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Chap. XXVI.
FREDERIKSVÆRK.
397
CHAPTER XXVI.
Frederiksværk — Scourge of flying sand — Marriage, and murder of
a bride — Giant’s grave of Udleire — White doe of King Frode —
Hiame, the poet king — The bridge of Værebro.
FREDERIKSVÆRK.
Tuesday, June 6th.—Left Frederiksborg early so as to
avoid the midday heat and breakfast at Frederiksværk,
a drive of three hours, and not an interesting one either.
Our road ran near the banks of the Arre-Sø, the largest
as well as the ugliest lake in Zealand, bare and déböisé,
the few oak copses we did pass by entirely unleaved,
as though November, by the ravages of the cockchafers.
These insects, it appears, make a triennial descent upon
Denmark, and then disappear for the two succeeding
summers. That they have greatly increased in number
in latter days is to be attributed to the wanton war
made by the farmers against that most useful of all
animals, the hooded crow, which destroys their grubs.
The waters of the Arre-Sø are not cerulean, like those of
her sister lakes, but of a muddy yellow. They have
never recovered their natural complexion, strange to
relate, since the scourge of “ flying sand ”—a sort of
geological epidemic, which takes place occasionally in
Denmark, but which, luckily, has not visited Zealand
since the reign of her second Frederic. A whirlwind of
flying sand—like the simoon in the deserts of Sahara—
spreads devastation around, ruining for years to come
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