see," replied Hardy, as he took
a little spring balance out of his pocket, and held it up to her with
the trout on it. "That little line is the half-pound, and the fish
pulls the spring to that line."

"What a pretty thing to weigh with! Is it silver?" asked Helga.

"Yes, it is silver," replied Hardy. "I will leave it with you, with
the rest of the fishing gear, on the condition that the first time you
catch a trout weighing one pound you write and tell me all about it."

"Yes, that I will!" said Helga. "I write my father's letters, and
shall have to write to you for him about Rosendal."

At breakfast, Helga described to her father all the little incidents
of the morning, and her bright fresh look testified to the benefit of
early morning exercise.

"I think, Helga," said the Pastor, "that when Karl is gone, you had
better go fishing in the morning with Axel; you look the better for
it."

When the tobacco parliament was opened that evening, and the Pastor
had finished puffing like a small steam launch to get his porcelain
pipe well lit. Hardy asked him if there was anything in the
superstitions of Jutland, corresponding to those of the sea, about the
rivers.

"Yes," replied the Pastor. "Our Danish word for river is 'Aa'
(pronounced like a broad _o_). Thus, the Gudenaa is the Guden river.
The tradition is that each river has its Aamand or river man, who
every year craves a life; if a year passes without a victim, he can be
heard at night saying, 'The time and hour are come, but the victim is
not yet come.' Sometimes the Aamand is called Nokken."

"That is the Norsk name," said Hardy. "In Scotland they have a
superstition as to changelings; that is, a human child is stolen and a
child of the Trolds substituted. This is referred to by Sir Walter
Scott in one of his poems. Does anything of the sort exist in your
Jutland traditions?"

"There are several varied stories," replied Pastor Lindal. "One is of
a couple who had a very pretty child; they lived near a wood called
Rold Wood. The Trolds came one night and stole the child, leaving one
of their own in its place. The man and his wife did not at first
notice any change, but the wife gradually became suspicious, and she
asked the advice of a wise woman, who told her to brew in a nutshell,
with an eggshell as beer barrel, in the changeling's presence, who
exclaimed that it had lived so many years as to have seen Rold Wood
hewn down and grow up three times, but ha