Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - VII - Island of Samsø - Korsør
<< prev. page << föreg. sida << >> nästa sida >> next page >>
Below is the raw OCR text
from the above scanned image.
Do you see an error? Proofread the page now!
Här nedan syns maskintolkade texten från faksimilbilden ovan.
Ser du något fel? Korrekturläs sidan nu!
This page has never been proofread. / Denna sida har aldrig korrekturlästs.
Chap. VII
KORSØR.
93
some diabolical place where they are accustomed to hold
their Sabbat.
Sprogø, the Jericho of the Danes, to which wretched
island bores are mentally consigned, lies midway between
Zealand and Funen. To the left the town of Korsør;
we pass by; then suddenly the vessel turns bolt round,
makes straight for the harbour, and in a few minutes
we are safely landed on the shores of Zealand, the most
important island of the Danish Archipelago.
KORSØR.
Korsør, or, as it is more generally written, Corsoer
(Cross-ear), a small a ad almost forgotten city of the
Danish dominions, once the capital of an amt or
province, later disfranchised, slumbered calm and tranquil
in her deep decay, until the opening of the railway to
Copenhagen awoke her from her trance, and she rose
invigorated, with new blood in her veins, the scene of
never-ending bustle and commotion.
The hotel, as its affiche announces, is most conveniently
situated for those who travel either by boat or rail:
and so it is. You steam up to its doorway, and bn the
opposite side the railway runs under your very window.
A cold buffet is in constant requisition from sunrise till
sunset, and from sunset till sunrise. Four steamers,
independent of our own, lie in the harbour. Two
more are visible on the horizon in their inward
passage. They start, they arrive, at all hours of the
twenty-four, for Kiel, Aarhuus, Kolding, Funen,
everywhere. Judge then of the quiet of this clean hotel.
On one side the steamers ever puffing and whizzing;
<< prev. page << föreg. sida << >> nästa sida >> next page >>
