours' assistance, and they secured it. It had
five calves whilst in the man's possession, and each of them cow
calves; but they gave him so much trouble from their unruly nature
that he beat them frequently. One day he did so by the seasi

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