O. T., A Danish Romance | Page 2

most intimate friends--was already assembled. About one third
of the friends were from the provinces, the remainder out of
Copenhagen.
"Old Father Homer shall stand in the middle of the table!" said one of
the liveliest guests, whilst he took down from the stove a plaster bust
and placed it upon the covered table.
"Yes, certainly, he will have drunk as much as the other poets!" said an
older one. "Give me one of thy exercise-books, Ludwig! I will cut him
out a wreath of vine-leaves, since we have no roses and since I cannot
cut out any."
"I have no libation!" cried a third,--"Favete linguis." And he sprinkled a
small quantity of salt, from the point of a knife, upon the bust, at the
same time raising his glass to moisten it with a few drops of wine.
"Do not use my Homer as you would an ox!" cried the host. "Homer
shall have the place of honor, between the bowl and the garland-cake!
He is especially my poet! It was he who in Greek assisted me to
laudabilis et quidem egregie. Now we will mutually drink healths!
Jörgen shall be magister bibendi, and then we will sing 'Gaudeamus
igitur,' and 'Integer vitae.'"
"The Sexton with the cardinal's hat shall be the precentor!" cried one of
the youths from the provinces, pointing toward a rosy-cheeked
companion.
"O, now I am no longer sexton!" returned the other laughing. "If thou
bringest old histories up again, thou wilt receive thy old school-name,
'the Smoke-squirter.'"

"But that is a very nice little history!" said the other. "We called him
'Sexton," from the office his father held; but that, after all, is not
particularly witty. It was better with the hat, for it did, indeed, resemble
a cardinal's hat. I, in the mean time, got my name in a more amusing
manner."
"He lived near the school," pursued the other; "he could always slip
home when we had out free quarters of an hour: and then one day he
had filled his mouth with tobacco smoke, intending to blow it into our
faces; but when he entered the passage with his filled cheeks the
quarter of an hour was over, and we were again in class: the rector was
still standing in the doorway; he could not, therefore, blow the smoke
out of his mouth, and so wished to slip in as he was. 'What have you
there in your mouth?' asked the rector; but Philip could answer nothing,
without at the same time losing the smoke. 'Now, cannot you speak?'
cried the rector, and gave him a box on the ear, so that the smoke burst
through nose and mouth. This looked quite exquisite; the affair caused
the rector such pleasure, that he presented the poor sinner with the nota
bene."
"Integer vitae!" broke in the Precentor, and harmoniously followed the
other voices. After this, a young Copenhagener exhibited his dramatic
talent by mimicking most illusively the professors of the Academy, and
giving their peculiarities, yet in such a good-natured manner that it
must have amused even the offended parties themselves. Now followed
the healths--"Vivant omnes hi et hae!"
"A health to the prettiest girl!" boldly cried one of the merriest brothers.
"The prettiest girl!" repeated a pair of the younger ones, and pushed
their glasses toward each other, whilst the blood rushed to their cheeks
at this their boldness, for they had never thought of a beloved being,
which, nevertheless, belonged to their new life. The roundelay now
commenced, in which each one must give the Christian name of his
lady-love, and assuredly every second youth caught a name out of the
air; some, however, repeated a name with a certain palpitation of the
heart. The discourse became more animated; the approaching military
exercises, the handsome uniform, the reception in the students' club,

and its pleasures, were all matters of the highest interest. But there was
the future philologicum and philosophicum--yes, that also was
discussed; there they must exhibit their knowledge of Latin.
"What do you think," said one of the party, "if once a week we
alternately met at each other's rooms, and held disputations? No Danish
word must be spoken. This might be an excellent scheme."
"I agree to that!" cried several.
"Regular laws must be drawn up."
"Yes, and we must have our best Latin scholar, the Jutlander, Otto
Thostrup, with us! He wrote his themes in hexameters."
"He is not invited here this evening," remarked the neighbor, the young
Baron Wilhelm of Funen, the only nobleman in the company.
"Otto Thostrup!" answered the host. "Yes, truly he's a clever fellow, but
he seems to me so haughty. There is something about him that does not
please me at all. We are still no dunces, although he did receive nine