village of Edgvad by Tarm-kjær, in one of which stumbled the horse of King John. He broke his leg, and was carried in a litter to Holstrebro; from thence he was removed to Aalborg, where he died. A very dull road on to Varde, a small town of no consequence. Yet it had once its own event, for here in 1534 was captured by surprise Skipper Hermann, boon companion to Skipper Clemens, by John Rantzau, and the revolution extinguished in the southern part of Jutland more successfully than it was in the northern counties. But we have two miles further over the bank to Strandby, where we embark for the island of Fanø. Plenty of partridges here. We meet a yoke of oxen dressed out in straw collars, with star-like points, like a Brahmin idol. We reach the ferry-boat arrives after an hour's delay-are carried out to sea in a boer's cart, and then embarked; the luggage arranged, our cart has to unload the boat, filled with freshdried stock-fish, the produce of the island: haddock, cod, and skate, all neatly done up into packets. One hundred and five are counted out; then another carriage arrives: we embark some peasant women, in their quaint costume; the men tuck up their breeches and wade out to save their skillings—just a little too deep-the tide is rising, so they scramble in wet and uncomfortable. In half an hour we disembark at Fang.

CHAPTER XLV.

Island of Fang-Voluminous petticoats and black masks of the peasant women - Their Oriental character and Dutch cleanlinessQueen Thyre wrecked off the Isle of Man - Amber-gathering.

ISLAND OF FANØ.

July 21st.-MAY be you have never heard of Fang: it lies situated nearly opposite to the little seaport town of Hjerting, from whose harbour in summer season runs a beeve-bearing steamer to the coast of England, with supplies for that most voracious of gastronomic whirlpools, the London market. Fang is a long narrow piece of land, not unlike a high-heeled bottine in shape, delicately pointing its toe under the direction of some fashionable maître de ballet.

Of late years it has less the resemblance, or rather is the ghost, of a bathing establishment, frequented by quiet humdrum people, seekers of health, not pleasure, who lodge in the two small hotels of the place. Disembarked at a certain Jørgensen's, where we found clean comfortable quarters and good food: you might have eaten your dinner off the floor, had it not been for the sand. It is quite refreshing to again meet with the Dutch cleanliness we had quite left behind on quitting the Liimfiorde, making always an exception for Varde.

Fang is one of the few places which sticks to its ancient habits and costumes, and has remained stationary for the last thousand years. The costume of the women

is highly curious. We are now in the land of petticoats-not crinolines, but good, substantial, coloured woollen petticoats-of which the fair inhabitants, and very fair they are, wear an indefinite number, from seven upwards, according to the solemnity of the occasion. They tell of a bride who appeared at the altar almost fainting under the weight of her thirteenbut she was "somebody "-such a wedding, the old people said, had not been seen for many a day. Thirteen petticoats reminded them of the times of their grandmothers when they were young.

As we crossed over last night in the ferry-boat a peasant girl stood leaning over the cargo talking away to the watermen, her back turned towards me; so I inspected her "bearings." Her outermost garment was of green woollen, bound round with black velvet gathered in flat plaits round the waist; then came a blue, afterwards a red, which she should have worn outside, for it looked very smart. On arriving at the red she moved, so I had to cease my researches, but commenced again later. Well, the red was followed up by a brown, then came a yellow, then a second blue-dingy blue, quite right to wear it undermost-then came-never mind what-and lastly a pair of legs, very neat-turned ankles, clothed in purple worsted stockings, with no feet to them. She wore a black velvet jacket, ornamented with filigree buttons, and a foulard twisted round her head.

But the oddest custom of all is that of wearing a black mask, similar to those worn at the bal masqué, minus the bavolet, when working out in the fields. The men are occupied on the high seas, or fishing; on returning, they eat, drink, and sleep, never leaving

their beds till they set off on a new expedition. It was the same at Skagen and at Agger. The women perform all the heavy work at home-but not at the expense of their complexions. Anything more ludicrous cannot be imagined than a troop of these blackmasked creatures returning home, driving their cows from the downs. It seems to affect the ewes, too, for we met several new-born lambs white as the driven snow, with black masks exactly like their mistresses.

The children are very handsome, and the girls, at the cottage windows, prettier than anything we have come across for many a day. They have quite an Oriental type of countenance-long eyes, dark, fendu à l'amande, aquiline nose, fine and delicate mouth, a dark but brilliant complexion; even the fashion of the masks (though our grandmothers of the eighteenth century never walked or "rode " out without wearing these "loups," as they were then termed) give the impression as if they were some remnant of customs imported from an Eastern land; and what with the Varangians and early connexion with Turkey, it is not at all impossible that it may be so.

The village we are now dwelling in is that of Nordby; not desirable as a residence; it is too like Skagen, all sand to walk upon, or rather wade in. The second village at the extreme end of the island is called Sønderbo. On arriving at Nordby we were surprised to find straw laid down in every direction. Very refined, remarked one of the party, quite like Belgravia; some Fanø bride, no doubt, just brought to bed of a son and heir; when, as we proceeded on our way, the straw increased in thickness, and the wheels glided softly over it, we discovered our mistake-it was

scattered on the sandy road to prevent the cart-wheels sinking into the ruts, a most admirable arrangement, and not an expensive one; it proved to be that of the sand-reed,* with which the dunes are planted, serving the double purpose of binding the sand-hills and improving the roads.

The land in the neighbourhood of this village is in good cultivation. People talk a great deal of nonsense about "sandy soil, nothing will grow in it;" everything almost seems to flourish in it if tried. The evergreen oak, the fig, the mulberry, prefer it; the buckwheat, corn, and rye thrive; and as for the potato-fields, it is a pleasure to look at them. The only manure here used in quantity is the dog-fish and other coarse fish cast upon the strand or taken in the nets of the fishers.

It was an eight miles' drive to Sønderbo, a village more Dutch-like in its character even than its sister: the houses have a peculiar, neat, trim appearance, and the gardens, each of them surrounded by a hedge of what people in England call the "tea-plant," which thrives here to perfection, and resists the fury of the wind-whose leaves, may be, furnished the beverage supplied for our breakfast this morning.

Most of the houses are decorated with figure-heads, some with very antique carvings, relics of ill-fated ships wrecked off this most inhospitable coast.

I looked in at some of the cottage doors. The interiors responded to the rest of the building—a grand display of crockery-old Delft plates-and in the centre of each rack, shining bright as gilded gold,

*Arundo arenaria.