"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," he 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."