"Viator.—Methinks the way is mended since I had the good fortune to fall into your good company."—The Complete Angler.

Horsens was explored the next day, but Hardy had a purpose in view. He knew his mother would like to see photographs of his Danish friends. The chief reason for a walk the night before was to ascertain the photographer's shop. This he discovered, and proposed that they should all be separately photographed.

"You want to show your mother our photographs," said Helga.

"I do," said Hardy. "You have all been so kind to me that it would interest her."

"I should like to see the photographs before they are sent you," said Helga.

"That you can," said Hardy. "They shall be sent you, and if you do not like them, do not send them to me."

"Nonsense," said the Pastor; "they shall of course be sent you. I can understand that if you have a photograph it will describe more than any description, and we will send them, or rather the photographer shall; it is not that we should wish to appear other than as we really are. If the photographs are not what is called successful, you can explain that, if you like, but I, for my part, would rather not be favoured by any artificial process."

"You are right, little father," said Helga; and they were all photographed separately, except Hardy and Karl, as the Pastor objected to the latter. "They will see Karl himself, and there is no need of the expense," he said; "and Hardy we shall not forget."

They left Horsens a little after midday for Veile, a distance, as before stated, of about nineteen English miles. Pastor Lindal sat by Hardy as he drove, and as they passed by Engom, he told the story of how Øve Lunge had sold himself to the evil one, "Øve Lunge made a bargain with the owners of the land near to acquire as much land as he could ride a foal just born round, whilst the priest was preaching a sermon in the pulpit at Engom Church. They assented readily; but the foal ridden by Herr Øve Lunge went like a bird, and two black boars followed, rooting up the line the foal took, so as to enclose the land. On his way, Herr Øve Lunge met a Bonde with an axe, and he was obliged to turn aside, as the evil one has no power against an edge of steel. Therefore there were many irregularities in the foal's course. The Bonde who had thus sought to interrupt Herr Øve Lunge, rushed to the church at Engom, and besought the priest to vacate the pulpit, who did so, and thus saved much land passing into Herr Øve Lunge's possession. As Herr Øve Lunge had sold himself to the evil one, he can of course find no rest, and his ghost is seen, followed by his hounds, as he hunts at night over the property thus acquired."

"Are their many legends relating to Veile?" asked Hardy.

"A few," replied the Pastor, "and some historical, Gorm den Gamle, that is Gorm the old and his Queen Thyra, are buried in two tumuli, or KÆmpehØi, at Jellinge, near Veile. At Queen Thyra's tumulus there was once a spring of water which sprung up, it is related as evidence of her purity. One day, however, a Bonde washed a horse that had the glanders at the spring, when it at once dried up.

"At the same place, Jellinge (the final e is pronounced like a), in the year 1628, a priest called SØren Stefensen was suspected by the Swedes of being in correspondence with the Danes, when the Swedes were invading Jutland, and had occupied Jellinge, The messenger who went with his letters was taken, and a letter was found in a stick he carried. The Swedes hung him up to his own church door by his beard to a great hook, and he is said to have hung there a long time; but at last they took him down, and hung him on a gallows. He was priest at Veile, and the governor of the Latin school there, from 1614 to 1619." "In Shakespeare's play of 'Hamlet'" said Hardy, "it is described of Hamlet's father that he smote the sledded Polaks on the ice."

"Our story of Amlet, not Hamlet, is as follows," said the Pastor. "At Mors, a place in Jutland, there was a king called Fegge. He had a tower at a place which is now called Fegge Klit ('klit' is a sand-hill), and from thence he sent his ships to sea, in the Western sea, that is your North sea. He and his brother Hvorvendil took turns to rule at land or at sea, so that one should be at sea three years, and the other on land three years. Fegge, however, became jealous of Hvorvendil's power and good luck, and killed him and married his wife, which murder was avenged by Amlet, her son, who slew Fegge, whose grave is yet shown at Fegge Klit. The word 'sledded,' is bad Danish for driving in a sledge. Polak is a Pole, and near Veile they committed great atrocities. They killed women and children, and stole the BØnder's cattle; and a man had often to buy his own bullock, and the price went down to such a degree that the price at last reached about 2d, (English) for a cow. They were hired by the Swedes to plunder Denmark. They came to a PrÆstegaard, near Veile, and stole and plundered; but a man in the priest's service, called Hans Nielsen, told the priest's wife to give them all the drink she could. They all got drunk. Hans Nielsen took away their arms. He then bound them one by one, and made one of them shoot all the rest, one after the other. This man confessed he was a Dane, but had joined the Swedes. So Hans Nielsen killed him with a sword, for being a traitor. The Poles were all buried in a hole, which is now called Polakhullet, or the Pole's hole. They committed such devastation in the very district we are now passing, that a man from Thy met a woman from Skaane, in Sweden, and she at once offered to marry him in the dialect of the time.

"'Aa vil du vÆre min Mand?
Saa vil a vÆre din Kone;
Du er fØd i Thyeland,
Og a er fØd i Skaane.'
"'Oh, will you be my man?
So will I be your wife;
You are born in Thyeland,
And I am born in Skaane.'

This is a nursery rhyme to this day. There is also a weed called Charlock in England, the seed of this was brought by them with the fodder they had with them, and it is now all over Denmark."

"What you have told me about Shakespeare's play would, I fear, excite some controversy amongst persons who make Shakespeare their study in England," said Hardy.

"I can only say," rejoined the Pastor, "that the tradition is as related by me."

"We shall soon be at Veile," said Hardy, turning round to FrØken Helga Lindal. She had heard that her father talked incessantly to Hardy, so was satisfied that all went well.

"I wish it was double the distance away," she said; "I enjoy travelling like this so much!"

Veile is a pretty little Jutland town, and as they drove up to the hotel Hardy had selected and telegraphed to, they determined to have a walk in the neighbourhood at once, and postpone dinner a little later.

"There was a fire once in Veile, in the year 1739," said the Pastor. "A woman who was thought out of her mind, at Easter visited a neighbour, who showed her the clothes she had made to wear at Easter; but the woman said, 'What will this avail, when the whole street will be burned in eight days; but although I shall perish in the flames, yet my body will be laid out in the town hall before I am buried?' The next Sunday, a boy in firing off some powder he had put in a door key, set fire to a house. The mad woman, as she was called, had forgotten some things in the house, and went in for them; but her clothes caught on fire, and she died from the burns she received. She was taken to the town hall as the nearest place, and the street she indicated was burnt.

"There is another story of an old monastery near Veile. The name of the abbot was Muus (mouse). He was so hostile to the king that it was determined to suppress the monastery. The force commissioned to execute the king's order sent word to the abbot that he could leave the monastery, if not, they should be obliged, in execution of their orders, to arrest him. This message was given the abbot when he was at dinner, and he replied that the mouse must have time to eat his dinner in peace. The commander of the force replied not longer than the cat will permit, and took the place by force. It is said this happened in the thirteenth century."

"The place appears to bristle with legends," said Hardy. "Are there more?"

"Many more; but I will not tell you any more until after dinner."

"That is right, little father," said his daughter, who always feared that he might get too tired before he retired to rest.

The dinner at Veile was excellent. The host had asked Hardy what they would like, and Hardy had replied that he would leave it to him to get as good a dinner as he could. The consequence was that the host did his best. The Pastor was greatly pleased at Hardy's simple manner of ordering a dinner, but that it should be successful was a greater success still.

The tobacco-parliament continued to be held, although for the time at Veile. The journey had a good effect on Pastor Lindal, whose temperament was naturally cheerful. He talked on subjects that Hardy had no idea he had any knowledge of in natural science. He had studied Darwin, and had even read a book of Sir John Lubbock's. At last Hardy interrupted.

"There are no more legends or traditions of Veile, are there?" he said.

"As I have said before, there are many," was the reply, "and here is one. Once there were two brothers living near Fredericia, one was rich, the other was poor. The place they lived at wanted a church. The rich brother would contribute nothing, and his brother said that if he were so rich he would build the church himself. The next night he dreamt that on a bridge at Veile, called the southern bridge, he would hear of something to his advantage. He went to Veile, and walked up and down it all day. At last an officer passed and repassed him, and asked him what he wanted. He told him he had dreamt he would find a treasure on Veile bridge. The officer replied, 'I dreamt that I should find a treasure in a barn near Fredericia,' belonging to a Bonde he named. It was the man's own name. He found the treasure. One day he was out looking round for a place to build the church on when he met his brother, who did not know what had happened. He said, 'I am going to build the church, and I am looking round to find the best site.' 'Indeed,' said the rich brother; 'if you build the church, I will give the bells.' But when he saw the church would be built, it vexed the avaricious man so much to have to give the bells, that he went and hung himself. "There is an authenticated story of a priest, as we are generally called," continued the Pastor, "at the time of the plague, in 1654. It was brought by a ship to Copenhagen, and spread rapidly. The priest at Urlev PrÆstegaard had some clothes sent him belonging to his relatives, who had died of the plague at Copenhagen. His name was SØren Pedersen Prip. As soon as he saw the plague had occurred in his household, his only thought was how to prevent its spreading in his parish. He forbade all intercourse; and as his servants, wife, and children died one after the other, he hoisted a flag, as a signal when he wanted a coffin, which, as he had no one to send to fetch it, he managed to convey on a wheelbarrow, and he himself buried all his household. But that the people should not be without hearing God's word, he preached to them from a stone in the churchyard, which is yet shown. There is said to be also a carved wooden basrelief of him in the church."

"He might have said, 'Exegi monumentum Ære perennius'" said Hardy. "Such a man exhibits one side of your national character that the world has honoured and will honour. You say the stone can be pointed out. It is a matter of surprise to me that the stones used in many places in your old walls about churchyards and old buildings are so varied in character: there are, for instance, red and grey granite, syenite, the older sandstones, but all of the older geological formations. The side, for instance, of Viborg Cathedral is like a piece of old-fashioned patchwork from this cause, and has not a good effect."

"In the glacial period these stones were brought down by the ice and stranded on Jutland," said the Pastor; "they are scattered over the whole country more or less. There is a legend of a giant who lived at Veile, who threw these stones at Graverslund Church; but he was a bad shot, and this accounts for the stones being found everywhere. His name was Gavl; but it was the ice of the glacial period that was the giant."

"It will not be possible to visit Kolding," said Hardy, "because it would make us too late for the steamer. We shall have a longer run than usual to-morrow, and reach Esbjerg midday the day after, and the steamer leaves at night. Are there any traditions of Kolding, Herr Pastor?"

"A number, and, of course, attached to Koldinghuus, which was erected in the thirteenth century," said the Pastor. "The oldest story is that of the bloodstains in Koldinghuus. It is said that a king lived there, who had an only daughter. For some reason he determined to kill her, and decided that as she was fond of dancing she should be danced to death. He therefore, amongst his officers, sought out the toughest for the work; but his daughter danced with nine of them without signs of giving way. The king was enraged. He danced with her himself, and then cut with his dagger the belt she wore, which had sustained her, so says the legend. Her mouth filled with blood, and she died in her father's arms. Nothing could wash the stain of her blood out of the floor.

"As to Kolding itself, there are several stories," continued the Pastor. "There is more than one about the church clock, which never keeps time, the reason is that the men in an adjoining town, not far from Kolding, had in a time of scarcity borrowed seed from the men from Kolding, and had pledged a neighbouring meadow, which should belong to the men of Kolding if the value of the seed was not paid on a certain day and at a certain hour. When the time came, the men of Kolding induced the clock-keeper to alter the clock; and when the borrowers came to repay the loan, it was too late, and the meadow was adjudged to belong to the men of Kolding. There is a variation of this story, that the widow of Henning Limbek borrowed the money and pledged the meadow with the same result. She was on the bridge and heard the clock strike twelve and she at once returned home and surrendered the meadow to the men of Kolding. There is another story of a rich man who lived near Kolding, and they offered him a large sum for the meadow, and the terms were settled at a feast. The rich man, however, had a horse, and he affirmed that the horse would gallop from his house to Kolding by a certain time. This the men of Kolding denied as possible. He then offered to wager the meadow against a considerable sum that the horse would. The horse performed the journey within the time stated, but the clock had been altered. Ever since, the church clock has never been correct."

"Not very correct of the men of Kolding," said Hardy, "and, I fear, not a good side of the Danish character."

"I cannot deny that such principles occur with us," said Pastor Lindal; "possibly we have learnt it from the English."

"We shall have to start at six to-morrow, Herr Pastor, to reach Hoisted," said Hardy. "The hotel there is moderate, and we can only expect what we can obtain. We shall have to break our longest journey where we can, to give the horses a little rest."

"Therefore, we should go to bed early," said the Pastor.

"But I cannot go to bed without thanking you, Herr Hardy, for your goodness to my father," said FrØken Helga. "I have never seen him so bright, and I thank you." She thanked him in her Danish manner by shaking hands.

"There is little need to thank me," said Hardy. "I have learnt much from your father, and am thankful for it; but I hope with time to win the same kindly trust from him as you already possess, and I think deservedly."

Helga never forgot these words. They echoed in her recollection through the winter months, and Kapellan Holm was nowhere.