“To the Holm!” exclaimed the counsellor， not knowing in what age he was now existing; “I want to go to Christian's Haven， in Little Turf Street.” The men stared at him. “Pray tell mewhere the bridge is!” said he. “It is shameful that the lamps are not lighted here， and it is asmuddy as if one were walking in a marsh.” But the more he talked with the boatmen the lessthey could understand each other.
“I don't understand your outlandish talk，” he cried at last， angrily turning his back uponthem. He could not， however， find the bridge nor any railings.
“What a scandalous condition this place is in，” said he; never， certainly， had he foundhis own times so miserable as on this evening. “I think it will be better for me to take acoach; but where are they?” There was not one to be seen! “I shall be obliged to go back tothe king's new market，” said he， “where there are plenty of carriages standing， or I shallnever reach Christian's Haven.” Then he went towards East Street， and had nearly passedthrough it， when the moon burst forth from a cloud.
“Dear me， what have they been erecting here?” he cried， as he caught sight of the Eastgate， which in olden times used to stand at the end of East Street. However， he found anopening through which he passed， and came out upon where he expected to find the newmarket. Nothing was to be seen but an open meadow， surrounded by a few bushes，through which ran a broad canal or stream. A few miserable-looking wooden booths， for theaccommodation of Dutch watermen， stood on the opposite shore.
“Either I behold a fata morgana， or I must be tipsy，” groaned the counsellor. “What can itbe? What is the matter with me?” He turned back in the full conviction that he must be ill. Inwalking through the street this time， he examined the houses more closely; he found thatmost of them were built of lath and plaster， and many had only a thatched roof.
“I am certainly all wrong，” said he， with a sigh; “and yet I only drank one glass ofpunch. But I cannot bear even that， and it was very foolish to give us punch and hotsalmon; I shall speak about it to our hostess， the agent's lady. Suppose I were to go backnow and say how ill I feel， I fear it would look so ridiculous， and it is not very likely that Ishould find any one up.” Then he looked for the house， but it was not in existence.
“This is really frightful; I cannot even recognize East Street. Not a shop to be seen;nothing but old， wretched， tumble-down houses， just as if I were at Roeskilde or Ringstedt.Oh， I really must be ill! It is no use to stand upon ceremony. But where in the world is theagent's house. There is a house， but it is not his; and people still up in it， I can hear. Ohdear! I certainly am very queer.” As he reached the half-open door， he saw a light and wentin. It was a tavern of the olden times， and seemed a kind of beershop. The room had theappearance of a Dutch interior. A number of people， consisting of seamen， Copenhagencitizens， and a few scholars， sat in deep conversation over their mugs， and took very littlenotice of the new comer.
“Pardon me，” said the counsellor， addressing the landlady， “I do not feel quite well， andI should be much obliged if you will send for a fly to take me to Christian's Haven.” The womanstared at him and shook her head. Then she spoke to him in German. The counsellor supposedfrom this that she did not understand Danish; he therefore repeated his request in German.This， as well as his singular dress， convinced the woman that he was a foreigner. She soonunderstood， however， that he did not find himself quite well， and therefore brought him amug of water. It had something of the taste of seawater， certainly， although it had beendrawn from the well outside. Then the counsellor leaned his head on his hand， drew a deepbreath， and pondered over all the strange things that had happened to him.
“Is that to-day's number of the Day?”2 he asked， quite mechanically， as he saw thewoman putting by a large piece of paper. She did not understand what he meant， but shehanded him the sheet; it was a woodcut， representing a meteor， which had appeared in thetown of Cologne.
“That is very old，” said the counsellor， becoming quite cheerful at the sight of thisantique drawing. “Where did you get this singular sheet? It is very interesting， although thewhole affair is a fable. Meteors are easily explained in these days; they are northern lights，which are often seen， and are no doubt caused by electricity.”
Those who sat near him， and heard what he said， looked at him in GREatastonishment， and one of them rose， took off his hat respectfully， and said in a veryserious manner， “You must certainly be a very learned man， monsieur.”
“Oh no，” replied the counsellor; “I can only discourse on topics which every one shouldunderstand.”
“Modestia is a beautiful virtue，” said the man. “Moreover， I must add to your speech mihisecus videtur; yet in this case I would suspend my judicium”。
“May I ask to whom I have the pleasure of speaking?”
“I am a Bachelor of Divinity，” said the man. Thisanswer satisfied the counsellor. The title aGREed withthe dress.
“This is surely，” thought he， “an old villageschoolmaster， a perfect original， such as onemeets with sometimes even in Jutland.”