race.

their respective farms. A dispute, however, arose concerning the possession of a certain bulky sow, followed by a train of some dozen squeaking piglings. "It's mine," exclaims the lord of Odden. "No such thing," replies the lady of Asdal; "I know her by her curly tail." "Fiddlesticks!" continues the lord of Odden: "that all depends upon the dryness of the weather. Yesterday her tail was as straight as your ringlets." "I'll go to law," indignantly answered the lady, not at all pleased at the implied insult to her tresses. So to law they went. The Jutlanders were, and I believe are, like their Norman descendants, essentially a litigious The authorities heard both cases, plaintiff and defendant-felt puzzled-scratched their polls. The matter might have remained undecided to this day, had not an ecclesiastic present suggested how on an old carved stall in Hjørring cathedral he had seen represented the Judgment of Solomon, and forthwith explained the history to the assembled Court, who unanimously condemned the sow to be split in twain, and a moiety handed over to each contending party, with orders to salt and smoke their respective sides and hang them up in the manor-hall-the judge declaring in his charge, that whoever preserves his side for the longest period free from worms and rust shall be pronounced the rightful possessor of the twelve little. porkers, which, until the cause be decided, shall be considered wards in Chancery, and be allowed to feed, increase, and multiply.

Time rolled on: great had been the preparation of the lady of Asdal, and here she had the advantage over the lord of Odden, who knew more of the art of war than that of drysalting. What spices, what salt

petre (if then invented), what curing, what smoking she made use of I cannot pretend to say, but the side of bacon was a feast only to gaze upon. Little porkers grew and multiplied; the forest swarmed with curly tails and straight; the side of Asdal is still fresh as ever; that of Odden has a rusty look, but still no harm to speak of. Another inspection is over, the suit is still pending, nothing new "in re demurrer," as the papers say; but after a lapse of years corruption declares itself at Odden, decomposition later, and then, worst of all, defeat.

Loud are the rejoicings at Asdal, louder even than the grunting and squeaking of the herd of swine, handed over fat (strange to relate) from Chancery to the possession of its triumphant mistress. "Victory," she sings: "ever while Asdal stands shall that side of bacon hang untouched in my hall, or may my curse"-but, suffice it to say, the now shrivelled, rusty side still remains-historical-authenticated-an object of superstition, on which the fate of Asdal hangs-for now five hundred years. It was, you will agree with me, a monstrous fuss about a bit of bacon."

We return to our inn, one story high-like all its neighbours, it ducks away from wind and blast; find bowpots of honeysuckles (suæ patte) in our room; the table laid with silver knives; and they give us rød-grød, a national dish, a species of red jelly, composed of currants, cherries, raspberries, or what you will, served up with cream, to be met with in all village kros in Jutland, and excellent it is.*

* In kindness to the rising generation, rice-puddinged, be-sagoed, and be-fruited, we give the receipt for rød-grød:-Take a pint and a

In the manor of Asdal vast forests once stood, and of late years there have been dug up the horns and bones of the wild buffalo and the elk, races long extinct in Jutland.

June 30th.-At six we start. Strangers are rare in these parts, and looked upon as objects of curiosity. This morning, on my opening the door of the adjoining room by mistake, there knelt the grown-up daughter of the landlady, her eye applied to the keyhole, watching the English ladies at breakfast, with intense satisfaction.

During breakfast a nosegay of fresh roses arrives, accompanied by an envelope containing the visiting-cards of our friends of last night, addressed "To the English family, from admiring Danes." Well, you may smile; but when a man is turned forty, and inclined to corpulence, it is very pleasant to meet with admiring "anybodies," I can tell you.

We are off, our carriage laden with honeysuckles. along a splendid chaussée, quite glad to see our old friend the electric telegraph again. There's nothing like a little absence. We are just as pleased to see its wires as you will be to meet your acquaintance next May in London-the very same people you are now, June 30th, sick to death of.

The journey to-day is picturesque, along the moors and heights. Tufts of yellow iris come out from the

half of juice, either raspberry, currant, or cherry, or mixed, and when it boils add three ounces of ground rice. Let it simmer for twenty minutes, and before taking it off the fire throw in an ounce of sweet almonds pounded and an ounce and a half of isinglass. Pour into a mould set into cold water, and serve it, when turned out, with thick cream round the dish.

coal-black mose-a good contrast, black and yellow; and further on runs a line of feathery cotton-grass, pure, white, and spotless. To us, who have made a sixweeks' "cure aux épinards" among the new-born foliage of the beechen forest in early spring, this varied colouring possesses a double charm.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

Old manor of Høgholt and its dairy-farm-Two sisters of Jerup — Pontoppidan - Jutland's most northern manor - Lighthouse of Skagen Storm of flying sand- Wrecks - Melons and sea-nettles -Sweet gale and bog moss - Frederikshavn - The Jutland Dido.

HØGHOLT.

June 30th.-WE leave Aastrup to the left, gift of Christian to Sir Niels Høg, his faithful follower; and then, whilst the horses refresh at Hormested kro, walk down to visit the ancient manor of Høgholt, at a quarter of a mile's distance. The names of our great people of to-day are certainly not euphonious, though Banner has a certain illustration to the world at large, for, besides the hero of Svenstrup Heath, there is Banner, governor of Kalø Castle at the period when Gustavus Vasa was there confined, awaiting the arrival of his ransom. Gustavus, as you know, escaped, and Banner was compelled by angry Christian to pay the sum out of his own pocket-more than half his fortune; still he remained faithful to his sovereign to the very last, and played a prominent part in the reign of Frederic I. as well as in that of Christian III. Then we have the Dues, Dyres, Daas, and Globs (horrid name!), Becks, Bagges, Basses, and many others equally ugly and mean-sounding. We arrive at the lake before the old manor-house of Høgholt, embosomed within a