and can talk about envy so that the tears come to my eyes; but it seems to me that he is n’t entirely free from that fault himself.  I can’t understand why it should be so.  If any one said that a neighbor of mine understood farming better than I, should I take that to heart?  Should I hate my neighbor for that?  No, indeed, Jeppe Berg would never do such a thing.  But if here is n’t Peer the deacon!

SCENE 2

(Enter Peer the Deacon.)

Jeppe.  Welcome home again, Peer.

Peer.  Thank you, Jeppe Berg.

Jeppe.  Oh, my dear Peer, I wish you could explain to me some Latin in my son’s last letter.

Peer.  That’s nothing!  Do you think I don’t understand Latin as well as your son?  I am an old Academicus, I’d have you know, Jeppe Berg.

Jeppe.  I know it,—­I just wondered if you understood the new Latin, for that language must change, just as the language of Sjaelland has done.  In my youth the people here on the hill didn’t talk the way they do now; what they now call a “lackey” used to be called a “boy;” what they now call a “mysterious” used to be called a “whore;” a “mademoiselle,” a “house-maid;” a “musician,” a “fiddler;” and a “secretary,” a “clerk.”  So I suppose Latin may have changed, too, since you were in Copenhagen.  Will you please explain that? (Pointing to a line in the letter.} I can read the letters, but I don’t get the meaning.

Peer.  Your son writes that he is now studying his Logicam, Rhetoricam, and Metaphysicam.

Jeppe.  What does Logicam mean?

Peer.  That’s his pulpit.

Jeppe.  I’m glad of that.  I wish he could become a pastor!

Peer.  But a deacon first.

Jeppe.  What is the second subject?

Peer.  That is Rhetorica, which in Danish means the Ritual.  The third subject must be written wrong, or else it must be in French, because if it were Latin, I could read it easily.  I am able, Jeppe Berg, to recite the whole Aurora:  ala, that’s a wing; ancilla, a girl; barba, a beard; coena, a chamber-pot; cerevisia, ale; campana, a bell; cella, a cellar; lagena, a bottle; lana, a wolf; ancilla, a girl; janua, a door; cerevisia, butter;—­

Jeppe.  You must have the devil’s own memory, Peer!

Peer.  Yes, I never thought I should have to stay in a poverty-stricken deacon’s-living so long.  I could have been something else years ago, if I had been willing to tie myself to a girl.  But I prefer to help myself rather than have people say of me that I got a living through my wife.

Jeppe.  But, my dear Peer, here is more Latin that I can’t understand.  Look at this line.

Peer.  Die Veneris Hafnia domum profecturus sum.  That’s rather high-flown, but I understand it perfectly, though any other man might cudgel his brains over it.  That means in Danish:  There is come profecto a lot of Russes to Copenhagen.