ave a longer run
than usual to-morrow, and reach Esbjerg midday the day after, and the
steamer leaves at night. Are there any traditions of Kolding, Herr
Pastor?"

"A number, and, of course, attached to Koldinghuus, which was erected
in the thirteenth century," said the Pastor. "The oldest story is that
of the bloodstains in Koldinghuus. It is said that a king lived there,
who had an only daughter. For some reason he determined to kill her,
and decided that as she was fond of dancing she should be danced to
death. He therefore, amongst his officers, sought out the toughest for
the work; but his daughter danced with nine of them without signs of
giving way. The king was enraged. He danced with her himself, and then
cut with his dagger the belt she wore, which had sustained her, so
says the legend. Her mouth filled with blood, and she died in her
father's arms. Nothing could wash the stain of her blood out of the
floor.

"As to Kolding itself, there are several stories," continued the
Pastor. "There is more than one about the church clock, which never
keeps time, the reason is that the men in an adjoining town, not far
from Kolding, had in a time of scarcity borrowed seed from the men
from Kolding, and had pledged a neighbouring meadow, which should
belong to the men of Kolding if the value of the seed was not paid on
a certain day and at a certain hour. When the time came, the men of
Kolding induced the clock-keeper to alter the clock; and when the
borrowers came to repay the loan, it was too late, and the meadow was
adjudged to belong to the men of Kolding. There is a variation of this
story, that the widow of Henning Limbek borrowed the money and pledged
the meadow with the same result. She was on the bridge and heard the
clock strike twelve and she at once returned home and surrendered the
meadow to the men of Kolding. There is another story of a rich man who
lived near Kolding, and they offered him a large sum for the meadow,
and the terms were settled at a feast. The rich man, however, had a
horse, and he affirmed that the horse would gallop from his house to
Kolding by a certain time. This the men of Kolding denied as possible.
He then offered to wager the meadow against a considerable sum that
the horse would. The horse performed the journey within the time
stated, but the clock had been altered. Ever since, the church clock
has never been correct."

"Not very correct of the men of Kolding," said Hardy, "and,