had been lying awake so long that the very
dead began to wake too, and to crowd into my
thoughts most sorrowfully. Therefore, I
resolved to lie awake no more, but to get up
and go out for a night walk—which resolution
was an acceptable relief to me, as I dare say it
may prove now to a great many more.

JOHAN FALSEN;

FROM THE DANISH OF MR. GOLDSCHMIDT.

AT about eleven o'clock one summer night
in the year 1773, old Martin Falsen rose from
his bed, opened one of the window-shutters,
and put his head out to see what was the
cause of the disturbance in the street before
his house. He beheld his son Johan in a
violent quarrel with four or five apprentice
lads, who, being rendered incapable of
farther combat, soon disappeared from the
scene of action. After this, the young
conqueror approached the window, the shutter
and casement of which had been left
purposely ajar, and was about to enter the room;
when, to his great astonishment, he felt
himself thrust out again, and the following words
addressed to him:

"This then is the reason why you cannot
get up in the morning! And you think you
may come sneaking into your father's house
in this way, setting an example to thieves, do
you? Away with you, and never come into
my sight again!"

With these words the father's nightcap
disappeared into the chamber, and window and
shutter were both closed. Overcome with
shame and vexation, Johan now stood
immoveable upon the spot which a few minutes
before had witnessed his triumph.

"Plague on it that the old fellow should
awake!" said he, at length, half aloud to
himself, and then turned away to ask quarters
for the night with some of his companions.

The next day Johan received from his
irreconcilable father his maternal inheritance
—a few hundred rix-dollars; and with this
he set off at once to a sea-port town at no
great distance, where, although only nineteen
years old, he began business, and where there
was no grumbling old gentleman to make it
necessary for him to leave window and shutter
ajar. He had now keys of his own, and could
let himself in at his own street-door.

After a few months his shopman one day
said to him, "Master, on Saturday that bill
becomes due."

"What bill, Hendrik?" asked he.

"The great bill of nine hundred rix-dollars
which we gave to the Lubeck merchant."

"Does it, indeed!" exclaimed Johan; and
then, with his hands behind him, he walked up
and down behind the counter and whistled;
while his shopman busied him with some pieces
of cotton.

"Hendrik," at length said Johan; "I must
see if I cannot get the money."

"God bless you, master!" said the shopman,
leaving the cotton to itself, "but there
is sense in that."

A pause followed; Johan turned it over in
his mind again; and suddenly, by the tone of
his voice, it seemed as if a brilliant thought
had struck him. "Hendrik!" exclaimed he,
"the day after tomorrow is Hjembek fair.
I have still some goods to sell; do you run
to Jens, the hackney-coachman, and ask if he
can drive me there tonight."

The shopman went to Jens, and that same
evening Johan drove with a small package of
goods out of the gate of the town to Hjembek
fair.

What occurred there I have been told by
my late uncle—a brother of uncle Johan—
who frequently spoke of that night's adventures.
This other uncle of mine was at that
time in the employment of a Copenhagen
merchant, and had. been sent to the fair with a
quantity of small wares. As soon as Johan
arrived, a number of the fair folk came thronging
about him. "What, are you here, Johan
Falsen?" said they. "Nay, but we are glad
of that! How is it with you, old boy? We'll
have a regular bout of it tonight, eh,
Johan?" Johan made but little time suffice
for his brother; to whom he entrusted all
arrangements about his booth in the fair, and
then went off at once with his rollicking
companions.

Late at night his brother went to seek for
Johan in a low public-house, where gambling
was going on. There sate Johan, with flushed
countenance, in a cloud of tobacco-smoke and
punch fumes: he had already lost all his ready
money, and now staked the goods he brought
with him.

"Johan, come with me!" said his brother.
"Leave off before it is too late!"

"Stuff and nonsense!" said Johan. "I am
not risking your money, am I?"

"'I could not bear to look on,' my uncle
was accustomed to say, 'so l went home and
to bed. Early in the morning, when it was
just beginning to get light, I heard somebody
come blundering up the stairs, and trying all
the doors, until at last he entered my room.
It was Johan. His countenance was swollen;
his eyes were sunk deeply in his head, and
burning like fire.

"'Are you awake, Christian?' said he,
coming to my bedside.

"'Yes, I am. What has happened to
you?' Instead of giving me an answer, he
bade me get up and go to Jens, the hackney-
coachman.

"'Why must I go to him?' said I, 'have
you lost your goods and all?'

"'Lost!' exclaimed he, with a scornful
laugh, 'lost! look here!' And, with these
words, he put his hand into his breast-pocket,
and pulled out an enormous roll of bank bills
and threw them on the table. Other rolls he
drew forth from his breeches pockets, and
from the pockets of his waistcoat came several
hundred-dollar bills; while out of his boots—