IN THE STATE OF DENMARK 151 



days; and the Danes must take pleasure from the 

 thought that so mueh of his rare happiness was found 

 in their country, so much of his thwarted confidence 

 could there expand and be satisfied. 



It was not yet eleven o'clock, and we made our way 

 in the direction of the English church, walking by an 

 unexpected and beautifully winding little lake, the 

 Gronningen, where the yellow foliage of tall trees was 

 reflected in the grey, sheltered water. Above the 

 trees was the spire of St. Alban's, lofty and slender, 

 and wholly English in sentiment, a strange contrast 

 to the heavily-built towers and stepped gables that 

 we had seen for a fortnight, and to the ponderous gilt 

 dome of the Marmor church close by. Following the 

 curving shore the best aspects of St. Alban's were 

 disclosed, its perfect position on a grassy brow above 

 the water, the soft grey of its stone, the delicacy of 

 its spire. We went in with a friendly yet flat feeling 

 of the accustomed. It was nearly filled with English 

 sailors and marines, their faces wearing the air of 

 cheerful swagger and sunburned respectability that 

 belongs inseparably to their type. The rest of the 

 congregation was a mixture of English (of the Conti- 

 nental resident class) and Danes, and filled all the 

 available seats in undecorative lines. A church- 

 warden in a creaseless frock-coat and an obviously 

 agitated condition of mind hovered about the foremost 

 pew, which was empty, and was closed at each end 

 by a silken rope. With one eye ever heedful of the 

 door, he thrust us in among the deeply reluctant 

 occupants of a neighbouring pew, while a surpliced 

 choir filed into the chancel, and a monotone of an 

 uncertain timbre was uplifted from among the harvest 

 decorations on the prayer-desk. The choir and the 

 monotone were going through the General Confession 

 with some slight difference of opinion about a semitone, 



