The visit to Svendborg entailed so much to see and explore, that it was not until late in the evening that the yacht was reached. The Pastor was, however, fresher than the evening before, possibly because they had not walked so much, but had driven.

"What we have seen at Svendborg, Herr Pastor, is very pretty," said Mrs. Hardy, "but it differs from an English landscape; and it is only by seeing both that you can realize the contrast."

"That is very possible," replied Pastor Lindal. "The same landscape painted by different artists would make each their impression; how much more, then, would nature, with influences we cannot understand, produce different effects?"

Mrs. Hardy looked as if a fresh field of thought was opened to her, and her son observed his mother's look of surprise.

"I have been often astonished," he said, "to hear from Pastor Lindal and Helga a similar cast of thought that has given me something to think of for long after. I think it is the outcome of a natural singleness of thought we do not often meet."

"I believe you are right, John," said his mother. "But possibly Herr Pastor can tell us a tradition of Svendborg;" and she raised her voice and addressed him.

"There is the tradition of St. Jorgen," he said, "or, as you call it in English, St. George and the dragon. The features of the story, of course, are the same; with us the tradition runs as follows:—There was a temple inhabited by a dragon, who issued from it and laid waste the country. Each day the monster craved a human life, until at last lots were drawn as to who should be the victim, and from this neither the king nor his family were exempt, and the lot fell on his only daughter. The king offered half his kingdom to any one who should destroy the dragon. A knight called Jorgen attempted to do so, by putting poisoned cakes in the dragon's way; but that availed nothing. He then attacked it, and the monster retreated to Svendborg; but it again came forth, and a combat between the knight and the dragon ensued. The dragon was slain, and where its poisonous blood poured out no grass will grow. The combat is said to be delineated on the church bells. It is very probably only an echo of the Greek story of Perseus and Andromeda. You will observe the dragon in our tradition is said to have issued from a temple. We had no temples, the Greeks had.

"There are not many special traditions connected with Svendborg. There is the story of a noble lady who was murdered at Svendborg, but the murderers were men of rank, and the whole town agreed to pay blood-money, and some farms were apportioned to the murdered woman's relatives and a wooden cross set up over her grave; and it was agreed that when the wooden cross fell into decay, whoever first repaired it should possess the farm so apportioned. The consequence was that a wooden cross was always kept ready to repair the original cross. This story has many variations and is differently localized."

"Are there not many proverbs with regard to the weather, or the like, in Denmark?" asked Hardy.

"There are, but they are identical with the English," replied the Pastor. "There are some that may be new; for instance, we say that there is always some sun on a Saturday, that the poor may dry the clothes they wash. The farmers also say that if the priest takes his text from St. Luke in preaching his Sunday's sermon, it is sure to rain. Also, that a southerly wind is like a woman's anger, it always ends in weeping. Of days in the week we say, that if it rains on a Sunday and a Monday it will rain the whole week. Again, we say—

'Sondags Veir til Middag Er Ugens Veir til Fredag.'

'Sunday's weather to midday Is the week's weather to Friday.

There is another of the same character:

'Tirsdag giver Veir til Torsdag, Fredags Veir giver Sondags Veir, Lordag har sit eget Veir, Mandag enten vaerre eller bedre.'

'Tuesday's weather is Thursday's weather, Friday's weather is Sunday's weather, Saturday has its own weather, Monday is either worse or better.

The same, I believe, exists in England," continued the Pastor, "or at least very nearly allied to it."

"It is so," said Hardy.



CHAPTER XXV.

"Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky." The Complete Angler.

The yacht had anchored for the night to the east of Vaeiro, an island and lighthouse. The pilot and steward had gone ashore to purchase fresh milk. The morning was without a breath of wind, and the yacht was motionless.

"What a sense of calm and peace!" said Mrs. Hardy, as she came on deck. "There is not a fish coming to the surface of the still water, or a bird in the air, or a boat visible. It is almost desolation."

"We are out of the track of vessels," said Pastor Lindal, "and there are few fish just here, consequently no sea-birds in pursuit of them."

"You will soon see more life, mother," said Hardy, "From our position we are seventeen knots to Vordingborg, which we shall reach shortly after breakfast. We shall have to take another pilot there, for the difficult channel by Gronsund out to the Baltic, as our present pilot is not allowed to go beyond Vordingborg."

"Your pilots, Herr Pastor," said Mrs. Hardy, "appointed by your Government, appear men well selected for their duty. They are all experienced men and well-conducted. We have been yachting on many shores, but the pilots we have taken in Denmark have been all men that have given me a feeling of confidence."

"There is much employment for pilots on some parts of our coast," said the Pastor, "and the men soon acquire experience."

When they came on deck after breakfast, the yacht was half-way to Vordingborg.

"What is the land on the starboard bow?" asked Mrs. Hardy.

"Falster," replied the Pastor, "and to the south is Laaland. One of the chief towns is Mariebo; it is so called from the special wish of the Virgin, as evidenced by a shining light having been seen there every night. Queen Margrethe bought the site for a church, from the owner, Jens Grim, and the place was called Mariebo. The termination 'bo' is present Danish for an abode or dwelling, as it was supposed the Virgin had been there. 'By' is present Danish for a town. In the church there is the figure of a monk on one of the pillars pointing at another pillar, where it is said a treasure is buried. A Danish antiquary is said to have found in the Vatican a paper stating that when the monks were driven out of Mariebo, they had hid their documents in a pillar of the church. It is not known to me whether any search has been made. The owner of the site, Jens Grim, was attacked by people from Lubeck; they besieged his two fastnesses. They succeeded in taking one of them by a very simple stratagem. Jens Grim had lost his knife, which the Lubeckers found, and took it to the fastness, where they knew he was not, and said they had come to take possession by Jens Grimes order, and produced the knife. They were admitted and took the place."

"What do you propose to do at Vordingborg, John?" asked Mrs. Hardy.

"We are close to it, mother," replied John. "It is likely to be a similar place to Svendborg."

"There is not much to see at Vordingborg. There are the ruins of King Valdemar's castle; the portion most prominent is called the Goose Tower, because the figure of a goose was used as a weathercock," said the Pastor. "If I might suggest, a drive in a carriage in the neighbourhood would, I think, interest you. The scenery is the same type as at Svendborg."

The Pastor's suggestion was followed, and he poured forth much historical learning connected with Vordingborg.

"Is there no legend?" asked Hardy.

"Yes," replied the Pastor; "but it is one common to a great many places. It is this. A giantess wished to remove a tumulus or Kaempehoi from Vordingborg to Moen. She put it in her apron; but there was a hole in it, and the Kaempehoi fell into the sea near the coast, and formed what is called Borreo, or Borre Island. That is the only legend I know, or can recollect at present, particularly attached to Vordingborg. But do you not propose an excursion to Moen's Klint?"

"That we do, as it is different from any other place in Denmark," said Hardy. "The difficulty is, if it should come on to blow hard in the eastern sea, as you call the Baltic, the yacht would have to run back to Gronsund, or go to Copenhagen."

"Then," said the Pastor, "why not leave the yacht at Gronsund? You can get a carriage and a pair of horses to drive through the whole of Moen, about sixteen English miles, and return the same evening to the yacht."

John Hardy laid Mansa's map and the chart before his mother, who assented.

"Where can we get horses?" he asked.

"At Phanefjord, I expect," replied the Pastor. "They could be ordered to be ready at the ferry at six in the morning, and in three hours we could reach Liselumd, from whence Moen's Klint can be explored on foot."

"Is it too much for you, mother?" said Hardy. "It will be a long day; but the next day, weather permitting, we should be under weigh for Copenhagen, and you would have rest."

"It will be a long day, John," replied his mother, "but not too long. I like Pastor Lindal's plan."

"What is the meaning of the name Phanefjord?" asked Hardy. "Is it derived from the Greek?"

"There was a giant called Gronjette, or the Green Giant; he gave his name to the fjord, which is called Gronsund. He was married to a giantess called Phane; hence Phanefjord. They are said to be buried at Harbolle, and their graves are one hundred yards (English) long. He was accustomed to ride through the woods with his head under his left arm, with a spear, and surrounded by hounds. The Bonder always left a sheaf of oats for his horse, so that he should not ride over their freshly sown fields, when the Jette or giant went on his hunting excursions. There is even an epitaph on Gron and Phane:—

'Nu hviler Gron med Phane sin; Som traettede rasken Hjort og Hind. Tak, Bonde, god! den dyre Gud, Nu gaar du tryg af Sundet ud.'

Literally—

'Now rests Gron and his Phane; They followed the quick buck and hind. Thank, peasant, the good God, That now you can safely go through the fjord.'

There is a story of Gron. He halted one night and knocked at a Bonde's door, and told him to hold his hounds by a leash. Gron rode away, and was absent two hours. At length he returned, but across his horse was a mermaid, which he had shot. This was before the time of powder. Gron said to the Bonde, 'I have hunted that mermaid for seven years, and now I have got her.' He then asked for something to drink, and when he was served with it he gave the Bonde some gold money; but it was so hot it burnt through his hand, and the money sunk in the earth. Gron laughed, and said, 'As you have drank with me, you shall have something, so take the leash you have held my hounds with.' Gron rode away, and the Bonde kept the leash, and as long as he did so all things prospered; but at last he thought it was of little value, and threw it away. He then gradually grew poorer and poorer, and died in great poverty."

"A very good legend, and thank you, Herr Pastor," said Mrs. Hardy.

"There is an old ballad," continued the Pastor, "called 'The Pilgrim Stone,' which opens with a mother calling her three daughters to go to the early Catholic church service of the times, and then the water was so shallow between Moen and Falster that they could jump over it. The three daughters were attacked by three robbers and killed by them. They put their bodies in sacks; but they were seized by the father and his men, and then it appeared that the three robbers were brothers to the murdered girls, having been stolen, when they were very young, on their way to school. The two eldest were hung, and the youngest made a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and when he returned he lived a few years at Phanefjord, and was buried where the pilgrim stone marks the place. The ballad is of the simplest character and incomplete; but such is the story. Under different conditions it is recited in other places in Denmark; but it is dramatic in all cases."

"It is indeed dramatic," said Mrs. Hardy. "The stories of giants appear to have had their origin from natural forces, as ice, or the heat of summer, but have been blended with human attributes."

The drive to Moen's Klint from Gronsund was full of interest from Pastor Lindal's knowledge of the past history of so many places.

"There are not so many traditions in the low part of Moen as in Hoie Moen; that is where the cliffs are," said the Pastor. "The cliffs are chalk, with layers of flint, and were supposed to be peopled with Underjordiske or underground people, the chief of whom was called the Klinte Konge, or cliff king. Klint is the Danish word for cliff. His queen is described as being very beautiful, and she resided at the place called Dronningstol, or the queen's throne or chair, and near it was her sceptre, in old times called Dronningspir, but now called Sommerspir. The Klinte Konge was supposed to reside at Kongsberg. He was always at war with another Klinte Konge, at Rygen, and there is an old ballad on the subject. It is said that when Denmark is in danger, the Klinte Konge and his army can be seen ready to resist the invader. There are very many variations of this superstitious story, more or less picturesque."

"Are there any stories of communications between the Underjordiske and mortals?" asked Mr. Hardy.

"There is such a story. A woman called Margrethe Skaelvigs was going to Emelund to borrow a dress of Peer Munk's wife, to be married in, when an old woman met her, and asked where she was going. Margrethe told her. 'When you pass here on Saturday, I will lend you a bridal dress;' and she gave Margrethe a dress of cloth of gold, and told her to return it in eight days; but that if Margrethe saw no one when she brought it back, she might keep the dress. No one appeared, and Margrethe kept the dress."

"The conjecture might be that the dress was given her by her intended husband," said Hardy, "who adopted this method of giving her a dress. I should like to impose on Helga in the same way."

"Don't talk nonsense, John," said Mrs. Hardy, who feared that it might not be agreeable to Pastor Lindal; and, to turn his thoughts in another direction, asked him if there were not other legends of a different type.

"Yes; there is one very commonly repeated," he replied. "A Bonde had twenty pigs ranging through the wood by Moen's Klint. He lost them, and after searching for a whole year, he met Gamle Erik (the devil; literally, Old Erik) riding on a pig and driving nineteen before him, and making a great noise by beating on an old copper kettle. The pigs were all in good case, except the one Gamle Erik rode, which bore traces of bad treatment. The Bonde shouted and called, and Gamle Erik was frightened, and dropped the copper kettle, and let the pigs be pigs. So the Bonde had not only his pigs, but a copper kettle to recollect Gamle Erik by."

Mrs. Hardy was much pleased with the scenery about the cliffs, and the contrast of the dark blue sea against the white chalk, and the varied prospects in the woods.

The drive had been full of interest, and Mrs. Hardy thanked Pastor Lindal for his suggesting it, and the pleasure of hearing his narrations on the very places with which they were connected, and added—

"I shall come again another year, Herr Pastor, on purpose to enjoy your society, if you will act as guide."

"God willing, it will be a pleasure to me," said he; "but these few days have had their effect on me. I appear to see things with a clearer view, that at home have been difficult to me. Travelling develops the mind, and gives it a broader cast of thought. You, who have travelled so much, Mrs. Hardy, appear to have been influenced by the process."

"Thank you for your compliment, Herr Pastor," said Mrs. Hardy. "It is well put."

At eight the following day, the yacht was passing Moen's Klint, at sea, bound for Copenhagen. There was a stiff breeze from the westward, and in passing Praesto Bay the yacht was in a short rough beam sea, that made things very lively to all on board, except possibly the Pastor, as his ears gradually assumed a greenish tint.

John Hardy consulted the pilot, and the yacht was brought up and anchored under Stevn's Klint, in shelter, much to Pastor Lindal's comfort, who appeared at lunch fully recovered from his sea-sickness.

"Praesto," said he, "is so called after a priest called Anders; he was a monk at the time of the Reformation, but adopted the reformed religion. He had only a small copper coin, which always returned to him when he spent it, and received no other payment for his services. In the arms of the town of Praesto is a man in a priest's dress, supposed to be in his memory."

"Were there any Underjordiske in the cliff at the yacht's bow?" asked Hardy.

"There was fabled to be an Elle Konge," replied Pastor Lindal, "or king of the elves, and he occupied not only Stevn's Klint, but also an adjoining church, where a place in the wall is shown as his residence, and is called Elle Kongen's Kammer, or the king of the elves' chamber. In the neighbourhood of this church are the remains of an oak wood. The trees therein are said to have been trees by day, but the soldiers of the elf king by night. The church referred to is Storehedinge, and was built by a monk against the wishes of the great man of the locality, who, when the church was built, cut off the monk's head. The figure of a monk's head is on a stone in the wall by the altar.

"The church a little to the south of the lighthouse is called Hoierup, and was built in fulfilment of the vow of a seaman when in danger. As the cliff crumbles away, the church is said to go a cock's footstep back on the mainland every Christmas night."

"What is the meaning of 'rup' as a termination to so many Danish places?" asked Hardy.

"It is your English 'thorp,' or Swedish 'torp,' or German 'dorf,' a village," replied the Pastor. "Vandstrup, for instance, is 'the village by the water,' as the Danish word for water is Vand. It is, as you know, close to the river."

The pilot had predicted that the wind would lessen at four o'clock in the afternoon, and the yacht got under weigh, and, carrying plenty of sail and full steam, made a rapid passage across Kioge Bay, so disturbing sometimes to the breakfast of the Kiobenhavner, who trusts himself to a pleasure excursion on its waters.

Off Dragor, the jack was again hoisted for the Copenhagen pilot, and the Rosendal steam yacht was at anchor off the Custom House at Copenhagen, before a late dinner, that evening.

"We must fill up with coal and water, mother, and it had better be done here," said Hardy; "it would give us time for an excursion to Roeskilde to see the Domkirke, or elsewhere."

"No, John," said Mrs. Hardy. "I want to purchase many articles that you will want at Rosendal after you are married, that you would never think of; and I must leave something for the Pastor to tell me next summer."

"But what shall I do with Pastor Lindal tomorrow?" asked John Hardy.

"He will like to be left to himself, to go where he wishes," replied his mother; and she was right. As the yacht left Copenhagen a day or so after, Mrs. Hardy refused to visit the beautiful vicinity of Copenhagen. "No, John; and no, Herr Pastor," she said. "I must keep something to see for other years, and something to look forward to and wish to see. I even decline to hear the story of the soldier who shot from Kronborg Castle a cow with a cannon in Sweden, and that although he did not hurt the milkmaid. The Herr Pastor must keep something to tell me another season."

"But, mother, we can anchor at Elsinore, and you could see Kronborg Castle," urged her son.

"So I will another year, John," she replied. "Get your mud-hook up, as you call it, and let me have my way. I hope not only to visit more of Denmark, but also of Sweden and Norway, and hope not only the Herr Pastor will be with us, but his daughter."

"Thank you kindly," said the Pastor, shaking hands with her in the manner frequent in Denmark.



CHAPTER XXVI.

"Come, live with me and be my love, And we will some new pleasures prove. Of golden sands and crystal brooks. With silken lines and silver hooks." The Complete Angler.

When Pastor Lindal arrived at his parsonage, he was received by his daughter with much affection. She saw he was benefited by the cruise in the yacht, and was in good spirits.

"Little father," she said, "you look so well. Thank you, Mrs. Hardy, for taking him with you; it will give my father so much to talk of, in the winter, to Axel; and thank you, John, too."

"I am glad there is a word for me," said Hardy, using, as he often did with her, a Danish phrase. "I was beginning to think I was not to be spoken to at all."

"I think," said Mrs. Hardy, "that the Pastor and Helga might come to us to-morrow, John, and that, as you are so impatient for a tete-a-tete interview with Helga, you can have a ramble in your woods at Rosendal, while I discuss the matters that have to be arranged with the Pastor."

John thought this a very excellent arrangement; but Pastor Lindal declined. He had much to see to in his parish, and he could not, he said, after the absence of a week, return to his parish and not visit it. He explained that he felt it to be his duty to feel the pulse of his parish, to see what changes of thought occurred and what circumstances had arisen that might influence his Sogneborn (children of his parish). This, he said, guided him in what he preached.

"I agree with every word you say, Herr Pastor," said Mrs. Hardy. "There can be no better view of what your duty is. The shepherd should always watch;" and, as she read disappointment in her son's face, she added, "You can, however, spare us Helga to lunch with us at Rosendal; John can drive over for her, and she shall return early."

Pastor Lindal assented, and John Hardy drove over as early as he thought advisable, and in returning to Rosendal insisted on Helga's driving and telling him everything that had occurred in his absence at sea.

It was a pleasure to Mrs. Hardy to see their happy faces as they drove up at Rosendal.

"Bless you, dear mother!" said John. "It has been so sweet to hear the thankfulness with which she speaks of every little attention we showed her father when at sea. It was your considerate goodness that suggested it all."

"You must let me have your princess, John, for a few minutes," said his mother. "You have to consider her, and that there are subjects that we can discuss better without you."

"I agree to five minutes, and no longer," said John, with some warmth. "For goodness' sake, mother, do not be unreasonable, and keep her an unconscionable time."

"There is no doubt of his affection for you, Helga," said Mrs. Hardy, "and it is a joy to me to see it; but come into my sitting-room, and tell me what you have done about your wedding-dress."

"Here is the money you kindly gave me," replied Helga. "I have thought it over, and I think that John would rather marry me just as I am than that I should appear any different; and my father, I feel, would wish it so." Mrs. Hardy recollected the cloud on the Pastor's open face when her son had referred to giving Helga a wedding-dress. "I have, therefore, not used any of the money, Mrs. Hardy," added Helga; "but I am very grateful for your considering me as if I were your daughter."

"I will always act a mother's part to you, Helga," said Mrs. Hardy; "your freedom from selfishness, as well as honesty of feeling, make me love and respect you. It is not money, or money's worth, that is everything. I have always taught my son that kindliness is the real gold of life."

"When John came here first," said Helga, "he said that, and my father has liked him from that moment."

"But you did not, Helga?" said Mrs. Hardy, as if asking the question, and smiling.

"I did, really," replied Helga; "but I thought it was wrong to think of him, and I treated him in a manner of which I am ashamed. I would give anything to recall what I said to him."

John Hardy came bustling in. "Mother!" he exclaimed, "I really cannot let you take up all Helga's time with discussions."

"What we have discussed, John, is yourself," said his mother, "and I can wish for nothing better for you than Helga's golden truth and love. You can take her for a walk in the woods until lunch, but mind, John, to be back punctually at one."

"Why, that is only an hour, mother," protested John, who was becoming quite unreasonable and impatient.

"And twelve times as long as you would let your mother speak to her daughter that is to be," said Mrs. Hardy.

"Now, Helga," said John, "I recollect you called me a cool and calculating Englishman. I shall take you down to the lake, where it will be cool, and there I shall find a Smorblomst, or a buttercup, and by placing it to your chin, I shall be able to calculate the transparency of your complexion from the reflection of colour."

"Don't tease me, John, about what I said to you last year," said Helga, imploringly. "If I said anything that pained you, I am sorry for it; but do not always keep it alive against me."

"There is the rose of Rosendal, mother, and the jewel of Hardy Place," said Hardy to his mother, on his unpunctual return to lunch. "She is so good and single-minded that it is impossible to invent ways of teasing her."

"Then I should not try, John," said his mother.

A few days before John's marriage, his friend and neighbour, Sir Charles Lynton, arrived at Rosendal.

"It is a lovely place, John," said his friend; "but, I suppose, nothing to be compared with the loveliness of your Scandinavian princess?"

"Don't quiz," said Hardy; "but come out and try a cast for an hour or so for the Danish trout. We can also visit a landowner near, who breeds good Jutland horses, and I know that is in your line."

"By all means," said his friend.

The stout proprietor, Jensen, was pleased with their visit, and the opportunity of hearing another Englishman's opinion as to his stock of horses.

"They want bone," said Sir Charles, "and to be kept better through the winter."

"Then it would not pay to breed horses," said the proprietor. "A big-boned horse would be more expensive to keep up, and would not stand the cold and wet of our climate. We have no market for very high-class horses; that is, we might sell one now and then, but not many."

A short tobacco-parliament on horses was inevitable, and hints were exchanged and thoughts expressed very valuable in their way, but not necessary to be recorded here.

The wedding took place in the little Danish church at Vandstrup, and was witnessed by a large number of Hardy's Danish acquaintances and the Pastor's friends. The Pastor made a long discourse, for his heart was full.

Mrs. Hardy would not hear of her son's accompanying her to Esbjerg. She left with Sir Charles Lynton, for Horsens, to continue the journey the next day to Esbjerg, where the yacht had been sent to meet them.

It was not until the middle of September that John Hardy and his wife, with Pastor Lindal, left Denmark by the overland route for Hardy Place. The time of their arrival at the station for Hardy Place was therefore known some time before, and confirmed by a telegram from Hardy on their reaching England.

Mrs. Hardy was on the platform, with a tall young man Pastor Lindal did not know.

"It is your son Karl, Herr Pastor," said Mrs. Hardy.

A year's residence in England had made a great change in the Danish lad, and he appeared so English that the Pastor hesitated before he spoke to him in Danish. Karl's reply assured him that if he was changed outwardly, there was no change that he could regret.

Mrs. Hardy welcomed the Pastor and her son's wife warmly. Two carriages had been prepared, and John Hardy and his wife went in the first, and Mrs. Hardy, the Pastor, and Karl in the second. When they reached the entrance to Hardy Place, there was a considerable crowd of well-wishers, who cheered lustily. There was an arch with the words—

"Saxon and Dane are we, But all of us Danes in our welcome of thee."

"It is kindly meant," said the Pastor, to Mrs. Hardy; "and I like the full ring of the English cheer."

At the door at Hardy Place there was another crowd, and amid more English cheers the fair Dane John Hardy had brought home as his wife alighted at Hardy Place.

Mrs. Hardy took possession of Helga, and left her son to speak to his friends and thank them for their reception, and entertain them.

"I have only asked Sir Charles Lynton to dinner, John," said Mrs. Hardy. "I was afraid Helga might not be at her ease with a party of perfect strangers the very first day she is here."

The Pastor was delighted with Hardy Place. "I see now," he said, "how you knew how to deal with Rosendal. Your English landscape gardening is good. I never saw so beautiful a place! The impression on me is that of neatness and taste."

"Sir Charles Lynton comes to dinner, Herr Pastor," said Hardy; "and you shall go and see his place to-morrow—it is only eight English miles from here—and then you must tell me what you would like to see or do during your very short stay in England. I dare say Karl can suggest something. He must go to his work in London to-morrow."

Mrs. Hardy brought Helga down to the drawing-room before dinner, dressed in her neat Danish dress, and a flower in her hair. She shook hands with Sir Charles Lynton, and thanked him for his coming to her wedding in Denmark.

"Now," said Mrs. Hardy, "I shall take her in to dinner and place her at the head of your table, John, as the new mistress of Hardy Place, and a better there cannot be."

Helga did not clearly understand, and John explained in Danish. "My mother," he said, "wishes to instal you in the position she has herself so long occupied as mistress here."

"No," said Helga, decidedly. "I am her daughter, and will serve her gladly. You surely would not wish me to usurp your mother's place, John, and that to-day?" She had said this in Danish, and she added in English, "No, Mrs. Hardy; you are housemother here, and I am your daughter and owe you a daughter's duty."

It had been Mrs. Hardy's dream that when her son brought his wife home, the latter should occupy her seat, and rule as Mrs. Hardy of Hardy Place. As Helga put it, she had got a daughter, and that was all. Helga took Mrs. Hardy's hand and kissed it.

"What a trump she is, John!" exclaimed Sir Charles Lynton. "She will be the greatest joy and comfort to your mother all her life. I shall advertise in the Danish papers for a wife."

"Let Helga sit at your side, mother," said John, "and the Pastor at your right."

The Pastor did not appear to think what had passed was unusual in his daughter's conduct, but this little episode prepared the way for young Mrs. Hardy of Hardy Place acquiring many friends.

During Pastor Lindal's short stay in England, John Hardy did his best to interest him in English life and manners. The Pastor's wish was to visit an English country church, and to see the whole working of an English parish. His disapproval of the gift, or, worse still, the sale, of a cure of souls was utter and complete.

"Your system of selling or giving livings is bad," he said. "No actual sympathy can arise between the clergyman and his parishioners unless they are interested in his selection."

When he had attended the parish church on the Sunday, Hardy questioned him.

"The perfect neatness and order in the church," said the Danish Pastor, "leave nothing to be desired; what is wanting is the warmth of human sympathy and life. The service is cold and lifeless, the sermon like dead leaves. The congregation hear, but they do not listen. There is a want of harmony created by your system; it produces a barrier between your clergyman and his flock; it prevents their working well together, as a rule. In a few cases you will have exceptional men that will get over any difficulty, and will do their duty well if you bind them with chains; but it is not in that direction you should look, but to a Christian bond of sympathy and common interest, as a rule."

"You are a keen observer, Herr Pastor. It is so," said Hardy.

"It is not necessary to be a keen observer to see it," replied Pastor Lindal. "It lies so near the surface that it is not seen, when deeper causes are looked for and ascribed as producing results they are far from effecting."

"Your criticism is hard on the English country parishes," said Hardy; "if you were here longer, you might alter the decisive character of your opinion."

"It is possible, but the contrast strikes me," said Pastor Lindal. "I speak as I see."

"That I do not doubt," said Hardy; "and I think the impression of contrast between your own parish and that of mine is wide."

"There is but one principle, and that is that 'charity suffereth long, and is kind,'" said the Pastor; "and when you came to Denmark and said that kindliness is the real gold of life, there was nothing struck me so much. It was my very thought in a phrase. I cannot therefore understand why it should not be a more active principle in your churches."

"It is in the hearts of a great many English people," said Hardy.

"It may be," said Pastor Lindal, "but it is not apparent to a stranger in your parish church. But there is another matter cognate to us if not to you, and that is the relief of the poor. Your system is costly, but it creates the evil. You assist the poor to be paupers; we assist the poor not to be so, and it costs us less. You train up children in your work-houses to look to the poor rate or poor box, as we call it, in after life as something to fall back on, in case of need, or without need. The system is bad, as it creates more claimants on your poor rate. This we prevent by teaching the children to earn a living. The interest your clergy have in this is indirect, and it appears to me they have little power to be of use, if they had the wish to be so, which with many men must be a strong wish."

"It is so;" said Hardy, "and it does not appear to me so extraordinary that you should observe it, as the contrast between what exists with you and in England is so marked."

The Pastor left for Harwich to meet the Danish steamer, and John Hardy and Helga accompanied him. Helga was cheerful until her father had left, but for a long time wore a sad expression on her face. John Hardy and his mother did their best to comfort and allay, but without success. At last came a letter from her father, and her sadness vanished. The good man wrote of Hardy and Mrs. Hardy, and how worthy they were of her affection, and it was her duty now to give them her gratitude and love; and she became bright at once. John Hardy's friends called, and Helga mixed in English society and gradually became accustomed to her new home, and no one was so popular as young Mrs. Hardy of Hardy Place.

FINIS.



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