w, and they crawled and scrambled about
till I did not know what the deuce it could be! A live cock they had
also placed under my bed, and just in the morning, when I would go to
sleep, the creature began to crow!"

"The women-folk had done that," said the Kammerjunker. "Did they not
the very same night fasten a door-bell to the head of my bed? I never
thought of it; fat Laender slept in the same room, and had fastened
along the wall a string to the bell. I awoke with the ringing. 'What the
devil is that bell?' said I, and glanced about the room, for I could not
conceive what it was. 'Bell?' asked Laender--'there is no bell here!'
The ringing also ceased. I thought I must have dreamed, or that our
merry evening must have left some buzzing in my ears. Again it began to
ring. Laender looked so innocent all the time, I could not comprehend
myself; I thought it must be my imagination. I became quite
fainthearted, I denied my own hearing, and said, 'No, I have only
dreamed!' and commenced reckoning and counting to employ my mind; but
that did no good, and it nearly drove me mad! I sprang out of bed, and
then I found out the trick: but how Laender grinned! he was swollen and
red in the face with his mirth."

"Do you play such jokes on your estate?" inquired Otto, addressing
himself to Wilhelm.

"No, not such refined ones!" returned the Kammerjunker; "perhaps a piece
of wood, or a silly mask, is laid in your bed. Miss Sophie gives us
other clever things for amusement--tableaux and the magic-lantern. I was
once of the party. Yes, what was it I represented? Ah, I played, Heaven
help me! King Cyrus: had a paper crown on my head, and Miss Sophie's
cloak about me, the wrong side turned outward, for it is lined with
sable. I looked like Satan!"

The steamboat passengers were summoned on board, the company went down
to the vessel, and soon it was cutting through the waves of the Belt.

CHAPTER VIII

"See now, Fuenen signifieth _fine_,
And much in that word lies;
For Fuenen is the garden fine,
Where Denmark glads its eyes."

The nakedness which the last aspect of Zealand presents occasions one
to be doubly struck by the affluent abundance and luxuriance with which
Funen steps forth. Green woods, rich corn-fields, and, wherever the eye
rests, noblemen's seats and churches. Nyborg itself appears a lively
capital in comparison with the still melancholy Korsoeer. One now
perceives people upon the grea