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shown to a passing stranger in many lands, merely because she was a stranger; and which she has remembered, and the performers have no doubt soon forgotten.
But a loud and sudden blast of the long-stationary horn dissipated such thoughts. We rattled over the pavement of Steege, and, with a tremendous flourish, the poor, crest-fallen Eed Jacket turned the long lumbering cart and its two weary steeds into the yard from which he had received his hapless cargo.
"Where is the master?" said I to the woman who came to receive me.
"He sleeps," she answered.
"I want to go to Copenhagen to-morrow. How can I go?"
"With the post?"
"At what hour does the post go from here?"
"At six o'clock."
"Dear! it is scarcely worth while to go to bed. But, call me at half-past five.''
I went to bed and fell asleep. At half-past five came my punctual maid, and said the post would go at six; but as I knew I had to go to it, I made what haste I could to get ready, and desired her to get me a cup of coffee in a quarter of an hour. In a quarter of an hour she came, and told me the breakfast was ready in another room. I did not want breakfast, but ran there, with my bonnet in my hand, to get the coffee.
"I shall not have time to breakfast," I said.
"Plenty of time," she replied.
"It only wants ten minutes to six, and the post goes at six," I said.
"Yes, but not the post you go with," she answered, very demurely, "that goes at half-past eight."
"And you awoke me at half-past five,—with aching limbs—"
"You asked me what time the post went," she responded. "One post goes at six, but you cannot go with it to Copenhagen."
"Where is the master?"
"I wish,"—I was going to say, "that you did so too;" but I did say that I wished she had let me do so. At eight o'clock I inquired, for the last time, after Tidemann's successor, and I got precisely the same reply. "Then I will leave him to sleep," I answered; and so I did, and I know not if he ever wakened.
The Danish steam-boat, in which I went back to Copenhagen, was one coming from Svendborg, the passage to which from Moen is very pleasant. I was now confirmed in the belief that I might have been more charmed with the "Switzerland of Denmark," if I had made one of the parties in the pleasure-trips, often made by these boats there, when I should likewise have had the advantage of seeing the chalky cliffs from the sea. Yet the rather excruciating remembrances of my postcarriage have afforded me, perhaps, more smiling moments since, than I should have obtained by a passage in an excursion steamer.
The Engineer of the boat, in which I am writing to you a few words by the way, is a braw Scotchman. It is curious to find that word (written "bra" in the North) just used here as it is in Scotland; "Eatt bra" is as good Scotch as Swedish. But this braw Scot cannot speak a word of Danish, and the crew finding out that there is some sympathy between us have summoned him on deck to have the pleasure of loosing his long-tied tongue. He has been a year absent from that land-o'-cakes, which all Scotch people love and willingly leave. Yet he spoke of it with a simple pathos, which gave a very pleasing cast to his intelligent and serious face. He is a fine-looking young man, with that educated sort of countenance which his countrymen, of a similar class, often possess. Yet he cannot learn Danish,—cannot speak a word after living here a year. The Captain gives his orders in English. He came running up to us just now, with a beard sweeping his breast, to tell the engineer that we were just going over a little fishing-boat. When the danger was past, I said to the Captain that he should make his engineer learn Danish. "Yes, yes," said he, as he sprung up the paddle-box, "I am going to give him a Danish sweetheart." We hear enough of "languages without a master," but the Captain's method of teaching would put all other vocabularies out of practice.
"I wish," said a poor Swede, who was looking round the world for a wife, "I wish I could get such a vocabulary; and, indeed, I think I could learn English, or any other language, very easily. Yes, oh! very easily, indeed."
But the braw Scotchman shook his head and smiled very pathetically, and said something which signified that the only vocabulary, of the Captain's sort, which he could take, was a Scotch one, and so he feared he should only be learning more of what he knew already.
The opinion •which this sensible, though speechless young Scot had formed of the people among whom he mixed, was very pleasing to me; the more so, perhaps, because speechless folk generally give bad accounts of the foreigners whom they mingle with, and do not understand.
"I will say for them," said he, "that the Danes are as decent, and honest, and good a people as I ever was among. I have scarcely ever seen a man of them tipsy, and never saw one of them fighting; though we cannot manage to speak, I find them always kind and friendly to me, and see them so to one another."
"Their calling you up to speak to me was a proof of their kindness," I cried.
"Well," said the plain Scot, "that was just a little part of it; it was not just what many of our own folk would have thought of doing. And, indeed, for the Danish sailors I must say that, so far as I have known them, there is a respectability maintained by them which our own sailors sadly want; for instance, not one of these men will go ashore till they have washed, and changed their working clothes."
I write this down because I like to hear a foreign workman's opinion of the workmen among whom he lives.