the whole band wound itself into a clump.  Behind the booth was a great space with wooden shoes, pottery, turners’ and saddlers’ wares.  Rude and rough toys were spread on tables.  Around them children were trying little trumpets, or moving about the playthings.  Country girls twirled and twisted the work-boxes and themselves many a time before making their bargain.  The air was thick and heavy with odors that were spiced with the smell of honey-cake.

On Fair day, St. Knud’s Church and all its tombs are open to the public.  From whatever side you look at this fine old building it has something imposing, with its high tower and spire.  The interior produces the same, perhaps a greater, effect.  But its full impression is not felt on entering it, nor until you get to the main aisle.  There all is grand, beautiful, light.  The whole interior is bright with gilding.  Up in the high vaulted roof there shine, since old time, a multitude of golden stars.  On both sides, high up above the side aisles, are great gothic windows from which the light streams down.  The side aisles are painted with oil portraits, whole families, women and children, all in clerical dress, with long gowns and deep ruffs.  Usually the figures are ranged by ages, the eldest first and then down to the very smallest.

They all stand with folded hands, and look piously down before them, till their colors have gradually faded away in dust.

THE ANDERSEN JUBILEE AT ODENSE

From ‘The Story of My Life’

I heard on the morning of December 6th [1867] that the town was decorated, that all the schools had a holiday, because it was my festival.  I felt myself as humble, meek, and poor as though I stood before my God.  Every weakness or error or sin, in thought, word, and deed, was revealed to me.  All stood out strangely clear in my soul, as though it were doomsday—­and it was my festival.  God knows how humble I felt when men exalted and honored me so.

Then came the first telegram from the Student Club.  I saw that they shared and did not envy my joy.  Then came a dispatch from a private club of students in Copenhagen, and from the Artisans’ Club of Slagelse.  You will remember that I went to school in that town, and was therefore attached to it.  Soon followed messages from sympathetic friends in Aarhuus, in Stege; telegram on telegram from all around.  One of these was read aloud by Privy Councillor Koch.  It was from the king.  The assembly burst out in applause.  Every cloud and shadow in my soul vanished!

How happy I was!  And yet man must not exalt himself.  I was to feel that I was only a poor child of humanity, bound by the frailty of earth.  I suffered from a dreadful toothache, which was increased unbearably by the heat and excitement.  Yet at evening I read a Wonder Story for the little friends.  Then the deputation came from the town corporations, with torches and waving banners through the street, to the