and yet he did not sleep; and it appeared as if the old washerwoman looked at him with kind eyes and said, “It would be a great pity if you did not know your lesson to-morrow morning; you helped me, and now I will help you, and Providence will always help those who help themselves;” and at the same time the book under Tuk’s pillow began to move about. “Cluck, cluck, cluck,” cried a hen as she crept towards him. “I am a hen from Kjöge,”[1] and then she told him how many inhabitants the town contained, and about a battle that had been fought there, which really was not worth speaking of.
“Crack, crack,” down fell something. It was a wooden bird, the parrot which is used as a target at Prästöe.[2] He said there were as many inhabitants in that town as he had nails in his body. He was very proud, and said, “Thorwalsden lived close to me,[3] and here I am now, quite comfortable.”
But now little Tuk was no longer in bed; all in a moment he found himself on horseback. Gallop, gallop, away he went, seated in front of a richly-attired knight, with a waving plume, who held him on the saddle, and so they rode through the wood by the old town of Wordingburg, which was very large and busy. The king’s castle was surrounded by lofty towers, and radiant light streamed from all the windows. Within there were songs and dancing; King Waldemar and the young gayly-dressed ladies of the court were dancing together. Morning dawned, and as the sun rose, the whole city and the king’s castle sank suddenly down together. One tower after another fell, till at last only one remained standing on the hill where the castle had formerly been.[4]
The town now appeared small and poor, and the school-boys read in their books, which they carried under their arms, that it contained two thousand inhabitants; but this was a mere boast, for it did not contain so many.
And again little Tuk lay in his bed, scarcely knowing whether he was dreaming or not, for some one stood by him.
“Tuk! little Tuk!” said a voice. It was a very little person who spoke. He was dressed as a sailor, and looked small enough to be a middy, but he was not one. “I bring you many greetings from Corsör.[5] It is a rising town, full of life. It has steamships and mail-coaches. In times past they used to call it ugly, but that is no longer true. I lie on the sea-shore,”
- ↑ Kjöge, a little town on Kjöge Bay. Lifting up children by placing the hands on each side of their heads, is called “showing them Kjöge hens.”
- ↑ Prästöe, a still smaller town.
- ↑ About a hundred paces from Prästöe lies the estate of Nysöe, where Thorswaldsen usually resided while in Denmark, and where he executed many memorable works.
- ↑ Wordingburg under King Waldemar was a place of great importance; now it is a very insignificant town: only a lonely tower and the remains of a well show where the castle once stood.
- ↑ Corsör, on the Great Belt, used to be called the most tiresome town in Denmark before the establishment of steamers. Travellers had to wait for a favorable wind. The title of “tiresome” was ingeniously added to the Danish escutcheon by a witticism of Vaudeville Heibergs. The poet Baggesen was born here.
