The class of people most lauded by their own and other nations is that of the brave and hardy fishermen of Denmark. These men are always willing to man the life-boat and to risk their lives to save those in peril on the dangerous coast of Jutland. Although hundreds of ships are wrecked on this dreaded "Jernkyst" (iron coast), their crews are invariably saved by these courageous men. The whole length of the west coast of Jutland is bleak and exposed to the storms and fogs of the North Sea. Not one single harbour of refuge can be found between Esbjerg and the Skaw. Dangerous sandbanks and massive cliffs guard the coast, making navigation both difficult and hazardous. All along this perilous coast life-saving apparatus of the newest and best type is stored in the life-boat houses placed at intervals close to the seashore. On stormy nights the watching sentinels summon by telephone the fishermen of the tiny hamlets near. At sound of a rocket the distressful cry, "A wreck, a wreck!" runs over the telephone, and immediately brave hearts and hands are putting off to the rescue, while trembling women anxiously wait their husbands' return with warm restoratives for the saved. These fishermen's wives are brave too, for it is anxious work waiting and watching. It is not to be wondered at that this merciless and cruel coast is dreaded by all seamen. How thankful they must feel when they see the great lighthouse at Grenen—the northernmost point of Jutland—and can signal "All's well!" "Alt vel! passeret Grenen" flash the lights across the water, and both passengers and crew breathe a little more freely if it has been a stormy passage. Something like eighty thousand vessels pass by this coast in a year, so you may be sure the gallant fishermen of Denmark who live on the iron coast have plenty of rescue work to do.

You should see this coast on a stormy day, more especially at Grenen, where those two mighty seas, the Skagerack and Cattegat, meet. When the tempest rages here, far as eye can see a long ridge of seething, tossing water denotes the meeting-place of the currents. The great "white horses" in battle array fight, plunge, and roar—each striving for the mastery which neither gains. This wrestling-match is a splendid spectacle to those who are safe on shore, also to those at sea if the day is clear, because they can then give the reef a wide berth. Tossing spray is thrown high into the air and wind-borne to the shore, so even at a distance from the waves you may have a salt shower-bath should you be able to "keep your legs" against the fury of the gale. The screaming gulls which fly around, dipping and rising, enjoying as only "storm-birds" can the roar and tumult of these tempestuous waters, enhance the fierce loneliness of the scene. This awe-inspiring "Nature-barrier" saddens you—even while you exult in the madness of its fury—when you think what it means on a foggy night to the poor mariner. What a comfort for the seafarer to know that there is such a famous race of fishermen here, willing and ready to man the life-boat and rescue them from the angry, engulfing waters! You would never guess these seas could be otherwise than kind when you enter their smiling depths for a swim on a calm, sunny day. How gentle and invigorating they can be the fishermen as well as the visitors know, and any morning you may see the former returning from their daily dip with dripping heads and towels along the shore. Somehow these fishermen are always picturesque. In the summer evening, sitting or lying on the sunlit beach, smoking their cutty-pipes and waiting for the time to launch their boats for the fishing, they make an impressive picture. Kindly blue eyes and weather-beaten faces look at you from under the sou'westers, while blue jerseys, long sea-boots with curled-over tops and oil-skins, complete the sea-going outfit. Fully equipped, they charm the eye of the most fastidious, and it is little wonder that they have become subjects for famous artists and poets.

These fishermen are very devout, and before launching their boat they all stand round it with clasped hands and bowed heads, offering up a short, silent prayer for help and protection on these dangerous waters. Then, pushing the boat out into the water, they jump in while it floats—sea-boots getting wet in the process—and wave farewell to their children on the shore, who cry in return "Farvel Fa'er!"

Lars Kruse, the late captain of the life-boat at Skagen, has had a beautiful monument raised to his memory, and his son will show you with great pride the cups and medals he left behind as mementoes of his brave deeds. These medals have been presented by many different nations whose sea-farers have been saved by him. Amongst these is one given by Queen Victoria.

Captain Larsen, a well-known mariner, who, on retiring from his post on one of the light-ships, settled at Old Skagen, has left a unique collection to the village. This now constitutes a museum of exquisitely carved furniture, much of it inlaid with ivory, marbles and metals in dainty designs, all made by this old sailor during the last twelve years of his life—a wonderful record of industry. Old Skagen is a quaint fisher-village, nestling behind the sand-dunes, trying to shelter itself from the sand and sea-storms to which these shores are subjected.

Many of these fisher-folk are farmers also, tilling and cultivating the heath-lands which lie beyond the village. The fisher cottages are quite pretty, with thatched or red-tiled roofs, white or buff rough-cast walls, green painted doors and windows, with black painted foundations which protect them from the sand. Bright flowering plants in the windows and the neat and clean appearance of the whole betoken the joy and comfort that reigns in the fisherman's home. Many household duties are performed at the cottage door in the sandy enclosure surrounding the little homestead. Here the old men mend the nets, keeping a watchful eye on the babies, while the women clean and salt the fish, hanging them up in rows to dry in the sun. In these garden enclosures, also, many quaintly pretty miniature houses may be seen erected on tall poles. These are to encourage the starlings and other songsters to settle in them, as there are no trees. Hen-roosts and outhouses are adorned with the name-boards of wrecked boats washed up on the shore, while discarded boats turned over and tarred make the roofs of these curious shelters worthy of royal hens!

The older fishermen have a safe and effective way of trawling from the strand. Putting out in a small boat, taking their net with them, to which a long rope is attached—the end of this being left in charge of the fishermen on the shore—they row gaily over the water, paying out the rope as they go. When the limit of this rope is reached, the men drop their weighted net overboard and pull for the shore, bringing with them another attached rope which is paid out till they reach the strand. When they have landed and the boat is beached, half a dozen men or more take hold of each rope—these are fastened to each side of the submerged net—and begin hauling it to the shore. The straining muscles of the men as they march up the beach with a strong, steady, overhand pull on the rope denotes that this is heavy work. It is a grand sight! As the net nears the shore the gleaming, glittering mass of fish can be seen leaping and jumping in vain endeavour to escape from their prison, only the smaller fry succeeding. At last the net with its silver load reaches the shore with the noise as of a great wave breaking upon the beach, which is caused by the efforts of the fish to gain their freedom. The best fish are picked out and the others returned to the sea, while the gulls swoop down with querulous cry and gobble all that float on the surface of the water. These fishermen have a prejudice against skate, and use it only for bait.

St. Clement is the patron saint of Danish fishermen, and many of the churches in the coast towns are dedicated to him.

As the Cathedral of Aarhus is dedicated to St. Clement, the Skaw fishermen have given an exquisite model of a ship to the church. This ship is a perfect representation in miniature of a man-of-war. It was made in Holland for Peter the Great, but the ship which carried it was wrecked near Grenen, and the model was saved by the Skaw fishermen.