"Don't talk nonsense, John," said Mrs. Hardy, who feared that it might not be agreeable to Pastor Lindal; and, to turn his thoughts in another direction, asked him if there were not other legends of a different type. "Yes; there is one very commonly repeated," he replied. "A Bonde had twenty pigs ranging through the wood by Moen's Klint. He lost them, and after searching for a whole year, he met Gamle Erik (the devil; literally, Old Erik) riding on a pig and driving nineteen before him, and making a great noise by beating on an old copper kettle. The pigs were all in good case, except the one Gamle Erik rode, which bore traces of bad treatment. The Bonde shouted and called, and Gamle Erik was frightened, and dropped the copper kettle, and let the pigs be pigs. So the Bonde had not only his pigs, but a copper kettle to recollect Gamle Erik by." Mrs. Hardy was much pleased with the scenery about the cliffs, and the contrast of the dark blue sea against the white chalk, and the varied prospects in the woods. The drive had been full of interest, and Mrs. Hardy thanked Pastor Lindal for his suggesting it, and the pleasure of hearing his narrations on the very places with which they were connected, and added-- "I shall come again another year, Herr Pastor, on purpose to enjoy your society, if you will act as guide." "God willing, it will be a pleasure to me," said he; "but these few days have had their effect on me. I appear to see things with a clearer view, that at home have been difficult to me. Travelling develops the mind, and gives it a broader cast of thought. You, who have travelled so much, Mrs. Hardy, appear to have been influenced by the process." "Thank you for your compliment, Herr Pastor," said Mrs. Hardy. "It is well put." At eight the following day, the yacht was passing Moen's Klint, at sea, bound for Copenhagen. There was a stiff breeze from the westward, and in passing Praesto Bay the yacht was in a short rough beam sea, that made things very lively to all on board, except possibly the Pastor, as his ears gradually assumed a greenish tint. John Hardy consulted the pilot, and the yacht was brought up and anchored under Stevn's Klint, in shelter, much to Pastor Lindal's comfort, who appeared at lunch fully recovered from his sea-sickness. "Praesto," said he, "is so called after a priest called Anders; he was a monk at the time of the Reformation, but adopted the reformed religion. He had only a small copper coin, which always returned to him when he spent it, and received no other payment for his services. In the arms of the town of Praesto is a man in a priest's dress, supposed to be in his memory." "Were there any Underjordiske in the cliff at the yacht's bow?" asked Hardy.