And to gratify his young guest, the minister struck up the beautiful Danish air--"_Jeg gik mig ud en Sommerdag at höre_"--beating the time with his long pipe-stick of Hungarian cherry. The eyes of the sensitive student were already dim with tears, when the plaintive song was interrupted by the clergyman's fair-haired daughter, who, came bounding down the garden. "Father, John has come, and wants to speak to you." "Which John?" asked the minister. "John Thorsen," replied the young lady. "Shall I send him to you?" "No, child, I will go to him. I know what he wants. It is about his son's christening. Excuse me for a moment, my friend." In less than five minutes the clergyman returned. "Are you disposed for a short walk?" he said: "I must visit one of my parishioners. I may, perhaps, have an opportunity to show you something more worthy your antiquarian attention than the legend of St Matthew and his fountain."[17] [17] A mineral spring in the parish of Vinding, dedicated to St Matthew by the monks of a neighbouring convent, which existed there previously to the Reformation. The two men took hat and stick and followed the peasant, who led them through the village to his little farm, across a garden and a small meadow, till he stopped before a knoll of ground, and turned to his companions. "Your reverence must know," said he, "that here upon the hillock, and round about, an oak copse formerly grew, for which reason we still call the field 'Oak Meadow,' although no one now living remembers any oaks here save yonder old one, cloven by this day's lightning. It was quite hollow, but that could not be seen till now. If your reverence will take the trouble to come up the knoll--stay, give me your hand, I will help you." "Thank you, my son," said the minister, "I can do without assistance."