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pain, I calculated, as the Americans say, on placing myself beside Red Jacket, who had the front seat to himself and the horn. With this intention I placed my hand on the royal insignia, thinking to put myself in its room; but, I do believe the spirit of all postilions must have animated the little hunchbacked defender of that horn! Grasping it with one hand, but holding it down on its place, he sprang on his little legs, and turned to me such a strange pair of longshaped black eyes, and such glittering rows of teeth, that I saw the notion of the substitution was abhorent to his nature, and resigned my knees to torture. A shrill, sharp “Nay, n-a-y, nay,” was all he would utter, but he took occasion of the only animals in sight,—a woman at one time, and a starved sheep at another,—to show me in action the impropriety of wishing to displace the horn, by blowing a blast that made the poor sheep drop the wayside morsel it was picking, and bound quite across the lame horse's feet to the other side of the road, while at the same commanding sound the woman looked up and dropped me a curtsey as I rattled past her in my post-wagon, with the King of Denmark's postilion.
After about an hour and a half of great suffering to my bodily frame, the long vehicle
made a heavy plunge off the high road; we entered then on a sort of foot-path through a wood. The relief was great in every way; the sun no longer burned my forehead, and the path was more interesting—broken and bad as it was—than the flat, barren, desolate road we left, where the only thing to be observed was the great number and familiarity of the larks; they walked besides us, sat beside us, sung beside us, in spite of the lumbering cart, and in defiance of the horn that was blown at them.
And now we came to the platform; and here some carriages, certainly of a better description than mine, were waiting; and here is a droll sort of restaurant, of which the drollest part is an offset, consisting of four walls, unroofed, just high enough not to allow any one to see anything but the aforesaid four moss-covered walls, enclosing about six feet of ground—a retreat for the lovers of nature who come to see the beauties of Klinten. I found a couple in it drinking tea, but they proved to be lovers of another class, and I left them to drink their tea within the four walls. And so I went upon the cliffs, and I walked over them, and saw the valley and the “Queen's Chair,” and all else, except “ the foamy billows," which the description said "rolls at their feet.” Not a foamy billow was there. That was a decided error in the Hand-Book.
The cliffs are quite white,-certainly as white as the cliffs at Dover, and the trees growing on them are very pretty, and the walks make me think of our own dear wood-paths in a distant home; and I reflected, with some pathetic feeling, that the cliffs of Moen, or Klinten, might be a very pleasant and charming spot to such persons as those who were drinking tea within the four unroofed walls; but that one who had only a red jacketed postilion, a brass horn, and a springless postwagon as accessories to enjoyment, would have done at least as well to have stayed away.
I felt anxious to get back to cheerful Steege, thinking the sooner my sufferings were over the better. I got into my cart, believing it would go directly back there; but instead of doing so, it made a sudden bound into a very large ploughed field, traversed by a path which showed marks of other cart-wheels as well as mine, for it was full of deep ruts; my seat was hung too high to suffer my feet to touch the bottom of the cart; consequently, not only was the knocking of my knees more serere, but each jerk of the horses over hillocks and hollows sent me forward on the shoulders of the Scarlet Jacket, and then there was a turn round, and such a look of indignation ! In vain I implored a respite; my sufferings, it was plain to see, were incomprehensible, and he really believed the cart had obtained a more troublesome load than ever it had borne when not driven by a royal postilion in the King of Denmark's livery. I regain my seat, awed by that look; but ah! another plunge sends me with both arms fast round the collar of the little jacket, and nearly draws its quaint little skirts into my lap. There is no resource for him but to spring on his legs, grasping the brass horn to blow at the crows, who, poor things, seem frightened enough at him without his horn. "Take me back ! take me to Steege !" I cry; but on he dashes the faster, reins and horn in one hand, brandishing the whip in the other, and pointing one or the other in a forward direction as his only reply to my entreaty. Yes, as the French sentinel said to me when he commanded me not to look at the setting sun from a certain spot outside the town of Metz-"J'ai ma consigne.” “But I only want to see the sun," I urged. “J'ai ma consigne,” he repeated, presenting his bayonet. So my Red Jacket had his consigne, and he presented his horn instead of the bayonet to enforce them. Tidemann had given the consigne; he was his commander, and his order was to take me round the Island of Möen ; and so round the island I must go, though a dislocated body were brought back to Steege.
Most fortunately a human being came in sight, for I had seen nothing but crows; it was a young farmer, whose mediation I obtained. I went and rested at his father's house; he scolded my too faithful postilion, took off and re-adjusted my horrible seat, and supplied me with a very rude, but very acceptable footstool. He took me, moreover, through some delightful walks; and the end of it was that he sent me away softened in every sense, in temper especially, and able even to enjoy the moonlight drive home; for my little Jehu seemed also to feel the influence, either of the moon or the scolding, and came back quite in a gentle and humble frame of mind, letting the horn rest in peace at his side; while I pleased myself with thinking that my miseries met their compensation, since they caused even this Danish Isle of Möen to contribute to the store which memory holds of deeds of kindness, small acts of heart-goodness,