quarter too late!" said the Kammerjunker, who came out
to meet them on the steps. "Good weather for the fair, and good
horses! I have already been out at the West-gate, and have bought two
magnificent mares. One of them kicked out behind, and had nearly given
me a blow on the breast, so that I might have said I had had my fairing!
Jakoba is paying visits, drinking chocolate, and eating biscuits.
Mamsell is out taking a view of things. Now you know our story."

The ladies went to their chamber, the gentlemen remained in the saloon.

"Yes, here you shall see a city and a fair, Mr. Thostrup!" said the
Kammerjunker, and slapped Otto on the shoulder.

"Odense was at one time my principal chief-city," said Wilhelm; "and
still St. Knud's Church is the most magnificent I know. God knows
whether St. Peter's in Rome would make upon me, now that I am older, the
impression which this made upon me as a child!"

"In St. Knud's Church lies the Mamsell with the cats," said the
Kammerjunker.

"The bishop's lady, you should say," returned Wilhelm. "The legend
relates, that there was a lady of a Bishop Mus who loved her cats to
that degree that she left orders that they should be laid with her
in the grave. [Author's Note: The remains of the body, as well as the
skeletons of the cats, are still to be seen in a chapel on the western
aisle of the church.] We will afterward go and see them."

"Yes, both the bishop's lady and the cats," said the Kammerjunker, "look
like dried fish! Then you must also see the nunnery and the military
library."

"The Hospital and the House of Correction!" added Wilhelm.

The beating of a drum in the street drew them to the window. The city
crier, in striped linsey-woolsey jacket and breeches, and with a
yellow band across his shoulders, stood there, beat upon his drum, and
proclaimed aloud from a written paper many wonderful things which were
to be seen in the city.

"He beats a good drum," said the Kammerjunker.

"It would certainly delight Rossini and Spontini to hear the fellow!"
said Wilhelm. "In fact Odense would be, at New Year's time, a city for
these two composers. You must know that at that season drums and fifes
are in their glory. They drum the New Year in. Seven or eight little
drummers and fifers go from door to door, attended by children and old
women; at that time they beat both the tattoo and the reveille. For this
they get a few pence. When the New Year is drummed-in in the city the