and begged for mercy. The king ordered him immediately to confess what inducement he had for making this murderous attack; when the assassin, without reserve, acknowledged how Eisten had instigated them to murder Abel.

The king now turned to the Astrologer, and asked him who he was. The old man laid his sword at the king's feet, and said: "Kneel down with me, my son, for you stand before Denmark's king." Hereupon he related his history, and also the manner in which Eisten Brink had acted towards him and his son Abel.

The king pardoned him; and when he heard that Eisten's wedding was to be celebrated at Barritskov on the following day, he determined on being present at the festival, taking with him the captured robber. Palle and his son also accompanied him to the castle.

At Barritskov all was mirth and glee; the bridemaids were adorning Inger and twining the bridal wreath in her hair. Jens Grib was busied in receiving the congratulations of his neighbours. But Eisten had not yet made his appearance; he was sitting alone in his chamber, impatiently waiting to hear tidings from the two assassins, who had undertaken to murder Abel.

At once he thought he heard a great and unusual noise in the castle-yard. He approached the door to ascertain the cause, when his future father-in-law burst into the room with the intelligence, that the king had arrived at the castle, in company with Abel, the Astrologer, and a prisoner.

Eisten Brink could scarcely believe his own ears, but still more astounded was he upon finding that the king had suspended all the festivities, and commanded every one to meet him in the knights' hall.

Here the king related to the astonished company how Eisten had acted towards his brother-in-law, the old Palle, and requested the assembled guests to pass judgment upon such a criminal.

Eisten was deprived of his honours. Palle was restored to his power and dignity; but the best of all was, that Abel was wedded to Inger, and lived with her many years in splendour and felicity.

KIELD;

OR, THE FOUNDING OF THE CHURCH AT VARDE.

To the south of Varde, in the direction of Ribe, are to be seen two half-ruined barrows, called the Robbers' Cellars, where it was supposed a band of robbers once had their resort. At that time it was hardly possible for travellers to pass the road without being attacked and plundered. Carriers and hucksters in particular were the greatest sufferers; and it was the more difficult for the authorities to track out the gang, as they had lurking places in Gellerup and other villages in the neighbourhood.

Late one evening, a young man arrived at Endrupholm, an old manor-house near Varde. He begged permission to remain there the night, as he had been pursued by robbers who were lying in wait for him, so that he thought it would not be advisable to continue his journey that night. He related that he had been attacked on the heath, and that his horse had fallen over a rope stretched across the road. When the horse had fallen he had escaped on foot, and had, with the greatest difficulty, reached Endrupholm.

The proprietor and his daughter received the stranger with much courtesy, and endeavoured, by every attention in their power, to efface the unpleasant impression which this rencontre with the robbers had occasioned. This was

rendered the more easy on the father's part, as the stranger, in the course of conversation, displayed the delicacy and tact of a cultivated and refined mind; and on that of the daughter, because he was handsome, and at the very first moment of his addressing her, had done his best to express the admiration her youth and beauty excited in him. He related that he was the son of a gentleman named Kield, who lived on the other side of Kolding, and that he had been travelling all the summer about the country for amusement. The following day passed, but the stranger still remained at Endrupholm, the inmates of which found more and more pleasure in his society. He was a willing participator in the knight's hunting and card-parties, and his presence gave a variety to the daughter's monotonous

C C

life she listened with eager attention to all he related of the different towns and countries he had visited, and blushed at the praises and flattery he whispered in her ear.

A month was thus passed by Kield at the mansion; each day he fixed for his departure, yet was his journey as constantly postponed, through the persuasions and entreaties of his host. When he at length departed, he was betrothed with the young maiden. He quitted the mansion, to the great regret of its master and his daughter; but on taking leave, promised soon to return. He would in the meantime inform his family of the engagement he had made, and, if possible, persuade his father to accompany him back. His absence appeared to the inmates of Endrupholm both long and tedious. When he at length returned, he was received with open arms. He brought not only his father's consent, but many kind messages from his whole family, and excuses from his father, who was suffering from an illness that prevented him from accompanying his son to Endrupholm.

The wedding of the young people was settled to take place in the spring. In the meantime Kield remained at the mansion, and daily became dearer both to the father and the daughter. The father acknowledged that he had never seen his equal in all that related to the chase, although he himself was an able huntsman. Kield appeared to have a strong inclination for field sports, and passed more of his time either down in the moors, or in the forest, than was agreeable to his bride, and was not to be withheld either by her entreaties or the fear of the robbers, who had never before committed such depredations as at that time.

One day Kield, as usual, went to the chase, and the twilight had set in before his return. The young damsel's fears increased every minute. She at length prevailed on her father, who had not for some time been able to indulge in his favourite amusement, owing to a fall from his horse, to go out in search of him.

On a

The old man went, and long wandered about in the forest, but saw nothing of the object of his search. sudden he heard his name mentioned by some person not far from him. He listened, and saw two figures approach from a copse which had till that moment screened them from him. Cautiously he concealed himself behind a

bush to be unobserved by the strangers, who continued talking. What the old man overheard made his hair stand on end. He did not doubt that he was in the neighbourhood of the robbers' lurking place, but determined quietly to await the result.

In a few minutes the speakers separated. The one disappeared behind a bank on the high road; the other, who, as far as the light allowed him to see, was an old woman, passed the spot where he stood, and entered the copse. On reaching a thickly-wooded grave-mound, she stood for a moment still, as if to look on all sides. She then, apparently with little exertion, removed a large stone that lay at the foot of the mound, and crept in through a hole which it had served to conceal, then from within drew back the stone to its former place.

The old man instantly formed his resolution; he drew his sword, lifted the stone, and followed the woman. On passing through the hole his foot struck against a narrow steep staircase, down which he crept as softly as possible. The hole became wider by degrees, and when he again stood on the earth, he found himself in a capacious cellar formed of large unhewn blocks of stone, the gray walls of which were lighted up by two torches. Scattered about the cave lay a quantity of clothes and weapons. A long table was covered with provisions and full bottles. Under the ceiling or roof hung a large bell, which was so contrived that it sounded whenever any one drove or rode on the road above. At the time the master from Endrupholm visited the cave there was, fortunately for him, no one there but the old woman, who, without suspecting it, had been his guide. She was busy in the passage that led under the road to the other grave-mound on the opposite side of the road, and had, therefore, not heard anything of the noise which his entrance must have occasioned. When she came back, he saw, by the slow and cautious manner in which she walked, and by the way in which she stretched out her hands before her, that she was blind.

After he had for a few minutes surveyed with fear and curiosity what he saw before him, he heard on a sudden a noise over his head. The bell in the roof rang, and the old woman gave a laugh of satisfaction, and mumbled to

с с 2

herself, "Here they come, I wonder what they will bring with them to-night."

In the greatest alarm at being discovered, the old man looked about for a place of concealment, and, in the same moment that the stone above was being raised, crept under a large bed which stood in one corner of the cave. He had scarcely done so when he heard the noise of many voices, and eight or ten persons came down the stairs. One of them carried in his arms the body of a young female. "Here, old mother," cried he, "I bring thee our prize for to-night. It is the handsomest woman I ever beheld; I could have broken Jacob's head for stabbing her. If I had only been in time, she should have lived and been my wife; now all that is left to do is to strip her and bury her by the side of the others."

While the robber thus spoke some of the gang stripped the corpse of its jewels. They had already despoiled it af all save a massive gold ring, which, in spite of their exertions, they could not draw from the finger. One of the men thereupon took a hatchet, and, laying the hand on the edge of the bed under which the old man lay concealed, chopped off the finger. From the violence of the blow the finger flew under the bed, and he was within a hair's breadth of being discovered while the robbers were in search for their prize. Fortunately for him, one of the men said he could find it at any time, and it would be better to bury the body in the other mound, and then go to supper. This advice was followed..

Soon after the robbers took their places round the table, and began to eat and drink. The old man from underneath the bed was witness to all that was going on. The more they drank the higher rose his hope of an opportunity to escape. The night was, however, far advanced before the robbers left the table and betook themselves to rest, stupi fied by their deep potations. As soon as they had extin guished the lights the old man attempted to leave his hiding-place. Gently and noiselessly he crept from under the bed when all was quiet, and succeeded in reaching the stairs; but in the act of ascending in the dark, he made a false step and fell heavily on the ground. This noise awoke one of the sleepers; he started up, and asked what was the