Copenhagen

T H E SURROUNDINGS OF COPENHAGEN.

at the w indow sip ­ p in g y o u r wine, y o u r eyes d ream i­ ly w and e rin g over plain, forest, and sea, y o u r m ind w and e ring back to distant, m ore stirring times, a streak of smoke

suddenly crosses the picture. It is the new Coast Railway d raw ing its practical dark line th rough the deer forest and the idyll. Ove Rode. THE SOUND AND ITS COAST. The Sound! T here is no Dane bu t yearns for it, and no stranger who, once having seen it, ever forgets it. See it on a day in July, when the w ater is violet-blue, and the w oods on the coast along which we are sailing have tu rn ed dark, and the villas are lost am ong gardens thick w ith roses, and the sky is like a deep, still ocean. O r see it tow ard s autumn, when the billow s are dark and tipped w ith white, when the w oods look grave, as though they w ere g u a rd in g dark secrets, and the sky is like glass. Every outline is sharp, as th o u g h it w ere lighted up. The H erm itage in the m idst of its b eau ti­ ful plain, the houses on the slopes of Skodsborg, and, a long w ay further down, the massive dom e of the M arble Church, tow e ring above everything else — these all shine; while the Sound itself is dark, and the woods are as solemn as the portals of a church. Then the Sound is beautiful. Then one understands why all Danes long to dwell here, w hy th e capital of D enm ark was founded here, and w hy all h er poets have sung the praises of these w aters and this coast. Above all else they have praised its summ er nights. The

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