The plague was raging in Copenhagen;it was in theyear 1711.The Queen of Denmark went away to her Ger- man home ，the king quitted the capital， every one who could， hastened away.The students， even if they had board and lodging free， left the city. One of them， the last whostill remained at the so-called Borch's College， close byRegensen， also went away. It was two o' clock in the morning; he came with his knapsack， which was filledmore with books and manuscripts than with clothes.
A damp， clammy mist hung over the town; not acreature was to be seen in the whole street; round about onthe doors and gates crosses were marked to show that theplague was inside，or that the people were dead. No onewas to be seen either in the broader， winding Butcher'sRow， as the street was called which led from the Round Tower to the King's Castle. A big ammunition wagon rum-bled past; the driver swung his whip and the horses wentoff at a gallop，the wagon was full of dead bodies. The young student held his hand before his face， and smelt atsome strong spirits which he had on a sponge in a brass box.
From a tavern in one of the streets came the sound of singing and unpleasant laughter， from people who drank thenight through， to forget that the plague stood before thedoor and would have them to accompany him in the wagon with the other corpses. The student turned his steps to- wards the castle bridge， where one or two small ships lay;one of them was weighing anchor to get away from the plague-stricken city. "Ludwig Holberg ，" said the student， and the name;sounded like any other name now the sound is one of the proudest names in Denmark;at that time he was only ayoung，unknown student.
The ship glided past the castle.It was not yet clear morning when they came out into the open water. A light breeze came along， and the sails swelled， the young stu-dent set himself with his face to the wind， and fell asleep，and that was not quite the wisest thing to do.Already onthe third morning the ship lay off Falster.
" Do you know any one in this place， with whom I could live cheaply?" Holberg asked the captain.
"I believe that you would do well to go to the ferry-woman in Borrehouse,"said he."If you want to be verypolie,her name is Mother Sren Sorensen Mller!yet itmay happen that she will fly into a rage if you are too po-lite to her!Her husband is in custody for a crime;sheherself manages the ferry-boat,she has fists of her own!" The student took his knapsack and went to theferry-house.The door was not locked,he lifted thelatch,and went into a room with a brick-laid floor,where a bench with a big leather coverlet was the chiefarticle of furniture.A white hen with chickens was fas-tened to the bench,and had upset the water-dish,andthe water had run across the floor.No one was here,orin the next room,only a cradle with a child in it.Theferry-boat came back with only one person in it,whether man or woman was not easy to say.The personwas wrapped in a great cloak,and wore a fur cap like ahood on the head.The boat lay to. It was a woman who got out and came into theroom.She looked very imposing when she straightenedher back;two proud eyes sat under the black eye-brows.It was Mother Sren,the ferry-woman;rooks,crows,and daws would scream out another name whichwe know better. She looked morose,and did not seem to care totalk,but so much was said and settled,that the stu-dent arranged for board and lodging for an indefinitetime,whilst things were so bad in Copenhagen. One or other honest citizen from the neighbouringtown came regularly out to the ferry-house.Frank thecutler and Sivert the excise-man came there;theydrank a glass of ale and talked with the student.Hewas a clever young man,who knew his"Practica",asthey called it;he read Greek and Latin,and was wellup in learned subjects. "The less one knows,the less one is burdenedwith it,"said Mother Sren. "You have to work hard!"said Holberg,one daywhen she soaked her clothes in the sharp lye,and her-self chopped the tree-roots for firewood. "That's my affair!"said she. "Have you always from childhood been obliged towork and toil?"