in a sand-bank, which grew higher and higher above the
water; and I said, 'That will be Zealand!' It became the resort of
birds of various species unknown to us--the home of savage chiefs as
little known to us, until the axe cut the Runic characters which then
brought them into our chronology. As I was thus musing three or four
falling stars attracted my eye. My thoughts took another turn. Do you
know what falling stars are? The scientific themselves do not know
what they are. I have my own ideas about them. How often in secret are
not thanks and blessings poured out on those who have done anything
great or good! Sometimes these thanks are voiceless, but they do not
fall to the ground. I fancy that they are caught by the sunshine, and
that the sunbeam brings the silent, secret praise down over the head
of the benefactor. If it be an entire people that through time bestow
their thanks, then the thanks come as a banquet--fall like a falling
star over the grave of the benefactor. It is one of my pleasures,
especially when on a New Year's eve I observe a falling star, to
imagine to whose grave the starry messenger of gratitude is speeding.
One of the last falling stars I saw took its blazing course towards
the south-west. For whom was it dispatched? It fell, I thought, on the
slope by Flensborg Fiord, where the Danish flag waves over
Schleppegrell's, Laessoee's, and their comrades' graves. One fell in the
centre of the country near Soroe. It was a banquet for Holberg's
grave--a thank offering of years from many--a thank offering for his
splendid comedies! It is a glorious and gratifying fancy that a
falling star could illumine our graves. That will not be the case with
mine; not even a single sunbeam will bring me thanks, for I have done
nothing to deserve them. I have not even attained to blacking," said
Ole; "my lot in life has been only to get grease."

THE SECOND VISIT.

It was on a New Year's day that I again ascended to the church tower.
Ole began to speak of toasts. We drank one to the transition from the
old drop in eternity to the new drop in eternity, as he called the
year. Then he gave me his story about the glasses, and there was some
sense in it.

"When the clocks strike twelve on New Year's night every one rises
from table with a brimful glass, and drinks to the New Year. To
commence the year with a glass in one's hand is a good beginning for a
drunkard. To begin the year by going to bed is a good beginni