They told no end of stories of the delight he had given by this gift, so invaluable in a public man, of remembering and recognizing men after the lapse of years. One peasant, come to town to see the show, was halted by Prince Frederik in the market square, as was I, and greeted as an old comrade. They had been recruits together in one regiment; for the royal princes in Denmark have to serve in the ranks with their fellow-citizens. They are not made generals at birth. In Copenhagen I was told that the Prince kept tab on all that went on in the Rigsdag, and the man without convictions dreaded nothing so much as his long memory. With reason it would seem; for not long before, when a certain member of the Opposition made a troublesome speech, the Crown Prince calmly brought out his scrap-book and showed the embarrassed minister where the same man had taken the exactly opposite stand half a score of years before. It is not hard to understand how a memory like that might become potent in the deliberations of a parliamentary body, particularly among a people with a keen sense of the ridiculous, like the Danes. However, they have something better than that. They are above all a loyal people. I have never seen anything more touching or more creditable to a nation than the way the Danes put aside their claims when the dispute between them and King Christian’s ministers over constitutional rights became bitter, and the King, loyal himself to the backbone, would not let the ministers go. “He is of the past that does not comprehend,” they said, “but he is our good old King and we love him.” * * * * * And the clouds blew over, and the people and their ruler were united in an affection that wiped out every trace of resentment. King Frederik is of the present. He knows his people, and they trust him with the love they gave his father. Stronger buttress was never built for a happy union of Prince and People. FOOTNOTES: [1] The full story may be read in the “History of Hudson County,” where my friend, Rev. R. Andersen, of the Danish church in Brooklyn, an indefatigable delver, unearthed this chip of the old block. [2] Fanö and Manö are the two islands just outside the Old Town. [3] About one hundred dollars. [4] The Madam--Patched before and behind. [5] The old building was a hospital for centuries after the Reformation drove out the monks, and for a season served as an insane asylum. We children used to steal up to the tarred board fence that enclosed its grounds and, gluing our eyes to a knot hole, shudder deliciously at the sight of the poor wretches. It was eventually turned into an Old Ladies Home, and the name of the “Cloister” was restored to it. [6] The Jacob A. Riis Neighborhood Settlement, New York.