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Chap. XXXV.
SULSTED.
93
trious for centuries in North Jutland, became as a thing
of the past, their tombs uncared for, their existence
almost forgotten.
June ^th.—We were to cross the ferry by six, and
meet the carriage-horses at Sundby, a small rising
village on the opposite side of the fiorde. From the
heights you have an admirable view of Aalborg, her
two church-towers and her shipping — all of most
prepossessing appearance. The postmaster, to do us
honour, had routed out an old broken-down berline,
which we declined, so three-quarters of an hour were
lost in the change; and when the stuhlwagen does
appear, it is small and narrow. There is no alternative;
the large one has been under repair since December.
SULSTED.
We pass by Sulsted, in whose village church sleeps Sir
Jacob Høg, of Vang (Vang the adjoining manor among
the trees), in armour, between his two wives. Sulsted,
whose priest, Møller by name, together with his brother,
the pastor of Vadum, during the Holstein øpror of
’48 and ’49 engaged themselves as volunteers in their
country’s cause, and both rose to the rank of captain.
So greatly did they distinguish themselves, the general
commanding said, on their retirement to priestly life,
that in case of need he should again call upon them
for their services. As we pass by Aistrup our rotten
carriage gives way; off flies the wheel and out we
go—self like a cat, upon my legs—scarlet postboy
rolls over like a ninepin and bites the dust: again
an hour’s delay. We visit the church and remark
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