ING-DONG! ding-dong!“ It sounds up from the”bell-deep“ in the Odense-Au. Every child in the oldtown of Odense， on the island of Funen， knowsthe Au， which washes the gardens round about thetown， and flows on under the wooden bridges fromthe dam to the water-mill. In the Au grow the yellowwater-lilies and brown feathery reeds; the darkvelvety flag grows there， high and thick; old anddecayed willows， slanting and tottering， hang far out over the stream beside the monk'smeadow and by the bleaching ground; but opposite there are gardens upon gardens， eachdifferent from the rest， some with pretty flowers and bowers like little dolls' pleasuregrounds， often displaying cabbage and other kitchen plants; and here and there the gardenscannot be seen at all， for the GREat elder trees that spread themselves out by the bank， andhang far out over the streaming waters， which are deeper here and there than an oar canfathom. Opposite the old nunnery is the deepest place， which is called the ”bell-deep，“ andthere dwells the old water spirit， the ”Au-mann.“ This spirit sleeps through the day while thesun shines down upon the water; but in starry and moonlit nights he shows himself. He is veryold. Grandmother says that she has heard her own grandmother tell of him; he is said to leada solitary life， and to have nobody with whom he can converse save the great old church Bell.Once the Bell hung in the church tower; but now there is no trace left of the tower or of thechurch， which was called St. Alban's.
“Ding-dong! ding-dong!” sounded the Bell， when the tower still stood there; and oneevening， while the sun was setting， and the Bell was swinging away bravely， it broke looseand came flying down through the air， the brilliant metal shining in the ruddy beam.
“Ding-dong! ding-dong! Now I'll retire to rest!” sang the Bell， and flew down into theOdense-Au， where it is deepest; and that is why the place is called the “bell-deep.”
But the Bell got neither rest nor sleep. Down in the Au-mann's haunt it sounds and rings，so that the tones sometimes pierce upward through the waters; and many people maintainthat its strains forebode the death of some one; but that is not true， for the Bell is onlytalking with the Au-mann， who is now no longer alone.
And what is the Bell telling? It is old， very old， as we have already observed; it wasthere long before grandmother's grandmother was born; and yet it is but a child incomparison with the Au-mann， who is quite an old quiet personage， an oddity， with hishose of eel-skin， and his scaly Jacket with the yellow lilies for buttons， and a wreath of reedin his hair and seaweed in his beard; but he looks very pretty for all that.
What the Bell tells? To repeat it all would require years and days; for year by year it istelling the old stories， sometimes short ones， sometimes long ones， according to itswhim; it tells of old times， of the dark hard times， thus：
“In the church of St. Alban， the monk had mounted up into the tower. He was young andhandsome， but thoughtful exceedingly. He looked through the loophole out upon theOdense-Au， when the bed of the water was yet broad， and the monks' meadow was still alake. He looked out over it， and over the rampart， and over the nuns' hill opposite， wherethe convent lay， and the light gleamed forth from the nun's cell. He had known the nun rightwell， and he thought of her， and his heart beat quicker as he thought. Ding-dong! ding-dong!”
Yes， this was the story the Bell told.
“Into the tower came also the dapper man-servant of the bishop; and when I， the Bell， whoam made of metal， rang hard and loud， and swungto and fro， I might have beaten out his brains. Hesat down close under me， and played with two littlesticks as if they had been a stringed instrument;and he sang to it. 'Now I may sing it out aloud，though at other times I may not whisper it. I maysing of everything that is kept concealed behindlock and bars. Yonder it is cold and wet. The rats areeating her up alive! Nobody knows of it! Nobody hears of it! Not even now， for the bell isringing and singing its loud Ding-dong， ding-dong!'
“there was a King in those days. They called him Canute. He bowed himself before bishopand monk; but when he offended the free peasants with heavy taxes and hard words， theyseized their weapons and put him to flight like a wild beast. He sought shelter in the church，and shut gate and door behind him. The violent band surrounded the church; I heard tell ofit. The crows， ravens and magpies started up in terror at the yelling and shouting thatsounded around. They flew into the tower and out again， they looked down upon the throngbelow， and they also looked into the windows of the church， and screamed out aloud whatthey saw there. King Canute knelt before the altar in prayer; his brothers Eric and Benedictstood by him as a guard with drawn swords; but the King's servant， the treacherousBlake， betrayed his master. The throng in front of the church knew where they could hit theKing， and one of them flung a stone through a pane of glass， and the King lay there dead!The cries and screams of the savage horde and of the birds sounded through the air， and Ijoined in it also; for I sang 'Ding-dong! ding-dong!'