like a soldier and died like a soldier."

What does this peasant know, and where did he get his knowledge? The source is not far to seek. His figures have the flavor of the stable and the Bible and he is far more certain of his use of the former than of the latter. He has also come by just enough of folklore to misapply it, as note his reference to Abner and Roland. Who are his most intimate friends? There is Mo'ns Christofferson who gives him excellent advice which he fails to follow, but dearest of all is his dappled horse, a trifle lazier, if such a thing is possible, than himself. But poor he has always been, and while baron he shows that he knows to a much greater degree than the baron himself the value of money; for though he has, so far as he knows, more money than he has ever seen in all his peasant days, he remains niggardly in his use of it even when he has all he wants.

What is this man's highest idea of enjoyment, what does he demand when his greatest wish can be fulfilled? Simply a good bed, fine clothes, plenty to eat, sweet wine in abundance, many servants, and a handmaid. If he has any greater ambition it would be to have more and better things to eat and drink, and more and finer things to wear. It is but natural that "he who works like a horse will enjoy himself like a dog." With such ideals it is easy to see how he could imagine that he had been suddenly transported into heaven. With the feeling that his lord's chief business is to pilfer his hard-earned money; that the sexton is a personage whose chief virtue is a powerful voice; and that lawyers and magistrates are black-robed blackguards who juggle with equal facility with justice and Latin phrases, we can see that Jeppe's idea of law and authority was not very exalted. His highest idea of justice was embodied in his toast, "God keep our friends, and may the devil take all our enemies!"

Though he is a peasant he knows life and human nature and has, too, a philosophy of life,—a philosophy which to him is his salvation. He does not look on life in any bitter or hopeless way, yet he has that distrust and suspicion so characteristic of the Danish peasant. He is always master of the situation, and is cautious and sly enough never to allow himself to be caught off his guard. He weeps in sheer gratitude when his lawyer defends him, and he offers him a chew of his tobacco, but when the lawyer answers that he did it from a sense of Christian charity he answers, sarcastically, "I beg your pardon, Mr. Lawyer, I had not thought you people were so honest." In the last act (Act V., Scene 2) we see another illustration of his native shrewdness. When he has been sentenced back to life we would naturally expect a profuse expression of gratitude from Jeppe on his delivery from death. But when the judge says to him, "Thank us, that we have been so gracious as to sentence you back to life," Jeppe gives the unexpected answer that "if you had not hanged me yourself, I should have been glad to thank you that you let me down again."

While a mere peasant he appears dull and common-place enough, but give him the opportunity which he gets from the second act and on, and he displays a surprising readiness in his efforts to solve the perplexing problems he has had placed before him. The question of existence or non-existence which he has to answer might well perplex a sage; but while Jeppe is not quite able to unravel the situation, he makes rare use of the powers of logic at his command. When at last he is asked to face death, he does so with resignation, for he has not had much to be thankful for in life. In the supposed hour of his death he turns, not to the Bible of which he is so blissfully ignorant, but to that never-failing comforter through life—the whiskey bottle. When he bids farewell, as he supposes, to this world, he includes the whole circle of his interest, and says, "Goodbye," and "Thanks for good company" to his family and his animal friends, including his dappled horse, his faithful dog, and even "Mo'ns," his black cat.

We have then in Jeppe a character furnishing on the one hand entertainment to the young and light of heart, and on the other an interesting study for the psychologist, the statesman, the socialist, the historian and the philanthropist.

Thus the author has depicted through the various burlesque and humorous situations of a comedy a concrete yet typical character, he has given us the pathetic history of a poor, oppressed peasant, a whole human life from the cradle to the grave.

—W. C. W.

Jeppe on the Hill

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

As played in the original language at the Metropolitan Theater, Grand
Forks, N. D., May 17, 1906.

The scene, a peasant village in Sealand, Denmark; time, about the year 1700.

JEPPE ON THE HILL

ACT I.

Scene 1.

Nille (alone)—I don't believe there is such a lazy rascal in the whole district as my husband. I can hardly wake him up when I pull him out of bed by the hair. To-day the rascal knows that it is market day, but still he lies and sleeps so long. Herr Paul said to me lately, "Nille, you are too hard on your husband. He is and ought to be master of the household." But I answered him, "No, my dear Herr Paul, if I should let him boss this house for a single year then neither the landlord would get his rent nor the rector his fee, since he would squander in drink all that I have in the house. Should I let such a man rule this household, who is ready to sell farm, wife, children—yes, even himself—for drink?" Whereupon Herr Paul became silent and thoughtfully stroked his chin. The overseer of the estate sides with me and says, "Little woman, don't you mind what the preacher says. Although the ritual says that you must honor and obey your husband, your lease, which is newer than the ritual, says that you must keep up your place and pay your rent, which it would be impossible for you to do if you did not drag your old man out of