"Glad we were to land; but it was extremely dark, and the lanterns gave very little light. However, all was wonderful to me, who had never been in any other town but Odense.
"'Here Baggesen was born,' said my father, 'and here Birckner lived.'
"It seemed to me that the old town, with its small houses, became at once larger and more important. We were also rejoiced to have the firm earth under us once more; but I could not sleep that night, I was so excited thinking over all I had seen and encountered since I had left home two days before.
"Next morning we rose early. We had before us a bad road, with frightful hills and many valleys, till we reached Slagelsé; and beyond it, on the other side, it was but little better; therefore we were anxious to get to Krebsehuset, that we might early next day go on to Sorö, and visit Möllers Emil, as we called him. He was your grandfather, my worthy husband, the dean. He was then a student at Sorö, and very busy about his second examination.
"Well, we arrived about noon at Krebsehuset. It was a gay little town then, and had the best inn on the road, and the prettiest country round it: you must all admit that it is pretty still. She was a very active landlady, Madame Plambek, and everything in her house was as clean as a new pin. There hung up on her wall a letter from Baggesen to her. It was framed, and had a glass over it; it was a very interesting object to look at, and to me it was quite a curiosity. We then went into Sorö, and found Emil there. You may believe he was very glad to see us, and we were very glad to see him--he was so good and so attentive. We went with him to see the church, with Absolon's grave and Holberg's coffin. We saw the old monkish inscriptions, and we sailed over the lake to Parnasset--the sweetest evening I remember. I recollect well that I thought, if one could write poetry anywhere in the world, it would be at Sorö, amidst those charming, peaceful scenes, where nature reigns in all her beauty. Afterwards we visited by moonlight the 'Philosopher's Walk,' as it was called--the beautiful, lonely path by the lake and the moor that leads towards the highway to Krebsehuset. Emil remained to supper with us, and my father and mother thought he had become very clever and very good-looking. He promised us that he would be in Copenhagen within a few days, and would join us there: it was then Whitsuntide. We were going to stay with his family. These hours at Sorö and Krebsehuset, may they not be deemed the most beautiful pearls of my life?