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318
MØEN.
Chap. LI.
here we turn off, after a time come to a gaard, and
drive in. It is nearly twelve o’clock, all the world
asleep, even the watch-dog. We halloo, bawl, crack
the whips, kick, for twenty minutes without success ; at
last a sleepy head looks out from the stable-window,
later the farmer himself appears, yawning his very jaws
asunder.
September ls£.—We are now quietly settled, and
perhaps you may like to know what Liselund really is.
Liselund is a country place, the property of M. de
Rosenkrantz; not a herregaard ; a square court, three
sides of which are occupied by stalls, granaries, and
farm-buildings, the remaining side forms the abode of
the family. Our apartments consist of a large saloon
opening into the garden, with bed-rooms on the same
floor; to take our baths we pass down an avenue of
trees into a second garden, in which stands a small
villa-house: the whole is backed by woods, and as
pretty as gay flowers, orchard-trees, creeper-bedecked
summer-houses, water, swans, rock-work, boats, and
bridges can make it. Passing through the wood, you
arrive at the klint’s edge, clothed with beech, juniper,
and the prickly sloe, covered with its purple-bloomed
fruit; turning into a narrow walk by the side of a
ruined chapel, with its sanctus bell, once used as
a bathing-house, you here gain the shore. This
beech-clothed descent is lovely, and peeps of the
verdure-famed Baltic most enjoyable; in the month
of May this small Alpine region must be a carpet of
spring flowers. Denmark is the country of spring par
excellence. The autumnal tints are so fine, people
say, in the forests I they may be, but somehow, when
in the autumn of life oneself, one admires more fer-
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