Copenhagen

T H E SURROUND INGS OF COPENHAGEN.

w et m ignonette and heliotrope. O u t in the n igh t the dark Sound sighs in its sleep u n d er the light of the stars. G reat steamers glide along th ro u g h the darkness, ligh t stream ing from their portholes. Noiselessly they make th eir way th ro u g h the water. And again the Sound is dark, except w here it takes a bend inw ards u n d er a b rig h t cloud away there to the south. A lum inous mist, a gleam like the reflection from a distant fire — it is the light-cloud over C openhagen. Below that it lies w ith all its towers. But here on the terrace at K lam ­ p en b o rg it is dark and still. Look! look at the sh o o ting stars over the Sound! There is no Dane in whose breast O re su n d does no t aw a­ ken memories. There is no stranger w ho has seen it and does no t think of it again in leisure m om ents — the blue mantle spread for the feet of the queen — for the feet of Copenhagen. Herman Bang. Furesoen! The nam e itself is a description to the Danish ear. W e seem to know the place even if we have no t seen it. O ne th ing abou t the Danish lakes is, that they have no resem blance to the sea. They are small com pared with the lakes in large countries, and their waves never attain the size and force of sea billows. Their aspect is m arked by that peacefulness which is a characteristic of all Danish landscapes. S u rround ed by forest, green meadows, and go lden-yellow fields of rip en in g corn, they resemble hum an eyes look ing ou t from a quiet, peaceful soul. It is with eyes like these, blue and sm iling, o r blue and grave, bu t ever loving, that ou r m others look at th eir children. Furesoen! W e had a g reat poet once, w ho sang its praise. It sings in ou r hearts; it is an expression of o u r comm on love for th at little spot of earth we call ou r country. I quo te the FUR ES 0EN . (TH E LAKE Q F FURE.)

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