with which Funen steps forth. Green woods, rich corn-fields, and,
wherever the eye rests, noblemen's seats and churches. Nyborg
itself appears a lively capital in comparison with the still
melancholy Korsoer. One now perceives people upon the great bridge
of boats, on the ramparts, and in the broad streets with their high
houses; one sees soldiers, hears music, and, what is especially
animating upon a journey, one comes to an excellent inn. The drive
out through the arched gateway is an astonishment; it is the same
length and breadth as one of the gates of Copenhagen. Villages and
peasants' houses here assume a more well-to-do aspect than in
Zealand, where one often on the way-side imagines one sees a
manure-heap heaped upon four poles, which upon nearer examination
one finds is the abode of a family. On the highroads in Funen one
perceives only clean houses; the window-frames are painted; before
the doors are little flower-gardens, and wherever flowers are
grown, as Bulwer strikingly remarks, the peasant is in a higher
state of civilization; he thinks of the beautiful. In the ditches
along the highway one sees lilac with their white and lilac
flowers. Nature herself has here adorned the country with a
multitude of wild poppies, which for splendor of color might vie
with the most admired and beautiful in a botanic garden. Especially
in the neighborhood of Nyborg do they grow in exceeding abundance.

"What a dazzling color!" exclaimed Otto, as the friends rolled past
these beautiful red flowers.

"That is a proud color!" said the Kammerjunker, who rode near them
upon his brown steed, "a proud color! but they are manured with the
blood of Andalusian horses. It was just here where the battle
between these beasts took place. You know that sit the year 1808