"Piscator.—Come, sir, let us be going; for the sun grows low, and I would have you look about you as you ride, for you will see an odd country, and sights that will seem strange to you."—The Complete Angler.

John Hardy, before he retired to rest, had arranged with the hotel manager at Veile to telegraph to BÆkke, where he designed to have a late breakfast, or rather lunch, and to a little inn, a few English miles further on, where they could pass the night. Thus the horses could rest at BÆkke, and then go further to a station that would leave them but a little distance to reach Esbjerg.

It was eleven before they reached BÆkke, travelling over not the best of roads, and when they got there Hardy's forethought in telegraphing was apparent. The Pastor was tired, but as conversational as ever. Karl and Axel were obviously hungry, and as there was nothing to be had but fried eggs, and the usual indigestible et ceteras, Hardy was anxious to get on to their destination for the night. The Pastor went into the carriage, and Helga got up by Hardy's side, but her father had specially stipulated that she was not to drive the horses. This, of course, had to be obeyed, as the Pastor's wish once expressed was enough for Helga. The direction was over by-roads, and it was perhaps best the Pastor had been so decisive.

Helga talked as before, unreservedly, and the ring of her clear voice, with its transparent truth, was a pleasure to hear.

"Travelling like this is such a pleasure," she said; "the sound of the step of the horses even has its effect, as we feel they go easily to themselves. There is the succession of change of place and scene, fresh green meadows after dry and dusty roads, and, after a dull bit, there comes a pretty prospect of a country house, with its woods and lake. The coming also to a fresh place every night has its interest. I cannot think of a more pleasant way of travelling. Do you, Herr Hardy?"

"Yes," said Hardy. "I like a fresh breeze blowing in the wished-for direction, and an English sailing yacht, as a means of travelling. You do not go so fast as you appear to sail, but it is pleasant to see the bright wave flashing by, and to feel the yacht rushing through the sea."

"But, then, there is not the varied change of scene as in travelling as we now do, Herr Hardy," said Helga.

"There is nothing like yachting for variety, if there be favourable winds, but on that it is dependent," said Hardy. "For instance, the Mediterranean can be explored in a winter, and places in Spain and Portugal visited on the way to Gibraltar, and then Italy and the Ionian Islands and Greece."

"It must be a great drawback to be so dependent on the wind," said Helga.

"Yes; and particularly so in yachting on the coast of Norway, amongst the Danish islands, or up the Baltic," said Hardy; "but this difficulty is got over by the use of steam, and steam yachts are becoming the rule."

"Have you a yacht, Herr Hardy?" asked Helga.

"I am having one built," replied Hardy. "My mother likes the sea, and I am having one built so that she may be as comfortable as possible. It is a steam yacht, and we shall be at sea in a fortnight, and I shall take Karl, if he wishes."

"He likes the sea, and when we go to Copenhagen from Aarhus in the steamer, we enjoy the journey," said Helga.

"There is one small matter which has struck me with regard to Karl," said Hardy, "and that is, you Scandinavians are liable to what you call Hjemve (home sickness). I wish you would ask your father to say to him that he goes to England to try to get on in life, and that it is childish to be afraid of meeting strange people, but to look to the future and not be occupied with the present."

"Thank you very much, Herr Hardy; you are very thoughtful. Karl has been very quiet the last two days, and you have anticipated what I had thought," said Helga.

They had arrived at Hoisted, where they had to pass the night. The modest little inn did its best for them, and the Pastor was glad to rest; but after dinner his enjoyment of his pipe was great. It is not understood in England that such is good or necessary. Tot homines quot sententiÆ. The question is in England, Is it wrong for a parson to enjoy his pipe? The answer is, "No," with some people, "Yes," with others; but the question whether it is good for him is very generally answered in the negative.

"You have but few stories of the people, or, as you call them, Eventyr?" asked Hardy.

"There are very many," replied the Pastor. "But in Norway you will have found an even richer store. The grandness of nature there has influenced the imaginations of the people. Their legends, traditions, and stories are more romantic and weird. Their traditions of the Huldr are exquisitely fantastic and picturesque to a degree. Their Folke-Eventyr is rich in colour. There is a depth of thought and of the knowledge of human nature as it is that fills the mind with astonishment. There is in them all a sense of justice, a feeling of appreciation of what is good and true, as if the thought had been inspired. Nationally, the Norwegians are honest, and their Folke-Eventyr has contributed to form the character of the people. It has engendered a respect for what is good and true. There is also an idea of rough justice and humour; and I will tell you a story which will illustrate this. There was once a priest who was very overbearing. When he drove in the roads, he shouted to the people he met, 'Out of the way, I am coming; out of the way!' He did this so often that the king determined to check his pride, and drove to the priest's. As he was coming, he met the priest, who shouted as usual. The king drove as he should do, as king, and the priest had to give way. When the king was at the side of the priest's carriage, he said, 'Come to me at the palace to-morrow, and if you cannot answer three questions I put to you, I will punish you for your pride's sake.' This was treatment the priest was not accustomed to. He could bully the BØnder, but answering questions did not suit him. So he went to his clerk and told him that one fool can ask more questions than ten wise men could answer, and that he must go up to the palace to the king and reply to his questions. So the clerk went in the priest's gown. The king was in the balcony with his crown and sceptre, and was dressed in such a costume that he looked a king."

"'So you have come,' said the king.

"'Yes,' said the clerk. It was quite certain that he was there.

"'Tell me' said the king, 'how far the east is from the west?' "'A day's journey,' answered the clerk.

"'How can that be?' said the king.

"'The sun rises in the east and sets in the west, and generally does it in a day,' answered the clerk.

"'Good,' said the king. 'But tell me now how much money I am worth?'

"'Well,' replied the clerk, 'Christ was sold for thirty pieces of silver, and I should put you at twenty-nine.'

"'A good answer,' said the king. 'But tell me now what I am at this moment thinking about?'

"'That's easy to answer,' replied the clerk. 'The fact is, you think I am the priest, but I am only the clerk.'

"'Then go you home and be priest, and, let the priest be clerk,' commanded the king."

"A very excellent story," said Hardy, "and, as you say, shows a strong sense of rough justice and humour."

"There is a child's story," said the Pastor, "with its humour; but it is very simple, as all stories of the people should be. A boy found a pretty box in a wood, but he could not open it, for it was locked. A little further he found a key. The question was whether the key would fit the box. He blew into the key and put the key into the lock, when lo! it fitted, and the box opened. But can you guess what was in the box? No, of course not. There was a calf's tail in the box, but if the calf's tail had been longer, so would this story be." "But that is a Norwegian story," said Hardy. "Are there none essentially Danish?"

"They are related to some extent in H. C. Andersen's stories, and they have been translated into English. There is a story, however, that may not have been translated. A king and queen had no children; but a beggar came to her and said, 'You can have a son, if you will let me be his godfather when he is christened.' The queen assented. The queen had a son, but the king had to go to war to quell a rebellion. The king made her promise that she would nurse the child herself, and not trust to nurses and other people. The queen did so, and the beggar stood godfather. The beggar bent down over the child, and said that everything it wished for it should have. This the king's attendant heard. He was accustomed to attend the king when hunting, and he thought that such a child was worth possessing. The queen, however, watched the child night and day. One day she was in a summer-house and had fallen asleep, with the child in her lap; when she woke the child was gone. When the king returned, he had a tower built in a wood, and he walled the queen up in it, as a punishment for losing the child. The attendant brought the child up as his own, and there was no suspicion. He took the child, when grown up, out hunting when the king went, and taught him to wish for such and such a head of game, and if he shot an arrow at it, he always hit. The king could not understand how so young a hunter could always be so successful, but the attendant assured him that it was only a sure hand and eye. The attendant had meanwhile become very rich, by getting the king's son to wish him to be so. The attendant had taken a girl into his service, who grew up to be very beautiful. She had suspicions that all was not right, and asked the attendant; but he would not tell her. At last the attendant told her the boy must be killed, and she must do it, and cut out his tongue, to show him that she had murdered him. She, however, killed a hind, and cut out its tongue, and showed the attendant the tongue. The attendant thought she had done as she was told, and told her the story, which the king's son heard from a place where she had hid him. The king's son immediately wished the attendant should be a three-legged dog, that must always follow him. He wished the girl to be a rose and put her in his button-hole. The king's son then attended the court, as the king wished to go hunting. 'Where is the attendant?' asked the king. 'He is here close by,' said the king's son. The king was satisfied with the answer, and went out hunting. The king's son led the hunt to the tower where the queen was walled in, and wished that the tower might fall down and the queen be found in it yet living. This happened, although she had been there seventeen years. The prince then took the rose out of his button-hole, and married the girl who had so well served him." "A graphic story," said Hardy, "and has the same tendency that you attributed to the Norwegian stories of the people, or Folke-Eventyr."

"There is a story more peculiarly belonging to Jutland," said Pastor Lindal, "and that is of a Trold who lived in a wood in a large KÆmpehØi, or tumulus. He was an old grey-bearded Trold, and the people in the district were afraid of him. There was an old woman who lived near with her son. They had a cow, and it was difficult to get grass for it, particularly in the winter. The boy took the cow and grazed it on the Trold's KÆmpehØi. The Trold came out and objected, and threatened, and drove the boy and the cow away. The boy, however, got a piece of soft cheese from his mother, and stole a bird sitting on its eggs in a nest, these he put in his pocket; so the next day he took the cow to the same place, and the Trold came out and threatened. The Trold took up a stone and pressed it in his hand, so that water came from it, to show how he could crush him. The boy said that is nothing, and took the cheese from his pocket and pressed it, so that it appeared as if he was squeezing more out of a stone than the Trold could. So the Trold said, 'I will throw a stone up, and you can count until it comes down. The boy did so, and counted up to one hundred and thirty-one. 'That is good!' said the boy. 'But now count for the stone I cast;' and the Trold counted, but the boy threw the bird up in the air, and of course it flew away. The Trold was astonished, and asked the boy if he would come into his service. The first thing was to fetch water, as the Trold wanted to brew. The Trold had a large bucket to fetch water, which the boy could not even lift; so he said, 'This will not do at all; we had best fetch in the river.' But this the Trold could not do. The boy behaved in the same way with fetching turf and fuel; and when the Trold went out to pick nuts, he picked up stones and gave the Trold to crack. This gave him the toothache, but the boy advised him to fill his mouth full of water and sit on the fire until it boiled. This did not succeed, and so the boy continued to tease the Trold until he compassed his destruction, and taking all the Trold's gold and silver, he went home, and had enough to live on all his days, with his mother."

"I have heard a parallel story from many lands," said Hardy.

"That is true enough; it is a story very widespread, with different incidents and features," said the Pastor.

The next day they drove into Esbjerg, and Garth and Hardy put the horses on board the steamer for England. It would leave in the evening, when the tide would allow it to get out of dock.

The Pastor had arranged to stay the night at Esbjerg, to see the very last of his son Karl on his leaving for England.

As they left, Hardy said, "I shall be at Rosendal in May, and I hope my mother will be with me; but you will hear from me many times before then, and I dare say Karl will write you more frequently than I do."

Helga said simply, "I thank you, Herr Hardy, for your kindness to us."

The steamer left that night, and the next day Pastor Lindal went to the railway station at Esbjerg to take three tickets to the station nearest his parsonage. Three tickets were handed to him, and the Pastor expostulated.

"They are first-class tickets, and——"

"Yes," said the station clerk; "but they are already taken and paid for."