"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 theJyllands 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 theJyllands 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 hewas 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 payto 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 thetrimmers 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 atSilkeborg; 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. ThePastor, 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 gallopedat 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.
"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 tobe 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, whenone 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 KorsAldrig 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 oneday 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 wasthe 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 theinhabitants 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 woodnear, 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 flockof 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 bullcalf 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 whichwas 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."
"Who hunts, doth oft in danger ride;Who hawks, lures oft both far and wide;Who uses games, shall often proveA loser; but he who falls in loveIs 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 thesteeple-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, andhad 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. Asit 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, andHardy 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. Cavalrymen 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 hadwounded 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 thecarriage. 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 onlyrespect 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 mementoof 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.