"Hunting trains up the younger nobility to the use
of manly exercises in their riper age."
--_The Complete Angler._
To John Hardy the days passed pleasantly at the little Danish
parsonage. He taught the boys English a short time daily, and their
bright faces and strong desire to learn made Hardy interested in their
progress. If they were inclined to be inattentive, which was rare, the
hint that he should not take them with him fishing secured earnest and
immediate attention. The Pastor saw that the boys made progress in
learning English with Hardy, and he himself taught them several hours
daily, or, if he were absent, he set them work to do, and his daughter
Helga sat in the room until the Pastor returned.
Hardy accompanied him in his visits to his Sogneborn (literally,
parish children), and he gradually became acquainted with the Danish
farmers, and was known in the parish as Praesten's Englaender, or the
parson's Englishman. He was amused by the habits of many of the men,
in treating him as if he was a harmless idiot, to be humoured and
always answered in the affirmative. Stories were told him of how in
some parts of the river there were trout et Par Alen long (about four
feet), but to amuse the idiot for the moment.
The peculiarity of knickerbockers received much consideration, and it
was a frequent question if Hardy adopted that dress for a sickness in
his legs. Hardy's knowledge of farming and the management of cattle,
particularly horses, was an unfailing source of conversation. There
are many good horses bred in Jutland for sale in England, Germany, and
Sweden. The original breed appeared to Hardy to be either Hungarian or
Polish. These horses are well adapted for light carriage work; and
many a horse foaled on a Jutland farm has been in a London carriage,
to the considerable profit of the importer.
The evenings at the parsonage passed in conversation with the Pastor,
who held a sort of tobacco parliament. Hardy was a good listener, and
was anxious to perfect himself in the Danish language. Froken Helga
knitted and listened. The boys learned lessons or played games. The
Pastor liked to hear his daughter sing; but it would be doing that
worthy man strong injustice to say he liked the piano, which was very
old and worse than worthless. It was to Hardy's ear torture to hear it
in contrast with Froken Helga's clear voice. At last he could stand it
no longer, and the matter came to a crisis.
"Herr Pastor," said Hardy, "when at the exhibition of Copenhagen, of
your national industry, I was much struck by the tone of a piano by a
Copenhagen maker, and I have ordered one, and I shall be much indebted
to you if you will allow it to be sent here until I return to
England."
"There will be much extra expense attached to that plan," replied the
Pastor, "and, besides, it might get injured here."
"Those considerations I am fully prepared for," said Hardy; "but if I
may take the leaf from my mouth, as you Danes say, or speak plainly,
your piano is worn out, and is spoiling Froken Helga's ear and taste
for music. Her voice is excellent, and rings as clearly as a silver
bell; but then the jingle of the piano is like the toothache."
"We are all accustomed to it," said the Pastor; "but I only hear
Helga's voice."
So the piano appeared, and a man to tune it, and Froken Helga played
it. The tone was good, and the Pastor listened to the old Danish songs
he had heard so many times with delight.
One evening Helga had to make a visit to a sick woman, and the Pastor
puffed away at his teacup of a pipe, with longer puffs than usual.
Hardy saw there was something in the way, and at last it struck him
that he missed his daughter's song. He had once told Hardy that her
voice was like her mother's.
Hardy sat down to the piano, and played and sang an English ballad,
and then another. He then sang a plaintive German song, with a manly
pathos and taste, that showed the well-bred gentleman he was.
The Pastor applauded loudly, and Hardy turned round, and, lo! there
was Froken Helga, with a look on her face that Hardy never forgot, so
intense was her surprise.
"Helga," said her father, "go and thank Herr Hardy for his singing to
me instead of you; he saw I missed you, my child, and he sang to
divert me."
"A thousand thanks!" said Helga, using a common Danish expression. "I
never heard so beautiful a song! But why did you not tell us that you
could play and sing before?"
"Because I preferred Froken Helga's voice to that of Praesten's
Englaender," said Hardy.
Nothing would induce Froken Helga to sing that evening; her father
almost commanded her, but she would not. At last she said, "I cannot,
father; Herr Hardy sings too well."
This speech was not forgotten for a long time, and Karl and Axel
teased their sister with perpetual questions as to whether they or she
was not doing something or other too well. If Karl caught no trout, he
explained to his sister that he was afraid of fishing too well. If
Axel had dirty hands, his explanation was that he was afraid of
washing them too well.
John Hardy had visited the Gudenaa within walking distance, or boating
distance, and he wished to make longer expeditions from the parsonage.
He inspected several of the farms near, and at last arranged with
farmer Niels Jacobsen to rent stabling for three horses. He then wrote
the following letter, addressed to a groom at Hardy Place:--
"Robert Garth,
"I want you to bring Buffalo to me in Denmark. The horse is to be
taken to Harwich, and thence on board the steamer for Esbjerg. The
steamers are fitted up with stables for horses, and there will be no
difficulty. When you come to Esbjerg, take train to Horsens, where I
will meet you. A telegram must be sent me to Vandstrup Praestegaard, to
say when you will arrive at Horsens. Bring two hunting saddles and
bridles, and some of the snaffle bits that I like.
"Show this letter to the steward, and he will let you have what money
he thinks is necessary for your journey.
"Yours truly,
"John Hardy."
In little more than a week, Buffalo and Robert Garth were in Niels
Jacobsen's stables.
Buffalo was a good English-bred horse, a good jumper, with a chest
like a wall, and hind-quarters up to weight. Niels Jacobsen and his
neighbours had collected and criticized.
"Gild bevars! sikken en Hest!" ["God preserve us, what a horse!"] said
Niels, sucking away at his pipe, with a chorus echoing the same words
from his neighbours. There was no doubt of their approval, and Buffalo
had a succession of visitors and admirers for days.
Hardy had communicated to Pastor Lindal that he intended to have one
of his horses and a groom from England, and had great difficulty in
preventing the Pastor turning out his own small stable to make room
for Buffalo; but this Hardy would not allow. Robert Garth lodged at
Jacobsen's, and Hardy, with that thoughtfulness he always had for
those about him, arranged for his man's meals and sleeping quarters as
nearly as possible to an English groom's notions.
"Well, Bob," said Hardy, "you will shake down after a bit; but what I
want you to do is, to help me to pick out a pair of light carriage
horses from here. I have seen a lot, and you will have plenty to
choose from. They will suit my mother, and I wish to take them over as
a present to her."
"I have seen some of them Danish horses," said Robert Garth, "and not
half bad horses either; but it is the infernal lingo. They keep
smoking them big wood pipes, and when they don't smoke they chews, and
then they spits."
"Where did you see any Danish horses?" asked Hardy.
"At Sir Charles'; he had a pair, hardly up to fifteen hands, but very
pretty steppers, with a thinish mane, a trifle small below the knee,"
said Garth.
"That's the very thing," said Hardy.
As soon as it was known that the priest's Englishman wanted to buy two
Jutland horses, plenty offered; and Karl and Axel were intensely
interested in the trial of the horses, which went on in a rough piece
of land close to the parsonage.
When the horses were brought up, Hardy mounted one, and Robert Garth
criticized. Hardy put the horse through its paces, and if his judgment
was not favourable, it was declined; but if doubtful. Garth rode it,
and Hardy looked on. A couple of horses were thus selected, and both
had Robert Garth's unqualified approval.
"They are both as handsome as paint, and as sound as bells," said
Garth.
"Are you a horse-dealer?" asked Pastor Lindal, of Hardy, one evening.
"No, certainly not," replied Hardy.
"You have shown every qualification for it," said the Pastor.
"Possibly," said Hardy. "I see I have done this also too well. I only
wanted the horses for my mother's carriage. She likes an open light
carriage, and it is difficult to procure really good horses in England
of a suitable size. The horses I have bought will suit her exactly, if
we have good luck with them; that is, that they turn out well, and we
have no accident with them. I shall buy a light four-wheel carriage at
Horsens, and my groom will drive them, and we shall then see if it be
necessary to discard either or both, before they are taken to
England."
"But why did you send for a horse from England?" said Pastor Lindal,
to whom a horse was a horse and a cow was a cow.
"I fear because I like a good horse," replied Hardy. "Your Jutland
horses are not adapted to the saddle, except for lady's hacks, or
light carriage work; my English horse would jump the ditches that
abound in your Danish fields, and would, for instance, jump your
garden wall."
"That I am sure no horse can," said the Pastor, decidedly.
"Does he mean, father," said Froken Helga, "that his horse can jump
our garden wall?"
"Yes," said Hardy; "it is scarcely five feet. But will you promise,
Froken Helga, that if my horse does jump the wall, that you will not
say that the horse does it too well? It is not me, but the horse that
jumps the wall."
Helga looked annoyed at the reference made to her saying that he sang
and played too well for any one to follow after him, but she said
nothing.
Karl and Axel had listened. They too thought it impossible; but they
believed in Hardy.
"Well, Karl," said Hardy, "don't you believe in me and the English
horse?"
"No," said Karl. "A horse cannot jump the garden wall by himself, much
more with a man on his back; no horse could do it. But I believe you
can do anything."
"Well, Herr Pastor," said Hardy, "I have no one who believes in me or
my horse. Froken Helga regards me with suspicion; and no one in
Jutland appears to believe more than they see."
"Yes; but it is impossible," said Pastor Lindal.
The next day after breakfast, Buffalo and one of the Danish horses
were taken to the parsonage by Robert Garth. Buffalo had an English
saddle on, and looked fully recovered from his journey to Denmark, and
fit for anything. The Pastor, his daughter, and his two boys came out
to see the English horse. Froken Helga had not seen it before, and it
struck her as being the handsomest horse she had ever seen; and she
observed the respect the English groom showed Hardy.
"What do you think of the oats, Bob?" said Hardy.
"First-rate," said Garth, touching his hat; "they have picked Buffalo
up wonderful, and he is fit to go anywhere."
Hardy mounted his horse. His mother had sent over his hunting
breeches, and when mounted, the Pastor was struck with the manly
figure of the quiet-mannered Englishman.
"The horse will not take even such a jump as your garden wall," said
Hardy, "in cold blood. I will give him a gallop down the field below,
and then bring him up and jump the wall. You will see the grand spread
of his stride as he gallops."
Hardy rode like an English country gentleman accustomed to the saddle,
and the great wide strides taken by Buffalo even the Pastor observed
with astonishment. Suddenly Hardy turned and came at the garden wall,
with Buffalo well in hand, who rose to the jump and cleared it easily,
and out through a break in the shrubbery over the wall at the other
side.
Hardy rode quietly in through the entrance gate and dismounted. It was
clear, by the demeanour of the English groom, that he saw nothing
unusual in what had passed; but it was very different with the Danish
family. The boys cheered, but Froken Helga had disappeared.
"If you were not accustomed to do this," said the Pastor, "I should
consider it was not right to risk so good a horse and your own limbs.
A fall must be dangerous to you and your horse."
"Yes; a fall would be, and is," said Hardy. "I have broken my arm and
a collar-bone by falls when hunting."
"Now, Herr Pastor," added Hardy, "you will see the difference between
my English horse and one of the best horses we could buy here."
"He can't jump a yard, master," said Garth; "it is no use trying him."
Hardy mounted the Danish horse, and the difference was apparent in
pace and action.
"Bob," said Hardy, "they are no use for saddle horses, except for
ladies; but they will do well for what we bought them."
"Right you are, master!" said Garth, as Hardy remounted Buffalo, and
went for a ride.