will cast it into the waves, and they will bear it to Kielerfiord,
upon whose coast thine ashes repose. It will bring a greeting from a
younger race, a greeting from thy native town, Korsoer, where ends the
row of pearls.

II.

"It is, truly enough, a row of pearls from Copenhagen to Korsoer," said
my grandmother, who had heard read aloud what we have just been
reading. "It is a row of pearls for me, and it was that more than
forty years ago," she added. "We had no steam engines then. It took us
days to make a journey which you can make now in a few hours. For
instance, in 1815, I was then one-and-twenty years old. That is a
pleasant age. Even up in the thirties it is also a pleasant age. In my
young days it was much rarer than now to go to Copenhagen, the city of
all cities, as we thought it. After twenty years' absence from it, my
parents determined to visit it once more, and I was to accompany them.
The journey had been projected and talked of for years. At length it
was positively to be accomplished. I fancied that I was beginning
quite a new life, and certainly, in one way, a new life did begin for
me.

"After a great deal of packing and preparations we were ready to
start. Then what numbers of our neighbours came to bid us good-by! It
was a very long journey we had before us. Shortly before mid-day we
drove out of Odense in my father's Holstern wagon--a roomy carriage.
Our acquaintances bowed to us from the windows of almost every house
until we were outside of St. Joergen's Port. The weather was
delightful, the birds were singing, all was pleasure. We forgot that
it was a long way and a rough road to Nyborg. We reached that place
towards evening. The post did not arrive till midnight, and until it
came the packet could not sail. At length we went on board. Before us
lay the wide waters, as far as the eye could see, and it was a dead
calm. We lay down in our clothes and slept. When I awoke in the
morning, and went on deck, nothing could be seen on either side of us,
there was such a thick fog. I heard the cocks crowing, and I knew the
sun must have risen. Bells were ringing: where could they be? The mist
cleared away, and we found we were lying a little way from Nyborg. As
the day advanced we had a little wind: it stiffened, and we got on
faster. At last we were so fortunate, at a little after eleven o'clock
at night, as to reach Korsoer. We had taken twenty-two hours to go
sixteen miles.

"Glad we were