heart, and which, in his opinion, deserved a place in the annals of
history. This event occurred the last time that the king was in Jutland;
he had visited the interior of the country and the western coast also.
When he was leaving a public-house the old hostess ran after him, and
besought that the Father would, as a remembrance, write his name with
chalk upon a beam. The grand gentlemen wished to deter her, but she
pulled at the king's coat; and when he had learned her wish he nodded in
a friendly manner, and said, "Very willingly!" and then turned back and
wrote his name on the beam. Tears came into the old man's eyes; he wept,
and prayed for his king. He now inquired whether the old tree was still
standing in the Regent's Court, and then spoke of Nyerup and Abrahamson,
whom he had known in his student days.

In fact, after all, he was himself the narrator; each of his questions
related to this or that event in his own life, and he always returned
to this source--his student-days. There was then another life, another
activity, he maintained. His royal idea of beauty had been Queen
Matilda. [Translator's Note: The unhappy wife of Christian VII. and
daughter of our George III.] "I saw her often on horseback," said he.
"It was not then the custom in our country for ladies to ride. In her
country it was the fashion; here it gave rise to scandal. God gave
her beauty, a king's crown, and a heart full of love; the world gave
her--what it can give--a grave near to the bare heath!"

Whilst he so perpetually returned to his own recollections, his share of
news was truly not new, but he was satisfied. Copenhagen appeared to him
a whole world--a royal city; but Sodom and Gomorrah had more than one
street there.

Otto smiled at the earnestness with which he said this.

"Yes, that I know better than thou, my young friend!" continued the old
preacher. "True, the devil does not go about like a roaring lion, but
there he has his greatest works! He is well-dressed, and conceals his
claws and his tail! Do not rely upon thy strength! He goes about, like
the cat in the fable, 'pede suspenso,' sneakingly and cautiously! It is,
after all, with the devil as it is with a Jutland peasant. This fellow
comes to the city, has nothing, runs about, and cleans shoes and boots
for the young gentlemen, and by this means he wins a small sum of money.
He knows how to spare. He can now hire the cellar of the house in
which thou livest, and there comme