Captain Hvitfeldt, the hero of Kjoege Bay, blew up his ship with three hundred men to save the Danish fleet from destruction. In the war of 1710, between Denmark and Sweden, this captain's ship, the Danebrog, took fire. To save the ships which were being driven by the wind towards his burning vessel, he and his gallant crew sacrificed their lives.

Herluf Trolle was a Danish noble and a famous Admiral, who left all his wealth to found a school for orphans. His noble wife, Fru Bergitta, was greatly distressed that the Admiral's will could not be found, as she was most anxious that his wishes, which were also her own, with regard to the school, should be carried into effect. The Admiral's relatives would inherit the property, and were already clamouring for it, when one night Fru Bergitta had a dream. She dreamed she saw someone walking round her husband's writing-table, attentively inspecting the legs. These she examined on awakening, and found one to be hollow. Discovering a secret spring, she pressed it, and beheld the will lying in the hollow space. So Herluf Trolle's school was founded, and although this brave old Admiral died from wounds received in battle centuries ago, yet his school is considered to be one of the best at the present day.



CHAPTER XII

THE PEOPLE OF THE ISLES

One of the most storm-swept and barren of Denmark's many islands is the island of Fanoe. Lying, as it does, exposed to the full force of the North Sea gales, it yet serves to protect the harbour of Esbjerg from these storms. It is eight miles long, and three miles at its broadest part. A trim little steamer will carry you across from Esbjerg to Nordby—the fishing town on the east coast of Fanoe—in twenty minutes. Nordby is both quaint and picturesque. The low thatched houses, with rough-cast, whitewashed walls, nestle close to each other for shelter from the winds.

The Fanoe women have a practical but peculiar costume; the thickly-pleated skirt has a bright-coloured border, while the close-fitting bodice is adorned with embroidery, and pretty antique buttons. A folded cotton kerchief and accordion-pleated apron give a daintiness to the whole dress. The head-dress, however, gives the most singular finish to the costume. A dark, checked-bordered handkerchief tied over a stiff, cambric frame, entirely envelops the head. The four ends of this handkerchief are tied in an odd way, two being left upstanding like rabbits' ears! This striking head-dress gives the Fanoe wife a fantastic appearance. When the good-natured, smiling faces of these women are hidden behind a mask, the combination of dress and mask makes them awesome-looking folk. The men of the island are nearly all fishermen; the women are the farmers, and it is to protect their faces from the blinding sand-storms, while working on the land, that these masks are worn. This mask obliterates all comeliness, for only the eyes peep out from the weird face-protector.

This island of heath, dune, and quicksand is wild and romantic. The cultivated fields are protected by sand-hills, and belts of stunted, wind-swept trees that afford some slight protection to the crops. The island belongs to the people, who cultivate it assiduously. The courage and perseverance of these women agriculturalists is rewarded by fair crops, notwithstanding an adverse climate.

At the south end of the island, far away from any dwelling, is the interesting "Fuglekoejerne,"[9] where three or four hundred wild-duck are taken in a day during the season. Decoy-ducks are used for this purpose.

The west side of the island is the most fashionable watering-place in Denmark. Large hotels and pretty villas line the shore, and here the well-to-do Danes inhale bracing sea-breezes.

On a windy day this western shore is not amusing. Clouds of blinding sand whirl high in the air, while the booming surf rolls and plunges on the beach with deafening roar, and makes rank and fashion fly to shelter in hotel or villa till the storm is over. Visitors in summer and storms in winter have it all their own way on this west coast—the people of Fanoe trouble it not.

Bornholm, situated in the middle of the Baltic, is both beautiful and fertile. Its products are very valuable to Denmark. From here comes the clay of which the exquisite Copenhagen porcelain is made. Here, too, the granite for building the country's defences and docks is quarried. I fancy if you were to ask a young Dane what Bornholm is most famed for he would say, "Turkeys," for the island supplies the Copenhagen market with these birds.

The chief town, Roenne, is charming, with its many low-roofed houses, which overlook the Baltic. It is noted for its terra-cotta ware, clocks, and Museum of Antiquities.

Most of the towns are upon the coast. Four singular round churches, built of granite, were formerly used as places of refuge for the people when beset by pirates. These "Rundkirker" are peculiar to Bornholm.

A high festival is celebrated every year on the anniversary of the day when the inhabitants succeeded in throwing off the Swedish yoke, which they had borne for a short time in the seventeenth century with resentment.

Hammershus Castle, on the northern extremity of Bornholm, was built in the thirteenth century. There is a sad tale connected with this romantic castle, about a Danish noble and his wife. This noble, Corfitz Ulfeldt, was imprisoned there for treason. His beautiful wife, Eleonora, the favourite daughter of Christian IV., accompanied him, preferring imprisonment with him to liberty without him. After the Count died, Eleonora, who had a mortal enemy in Queen Caroline Amalia, was sent by the latter to the "Blaataarn"[10] of Slotsholmen, Copenhagen, and there incarcerated for twenty-two years. The illustrious Eleonora was only liberated on the death of the vindictive Queen, but the long years of captivity—without reason—had wrecked her life.

Laesoe is a small island in the Cattegat, the inhabitants of which are mainly farmers and fishermen, and the old women wear a particular costume for Sunday, which is called the "church costume."

The people of Amager are great market-gardeners. They are of Dutch extraction. Christian II., after flying from his country, took refuge in Holland, and some of the Dutch helped him in trying to regain his throne. For this service he gave his Dutch followers the island of Amager. The descendants of these Dutch people still retain their old customs and characteristics. Clattering about in wooden shoes, the old women, in quaint costume, may be seen driving their geese down the picturesque streets to the meadows. Besides being market-gardeners and florists, these Amager folk rear and fatten the geese for the Christmas market.

The natural beauty of the island of Moeen is striking, and unlike the rest of Denmark. "Moeen's Klint" are great, jagged white cliffs rising abruptly from the sea. Enchanting beech-woods thickly crown the summit, giving distinctive and unusual beauty to it. From Sommerspiret, the highest point, we have an extensive view over the Ostersoeen and Koejge Bay, where the famous victory over the Swedes was won by Niels Juel in 1677.

In Denmark the town-crier beats a drum to draw attention to the notice he is about to give.

Danish postmen present a gorgeous appearance, in red coats, with smart cloaks of the same brilliant hue for winter wear. These and the bright yellow mail-vans, which they drive sometimes, arrest attention, and give importance to the carriers of His Majesty's mails.

In many of the houses the "Forhoejning" is still used. This is a raised platform close to the window, on which the lady of the house sits to do her embroidery. While she is here she can follow all that goes on in the street below by an ingenious arrangement of oblique convex mirrors fixed to the outside of the window, and reflecting the life in the streets both ways.

The numerous pretty articles made of amber, which adorn the ladies' dressing-tables, and of which beads and ornaments for the girls are composed, are of local manufacture, amber being found in quantities on the west coast of Jutland.

In the islands of Funen and Seeland there are many grand old manor-houses belonging to the nobility, whose fine estates give employment to many peasants. A story is told of a certain noble, Christian Barnekow by name, who saved his King, Christian IV., by his heroic self-sacrifice. The King had lost his horse, and was on the point of being killed or made prisoner when Barnekow came to his rescue. Giving the King his own horse, he said, "I give my horse to my King, my life to the enemy, and my soul to God." A street in Copenhagen is called after this brave nobleman "Kristenbernikovstrade."

It is characteristic of the Danes to run words into each other, and streets in Denmark often have prodigiously long names.



CHAPTER XIII

FISHERMEN AT HOME AND AFLOAT

The class of people most lauded by their own and other nations is that of the brave and hardy fishermen of Denmark. These men are always willing to man the life-boat and to risk their lives to save those in peril on the dangerous coast of Jutland. Although hundreds of ships are wrecked on this dreaded "Jernkyst" (iron coast), their crews are invariably saved by these courageous men. The whole length of the west coast of Jutland is bleak and exposed to the storms and fogs of the North Sea. Not one single harbour of refuge can be found between Esbjerg and the Skaw. Dangerous sandbanks and massive cliffs guard the coast, making navigation both difficult and hazardous. All along this perilous coast life-saving apparatus of the newest and best type is stored in the life-boat houses placed at intervals close to the seashore. On stormy nights the watching sentinels summon by telephone the fishermen of the tiny hamlets near. At sound of a rocket the distressful cry, "A wreck, a wreck!" runs over the telephone, and immediately brave hearts and hands are putting off to the rescue, while trembling women anxiously wait their husbands' return with warm restoratives for the saved. These fishermen's wives are brave too, for it is anxious work waiting and watching. It is not to be wondered at that this merciless and cruel coast is dreaded by all seamen. How thankful they must feel when they see the great lighthouse at Grenen—the northernmost point of Jutland—and can signal "All's well!" "Alt vel! passeret Grenen" flash the lights across the water, and both passengers and crew breathe a little more freely if it has been a stormy passage. Something like eighty thousand vessels pass by this coast in a year, so you may be sure the gallant fishermen of Denmark who live on the iron coast have plenty of rescue work to do.



You should see this coast on a stormy day, more especially at Grenen, where those two mighty seas, the Skagerack and Cattegat, meet. When the tempest rages here, far as eye can see a long ridge of seething, tossing water denotes the meeting-place of the currents. The great "white horses" in battle array fight, plunge, and roar—each striving for the mastery which neither gains. This wrestling-match is a splendid spectacle to those who are safe on shore, also to those at sea if the day is clear, because they can then give the reef a wide berth. Tossing spray is thrown high into the air and wind-borne to the shore, so even at a distance from the waves you may have a salt shower-bath should you be able to "keep your legs" against the fury of the gale. The screaming gulls which fly around, dipping and rising, enjoying as only "storm-birds" can the roar and tumult of these tempestuous waters, enhance the fierce loneliness of the scene. This awe-inspiring "Nature-barrier" saddens you—even while you exult in the madness of its fury—when you think what it means on a foggy night to the poor mariner. What a comfort for the seafarer to know that there is such a famous race of fishermen here, willing and ready to man the life-boat and rescue them from the angry, engulfing waters! You would never guess these seas could be otherwise than kind when you enter their smiling depths for a swim on a calm, sunny day. How gentle and invigorating they can be the fishermen as well as the visitors know, and any morning you may see the former returning from their daily dip with dripping heads and towels along the shore. Somehow these fishermen are always picturesque. In the summer evening, sitting or lying on the sunlit beach, smoking their cutty-pipes and waiting for the time to launch their boats for the fishing, they make an impressive picture. Kindly blue eyes and weather-beaten faces look at you from under the sou'westers, while blue jerseys, long sea-boots with curled-over tops and oil-skins, complete the sea-going outfit. Fully equipped, they charm the eye of the most fastidious, and it is little wonder that they have become subjects for famous artists and poets.

These fishermen are very devout, and before launching their boat they all stand round it with clasped hands and bowed heads, offering up a short, silent prayer for help and protection on these dangerous waters. Then, pushing the boat out into the water, they jump in while it floats—sea-boots getting wet in the process—and wave farewell to their children on the shore, who cry in return "Farvel Fa'er!"

Lars Kruse, the late captain of the life-boat at Skagen, has had a beautiful monument raised to his memory, and his son will show you with great pride the cups and medals he left behind as mementoes of his brave deeds. These medals have been presented by many different nations whose sea-farers have been saved by him. Amongst these is one given by Queen Victoria.

Captain Larsen, a well-known mariner, who, on retiring from his post on one of the light-ships, settled at Old Skagen, has left a unique collection to the village. This now constitutes a museum of exquisitely carved furniture, much of it inlaid with ivory, marbles and metals in dainty designs, all made by this old sailor during the last twelve years of his life—a wonderful record of industry. Old Skagen is a quaint fisher-village, nestling behind the sand-dunes, trying to shelter itself from the sand and sea-storms to which these shores are subjected.

Many of these fisher-folk are farmers also, tilling and cultivating the heath-lands which lie beyond the village. The fisher cottages are quite pretty, with thatched or red-tiled roofs, white or buff rough-cast walls, green painted doors and windows, with black painted foundations which protect them from the sand. Bright flowering plants in the windows and the neat and clean appearance of the whole betoken the joy and comfort that reigns in the fisherman's home. Many household duties are performed at the cottage door in the sandy enclosure surrounding the little homestead. Here the old men mend the nets, keeping a watchful eye on the babies, while the women clean and salt the fish, hanging them up in rows to dry in the sun. In these garden enclosures, also, many quaintly pretty miniature houses may be seen erected on tall poles. These are to encourage the starlings and other songsters to settle in them, as there are no trees. Hen-roosts and outhouses are adorned with the name-boards of wrecked boats washed up on the shore, while discarded boats turned over and tarred make the roofs of these curious shelters worthy of royal hens!

The older fishermen have a safe and effective way of trawling from the strand. Putting out in a small boat, taking their net with them, to which a long rope is attached—the end of this being left in charge of the fishermen on the shore—they row gaily over the water, paying out the rope as they go. When the limit of this rope is reached, the men drop their weighted net overboard and pull for the shore, bringing with them another attached rope which is paid out till they reach the strand. When they have landed and the boat is beached, half a dozen men or more take hold of each rope—these are fastened to each side of the submerged net—and begin hauling it to the shore. The straining muscles of the men as they march up the beach with a strong, steady, overhand pull on the rope denotes that this is heavy work. It is a grand sight! As the net nears the shore the gleaming, glittering mass of fish can be seen leaping and jumping in vain endeavour to escape from their prison, only the smaller fry succeeding. At last the net with its silver load reaches the shore with the noise as of a great wave breaking upon the beach, which is caused by the efforts of the fish to gain their freedom. The best fish are picked out and the others returned to the sea, while the gulls swoop down with querulous cry and gobble all that float on the surface of the water. These fishermen have a prejudice against skate, and use it only for bait.

St. Clement is the patron saint of Danish fishermen, and many of the churches in the coast towns are dedicated to him.

As the Cathedral of Aarhus is dedicated to St. Clement, the Skaw fishermen have given an exquisite model of a ship to the church. This ship is a perfect representation in miniature of a man-of-war. It was made in Holland for Peter the Great, but the ship which carried it was wrecked near Grenen, and the model was saved by the Skaw fishermen.



CHAPTER XIV

YOUTHFUL DANES AT WORK AND PLAY

Denmark is renowned for its educational system and for its schools. These schools are all under Government control, and meet the wants of every class. The authorities are upheld by the parents, both being determined there shall be no such thing as an ignoramus in Denmark, so whether the children are educated at home or sent to school, they must begin lessons at the age of seven. If they have a governess at home the parents must give a guarantee to the authorities that the governess is efficient and capable of giving the standard education to the children. Should parents elect to take their children abroad during the school term, they must notify their intention, undertaking that a teacher shall accompany them and lessons continue while away. Shirking lessons is quite an impossibility for little Danes, as everybody thinks that education comes before all else, so parents do not encourage idleness or extra holidays during the school year.

School attendance is compulsory for all children between the ages of seven and fourteen. The hours are not long nor wearisome, as the lessons are arranged with a view to holding the attention of young minds during the period of instruction. The classes are small, even in the free schools, never more than thirty-five pupils to a teacher, and generally less. The lesson lasts forty minutes, and then there is an interval for play. The thorough education of the pupils for their future work in life is considered, so lessons in writing, reading, and arithmetic, in the Kommune schools, are varied by tailoring lessons for boys, and cookery for girls, after they are ten years of age. At every school gymnastics play an important part—pleasant lessons these are for all—but perhaps the lesson the boys most delight in is their instruction in Sloeyd. Each lad has his carpenter's bench with necessary tools, and as we know every boy is happy when making or marring with hammer and nails, I am sure you will think these must be enviable lessons. I have seen some charming models as well as useful things made by the boys—a perfect miniature landau, complete in every detail, benches, bureaux, carts, tables, chairs, besides many other serviceable articles. Besides this pleasure-work at school, the boys, if they are farmers' sons, have practical lessons at home by helping their father on the farm. The authorities being anxious to help the farmer, they allow him to keep a boy at home half the day for instruction in farm-work, but the other half must be spent at school. The prizes at the municipal schools not infrequently consist of clothes, watches, clocks, or tools, all of which are worked for eagerly by the pupils.

The boys and girls of Denmark begin early with gymnastic exercises, and soon become sturdy little athletes from sheer love of the exhilarating practice. All Danes pride themselves—and with good reason—on their national athletic exercises. At the Olympic Games, held at the Stadium in London, the Danish ladies carried away the gold medal by their fine gymnastic display. This was a triumph with so many competitors in the field. It is an amusing sight to see the Danes at a seaside resort taking their morning swim; each one on leaving the water runs about on the sun-warmed beach, and goes through a gymnastic display on his own account, choosing the exercise he considers most calculated to warm and invigorate him after his dip. The children require no second bidding to follow father's example, and as they emerge from the water breathless, pantingly join in the fun. Sons try to go one better than the father in some gymnastic feat which the latter's stoutness renders impossible! The merry peals of laughter which accompany the display speak eloquently of the thorough enjoyment of all the bathers.

Yachting in Denmark is not merely a pleasure for the rich, it is inexpensive, so all classes and every man capable of sailing a boat can enjoy it. In the summer-time the Sound and other waters seem alive with the multitudes of white sails and speeding craft of all sizes. The Oresund Week, as the Royal Yacht Club's regatta-week is called, is the time of all others for yachtsmen to display their skill, and a gay event in the Copenhagener's year. The pleasant waters of Denmark are beloved of yachtsmen. Sailing round the wooded islands, you are impressed by their picturesque beauty, which is seen to advantage from the water. One is not surprised that this popular pastime comes first with every Danish boy, who, whether swimming, rowing, or sailing, feels perfectly at home on the water. Everybody cycles in Denmark. Cycle-stands are provided outside every shop, station, office, and college, so that you have no more difficulty in disposing of your cycle than your umbrella.



Football is a summer game here—spirited matches you would think impossible at this season—but the Danes have them, and what is more, they will inform you that they quite enjoy what appears to the spectator a hot, fatiguing amusement. Cricket has few attractions for the Danish lads, but that is because they cannot play, though their schoolmasters and parents would have them try. All things English are much admired, and when a Dane intends to do a thing he generally succeeds, so we can only suppose he is too indifferent about cricket—although it is an English game—to excel.

Golf and hockey are also played, and "bandy"—i.e., hockey on the ice—is a favourite winter sport. A "bandy" match is quite exciting to watch. The players, armed with a wooden club, often find the ice a difficulty when rushing after the solid rubber ball. This exhilarating game is known in some parts of the world as "shinty." The Danes are proficient skaters, and of late years an artificial ground for winter sport of all kinds has been made in the Ulvedal, near Copenhagen. Here they have "bandy" matches, ski-ing, and tobogganing, as well as other winter games. Fox-hunting is unknown in Denmark, but frequently foxes are included in the sportsman's bag when shooting. These are shot because it is necessary to keep Mr. Reynard's depredations under control. Trotting-matches are held on Sunday on the racecourse near Charlottenlund, and horse-racing takes place too. Lawn-tennis and croquet are very popular, but the latter is the favourite pastime of the Danish ladies.



CHAPTER XV

INGEBORG'S JOURNEY THROUGH SEELAND

Funen, the island which lies between the Great and Little Belts, is known as the "Garden of Denmark," on account of its beauty and fertility. In Odense, the capital, Ingeborg had lived happily all the fifteen summers of her life. Now she was to have an unexpected treat. Her grandfather intended taking her with him on the morrow to see some of the historical places in Seeland. Ingeborg loved history, and had given her grandfather much pleasure by the knowledge she displayed when showing him over her own church, St. Knud's. This ancient Gothic Church is the finest specimen of mediaeval architecture in Denmark. St. Knud, the grand-nephew of Canute the Great, was slain before the altar while praying for his people. This brave King could have saved himself by flight, but would not, lest his subjects should suffer at the hands of his enemies. He was canonized by the Pope, and his brother built the church to his memory. Besides being the shrine of St. Knud, this church is the burial-place of King Christian II. and his Queen, as well as of King Hans and his Consort. The beautiful altar-piece, given by Queen Christina, is of the most exquisite workmanship, and took the artists many years to execute.

Ingeborg's excitement was great when she crossed from Nyborg. She remembered that an army once crossed this water on foot, so severe was the winter, and that ice-breakers are still used occasionally. The girl wished it was winter as she watched for the first time the huge paddle-wheels of the steam-ferry ploughing through the waters of the Great Belt. By the time Korsoer was reached, Herr Nielsen, her grandfather, had made acquaintance with a student who was returning to his college at Soroe, the town which they intended making their first stopping-place. The student, whose name was Hans, informed them that he lived at Ribe, a quaint old town of South Jutland, left very much to memories and the storks, but possessing a fine twelfth-century Cathedral. The college at Soroe was founded by Ludvig Holberg, the father of Danish comedy, who left his fortune and library for that purpose. Hans was proud of belonging to this college, as it had educated many men of letters famous in Danish history.

In the Cistercian Church of Soroe, Bishop Absalon, the founder of Copenhagen, lies buried. It is said that this Bishop's spirit appears, with menacing attitude, if anyone desecrates the place by irreverence. Ludvig Holberg is also buried in this cloister church, as well as three Danish Kings.

Ingemann the poet spent most of his time at this charming town, which stands on the lake of the Soroe Soe. In the luxuriant beech-woods which surround the lake, Saxo Grammaticus, the first historian of Denmark, was wont to wander. Both these celebrated men also lie in the old church, which Ingeborg felt was a fitting resting-place for the noble dead.

On the advice of Hans, Herr Nielsen took his young grand-daughter to see the old convent church of Ringsted. Here many Danish Kings were buried in the twelfth, thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. The interesting Romanesque Church of Kallundborg was also visited. This Church, with its four octagonal towers and a square tower in the middle, forms a Greek cross. This is the most unique specimen of mediaeval architecture in the North.

Ingeborg had long looked forward to seeing Roskilde Cathedral, and the day was bright and sunny when they arrived at the sleepy little town on the Roskilde Fjord. This stately Cathedral, with its two tall pointed spires, is called the "Westminster Abbey" of Denmark. It is the burial-place of the Danish Royal Family: thirty-three Kings and many Queens rest in it. A beautiful alabaster tomb marks the resting-place of Queen Margrethe, the famous Queen who united the three Crowns—Norway, Sweden, and Denmark—and was ever ambitious for the glory and development of these countries. She ruled with wisdom and wonderful diplomacy, and was the most powerful Queen Denmark ever had. She has been called the "Semiramis of the North." Though the three crowns are still on the shield of Denmark, the other two kingdoms were lost to her in the sixteenth century. Queen Margrethe was the daughter of Valdemar IV., known as "Atterdag," because of his favourite proverb: "I Morgen er der atter en Dag."[11] This powerful monarch kept his subjects in such incessant turmoil by his numerous wars for acquiring territory "that they had not time to eat"! The Renaissance chapel erected by Christian IV., in which his tomb stands, is very beautiful. This popular monarch, alike celebrated as architect, sailor, and warrior, was one of the most impressive figures in Danish history. The mural paintings of the chapel represent scenes in the life of this great King.

Ingeborg was glad she remembered her history, and could tell her grandfather so much as they went through the Cathedral. He, however, informed her that Frederik VII. was the last of the Kings of the Oldenburg line, which had been on the throne of Denmark for over four hundred years.

The sarcophagus of the beloved Christian IX., father of many European crowned heads, including Queen Alexandra of England, is still kept covered with fresh flowers. This King, whose memory is so revered in all countries, inaugurated a new dynasty in Denmark. The curious old clock at the western end of the cathedral interested Ingeborg, and she watched with delight, when it struck the hour of noon, St. George, mounted on his fiery steed, with many groans and stiff, jerky movements, kill the dragon, which expired with a gruesome death-rattle!

In the thirteenth century this quiet town of Roskilde was the capital, and the archiepiscopal see of Denmark. An English Bishop, William of Roskilde, is supposed to have built the Cathedral.

We will now follow our little friend and her grandfather to Frederiksborg Castle. The castle, with its many towers and pinnacles reflected in still waters, stands in the middle of a lake. This handsome Dutch Renaissance building is now used as an historical museum. Many of the Danish Kings have been crowned in its magnificent chapel. Wandering through the splendid rooms of the castle, Ingeborg could read the history of her country in a very pleasant and interesting manner. The collection being confined to one period for each room made instruction an easy affair for the grandfather. Beginning with King Gorm the Old and Canute the Great, it comprises all periods up to the last century.

The autumn residence of the Royal Family, Fredensborg Castle, was the next place of interest visited. This Castle of Peace was built to commemorate the end of the war between Denmark and Sweden. "Fred" means "peace" in Danish, and, indeed, this place proves a home of peace to tired Royalty. Its park is considered the most beautiful in Denmark. The magnificent avenues of lime-trees are lined by marble statues of peasants in national costumes, Faroese, Icelandic and Norwegian, as well as those of Denmark.

The Open-Air Museum at Lyngby, with its ancient farm and peasant buildings, the interiors of which are fitted up just as they used to be, gave Ingeborg a peep into the past and old-time Denmark. Here she saw a curious rolling-pin hanging in the ingle-nook of the farmhouse from the village of Ostenfeld. This wooden pin, so her grandfather told her, was a Clogg Almanac or Runic Calendar. It had four sides, each marking three months, large notches denoting Sundays, small ones showing week-days. Saints' days were marked by the symbol of each saint. He had seen some of these old calendars in the Ashmolean Museum at Oxford, when he had been in England, which were relics of Danish government there. These quaint and curious Clogg Almanacs were used throughout Scandinavia, small ones made of horn or bone being for the pocket.

But here we must say good-bye to Ingeborg and her grandfather, as after seeing Kronborg Castle and Elsinore they will return by the beautiful coast-line to Copenhagen, there to enjoy many of the sights we have seen in "dear little Denmark."



FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: Thank you for the food.]

[Footnote 2: May it agree with you.]

[Footnote 3: Spoon-food.]

[Footnote 4: Luncheon.]

[Footnote 5: Be so good.]

[Footnote 6: Birthday child.]

[Footnote 7: Impenetrable swamp.]

[Footnote 8: The sharp, dry, north-west wind which blows in the spring.]

[Footnote 9: Retreat of wild-duck.]

[Footnote 10: Blue Tower.]

[Footnote 11: To-morrow comes another day.]

THE END