Still, the Old Town had ever been partial to its beer. When it was in its prime, eight “beer-tasters” were among the town functionaries. They were to see that the supply was up to the standard, with the proper allowance of good hops. In the account of the hanging of the big bell in the church tower--the “storm bell” I spoke of--in 1599, two barrels of beer to the men who hoisted it up and hung it are set down among the expenses. One wonders whether all who took a hand were included. According to one report of that day’s proceedings, there was some doubt about their ability to transport the bell from the foundry to the Domkirke, until the Rector of the Latin School put it up to his boys, who at once took hold and dragged it all the way alone. Whether they came in under the subsequent largesse of beer is not stated, but probably not. Two barrels would not have gone very far then. All this seems queer to us nowadays. It is strange to find that in that century the privileged Town Hall dramshop--the Rathhaus-keller, in fact--achieved a competitor in the Domkirke itself. The chapter of clerics opened one of their own in their cellar under the north end of the chancel, on the plea that they must have wine for churchly functions, of a proper quality, and kept it going for I don’t know how long. Much later than that, in 1683, clergymen were forbidden by law to distil whiskey, but in 1768 “priest and deacon” were expressly confirmed in their right to distil it for their own use. So there was ecclesiastical sanction, and to spare, for all the beer and spirits that were consumed. Clear down to my time, when the Jutland peasant brewed,[10] it was the custom to throw the first three handfuls of malt into the mash “in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.” And the same man who did that, as the next step shut all the doors of the brewing room, placed a glowing coal on each doorstep, put three coals in the vat with a wisp of straw bound in form of a cross, and finally stirred it all with the iron tongs from the fireplace, to keep evil eyes from spoiling the brew![11] No wonder there were spooks in the Old Town, the werwolf that haunted the graveyard by night, and the hell-horse on its three legs.