"_Piscator._ Good morrow, sir! What, up and dressed
so early!
"_Viator._ Yes, sir. I have been dressed this half hour, for I
rested so well and have so great a mind either to take or to
see a trout taken in your fine river that I could no longer
lie a-bed.
"_Piscator._ I am glad to see you so brisk this morning and so
eager of sport, though I must tell you, this day proves so
calm, and the sun rises so bright, as promises no great
success to the angler; but however, we will try, and one way
or the other, we shall sure do something."
--_The Complete Angler._
Kirstin, the elder of Pastor Karl Lindar's women servants, was about
forty-five--a large-framed woman with a hard face. She possessed, in
common with the Jutland lower class, a shrewd sense, yet highly
suspicious, but at the bottom strong good nature. She had been with
Pastor Lindal more than twenty years, and her devotion to him and his
was complete. At all times she gave her advice, whether asked or
unasked, on every topic, and materially assisted in economizing the
pastor's narrow income. Her work was done with the exactitude of a
clock, neat and precise; and if the work in the house was by any cause
increased, she rose earlier and went to bed later, rejoicing in her
capacity for work and usefulness. The influence her steady character
had in the house was great, and on the Pastor's daughter, Froken
Helga's leaving an educational institution at Copenhagen, Kirstin's
strict sense of duty created an impression that Froken Helga never
lost. She awoke to the fact of what her duty was--that it was to her
father and his home. Kirstin's manner was not kindly, and she could
give sharp answers, but the woman's kindly nature often showed itself
in a strong light. Outside the Pastor's house she was respected and
liked, and always went by the name of Praesten's Kirstin.
At half-past five the morning of the day after John Hardy's arrival at
the parsonage, Kirstin knocked at the door of his room, and brought in
the accustomed coffee and its belongings.
John Hardy was dressed, as he was always an early riser, and was
attaching two large Irish lake trout flies to a stronger casting line
than he had selected the night before.
"Morn," said Kirstin. "I tell the gentleman that Karl and Axel have
had coffee. Has the gentleman anything to command?"
"Tell them I am ready to go fishing," said Hardy; "but if we catch any
trout and the trout are in the kitchen by ten o'clock, can we have
them cooked for breakfast?"
"If the gentleman's fish are there, the frying-pan is ready," replied
Kirstin; "but the Herr Pastor would not wish the gentleman to be
without a breakfast."
It was clear Kirstin doubted a trout breakfast's possibility. John
Hardy began to doubt too; but he took his fishing-rod, a light
sixteen-foot fly rod, and called the two boys, who rushed into his
room eager to a degree.
"Herr Hardy," said Axel, "they all say you will catch nothing--do you
think you will?"
The anxiety in the boy's face amused Hardy, who gave him the
fishing-bag to carry, and his brother Karl the landing-net.
John Hardy went to the bridge close to the parsonage, and looked up
the river. The country was flat, chiefly arable land, with meadows
here and there of coarse grass. The river had a peaty colour, and
resembled in its flow some portions of the Thames.
"Do you know where the deepest water is up the river, boys?" inquired
Hardy.
"Up by the tile works," said the boys both at once, "and above that it
is not deep."
Hardy walked up the towing-path, keeping his eye on the river, but not
a trout moved. He saw the abundance of bleak and smaller fish, and it
occurred to him that it was easy to account for the non-success of the
fly-fishers in the Gudenaa. The fish would not be often feeding, as
trout food existed in such quantity; and besides, to a voracious trout
a plump little fish was more acceptable than an ephemera. If there
were any fish feeding they would be in the shallows.
Hardy tried small trout flies, but without success; not a fish moved,
and the boys' faces had a disappointed look. He changed his casting
line for the one with the Irish lake trout flies, and was soon fast in
a trout. This Karl, in his excitement to get into the landing-net,
nearly lost, but Hardy let the fish have line, and then drew it again
within reach of the landing-net. This fish was full of food, and
corroborated the Pastor's statement. The trout resembles the Hampshire
trout, but the colours were more brightly painted. Hardy fished
steadily for two hours, with the result of landing eight trout
averaging a pound each, to the boys' intense delight. Kirstin and
their father had both doubted Hardy, but there were the fish and could
be cooked for breakfast. The boys never doubted Hardy after.
"Axel, little man," said John Hardy, "run to the kitchen with the
fish, and tell Kirstin that the Englishman wants to know if the
frying-pan is ready."
Axel was off like a hare.
When Karl and Hardy reached the parsonage, the Pastor was at the door.
"I see no fish," said he, "and I am glad I did not lead you to expect
any success in that direction."
"We have not been very successful," said Hardy, quietly taking down
his rod. "A knowledge of the habits of the fish in different rivers,
and a knowledge of the rivers is necessary, and this an intimate
acquaintance only gives."
"Yes, but, father," put in Kari, "Herr Hardy has caught a lot; he
would not let us keep the small ones, but kept eight of the biggest.
Axel has ran on with them. Kirstin told me the frying-pan would be
ready, but not the gentleman's fish."
When John Hardy was called to breakfast--a Danish breakfast
corresponds much to an early English lunch--he found Karl and Axel's
tongues wagging like a dog's tail at dinner-time, they were so full of
the fishing. They had caught a few roach in the river, and about once
in a moon a trout, and John Hardy's completer knowledge had impressed
them. Hardy bowed to Froken Helga, and would have shaken hands, but
she pointed to a seat, and Hardy sat down. The Pastor said grace, and
attacked the trout with much appreciation of their merits.
"We tried to cast a line out, father, with Herr Hardy's rod," said
Axel, "but could not, the line fell all of a heap, while Herr Hardy
threw it a long way; it hovered over the water for a second, and fell
slowly on the water. The flies appeared like live insects."
"You know, father," put in Karl, "the wider shallow in the river above
the tile works? I saw a trout rise there, and pointed it out to Herr
Hardy, He watched it, and when the trout rose again he walked straight
into the river and caught it by a long cast. It was the biggest fish."
"I have undertaken to teach you two boys English," said Hardy; "and if
you will try and learn, I will teach you how to fish and give you rods
and flies as well."
"A thousand thanks, Herr Hardy," said Karl and Axel, with delight.
"You have already prepared the way for performing your part of our
contract, Herr Hardy," said the Pastor; "I can only hope I shall
execute mine so well. With the boys' hearts in the work the rest is
easy;" and Pastor Lindal regarded his manly and self-possessed guest
with interest.
John Hardy could now in the full light of a day in May consider Pastor
Lindal; his age was apparently over fifty, his features were clear cut
and handsome, his eyes blue, and his hair had been a light-brown.
There was an impression of probity about him that struck Hardy
forcibly. His manner was a trifle awkward to Hardy's notion, but it
was kindly. His daughter Helga was like her father. Her complexion was
clear and her voice musical. Her manner was, Hardy thought, not
refined. It was simple and straightforward, and to John Hardy she
appeared to want the ladylike tone of an English lady. The two boys
Karl and Axel were like English lads of the same age, frank and open,
and Hardy liked them.
The Pastor had his pipe in full glow--his daughter had filled it--and
Hardy, taught by his experience of the previous evening, lit a cigar.
The Pastor said that he had his duties to attend to, and some of his
parish children as he called them to visit, and that his daughter
Helga had also her visits to make. Hardy replied that he should write
to his mother and some business letters, and if dinner was at four, as
the Pastor had intimated, that he should like to fish in the evening,
to relieve Kirstin's doubts as to whether the frying-pan would be
wanted for breakfast on the morrow by catching some trout the night
before.
"And you will take us, Herr Hardy?" said Karl and Axel with some
anxiety.
"Come to my room at three," said Hardy; "I will begin to teach you how
to fish. I have a lighter fly rod, and we will prepare the tackle."
After dinner John Hardy and the boys went to the river. Hardy had a
sixteen-foot minnow rod, and put up a twelve-foot fly rod for the
boys, and showed them how to cast it. They took it in turns, and Karl
caught a trout. Hardy waded the shallows, fishing with a minnow, and
the trout for an hour were on the feed. The largest trout he caught
was over three pounds, and seventeen weighed nineteen pounds, by
Hardy's English spring balance.
John Hardy changed his clothes and came down to the room occupied by
Pastor Lindal and his family as a sitting-room, and found Froken Helga
playing on an old piano to the Pastor, who was smoking in his easy
chair. She at once ceased.
"We have caught more and larger fish, Herr Pastor," said Hardy; "the
fishing in the Gudenaa is good, and any doubt as to there being trout
for breakfast, and, if you wish, dinner, to-morrow, is at an end."
"You English are a thorough people," said the Pastor; "whether it be
sport or business, science or skill, you are to the front."
"Our faith is that we owe it to our Danish ancestors," said Hardy;
"the hard tenacity of the Vikings is what we admire most in history."
"My faith is that it is the free and independent spirit of your
institutions for ages," replied the Pastor. "You now enjoy the changes
wrought by Cromwell, for which the English people then were ripe. But
do light your cigar, and hear a suggestion I have to make for
to-morrow. There is an old Danish place near here, called Rosendal.
Its special beauty is the idyllic landscape of beech trees, a lake,
and a valley where they grow such roses as will resist our Danish
climate. The house is an old house, but has been restored by
successive owners. The place is visited by people far and near. It is
thoroughly Danish, and especially Jydsk (Jutlandsk). It is only two
English miles from here, and my daughter Helga's only enthusiasm is
Rosendal. She will go with you, with Karl and Axel. Is the walk too
far?"
"No, certainly not," said Hardy; "do we go before breakfast or after?"
"Helga, order breakfast earlier," said the Pastor.
"Yes, father," said Froken Helga; "but is it necessary for me to go to
Rosendal, the boys can show Herr Hardy the way?"
"You always like to go there and enjoy it," said her father. "You have
been in the house some days preparing to receive Herr Hardy, and the
walk will do you good. Go by all means."