Ah! yes， that was little Tuk： in reality hisname was not Tuk， but that was what he calledhimself before he could speak plain： he meant it forCharles，and it is all well enough if one does butknow it. He had now to take care of his little sisterAugusta， who was much younger than himself，and he was，besides， to learn his lesson at thesame time; but these two things would not dotogether at all. There sat the poor little fellow， withhis sister on his lap， and he sang to her all thesongs he knew; and he glanced the while from time to time into the geography-book that layopen before him. By the next morning he was to have learnt all the towns in Zealand by heart，and to know about them all that is possible to be known.
His mother now came home， for she had been out， and took little Augusta on her arm.Tuk ran quickly to the window， and read so eagerly that he pretty nearly read his eyes out;for it got darker and darker， but his mother had no money to buy a candle.
“there goes the old washerwoman over the way，” said his mother， as she looked out ofthe window. “The poor woman can hardly drag herself along， and she must now drag the pailhome from the fountain. Be a good boy， Tukey， and run across and help the old woman，won't you?”
So Tuk ran over quickly and helped her; but when he came back again into the room it wasquite dark， and as to a light， there was no thought of such a thing. He was now to go tobed; that was an old turn-up bedstead; in it he lay and thought about his geographylesson， and of Zealand， and of all that his master had told him. He ought， to be sure， tohave read over his lesson again，but that， you know， he could not do. He therefore put hisgeography-book under his pillow， because he had heard that was a very good thing to dowhen one wants to learn one's lesson; but one cannot， however， rely upon it entirely. Well，there he lay， and thought and thought， and all at once it was just as if someone kissed hiseyes and mouth： he slept， and yet he did not sleep; it was as though the old washerwomangazed on him with her mild eyes and said， “It were a GREat sin if you were not to know yourlesson tomorrow morning. You have aided me， I therefore will now help you; and the lovingGod will do so at all times.” And all of a sudden the book under Tuk's pillow began scraping andscratching.
“Kickery-ki! kluk! kluk! kluk!”——that was an old hen who came creeping along，andshe was from Kjoge. “I am a Kjoger hen，”* said she， and then she related how manyinhabitants there were there， and about the battle that had taken place， and which， afterall， was hardly worth talking about.
* Kjoge， a town in the bay of Kjoge. “To see the Kjoge hens，” is an expression similar to“showing a child London，” which is said to be done by taking his head in both bands， and solifting him off the ground. At the invasion of the English in 1807， an encounter of a no veryglorious nature took place between the British troops and the undisciplined Danish militia.
“Kribledy， krabledy——plump!” down fell somebody： it was a wooden bird， the popinjayused at the shooting-matches at Prastoe. Now he said that there were just as many inhabitantsas he had nails in his body; and he was very proud.“Thorwaldsen lived almost next door tome.* Plump! Here I lie capitally.”
* Prastoe， a still smaller town than Kjoge. Some hundred paces from it lies the manor-house Ny Soe， where Thorwaldsen， the famed sculptor， generally sojourned during his stayin Denmark， and where he called many of his immortal works into existence.
But little Tuk was no longer lying down： all at once he was on horseback. On he went at fullgallop， still galloping on and on. A knight with a gleaming plume， and most magnificentlydressed， held him before him on the horse， and thus they rode through the wood to the oldtown of Bordingborg， and that was a large and very lively town. High towers rose from thecastle of the king， and the brightness of many candles streamed from all the windows; withinwas dance and song， and King Waldemar and the young， richly-attired maids of honordanced together. The morn now came; and as soon as the sun appeared， the whole townand the king's palace crumbled together， and one tower after the other;and at last only asingle one remained standing where the castle had been before，* and the town was so smalland poor， and the school boys came along with their books under their arms， and said， “2000 inhabitants!” but that was not true， for there were not so many.
*Bordingborg， in the reign of King Waldemar， a considerable place， now anunimportant little town. One solitary tower only， and some remains of a wall，show where thecastle once stood.
And little Tukey lay in his bed： it seemed to him as if he dreamed， and yet as if he werenot dreaming; however， somebody was close beside him.
“Little Tukey! Little Tukey!” cried someone near. It was a seaman， quite a littlepersonage， so little as if he were a midshipman; but a midshipman it was not.
“Many remembrances from Corsor.* That is a town that is just rising into importance; alively town that has steam-boats and stagecoaches： formerly people called it ugly， but that isno longer true. I lie on the sea，” said Corsor; “I have high roads and gardens， and I havegiven birth to a poet who was witty and amusing， which all poets are not. I once intended toequip a ship that was to sail all round the earth; but I did not do it， although I could havedone so： and then， too， I smell so deliciously， for close before the gate bloom the mostbeautiful roses.”
*Corsor， on the GREat Belt， called， formerly， before the introduction of steam-vessels， when travellers were often obliged to wait a long time for a favorable wind， “themost tiresome of towns.” The poet Baggesen was born here.
Little Tuk looked， and all was red and GREen before his eyes; but as soon as theconfusion of colors was somewhat over， all of a sudden there appeared a wooded slope closeto the bay， and high up above stood a magnificent old church， with two high pointed towers.From out the hill-side spouted fountains in thick streams of water， so that there was acontinual splashing; and close beside them sat an old king with a golden crown upon his whitehead： that was King Hroar， near the fountains， close to the town of Roeskilde， as it is nowcalled. And up the slope into the old church went all the kings and queens of Denmark， handin hand， all with their golden crowns; and the organ played and the fountains rustled. LittleTuk saw all， heard all. “Do not forget the diet，” said King Hroar.*
*Roeskilde， once the capital of Denmark. The town takes its name from King Hroar， andthe many fountains in the neighborhood. In the beautiful cathedral the GREater number of thekings and queens of Denmark are interred. In Roeskilde， too， the members of the Danish Dietassemble.