COPENHAGEN AND TIVOLI.
All the boats of the squadron came into line, each with the flag in the bow and stern. They pulled along the water front of the city, around a couple of Danish men-of-war, and of course created a sensation. One by one the boats rowed up to the landing, and the students went on shore, each crew securing its cutter at the wharf, near the steps. The custom-house officers were on the alert; but as no one had parcels of any kind, the students were not detained. Mr. and Mrs. Kendall landed, and as they intended to spend a few days in the city, they had a couple of valises, which the porters, who are always in waiting at all the ports in Europe, conveyed into the custom-house. The Toldbod, as this edifice is called by the Danes, is surrounded by a high wall, which also encloses the entire landing-place, so that none can visit the city from the sea without passing through its gates.
One of the officers spoke English very well, and evidently took pride in doing so, for he asked a great many questions so pleasantly, that it was impossible to explain his object in any other way. He wished to know whether the travellers had any clothing they had not worn, and whether Mrs. Kendall had anytobacco or liquor. She protested that she did not use tobacco or liquor; and the actual examination of the baggage was a mere form. The man was so polite, that Paul at once concluded he was only practising his English. A carriage was procured, and Dr. Winstock and Captain Lincoln were invited to join the party. The inquiring students deemed it a great privilege to be permitted to go with the surgeon, for he was a walking encyclopædia of every city and country in Europe. As Paul Kendall had been before, Captain Lincoln was now, the favorite of the doctor, and the little party were to see the city together.
The carriage went out at the gate, and passed into Amaliegade. The houses were plain and substantial, without much ornament. They were of brick, but most of them were covered with stucco.
“What’s this?” asked Paul, as the carriage entered an open space, with an equestrian statue in the centre.
“Frederiksplads,” replied the doctor; “and that is the statue of Frederik V., who came to the throne in 1746, and in whose reign this palace was erected.”
The place was an octagon, surrounded on all sides by public buildings.
“This is the residence of the king on the left. On the other side is the palace of the crown prince. There is the foreign office, and on the other side lives the queen dowager.”
“They are not very elegant buildings,” said Captain Lincoln.
“No; there are no very fine buildings in Copenhagen, though the Exchange is a very curious structure,and some are very large and unwieldy. There’s the Casino,” added the doctor.
“What’s a casino?” inquired the captain.
“Here it is a building for dancing, concerts, theatrical performances, and similar amusements in the winter season. Everything is cheap here, and the price of admission to the Casino, where one joins the dance or sees a play, is two or three marks.”
“How much is that? I haven’t looked up the money yet,” said Paul.
“A rigsbank dollar is the unit, worth about fifty-four cents of our money. It is divided into six marks, of nine cents each, and a mark into sixteen skillings, of about half a cent each. When the Italian opera is at the Casino, the prices are only three or four marks. This is Gothersgade,” added Dr. Winstock, as the carriage turned into another street. “In plain English, Gothic street.”
“There’s another equestrian statue,” added Captain Lincoln, pointing to a large, irregular space, surrounded by public buildings.
“The statue of Christian V. This is Kongens, or King’s Square. There are the Academy of Arts, the Royal Theatre, the Guard House, the New Market—none of them very fine, as you can see for yourselves.”
The carriage crossed this square, and came out at a canal, on the other side of which was the vast palace of Christiansborg. A short distance farther brought the party to the Royal Hotel. The carriage stopped at the door in the arch, and the two landlords, the porter, the waiters, and the clerk, half a score strong,turned out to receive its occupants. All of them bowed low, and all of them led the way up stairs. Paul took a parlor and chamber for himself and lady.
“Now, where’s Joseph?” asked Dr. Winstock.
“Who’s Joseph?” inquired the captain.
“He is the guide at this hotel, if he is still living.”
Joseph was sent for, and soon made his appearance. He was an elderly man, with gray hair and whiskers, neatly dressed in black. His manners were very agreeable, and he exhibited a lively zeal to serve the tourists. Mr. Lowington had been courteously waited upon by an officer of the government, who had volunteered to have the various palaces, museums, and other places of interest, opened during the afternoon and the next day. Joseph had procured a two-horse carriage, and the party at the hotel seated themselves in it, with the guide on the box with the driver.
“That’s the Slot,” said Joseph, pointing across the canal.
“The what?” exclaimed Captain Lincoln.
“The Slot, or Palace of Christiansborg.”
“Slot! What a name!”
“But not any worse than the German wordSchloss,” added Joseph, laughing. “Do you speak German, sir?”
“Not much.”
The guide uttered a few sentences in German, evidently for the purpose of demonstrating that he spoke the language.
“The palace is on an island called Slotsholm, and is as big as it is ugly. Shall we go there now?”
“No; we want a general view of the city first,”replied Dr. Winstock. “I think we had better ascend to the top of the Round Tower.”
Joseph gave the order, and the carriage proceeded to the tower. The canal in front of the hotel was filled with small craft, which had brought pottery and various wares from other parts of Denmark, to sell. The goods were arranged on the decks and on the shore of the canal. Near were groups of women, who were selling fish, vegetables, and other articles, around whom was a crowd of purchasers.
“I suppose you have heard of Andersen?” said Joseph to the captain.
“Heard of him! I have read all his books which have been translated into English,” replied Captain Lincoln.
“He has rooms in that building some of the time. Do you see that sign—Melchoir?”
“Yes.”
“This Melchoir is a very dear friend of Andersen, who lives with him a portion of the time.”
“Is it possible to see Hans Christian Andersen?” asked Mrs. Kendall.
“Quite possible, madam. I will see about it to-day. He is a very agreeable man, and willing to meet all who wish to see him,” answered Joseph. “There’s the Town Hall,” he added, as the carriage passed a large building, with an extensive colonnade in front.
“‘Med Lov skal man Land bygge,’” said Lincoln, reading an inscription on the front. “Those are my sentiments exactly.”
“‘With law must the land be built’ is the English of that,” laughed Joseph. “All the Jutland laws beginwith this phrase, which was spoken by Waldemar II. We Danes believe in law, and everything that is good. Copenhagen is a very fine city, and everything is remarkably cheap here.”
“What do you call your city in your own lingo, Joseph?”
“Kjöbenhavn; pronounce it Chép-en-ahn.”
“Chepenahn,” repeated Lincoln.
“Speak it a little quicker, and you will have it right. It was first called simply the Haven; then in Danish, when many merchants carried on business here,Kaupmannahöfn, or merchants’ haven, from which it was shortened intochepenahn. Here is the Round Tower,” added Joseph, as the carriage stopped.
The party alighted and entered the structure, which was the tower of the Church of the Trinity.
“This used to be the watch tower, where men were kept to give the alarm in case of fire; but the observatory has been moved to the tower of St. Nicholas, and now we have a telegraphic fire alarm. Won’t you walk up to the top of this tower, where you can have a fine view of the whole city? The ascent is very easy,” continued Joseph.
There were no stairs, but an inclined plane, gradual in its rise, permitted the tourists to ascend to the summit with very little labor.
“We might have driven up in the carriage,” said Captain Lincoln.
“There would be no difficulty at all in doing so. In fact, Peter the Great, when he was in Copenhagen, in 1716, drove to the top with the Empress Catharine, in a coach and four.”
“Is that so?” asked the captain.
“I can’t remember so far back myself,” chuckled Joseph, “for I’m not much over a hundred years old; but everybody says it is true, and I see no reason to doubt the story. Peter the Great liked to do strange things, and you can see for yourself that a carriage would run very well here.”
“If he went up with a coach and four, of course he must have come down, unless the carriage and horses are up there now. How did he turn his team?”
“It is easier to ask some questions than to answer them,” replied Joseph. “History does not say that he drove down, only that he drove up.”
“Perhaps he backed down, which kings and emperors are sometimes obliged to do, as well as common people,” suggested Paul Kendall.
“Very likely he did; I don’t see any other way for the team to descend,” added Joseph. “This tower was begun in 1639.”
At the top of the structure the travellers took a general survey of the city, and then proceeded to examine it in detail.
“Do you remember the latitude of Copenhagen, Captain Lincoln?” asked Dr. Winstock.
“About fifty-five and a half.”
“The same as the middle of Labrador. Quebec is about forty-seven, and this is a long way farther north. What is the population of this city, Joseph?” asked the doctor.
“One hundred and eighty-one thousand,” replied the guide, giving the census of 1870. “Formerly the city was a walled town, with ramparts and moats. Itwas built partly on Seeland, and partly on the small island of Amager. The channel between them is the harbor. You can see where the old line of fortifications was. The old town lies nearest to the sea, but the city is now spreading rapidly out into the country.”
“What is that broad sheet of water, with two bridges over it?” asked Lincoln, pointing to the land side.
“That is the reservoir. Formerly the water in the city was bad, but now it has an excellent system of water-works. The water comes in from the country, and is pumped up by steam before it is distributed. Beyond that, for miles, the country is covered with beautiful villas and country residences. You must ride out there, for the environs of Copenhagen are as fine as anything in Europe.”
“You are right, Joseph,” added the doctor. “Some parts of the city are not unlike Holland, you see. The Slotsholm canal gives that part of the town a decidedly Dutch look.”
“The part on Amager, called Christianshavn, is all cut up by canals,” added the guide.
“Now, we will take a ride around the city,” said Paul Kendall.
The party descended, and having driven through some of the principal streets, and obtained a very good idea of the city, returned to the hotel.
“Now you can dismiss the carriage, and we will go to some of the museums and churches,” suggested Joseph.
“We don’t care to walk far; we will retain the carriage,” replied Paul.
“It will be much cheaper to walk, as you have topay four marks an hour for the carriage,” pleaded the economical guide. “Thorwaldsen’s Museum and the Northern Antiquities are only a few steps from here.”
“Very well; we will walk, then, if you insist upon it,” laughed Paul.
“I thought these guides made you spend as much money as possible,” said Captain Lincoln to the surgeon.
“I never found it so. I think they are a very useful class of men. They charge here about two rigsdalers a day, and I remember that Joseph would not let me throw away a single mark. They know the prices for carriages and everything else, and it is for their interest not to let any one cheat their employers. Perhaps it is not well to make purchases with them, for they compel the merchant to pay them a commission, which increases the price charged for the articles. But I think, in many places, I have done better with acommissionnairethan without one, in making purchases.”
Joseph led the way across the bridge to Slotsholm, which was nearly covered by the immense palace of Christiansborg and its dependencies. The first building was Thorwaldsen’s Museum, the outer walls of which were covered with an Etruscan fresco of the arrival and debarkation of the great sculptor and his goods, mostly works of art. The figures are about life size, and the situation in which the pictures are placed is novel and quaint. The work was done by inlaying cement of different colors in the wall. Joseph described the various scenes. Thorwaldsen is still held in the highest regard and veneration by all Denmark,and especially by all Copenhagen; indeed, he seems to be the great genius of the country. He was born in 1770, near the city. His father was an Icelander, and a carver in wood—a calling in which the son assisted him when he was only a dozen years old. At seventeen he received the prize of a silver medal from the Academy of Arts, and at twenty-three the grand prize, which carried with it a royal pension, that enabled him to go abroad for the study of his art. He went to Rome in 1796, where he had but little success, and was reduced almost to despair, when his model of Jason and the Golden Fleece attracted the attention of an English gentleman, who commissioned him to complete the work in marble. This event was the dawn of success, and orders continued to pour in upon him from the rich and the powerful, including kings and emperors, until his fortune was made. His works adorn many of the great cities of Europe, and Canova was his only actual rival. His fame extended to every nation, and a visit to his native land in 1819 was a triumphal progress through Italy and Germany. In 1838 he returned to Copenhagen, to pass the remainder of his days, in a frigate sent to Italy for his use by the Danish government. On one side of his museum are depicted his arrival in this ship, and his reception by the citizens; and on the other side, the conveyance of his works from the ship to their final destination. Thorwaldsen went to Rome again on a visit for his health, and died in Copenhagen in 1844. He was a modest, generous, and amiable man. The museum was erected by subscription, though the sculptor gave a fourth part of the sum necessary for its erection, andin his will bequeathed to it the works of art from his cunning brain, of which its contents are almost entirely composed. His biography has been written by Hans Christian Andersen.
After examining the frescoes on the outer wall, the party entered the building. It is an oblong structure, with a court-yard in the middle. It is two stories in height, with connected rooms extending entirely around it. The works of art, and memorials of the sculptor, are classified in these apartments, forty-two in number.
“That is the grave of Thorwaldsen,” said Joseph, leading the way into the court-yard. “His body lies there, surrounded by his works, as he requested.”
The grave is an oblong enclosure of polished granite, raised a few inches above the ground, and covered over with ivy. At the foot of it is a black cross, with the date of his death inscribed upon it.
The tourists walked through the various rooms, and examined the works of the immortal genius, most of which were in plaster, being the models of all his great achievements set up in marble in various parts of Europe. His pictures, his library, his collections of coins, vases, and antiquities, are placed in the museum. One room is fitted up with his furniture, precisely as he used it, and various interesting mementos of the man are to be seen there. Among the pictures are some mere daubs, which are preserved only because they belonged to Thorwaldsen; but they have an interest as an illustration of the benevolent character of the great sculptor, who ordered many of them merely to save the artists from starvation.
“Did you ever see Thorwaldsen?” asked Lincoln,as Joseph conducted his charge from the building.
“Often,” replied the guide. “He was a venerable-looking old man, with long, white hair. He made a statue of himself, which is very like him. He died suddenly in the theatre, and the king and royal family followed his remains to the church.”
The Museum of Northern Antiquities was in the old palace of a prince, on the other side of the canal. On the front of the building were some quaint carvings, which gave it a picturesque appearance. Joseph seemed to be in his element at this museum. He spoke glibly and learnedly of “the stone age,” “the bronze age,” and “the iron age,” each designated by the material of which the implements used for domestic purposes, in war and agriculture, were composed. Numberless utensils of all kinds are contained in the cabinets, classified with rare skill, and arranged with excellent taste. All these objects were found below ground, in various parts of Scandinavia. In Denmark the law requires that all antiquities of metal shall belong to the government, which, however, pays the full value of the articles to the finder. In 1847 a pair of solid gold bracelets, very heavy, and elegantly wrought, were dug up from the earth, and added to this collection. There is a great variety of ornaments, in gold and silver, consisting of necklaces, rings, bracelets, and similar trinkets. One necklace contains three pounds of pure gold.
There are plenty of knives, arrow-heads, hatchets, hammers, chisels, and other implements, skilfully made of stone. Runic writings, the most valuable in theworld, are collected here. Joseph said that certain long pieces of wood, with signs carved upon them, were Icelandic Calendars. The remains of a warrior, who had fought and died in the ancient time, with the iron mail of his day, were examined with interest, as were also a number of altars, coffers containing relics, and some gold crosses, one of which is said to contain a splinter from the true cross, which were exhibited as specimens of the Catholic form of worship in remote times.
Recrossing the bridge over the canal, the party entered the great, barn-like palace of Christiansborg. It consists of several connected buildings, containing a theatre, riding-school, stables, coach-houses, bake-house, and the usual royal apartments. In 1168 a castle was erected on this spot, as a protection against pirates, which was repeatedly demolished, rebuilt, altered, and enlarged, till it was levelled to the ground in 1732, and a new palace erected, but was destroyed by fire in 1784. It was rebuilt, in its present cumbrous proportions, in 1828. The visitors entered the large court-yard, passed through the picture gallery, the “Hall of the Knights,” the throne-room, looked into the riding-school,—which is a large, oblong room, with an earth floor, where the royal family may practise equestrianism,—the arsenal, the legislative chambers, and other rooms, none of which were very striking to those who had visited the palaces of Paris, London, Berlin, and St. Petersburg.
In front of the palace is a beautiful green, beyond which is the Exchange, or Börsen, built by Christian IV. It is the most picturesque edifice in the city,though the interior is entirely commonplace. It is long and very narrow, and ornamented with a vast number of figures cut in the stone, with elegantly-wrought portals at the entrances. But the spire is the most remarkable portion of the building, and consists of four dragons, the heads at the apex looking towards the four points of the compass.
From the Exchange the party walked to the Fruekirke, or Church of our Lady, which is interesting only on account of the works of Thorwaldsen which it contains. Behind the altar is the majestic and beautiful statue of Christ, which stretches out its wounded hands, as if he were saying, “Come unto me, ye that labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.” On each side of the church are the figures of the twelve apostles, placed against the walls at equal distances, so as to include the whole extent. In the middle of the choir, in front of the altar, is the figure of an angel, holding a baptismal font, in the shape of a shell, which some call Thorwaldsen’s masterpiece. In the sacristy of the church are several other works of the great sculptor, who was first interred in this place, before the museum was ready to receive his remains.
Mrs. Kendall declared she had seen enough for one day, for sight-seeing is the hardest work one can do when it is overdone. After supper, when the lady was rested, she consented to visit Tivoli, where the students were to spend the evening. This celebrated resort of the Copenhageners is situated just outside of the old walls of the city, near the arm of the sea which divides Amager from Seeland. One of the two horse-railways,which the people in Europe generally persist in calling “tramways,” extends through the city, passing the gates of this garden. Several of the officers and seamen of the ship came by the cars, which hardly differ from those in use in the principal cities of the United States; but all of them have accommodations for passengers on the top.
Captain Lincoln—who had been on board of the ship since he left the party with whom he had spent the afternoon—and Norwood were passengers in a car; but though they could not speak a word of Norsk, they were not disturbed by the situation. Presently the conductor presented himself, which caused a general sounding of pockets among the occupants of the car. He had a tin box, suspended by a strap, which passed around his neck, to contain the money he received. In his hand he held a compact little roll of yellow paper, an inch and a half in width, across which was printed a succession of little tickets, each with a number. The fare was four skillings, or two and one fourth cents, and, as each person paid, the conductor handed him one of these papers, torn from the roll. Captain Lincoln gave him a piece of money, and held up two fingers, pointing to his companion at the same time, to indicate that he paid for both. The man gave him his change, and two of the yellow tickets.
Kjobenhavns Sporvei 4 Skilling 904
“What are these for?” asked Lincoln, glancing at the little papers.
“They are tickets, of course,” replied Norwood.
“I don’t think so,” added the captain. “All the people seem to throw them away, and the floor of the car is covered with them.”
“O, I know now what they are!” exclaimed Norwood. “I have heard of such things.”
“I never did.”
“I suppose you know what ‘knocking down’ means—don’t you?” laughed the second lieutenant.
“It means stealing.”
“Precisely so. It is said that conductors and omnibus drivers at home ‘knock down’ a good deal, which is the technical name for taking a portion of the fares. They use ‘spotters’ in our country to keep the conductors and drivers honest.”
“Spotters?”
“Yes, that’s the name of them. They are men and women, whom the conductors cannot distinguish from other passengers, employed by the railway companies to ride in the cars, and report the number of passengers on certain trips, so that the agents can tell whether the fares are all paid over. These tickets are used for the same purpose.”
“I don’t see what good they do. They certainly can’t keep the men honest, for almost everybody throws away his ticket.”
“They are called control-marks,” said a gentleman next to the captain, who had been listening with interest to the conversation, and who spoke good English. “The man has to tear one of them off every time a passenger pays him.”
“They are all numbered, I see; mine is nine hundred and four,” added Lincoln.
“When the man gives up this roll at night, the next number will show how many he has torn off. If he began at No. 200 this morning, he has taken seven hundred and four fares.”
“But he might neglect to tear off fifty or a hundred in the course of a day,” suggested Lincoln, “and put the money for them in his pocket.”
“If he does so, everybody is watching him, and anybody may report him to the agent. I am a share-owner of the company, and for aught the conductor knows, there may be one in every car. If the man neglects his duty, my interest would prompt me to look after him.”
“I see; thank you, sir.”
“Here is Tivoli,” added the gentleman. “I suppose you are going there.”
“Yes, sir.”
“It is a fine garden, and very cheap.”
The young officers left the car, and bought tickets at the gate, for which they paid one mark, or nine cents, each. Near the entrance they found a man selling programmes of the evening’s entertainment, at two skillings each. Captain Lincoln bought one, for he carefully preserved every handbill, ticket, or programme for future reference. He could read a little of it. The performances were varied, and covered the time from six o’clock till midnight. But the young officers preferred to take a general view of the premises. It was an extensive garden, prettily and tastefully laid out, with accommodations for concerts, circus, and theatrical performances. In the centre was a “beer garden,” with table and seats, for littleparties, who drank their beer and chatted, while a band played in a kiosk. Near it was a bazaar, where all kinds of fancy articles were arranged for sale, with the attendant raffles and lotteries. Farther removed from the centre was a theatre, consisting, however, of only the stage, the audience seating themselves in the open air. The performance, from six to seven, as the captain read in his programme, was
R1. 6.Entrée gymnastiqueBrodrene Hermann
Or, in plain English, a gymnastic exhibition by the brothers Hermann.
In the circus there was a performance at half past seven, such as one sees in the United States, and “Hr. Wallet” was clown. At half past nine o’clock, another exhibition was given in an enclosed building, to which an extra admission fee was charged. At the theatre, dancing by some “celebrated sisters” was in progress at nine o’clock. A Russian mountain was in operation during the whole evening. It was a railroad down one inclined plane, and up another, and back over the same track, a ride costing a few skillings. The concert was continued at intervals during the entire evening. The “café chantant” was in full blast after nine o’clock, in two places, one of which was a small hall, with a bar, and the other the interior of a Swiss cottage, with a gallery surrounding it. In each of these were tables, where the audience seated themselves, and drank brandy, wine, beer, and milder beverages. The singers, who are all females, stood upon a stage, and were accompanied by a piano. After one or two songs had been sung, one of thesingers passed around among the audience with a plate to receive their contributions, each person generally giving a small copper coin. This order was continually repeated, and the money thus received is the only salary of the performers, whose singing is villanously vile, and whose character is worse than their singing. A canal, extending from the sea, comes up to Tivoli, and passes around an island. Boats are to let here; and, indeed, there is no end to the variety of amusements, and “all for nine cents,” as Joseph had said half a dozen times during the afternoon to his party, and a dozen times more during the evening. At half past ten the students returned to the squadron, for by that time they had seen all they desired.
AN EXCURSION TO KLAMPENBORG AND ELSINORE.
Peaks sat near the brig and read his book, which he had procured from the librarian in anticipation of a dull and heavy afternoon. Clyde sat in his cage, watching the boatswain. The book was evidently a very interesting one, for the reader hardly raised his eyes from it for a full hour, and then only to bestow a single glance upon the occupant of the ship’s prison. The volume was Peter Simple, and the boatswain relished the adventures of the hero. Once in a while his stalwart frame was shaken by an earthquake of laughter, for he had a certain sense of dignity which did not permit him to laugh outright all alone by himself, and so the shock was diffused through all his members, and his body quaked like that of a man in the incipient throes of a fever and ague fit. The magnanimous conduct of O’Brien, who flogged Peter for seasickness, simply because he loved him, proved to be almost too much for the settled plan of the boatswain, and it was with the utmost difficulty that he restrained an outbreak of laughter.
For a full quarter of an hour Clyde convinced himself that he was entirely satisfied with the situation. The brig was not a bad place, or, at least, it wouldnot be, if the boatswain would only leave the steerage and allow the prisoner to be by himself. He wished very much to try the carpenter’s saw upon the slats of his prison. At the end of the second quarter of an hour, the Briton was slightly nervous; the close of the third found him rather impatient, and at the expiration of an hour, he was decidedly provoked with Peaks for staying where he was so long. When the stout sentinel glanced at him, he flattered himself with a transitory hope; but the boatswain only changed his position slightly, and still appeared to be as deeply absorbed as ever in the book.
Clyde was disgusted, and emphatically angry at the end of another half hour. The brig was a vile place, and putting a free-born Briton into such a den was the greatest indignity which had yet been offered to him. It was even worse than ordering him to be silent, or to go forward. It was an insult which required both redress and vengeance. He rose from his seat, and walked to the door of his prison, but with his gaze still fixed upon his jailer. He had come to the conclusion that, if he moved, Peaks would, at least, look at him; but that worthy did not raise his eyes from his book. Clyde took hold of the barred door and began to shake it, making considerable noise by the act. Peaks took no notice whatever of him, and it seemed just as though the boatswain intended to insult him by thus disregarding him. He shook the door again with more violence, but did not succeed in attracting the attention of his custodian. Then he began to kick the door. Making a run of the length of the brig, he threw himself against it with all theforce he could, hoping to break it down; but he might as well have butted against the side of the ship. It yielded a little, and rattled a great deal; but it was too strong to be knocked down in any such manner.
The prisoner was boiling over with wrath, as much because Peaks did not notice him, as on account of the indignity of his confinement. He kicked, wrenched, and twisted at the door, till he had nearly exhausted his own strength, apparently without affecting that of the door. The boatswain still read, and still shook with suppressed laughter at the funny blunders and situations of Peter Simple. He had seen just such fellows as Clyde in the brig; had seen them behave just as the present prisoner did; and he had learned that it was better to let them have their own way till they were satisfied, for boys are always better satisfied when they solve such problems for themselves.
“I’m not going to stay in this place!” howled Clyde, when he had wasted all his powers upon the obstinate door.
“No?”
The boatswain happened to be at the end of a chapter in his book, and he closed the volume, uttering only the single negative participle, with the interrogative inflection, as he glanced at his charge in the brig.
“No, I’m not!” roared Clyde, rousing from his seat, upon which he had dropped in sheer exhaustion, and throwing himself desperately against the unyielding door. “I won’t stay in here any longer!”
“Well, now, I thought you would,” added Peaks, with the most provoking calmness.
“I won’t!”
“But it seems to me that you do stay there.”
“I won’t any longer.”
“Well?”
“I’ll send for the British minister.”
“Do.”
“I won’t stand it any longer.”
“Sit down, then.”
Clyde dashed himself against the door again with all the remaining force he had; but the boatswain, apparently unmoved, opened his book again. It was terribly lacerating to the feelings of the Briton to be so coolly disregarded and ignored. Clyde had the saw, but he had sense enough left to know that any attempt to use it would attract the attention of his jailer, and end in the loss of the implement, with which he could remove a couple of the slats when left alone, or when all hands were asleep at night. Finding that violence accomplished nothing, he seated himself on his stool,—which, however, was far from being the stool of repentance,—and considered the situation more calmly. He was in a profuse perspiration from the energy of his useless exertions. Perhaps he was conscious that he had made a fool of himself, and that his violence was as impolitic as it was useless. In a few moments he was as quiet as a lamb, and remained so for half an hour, though his bondage was no less galling than before.
“Mr. Peaks,” said he, in the gentlest of tones.
“Well, my lad, what shall I do for you?” replied the boatswain, closing his book, and going to the door of the brig.
“I’m very thirsty, and want a glass of water. Will you give me one?”
“Certainly, my boy.”
The boatswain passed a mug of water through the bars, and Clyde drank as though he was really thirsty.
“You have worked hard, and it makes you dry,” said Peaks. “You can keep a mug of water in the brig if you like.”
“I will,” replied Clyde, as he placed the mug on the deck, after the boatswain had filled it. “Can’t you let me out, Mr. Peaks?”
“Certainly I can.”
“You will—won’t you?”
“With all my heart.”
“Do, if you please.”
“On certain conditions, you know.”
“What conditions?”
“That you won’t attempt to run away. But, my lad, it is only a few hours since you said the brig was a very nice place, and you would grow gray in it before you would promise not to leave when you got a good chance.”
“I hadn’t tried it, then. But I think it is an insult to a fellow to put him in here. I would rather be flogged outright.”
“We don’t flog the boys.”
“I would rather take a flogging, and have it done with.”
“That’s one of the reasons why we don’t do it. We don’t want to have it done with till the boy means to do about right. You are a smart boy, my lad; but you have got a heap of bad blood in your veins, whichought to be worked off. If you would only do your duty like a man, you would be comfortable and happy.”
“I never can stay in this ship.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t understand the duty.”
“You will soon learn all the ropes in the ship, and they will all come as handy to you as the key of your own watch.”
Clyde pulled out his watch, and glanced at the boatswain.
“That’s a nice time-keeper you have, my lad; gold, I suppose.”
“Yes; it cost thirty pounds. Wouldn’t you like it?”
“I?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I have a pretty good silver one, which answers my purpose very well,” replied Peaks, smiling.
“I’ll give it to you, if you will let me out, and permit me to go on shore,” added Clyde, in an insinuating tone.
“Thank you, my lad, I don’t want it bad enough to do that.”
“You can sell it, you know. Or I will give you thirty pounds in cash, if you prefer.”
“I can’t afford to do it for that,” laughed the boatswain.
“I’ll give you fifty pounds then,” persisted Clyde.
“Can’t afford to do it for that, either.”
“Say sixty, then.”
“Say a hundred, if you like, my lad; and then say a thousand. I can’t afford to do it for all the moneyyour mother is worth. You are on the wrong tack, my lad. I can’t be bought at any price.”
“I won’t ask you to let me out. If you will only go on deck, and keep out of the way, I will manage it all myself.”
“No, no; sheer off, my hearty. When I have a duty to do, I always mean to do it; and if it isn’t done, it isn’t my fault. You can’t leave the ship with my consent.”
“I can’t stay here, I say. I should die in a month.”
“Very well, die like a man, then,” said Peaks, good-naturedly; for, though he could not be bought at any price, he did not indulge in any righteous indignation against his victim. “Learn your duty, and then do it. There is plenty of fun going on in the ship, and you will enjoy yourself as soon as you get on the right tack. That’s the up and down of the whole matter.”
“I can’t take off my cap to these young squirts of officers, and be ordered around by them. It isn’t in an Englishman to do anything of the sort.”
“Upon my word, I think it is in them. They make first-rate sailors, and always obey their officers.”
“Common sailors do; but I’m a gentleman.”
“So am I; but I always obey orders,” replied the democratic Peaks, warmly. “The officers of this ship are required to behave like gentlemen, and give their orders in a gentlemanly manner. If they don’t do it, they are liable to be reduced. Do your duty, and you may be an officer yourself.”
Peaks continued for some time to give the prisoner good advice, assuring him that he was no better thanthe rest of the crew, and that it would not hurt him any more than others to obey the orders of the officers. But it was sowing seed in stony ground, and Clyde, finding he could make nothing out of the honest boatswain, decided to await his time with what patience he could command, which, however, was not much. Peaks was permitted to follow Peter Simple in his stirring career during the rest of the afternoon. The crew returned from Tivoli at eleven in the evening, and soon the ship was quiet, with only an anchor watch, consisting of an officer on the quarter-deck, and two seamen on the forecastle.
Clyde’s supper was given to him in his prison, and a bed made up for his use. He kept awake till all the students came on board, and while he was waiting for the crew to slumber, he dropped asleep himself, and did not wake till all hands were called in the morning. He was vexed with himself for his neglect, and afraid that the carpenter would miss the saw, and remember where he had left it. He was determined to keep awake the next night, and make his escape, even if he was obliged to swim to the land.
After breakfast, all the students went on shore for an excursion to Klampenborg and Elsinore. In the custom-house enclosure, a procession of four in a rank was formed, to march to the railroad station, which was near the Tivoli Garden. The students were generally rather fond of processions, not at home, but in the streets of foreign cities. The parade was quite imposing, when every officer and seaman wore his best uniform. They had been carefully taught to march, and Professor Badois had organized a band ofeight pieces, which performed a few tunes very well. Unfortunately, on the present occasion, the band was not available, for Stockwell, the cornet player, and Boyden, the bass drummer, belonged to the absent crew of the second cutter, and the procession moved to the sterling notes of the drum and fife.
On parades of this kind, the first and second pursers acted as the fleet staff of the commodore, who would otherwise have been “alone in his glory,” and these two useful officers seemed like “odds and ends” in any other position. As this procession was frequently formed, and marched through the streets of various cities, the order is given to satisfy the reasonable curiosity of the reader.
Music.The Commodore,And Staff of the Fleet.The Captain of the Young America.The Four Masters.The Four Midshipmen.The First Lieutenant.The First Part of the Starboard Watch,Consisting of Eighteen Seamen.The Second Lieutenant.The Second Part of the Starboard Watch.The Third Lieutenant.The First Part of the Port Watch.The Fourth Lieutenant.The Second Part of the Port Watch.The Captain of the Josephine.The Four Masters.The First Lieutenant.The First Part of the Starboard Watch,Consisting of Eight Seamen.The Second Lieutenant.The Second Part of the Starboard Watch.The Third Lieutenant.The First Part of the Port Watch.The Fourth Lieutenant.The Second Part of the Port Watch.The Captain of the Tritonia.The Four Masters.The First Lieutenant.The First Part of the Starboard Watch,Consisting of Eight Seamen.The Second Lieutenant.The Second Part of the Starboard Watch.The Third Lieutenant.The First Part of the Port Watch.The Fourth Lieutenant.The Second Part of the Port Watch.
Sometimes the order was varied by placing all the officers at the head of the procession, except the lieutenants in command of sections, as,—
The Commodore and Staff.The three Captains.Three ranks of Masters.One rank of Midshipmen.
But keeping all the officers and seamen of each vessel together, as in the first order, was generally preferred. Of course the ranks were not always full, as on the present occasion; but even when the full band was atthe head of the column, there were enough for four full ranks in each half-watch of the ship, and two ranks in those of the other vessels. The students had practised so much that they marched exceedingly well, and being aligned according to their height, the effect was very fine. The Copenhageners left their occupations, and hastened to the doors and windows of their houses and shops to see the procession; and even the king and royal family were spectators at the palace windows, as the column moved through Frederiksplads. As it passed the Royal Hotel, Mr. and Mrs. Kendall, with Dr. Winstock and Joseph, were entering a carriage, in which they intended to ride to Klampenborg, in order to see more of the country. At the railroad station, the officers and seamen took seats in the third-class carriages, which were two stories high, the upper as well as the lower one having a roof. The distance to Klampenborg is eight and a half English miles, and the fare is sixteen skillings, or nine cents, third class; twenty-four skillings, or thirteen and a half cents, second class; and thirty-two skillings, or eighteen cents, first class. The third-class compartments are clean and neat, but there are no cushions on the seats. An aisle extends through the middle of them, but the seats are placed in pairs, on each side, so that half the passengers are compelled to ride backwards. In about half an hour the train arrived at Klampenborg.
Paul Kendall’s party drove first to the summer residence of Mr. Melchoir, which was in the suburbs of the city, near the sea-shore. The house was a very pretty one, with a neat garden, not unlike the littlecountry places one sees in the vicinity of the large cities of the United States. Joseph rang the bell, and stated the errand of the party to the servant. They were shown up one flight of stairs, where the girl knocked at the door, which was immediately opened by Hans Christian Andersen, and the tourists were ushered into a plainly-furnished room, with a few engravings on the walls. On a table were the writing-materials of the great author, and Paul looked with interest at the little pile of letter sheets, closely written over, and the unfinished one, on which the ink was not yet dry.
Mr. Andersen’s face was covered with a smile as he greeted the party. Dr. Winstock had met him before, and stated the fact.
“O, I’m very glad to see you again,” said the author, grasping the doctor’s hand with both of his own.
“My young friend here, and his lady, have both read all your books, and desired to see you even more than to look upon the beautiful works of your great sculptor.”
“Ah, you are very kind,” added Mr. Andersen, again grasping the doctor’s hand with both of his own.
Then, darting nervously to Paul, he seized his hand in the same manner.
“This is Captain Paul Kendall, commander of the yacht Grace,” added Dr. Winstock.
“I am so pleased to see you!” said Mr. Andersen.
“I have read all your books with the most intense pleasure.”
“O, you are too kind, Captain Kendall,” replied thegenial author, smiling all over his face, and once more grasping his hand as before.
“Mrs. Kendall,” added Paul, presenting Grace.
“I am so pleased to see you! You are very kind to take so much trouble to visit me.”
“Indeed, sir, you are very kind to permit us to trouble you, when you are so busy,” continued Paul.
“O, I have plenty of time to see my good friends.”
“In America we love your books, and they are in all our libraries and most of our houses.”
“You are so kind to speak so pleasantly of my works!” replied Mr. Andersen, grasping Paul’s hand again.
“We value them very highly.”
The conversation continued for a few moments, in which Paul and the doctor expressed the high appreciation of the reading public of the great writer’s works. At least a dozen times more he grasped the hand of the speaker with both his. Mr. Andersen is a tall gentleman, with a thin face,—the features of which are far from handsome,—and iron-gray hair. His countenance is always covered with smiles when he speaks, and his whole manner is child-like and simple. He is full of the love of God and of man, which seems to shine out in his face, and to be the interpretation of his ever-present smile. His dress was scrupulously neat and nice in every detail.
The doctor told him about the Academy squadron, of which he had read a brief notice in the newspapers, and invited him to visit the ship, which he promised to do, on the following day. The party took their leave of him, and continued on the way to Klampenborg.The road was on the margin of the sea, and was lined with small country houses, with pleasant gardens. It was a lovely region, with an occasional large villa, and even a summer palace or two. All along this road, called the Strandway, are small and large houses of entertainment, on the sea-side, each one of which has a bathing establishment on a very small and simple scale.
“Here is Charlottelund Castle, in this park,” said Joseph, as they passed what seemed to be merely a grove, with a rather dilapidated fence.
“It was formerly the country-seat of the Landgrave of Hesse, I believe,” added Dr. Winstock.
“Yes, sir; but it is now the summer residence of the crown prince. He comes out here in June.”
“These carriages are called ‘privateers,’” continued the guide, pointing to several vehicles like a small omnibus with no top. “They formerly went by the name of ‘coffee-mills,’ because they made a noise like those machines.”
Constantia Tea-Garden, where the Copenhageners go to spend the evening in hot weather, and several fishing villages, were passed, and then the carriage reached the Deer Park, where the students had already arrived, which is a very extensive enclosure, with a few roads extending through it. A portion of it is covered with groves, and it contains about a thousand deer, which are quite tame, and may be seen grazing in herds on the gentle slopes. There is nothing very attractive in the park, though it is much frequented by the people from the city. Neither the roads nor the grounds are well kept, and the government “turns anhonest penny” by the letting of it out for the pasturage of horses. On some rising ground, which Denmarkers call a hill, is a large, square, barn-like building, known as the “Hermitage,” which was built by Christian VI. for a hunting lodge. This park and that at Charlottelund contain thousands of acres of excellent land, which is almost useless, and which the government cannot afford to keep in condition as pleasure-grounds. They would make thousands of farms, and thus increase the productive industry and the revenues of the nation, if they could be cut up and sold. Royalty is an expensive luxury, which a small kingdom like Denmark cannot afford to support.
Near the entrance to the park is the garden proper of Klampenborg, where music is provided on summer evenings, and refreshments sold. What is called a Norwegian house is erected in the middle of the grounds, which contains a bar and private rooms, and is surrounded by tables and chairs, where the pleasure-seekers may sit and enjoy their beer and the music. A small fee for admission is paid at the gate, where the ticket-seller is kept honest by the aid of the “control-mark.” Near this garden is a hotel built for a water-cure establishment, though it is now mainly used as a summer boarding-house. Close by it is a village of small cottages, devoted to the same use, with concert-rooms and bathing-houses in abundance. This place is a favorite resort of the Copenhageners in summer,—in fact, their Newport or Long Branch. For a couple of hours the students wandered through the park and gardens. The railroad station is very near the entrance, where, indeed, the whole beauty of the place is concentrated.
The railway to Klampenborg is a branch of the one which extends from Copenhagen to Elsinore, and in another hour the entire party were transported to the latter place. This town has nine or ten thousand inhabitants, and is located on a basin of the Sound, nearly land-locked by natural and artificial dikes. The Danish name of the place is Helsingör, and is the scene of Shakespeare’s tragedy of Hamlet. The excursionists visited the cathedral, which is the principal object of interest in Elsinore, and contains several very old tombs. Near the town, and on the shore of the Sound, is the Castle of Kronberg, erected in 1580. It is a large, oblong, Gothic structure, built of a whitish stone. It contains a chapel and other apartments. Those occupied by the commandant were the prison of Caroline Matilda, who was confined here for a high crime, of which she is now universally believed to be innocent.
Under the castle are casemates for a thousand men, one of which is said to be the abode ofHolger Danske, who was the Cid Campeador of Denmark, and the hero of a thousand legends. When the state is in peril, he is supposed to march at the head of the armies, but never shows himself at any other time. A farmer, says the story, happened into his gloomy retreat by accident, and found him seated at a stone table, to which his long white beard had grown. The mystic hero demanded the hand of his visitor, who was afraid to trust flesh and blood in the grasp of one so mighty, and offered the iron bar used to fasten the door. Holger Danske seized it, and squeezed it so hard that he left the print of his fingers on the iron.
“Ha, I see there are stillmenin Denmark!” said he, with a grim smile of satisfaction.
Near the castle are a couple of natural ponds, small and round, which are called “Holger Danske’s Spectacles.”
“This is where Hamlet lived, I suppose,” said Captain Lincoln.
“Where Shakespeare says he lived,” replied Dr. Winstock.
“But I was told his grave was here.”
“Perhaps Hamlet divided himself up, and occupied a dozen graves, for I think you may find a dozen of them here,” laughed the doctor. “A resident of this vicinity had what was called the grave of Hamlet in his grounds, which proved to be a nuisance to him, on account of the great number of visitors who came to see it. In order to relieve himself of this injury to his garden, he got up another ‘grave of Hamlet,’ in another place, which he proved to be the authentic one.”
“It is too bad to trifle with history in that manner,” protested the captain.
“There is no history about it, Lincoln. His residence in this part of Denmark is all a fiction. Shakespeare makes terrible blunders in his allusions to this place; for there is no ‘eastern hill,’ no ‘dreadful summit of the cliff,’ or anything of the sort. Hamlet lived in Jutland, not in Seeland, about four centuries before Christ, and was the son of a pirate chief, instead of a king, who, with his brother, was governor of the province. He married the daughter of the king, who was Hamlet’s mother. The chief wasmurdered by his brother, who married the widow, and was then the sole governor. Hamlet, in order to avenge his father’s death, feigned madness; but his uncle, suspecting the trick, sent him to England, with a message carved in wood, requesting the king to destroy him. During the voyage, he obtained the wooden letter, and altered it so as to make it ask for the killing of the two men, creatures of his uncle, who had charge of him, which was done on their arrival. According to the style of romances, he married the king’s daughter, and afterwards returned to Jutland, where, still pretending insanity, he contrived to surprise and slay his uncle. He succeeded his victim as governor, and married a second time, to a queen of Scotland, and was finally killed in battle. The main features of the tragedy correspond with the incidents of the story, but the locality is not correct.”
The party walked to Marienlyst, a pleasant watering-place, which contains a small royal chateau. The view from this place, as from the tower of Kronberg, is very beautiful. At four o’clock the party took the steamer, and arrived at Copenhagen before dark.
TO STOCKHOLM BY GÖTA CANAL.
The Wadstena, in which the absentees had taken passage at Gottenburg, was a small steamer, but very well fitted up for one of her size. Forward was the saloon, in which meals were taken, and saloon passengers slept. Aft was the cabin, on each side of which were state-rooms, called “hütte.” They were not made with regular berths, but had a sofa on each side of the door, on which the beds were made up at night, with a wash-stand between them. Between this cabin and the forward saloon the main deck was raised about three feet, so as to cover the engine and boilers. On each side of this higher deck were more “hütte,” which were the best rooms on board. The hurricane-deck, over the after cabin, was the favorite resort of the passengers.
It was two o’clock in the morning, and the independent excursionists were tired and sleepy. They had taken first-class tickets, and two of them had been assigned to each “hütte.” As soon as they went on board, therefore, they retired, and most of them slept, in spite of the fleas and other vermin that revelled in their banquet of blood. None but very tired boys could have slumbered under such unfavorable circumstances,and it is a great pity that a steamer otherwise so neat and comfortable should be given up to the dominion of these sleep-destroying insects.
At seven the party turned out, anxious to see the scenery on the banks of the canal. The steamer was still in the river, a stream not more than a hundred and fifty feet wide, with occasional rapids, which are passed by canals, with locks in them. The scenery was pleasant, with rocky hills on each side. Schooners and other craft were continually met, loaded with lumber and other articles from the lakes. The scene was novel and interesting, and though the boys gaped fearfully, they enjoyed the view.
Presently one of the women, who do all the work of stewards and waiters, appeared with coffee on deck, passing the cups to the passengers first, and then filling them. The coffee was delicious, served with the whitest of sugar and the richest of cream, with some little biscuits. It waked the boys up, and seemed to make new beings of them.
“How’s this, Sanford?” said Scott.
“First rate! That’s the best coffee I ever drank in my life,” replied the coxswain.
“Is it a free blow?”
“I don’t know. How is it, Ole?”
“No; you pay at the end of the trip for all you have had,” replied the waif.
“But who keeps the account?” asked Scott.
“Nobody,” laughed Ole. “On the boats from Christiania every passenger tells what he has had, and pays for it.”
“Do they think everybody is honest?”
“Certainly; everybody is honest.”
“Not much,” added Sanford, shaking his head. “Of course you don’t pretend to be honest, Norway.”
“But I do.”
“You didn’t take a sovereign from me, and another from Burchmore—did you?”
“I take what you give me.”
“It may be honest, but I don’t see it in that light, Norway.”
“Never mind that now, Sanford,” interposed Burchmore. “He sold out the last time for the public good.”
“Do you expect to find the ship in Stockholm when we get there?” asked Scott.
“Of course I do,” replied Sanford. “We shall not get there till Tuesday.”
“Then our cruise is almost ended.”
“I suppose so. I have been trying hard to join the ship ever since we left her at Christiansand,” continued the coxswain, solemnly.
“Over the left,” chuckled Scott.
“Honor bright! I don’t believe in running away.”
“Nor I; but Laybold and I have put our foot into it. I suppose we shall have to spend a week in the brig, and make love to Peaks while the rest of the fellows are seeing Russia.”
“You will find some way to get out of the scrape.”
“I don’t know. We have lost Copenhagen and Denmark already, and I suppose we shall not see much of Russia.”
“We will help you out.”
“I don’t think you can do it,” added Scott, whohad evidently come to the conclusion that running away “did not pay.”
The steamer stopped, and the captain informed the party that passengers usually walked three miles around the series of locks, by which they were enabled to see the Falls of Trollhätten. The carrying of the canal around these falls was the most difficult problem in engineering in the construction of the work. It is cut through the solid rock, and contains sixteen locks. The passage of the steamer occupies an hour and a half, which affords ample time for the voyagers to see the falls. The party immediately landed, and were promptly beset by a dozen ragged boys, who desired to act as guides, where no such persons are needed. Not one of them spoke a word of English; but they led the way to the path, each one selecting his own victims, and trusting to the magnanimity of the passengers for their pay. A walk, covered with saw-dust, has been made by some public-spirited persons, and the excursion is a very pleasant one.
The entire fall of the river is one hundred and twelve feet; but it is made in four principal cataracts, and three smaller ones. The scenery in the vicinity is rather picturesque, and at one point the path goes through a grove, on the banks of a rivulet, where the water dashes over large cobble-stones, with an occasional pretty cascade. The walk leads to various eligible spots for examining the falls and the rapids. On the way, the tourist passesKungsgrottan, or King’s Grotto. It is a hole in the solid rock, in the shape of half a globe, on the sides of which are inscribedthe names of the various sovereigns of Sweden, and other distinguished persons who have visited the spot. Near the village of Trollhätten, which contains several founderies and saw-mills, the finest part of the falls is seen by crossing an iron foot-bridge, at the gate of which stands a woman, who collects a toll of fifty öre for the passage to the little island.
“I don’t think much of these falls,” said Scott, as he returned from the island.
“I think they are rather fine,” replied Laybold.
“You could cut up the rapids of Niagara into about two hundred just such falls, to say nothing of the big cataract itself,” added Scott. “It is pleasant, this walk along the river, but you can’t call the Falls of Trollhätten a big thing.”
“Of course they don’t compare with Niagara.”
“Certainly not.”
The party walked through the yards of the manufactories, and came to a small hotel on the bank of the canal. The place looked very much like many American villages. The canal steamer did not appear for half an hour, and some of the boys strolled about the place. The regiment of ragged boys who had followed the tourists, or led the way, pointing out the various falls and other points of interest in an unknown tongue, begged lustily for the payment for their services. One of them, who had taken Scott and Laybold under his protection, was particularly urgent in his demands.
“Not a red, my hearty,” replied Scott. “I didn’t engage you, and I shall not pay you.”
The boy still held out his hand, and said something which no one of the party could understand.
“Exactly so,” replied Scott. “You told me the names of all the places, but I did not understand a word you said. I say, my lad, when did you escape from the rag-bag?”
The boy uttered a few words in Swedish.
“Is that so?”
The boy spoke again.
“Stick to it, my hearty; but I don’t believe a word of it.”
“What does he say, Scott?”
“He says the moon is made of green cheese. Didn’t you, my lad?”
The boy nodded, and spoke again.
“It is a hard case, Young Sweden; but I can’t do anything for you.”
“What’s a hard case, Scott?” asked Laybold.
“Why, he says he has six fathers and five mothers, and he has to support them all by guiding tourists round the falls.”
“Get out!”
“I am afraid they don’t have roast beef for dinner every day.”
“Here’s the steamer,” added Laybold.
The boy became more importunate as the time came to go on board, but Scott was obstinate.
“Now, out of my way, my lad. Give my regards to your six fathers and five mothers, and I’ll remember you in my will; but I won’t give you a solitary red now, because I don’t like the principle of the thing. I didn’t employ you, and I didn’t want you. I told you so, and shook my head at you, and told you to get behind me, Satan, and all that sort of thing;and now I’m not going to pay you for making a nuisance of yourself. On the naked question of charity, I could do something for you, on account of your numerous fathers and mothers. As it is, good by, Sweden;” and Scott went on board of the steamer.
The boat started again, and soon the bell rang for breakfast. The boys hastened to the forward saloon, where they found two tables spread. At a sideboard was the Swedish lunch, or snack, of herring, sliced salmon, various little fishes, sausage, and similar delicacies, with the universal decanter of “finkel,” flanked with a circle of wine glasses. The tourists partook of the eatables, but most of them were wise enough to avoid the drinkable. The Swedish bread, which is a great brown cracker, about seven inches in diameter, was considered very palatable. Ordinary white bread is served on steamers and at hotels, and also a dark-colored bread, which looks like rye, and is generally too sour for the taste of a foreigner. The breakfast at the tables consisted of fried veal, and fish, with vegetables, and all the elements of the snack. When the boys had finished, one of the women handed Scott a long narrow blank book.