canvas and wood, were the
chief attractions. Ribbons and handkerchiefs fluttered. Noise and bustle
was everywhere. The girls from the same village always went in rows,
seven or eight inseparables, with hands fast clasped. It was impossible
to break the chain; and if you tried to pass through, the whole band
wound itself into a clump. Behind the booth was a great space with
wooden shoes, pottery, turners' and saddlers' wares. Rude and rough toys
were spread on tables. Around them children were trying little trumpets,
or moving about the playthings. Country girls twirled and twisted the
work-boxes and themselves many a time before making their bargain. The
air was thick and heavy with odors that were spiced with the smell of
honey-cake.

On Fair day, St. Knud's Church and all its tombs are open to the public.
From whatever side you look at this fine old building it has something
imposing, with its high tower and spire. The interior produces the same,
perhaps a greater, effect. But its full impression is not felt on
entering it, nor until you get to the main aisle. There all is grand,
beautiful, light. The whole interior is bright with gilding. Up in the
high vaulted roof there shine, since old time, a multitude of golden
stars. On both sides, high up above the side aisles, are great gothic
windows from which the light streams down. The side aisles are painted
with oil portraits, whole families, women and children, all in clerical
dress, with long gowns and deep ruffs. Usually the figures are ranged by
ages, the eldest first and then down to the very smallest.

They all stand with folded hands, and look piously down before them,
till their colors have gradually faded away in dust.

THE ANDERSEN JUBILEE AT ODENSE

From 'The Story of My Life'

I heard on the morning of December 6th [1867] that the town was
decorated, that all the schools had a holiday, because it was my
festival. I felt myself as humble, meek, and poor as though I stood
before my God. Every weakness or error or sin, in thought, word, and
deed, was revealed to me. All stood out strangely clear in my soul, as
though it were doomsday--and it was my festival. God knows how humble I
felt when men exalted and honored me so.

Then came the first telegram from the Student Club. I saw that they
shared and did not envy my joy. Then came a dispatch from a private club
of students in Copenhagen, and from the Artisans' Club of Slagelse. You
will remember