calculated when he would be in Norway,
and at what profit he should dispose of his
cargo. I could not comprehend why tears
came suddenly into my uncle's eyes, and he
went away. We had not as yet exchanged a
word; we continued our silent walk out of
the town gates, towards my uncle's fields;
and I myself felt that strange depression of
mind which seems to foretell some approaching
misfortune.

When we had proceeded a short distance
beyond the gate my uncle took my arm, and
sighed deeply. I summoned resolution and
said, "Uncle, what is amiss with you?"

"Ludvig," said he, "I will confide it to you;
but you must not say a word of it to your aunt.
On Friday evening as I went past the little
old warehouse, and looked in as usual, I saw
my father!" And with these words my uncle
bent forward towards me, and looked into my
face.

I felt a shudder pass through my veins;
but the sense of how much I was indebted to
the old man enabled me to put a constraint
on my feelings, and I replied with a smile,
"Oh, uncle! you do not believe in such
things, do you?"

"He looked straight at me!" continued my
uncle, "and closed his eyes for a moment."

"It is easy to explain it," said I; "you
are always thinking of him when you look
into that old warehouse; and now that I am
become a candidate and bear his name, you
have probably thought more about him than
common, and so your imagination placed him,
as it were, livingly before you."

"Yes, but, Ludvig, I tell you," continued
my uncle, in hollow accents, "he looked
straight at me, and so kindly did he look, as
he never did in all the days of his life."

"Oh, uncle! what are you troubling yourself
about? You are still, thank God, strong
and active, and so full of life and spirit that it
is a pleasure to see you."

"Then it did occur to you that it portended
my death?" said my uncle.

I had been unlucky in my mode of
explanation; but the greatness of the danger
gave me presence of mind, and I said, with a
smile:

"Die? Yes, certainly, such a thing may
portend death; but. according to that rule,
Jens coachman ought to have been dead over
and over, for he sees his own face in that
old warehouse every night as he goes by to
bed."

These words evidently produced a good
effect upon my uncle. "Does he really?"
said he. "Perhaps after all, then, it is
something in the warehouse itself; the light
falls obliquely into it—I will have it pulled
down."

And whilst my uncle pursued this train of
thought, and perhaps indulged in new plans
of building, I was thinking how I must best
put Jens coachman on his guard, in case my
uncle questioned him.

We had by this time reached the top of
a hill. Here my uncle paused to rest a little.
Behind us lay the town with its pretty
little bay, the water of which reflected the
blue heavens. The chimneys were smoking.
Pigeons were skimming about in the clear
air, and the gilded weathercock shone brightly
on the top of my uncle's warehouses. Before
us lay the country; and in the fields which
stretched below us were my uncle's men busy
cutting the harvest, and the yellow corn lay
in rich swaths on the fallow.

"Ludvig," said my uncle, after a long
pause, "our parish priest thinks too much of
my red wine for me to put much faith in him.
But tell me now, honestly, what those learned
men in Copenhagen believe about death and
immortality."

I felt strangely excited. "It stands written,"
said I, "that the body is sown in mortality,
but that it arises in immortality; and we are
assured that the righteous shall go into
everlasting bliss."

"Yes, Ludvig," said he, "I learned all that
when I was a little child before I was
confirmed, and it does me good now to hear it
again. But, look round! All this belongs to
me! That grain-crop is mine; those are my
servants, who are faithful to death for me.
I am the first man down yonder in the town.
It is true that the Burgomaster is appointed
by the king, but he could not carry out a
single thing without I willed it. There is
my brandy-distillery: you may see the smoke;
they are mending the boiler fires. Can all
these ascend up to heaven with my mortal
body? They all seem so completely only
portions of myself."

"Uncle," said I, "you now are talking
like King Valdemar. He prayed God only
to leave him Vordingborg Castle, and then
he would not desire even the kingdom of
heaven!"

"Well," replied my uncle, "and how do
you suppose it has gone with King Valdemar
in heaven?"

"I fancy," returned I, "that he has met
with something there which is better even
than Vordingborg Castle."

My uncle was silent for some time, and
then, passing his hand over his eyes, he said,
"Now let us go home. But, do not say a
word of this to your aunt."

When we got back it seemed to me as if
the whole house were glad to see my uncle;
and, during the following day, I fancied that
there prevailed a melancholy but a
profoundly tender understanding between him
and everything that surrounded him.

The next Sunday I was to preach: I had
consented to do so at my uncle's earnest wish.
With the Lord's help, and my own boldness,
I got through very well.

After the morning service when we all sat
together to dinner, my uncle was still and
silent; at length, suddenly compelling himself
to appear cheerful, he said, "We'll have a