The park is beautiful beyond words. You come across some old graves of vikings, of which nothing is left save the stones they used for the making of them. The treasures that they contained have long since been removed by a wise government in order to fill the national museums. Many gold and silver coins have been picked up _in the grounds_, and are turned to use by making tankards and bowls, and very pretty and interesting they are. On the walls of the large hall there are inscriptions which were made in the sixteenth century to commemorate the visits of different monarchs. King Frederick II., 1585, must have had many friends with him. Like our modern guest-book, each guest left his name and motto, which was painted on the walls, with his motto and his particular sign, such as a mug or a rake (I hope these did not refer to his personal attributes). One that King Frederick wrote seems to me to be very pathetic, and makes one think that his friends must have been ultra-treacherous and false. It reads: "_Mein hilf in Gott. Wildbracht allein ist treu_." ("God is my help. Wildbracht [the name of his dog] alone is faithful.") Don't you think that has a sad note in it? [Illustration: AALHOLM. BUILT IN 1100 In 1585 some changes were made and from time to time windows have been cut through the walls.] [Illustration: INSCRIPTIONS IN ONE OF THE ROOMS AT AALHOLM, BEARING THE DATE 1585 Those at the top are: Left: "My hope is in God. Wildtbragt [his dog] alone is faithful.--Frederick II., King of Denmark and Norway." Right: "God forgets not His own.--Soffia, Queen of Denmark." Those below were made by members of the court, who attached their individual marks instead of signatures.] MILAN, HOTEL MILAN, _October 17, 1886_. Dear Aunt M----,--Just think what luck I have had. They say that everything comes to those who wait, and what I have waited for has come at last. I have seen and made the acquaintance of Verdi, the famous. He always stops at this hotel, because he is a friend of the proprietor's, Mr. Spatz, who, knowing my desire to meet Verdi, said that he would arrange an interview. This he kindly did. Verdi received me in his _salon_. He looks just like his photographs--very interesting face with burning eyes. His welcome was just warm enough not to be cold. The conversation opened, of course, on music. I said that I admired his music more than that of any other composer in the world. This was stretching a point, but it brought a pale smile to his verdigris countenance (this is unworthy of the worst punster). I told him that I often had the honor of singing with the Queen, and that we sang many duets from his operas. He did not seem to be much impressed by this miracle and received it with amiable indifference. I longed to hear him talk, but with the exception of a few "_veramentes_" and "_grazies_" he remained passive and silent. By way of saying something he asked me if I had heard Tamagno in "Othello."