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322
FREDENSBORG.
Chap. XXI.
of the rooms are lent out to poorer members of the
nobility. Its gardens are renowned, laid out in the old
French style. “How like Versailles!” we exclaimed;
“with its statues and avenues of fragrant limes!”
In the so-called Marble Gardens are many small statues,
of no particular excellence, by Stanley, an English
artist, the same who executed the monument of Queen
Louisa in the cathedral of Roeskilde.
Then there is the lion of the palace, the Norwegian
Amphitheatre, in three tiers, round which are ranged a
series of stone statues in Norwegian costumes. The
appearance of this assembly is so strange I could not
help laughing, but to a Norwegian they are most
interesting. It is now 120 years since they were placed
there, and the peasant still remains dressed as though
it were yesterday—the drummer, the priest, the
fisherman, and mountaineer from Tronyem, Bergen, and
elsewhere ; the bride — a crowned bride too—all the
wedding party. I should like to watch them by the
pale moonlight: they must surely become animated
from time to time, and hold dance and revel together.
How Hans Andersen can ever have let such a subject
slip through his fingers, to me is a mystery.
The French garden amalgamates itself into the
native woods, which run down to the lake’s side. Here
is situated the skipperhuus, where you may hire boats,
sail or row, fishing-rods and hooks, with bait
according to your fancy. Esrom lake is renowned for its
perch. Our time, however, was too short to fish, and
I was glad of it. I hate fishing when ladies are of the
party; they always expect you to worm their hooks for
them,—an operation I am not partial to. In a secluded
spot near the water’s edge, within the walls of a small
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