age, such meteors are explained away as a manifestation of the Northern
Lights, probably caused by electricity.”
Those who sat near him heard the remark and looked at him in
astonishment. One of them rose, respectfully doffed his hat, and said with
the utmost gravity:
“Sir, you must be a great scholar.”
“Not at all,” replied the Councilor. “I merely have a word or two to say
about things that everyone should know.”
“Modestia is an admirable virtue,” the man declared. “In regard to your
statement, I must say, mihi secus videtur, though I shall be happy to suspend
my judicium.”
“May I ask whom I have the pleasure of addressing?” the Councilor of
Justice inquired.
“I am a Bachelor of Theology,” the man told him in Latin.
This answer satisfied the Councilor of Justice, for the degree was in
harmony with the fellow's way of dressing. “Obviously,” he thought, “this
is some old village schoolmaster, an odd character such as one still comes
across now and then, up in Jut land.”
“This is scarcely a locus docendi,” the man continued, “but I entreat you
to favor us with your conversation. You, of course, are well read in the
classics?”
“Oh, more or less,” the Councilor agreed. “I like to read the standard old
books, and the new ones too, except for those 'Every Day Stories' of which
we have enough in reality.”
“Every Day Stories?” our bachelor asked.
“Yes, I mean these modern novels.”
“Oh,” the man said with a smile. “Still they are very clever, and are
popular with the court. King Hans is particularly fond of the 'Romance of
