is predecessor had built, and so the house
had had an addition made to it by every generation and a partial
remodeling of the old portions, so far as it was necessary to make these
correspond with the new. I had heard that many and long passages
(concerning which at festal gatherings rhymes without end were said to
have been made) endeavor to unite the interior in the same successful or
unsuccessful manner as the out-buildings, sloping roof, balconies, and
verandas attempt to keep up the style of the exterior. I have heard how
many rooms there are in the house, but I have forgotten it.

The last addition was made by the present owner, and is in a sort of
modernized gothic style.

Behind the dwelling the other buildings of the gard form a crescent,
which, however, protrudes in rather an unsightly manner on one side.
Between these and the dwelling I now drove in order to alight, according
to the post-boy's advice, at a porch in the gothic wing. I did not see a
living being about the gard, not even a dog. I waited a little but in
vain, then walked through the porch into a passage, where I took off my
wraps, and then passed on into a large bright front room to the right.
Neither did I see any one here; but I heard either two children's
voices and a woman's voice, or two female voices and one child's voice,
and I recognized the song, for it was one that was just then floating
about the country, the lament of a little girl that she was everywhere
in the way except in heaven with God, who was so glad to have unhappy
children with Him. It sounded rather strange to hear such a lament in
this bright, lively room, filled with guns and other sporting
implements, reindeer horns, fox skins, lynx skins, and similar
substantial objects, arranged with the most exquisite taste.

I knocked at the door and entered one of the most charming sitting-rooms
I have seen in this country, so bright its outlook on the fjord, so
large it was, so elegant. The brightly polished wooden panels of the
wall were relieved by carved wooden brackets, each bearing a bust or a
small statue; the stylish furniture was in every direction gracefully
distributed about on the Brussels carpet. Moody and Sankey's dreamy
melody flowed out over this like a white or yellow sheet. This hymn
belongs to a collection of Christian songs which are among the most
beautiful that I know; but it made the same impression here as if
beneath this modern room there was a crypt from