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"I
should be so glad. I would give up my doll and all my playthings, if she could
only come here again. Poor Inge! it is so dreadful for her." These pitying words
penetrated to Inge's inmost heart, and seemed to do her good. It was the first
time any one had said, "Poor Inge!" without saying something about her faults. A
little innocent child was weeping, and praying for mercy for her. It made her
feel quite strange, and she would gladly have wept herself, and it added to her
torment to find she could not do so.
And while she thus suffered in a
place where nothing changed, years passed away on earth, and she heard her name
less frequently mentioned. But one day a sigh reached her ear, and the words,
"Inge! Inge! what a grief thou hast been to me! I said it would be so." It was
the last sigh of her dying mother. After this, Inge heard her kind mistress say,
"Ah, poor Inge! shall I ever see thee again? Perhaps I may, for we know not what
may happen in the future." But Inge knew right well that her mistress would
never come to that dreadful place.
But Inge knew right well that her
mistress would never come to that dreadful place. Time-passed- a long bitter
time- then Inge heard her name pronounced once more, and saw what seemed two
bright stars shining above her. They were two gentle eyes closing on earth. Many
years had passed since the little girl had lamented and wept about "poor Inge."
That child was now an old woman, whom God was taking to Himself. In the last
hour of existence the events of a whole life often appear before us; and this
hour the old woman remembered how, when a child, she had shed tears over the
story of Inge, and she prayed for her now.
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"I
should be so glad. I would give up my doll and all my playthings, if she could
only come here again. Poor Inge! it is so dreadful for her." These pitying words
penetrated to Inge's inmost heart, and seemed to do her good. It was the first
time any one had said, "Poor Inge!" without saying something about her faults. A
little innocent child was weeping, and praying for mercy for her. It made her
feel quite strange, and she would gladly have wept herself, and it added to her
torment to find she could not do so.
And while she thus suffered in a
place where nothing changed, years passed away on earth, and she heard her name
less frequently mentioned. But one day a sigh reached her ear, and the words,
"Inge! Inge! what a grief thou hast been to me! I said it would be so." It was
the last sigh of her dying mother. After this, Inge heard her kind mistress say,
"Ah, poor Inge! shall I ever see thee again? Perhaps I may, for we know not what
may happen in the future." But Inge knew right well that her mistress would
never come to that dreadful place.
But Inge knew right well that her
mistress would never come to that dreadful place. Time-passed- a long bitter
time- then Inge heard her name pronounced once more, and saw what seemed two
bright stars shining above her. They were two gentle eyes closing on earth. Many
years had passed since the little girl had lamented and wept about "poor Inge."
That child was now an old woman, whom God was taking to Himself. In the last
hour of existence the events of a whole life often appear before us; and this
hour the old woman remembered how, when a child, she had shed tears over the
story of Inge, and she prayed for her now.
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"That
plant is a foreigner, no doubt," said the thistles and the burdocks. "We can
never conduct ourselves like that in this country." And the black forest snails
actually spat at the flower. Then came the swineherd; he was collecting thistles
and shrubs to burn them for the ashes. He pulled up the wonderful plant, roots
and all, and placed it in his bundle. "This will be as useful as any," he said;
so the plant was carried away. Not long after, the king of the country suffered
from the deepest melancholy.
Not long after, the king of the country
suffered from the deepest melancholy. He was diligent and industrious, but
employment did him no good. They read deep and learned books to him, and then
the lightest and most trifling that could be found, but all to no purpose. Then
they applied for advice to one of the wise men of the world, and he sent them a
message to say that there was one remedy which would relieve and cure him, and
that it was a plant of heavenly origin which grew in the forest in the king's
own dominions.
The messenger described the flower so that is appearance
could not be mistaken. Then said the swineherd, "I am afraid I carried this
plant away from the forest in my bundle, and it has been burnt to ashes long
ago. But I did not know any better." "You did not know, any better! Ignorance
upon ignorance indeed!" The poor swineherd took these words to heart, for they
were addressed to him; he knew not that there were others who were equally
ignorant. Not even a leaf of the plant could be found.
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The music and singing of the congregation sounded in her ears
while at work in her kitchen, till the place itself became sacred to her. Then
she would read in the Old Testament, that treasure and comfort to her people,
and it was indeed the only Scriptures she could read. Faithfully in her inmost
thoughts had she kept the words of her father to her teacher when she left the
school, and the vow he had made to her dying mother that she should never
receive Christian baptism. The New Testament must remain to her a sealed book,
and yet she knew a great deal of its teaching, and the sound of the gospel
truths still lingered among the recollections of her childhood.
The New
Testament must remain to her a sealed book, and yet she knew a great deal of its
teaching, and the sound of the gospel truths still lingered among the
recollections of her childhood. One evening she was sitting in a corner of the
dining-room, while her master read aloud. It was not the gospel he read, but an
old story-book; therefore she might stay and listen to him. The story related
that a Hungarian knight, who had been taken prisoner by a Turkish pasha, was
most cruelly treated by him.
The story related that a Hungarian knight,
who had been taken prisoner by a Turkish pasha, was most cruelly treated by him.
He caused him to be yoked with his oxen to the plough, and driven with blows
from the whip till the blood flowed, and he almost sunk with exhaustion and
pain. The faithful wife of the knight at home gave up all her jewels, mortgaged
her castle and land, and his friends raised large sums to make up the ransom
demanded for his release, which was most enormously high.
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I
still remember his face, but from whence he came, or whither he went, I know
not; no one knows. I have often thought it might have been Holger Danske
himself, who had swam down to us from Kronenburg to help us in the hour of
danger. That was my idea, and there stands his likeness." The wooden figure
threw a gigantic shadow on the wall, and even on part of the ceiling; it seemed
as if the real Holger Danske stood behind it, for the shadow moved; but this was
no doubt caused by the flame of the lamp not burning steadily.
Then the
daughter-in-law kissed the old grandfather, and led him to a large arm-chair by
the table; and she, and her husband, who was the son of the old man and the
father of the little boy who lay in bed, sat down to supper with him. And the
old grandfather talked of the Danish lions and the Danish hearts, emblems of
strength and gentleness, and explained quite clearly that there is another
strength than that which lies in a sword, and he pointed to a shelf where lay a
number of old books, and amongst them a collection of Holberg's plays, which are
much read and are so clever and amusing that it is easy to fancy we have known
the people of those days, who are described in them.
"He knew how to
fight also," said the old man; "for he lashed the follies and prejudices of
people during his whole life." Then the grandfather nodded to a place above the
looking-glass, where hung an almanac, with a representation of the Round Tower
upon it, and said "Tycho Brahe was another of those who used a sword, but not
one to cut into the flesh and bone, but to make the way of the stars of heaven
clear, and plain to be understood. And then he whose father belonged to my
calling,- yes, he, the son of the old image-carver, he whom we ourselves have
seen, with his silvery locks and his broad shoulders, whose name is known in all
lands;- yes, he was a sculptor, while I am only a carver.
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She was always sitting on my lap, or riding in the goat-skin on my back;
and in my dreams she always appeared to me. Two nights after this, other men,
armed with knives and muskets, came into our tent. They were Albanians, brave
men, my mother told me. They only stayed a short time. My sister Anastasia sat
on the knee of one of them; and when they were gone, she had not three, but two
silver coins in her hair- one had disappeared. They wrapped tobacco in strips of
paper, and smoked it; and I remember they were uncertain as to the road they
ought to take.
They wrapped tobacco in strips of paper, and smoked it;
and I remember they were uncertain as to the road they ought to take. But they
were obliged to go at last, and my father went with them. Soon after, we heard
the sound of firing. The noise continued, and presently soldiers rushed into our
hut, and took my mother and myself and Anastasia prisoners. They declared that
we had entertained robbers, and that my father had acted as their guide, and
therefore we must now go with them.
The corpses of the robbers, and my
father's corpse, were brought into the hut. I saw my poor dead father, and cried
till I fell asleep. When I awoke, I found myself in a prison; but the room was
not worse than our own in the hut. They gave me onions and musty wine from a
tarred cask; but we were not accustomed to much better fare at home. How long we
were kept in prison, I do not know; but many days and nights passed by. We were
set free about Easter-time. I carried Anastasia on my back, and we walked very
slowly; for my mother was very weak, and it is a long way to the sea, to the
Gulf of Lepanto.
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