he grass around a basket of
eatables!"

You are in the Horse-Garden. This is Whitsuntide's evening in Lysgaard
district,--the beauteous Nature's homage-day. Thus is this holiday
celebrated till the sun goes down; but formerly it was only the common
people of two or three neighbouring parishes that assembled here, though
this innocent merry-making is, without doubt, an ancient custom, as old
as the wood itself.

Ten years after the events related in the foregoing chapters had taken
place, the summer festival was, as usual, held in the Horse-Garden. A
man from whose grandson I in my young days heard the story, gave the
following account of it:--

"It was during my first year's service as bailiff at Kjaersholm, I had my
sweetheart at Vium; she was distantly related to the clergyman there. On
the first day of Whitsuntide she agreed to meet me in the Horse-Garden,
where we arrived so early that we found ourselves the only persons in
the place. We wandered for an hour or two in the wood, until the sound
of a violin announced to us that the people were assembled. We went to
the spot as lookers on, sat down and observed the dancers. Shortly
after, I noticed that two gentlemen, with a lady and two children, were
approaching along the path leading from Ansbjerg. Being a stranger in
the neighbourhood, I inquired of my companion who they were. 'Hush,'
answered she, 'it is the family. The tall stout man is the old gentleman
who became a widower about five years since. The young one, with a scar
on his cheek, is his son-in-law, the lady his daughter, and the two
Junkers their children. Ten years ago she eloped by night with the young
gentleman. While the old lady was living, a reconciliation was not to be
thought of; but after her death, the old gentleman allowed himself to be
persuaded, and he received them into his house. At his decease they will
inherit both house and land.' The party continued standing for some
time, amusing themselves with looking at the country folks, and then
gave them something for drink. On a tree that had been levelled by the
wind, sat two elderly men, with a jug of beer between them, and each
with his pipe. On the family approaching them they rose and took the
pipes from their mouths.

"'Sit still,' I heard the young man say; and turning to the elder, 'you
are now better friends than when you struck a light for Niels' pipe by
Karup rivulet?'

"'Yes, gracious sir,' answered the person addressed with a