They were Ernst Trier, Noerregaard, and
Baagoee, later the three well-known High School men.
The little band arrived at a quick pace on Idsted's beautiful heath, all
tufts of ling, the red blossoms of which looked lovely in the light of
the setting sun. We sat ourselves down on the hill where Baudissin and
his staff had stood. Then Baagoee read aloud Hammerich's description of
the battle of Idsted, while each of us in his mind's eye saw the
seething masses of troops advance and fall upon one another, as they had
done just ten years before.
Our time was short, if we wanted to get under a roof that night. At 9
o'clock we were still eight miles from Slesvig. We did the first four at
a pace that was novel to me. Three-parts of the way we covered in forty-
five minutes, the last two miles took us twenty. When we arrived at the
hotel, there stood Madam Esselbach, of war renown, in the doorway, with
her hands on her hips, as in her portrait; she summed up the arrivals
with shrewd, sharp eyes, and exclaimed: "_Das ist ja das junge
Daenemark_." Inside, officers were sitting, playing cards. Major
Sommer promised us young men to show us Gottorp at 6 o'clock next
morning; we should then get a view of the whole of the town from
Hersterberg beforehand.
The Major, who was attacked in the newspapers after the war, and whose
expression "my maiden sword," was made great fun of, showed us younger
ones the magnificent church, and afterwards the castle, which, as a
barracks, was quite spoilt.
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