ere was a beautiful American clipper at anchor off the Castle.
"There," said a Danish passenger to me, "is one of the ships which have
taken from us the sovereignty of the Sound." "I am very glad of it," I
replied; "and I can only wonder why the maritime nations of Europe have
so long submitted to such an imposition." "I am glad, also," said he,
"that the question has at last been settled, and our privilege given
up--and I believe we are all, even the Government itself, entirely
satisfied with the arrangement." I heard the same opinion afterwards
expressed in Copenhagen, and felt gratified, as an American, to hear the
result attributed to the initiative taken by our Government; but I also
remembered the Camden and Amboy Railroad Company, and could not help
wishing that the same principle might be applied at home. We have a
Denmark, lying between New-York and Philadelphia, and I have often paid
_sand_ dues for crossing her territory.

At dusk, we landed under the battlements of Copenhagen. "Are you
travellers or merchants?" asked the Custom-house officers. "Travellers,"
we replied. "Then," was the answer, "there is no necessity for examining
your trunks," and we were politely ushered out at the opposite door, and
drove without further hindrance to a hotel. A gentleman from Stockholm
had said to me: "When you get to Copenhagen, you will find yourself in
Europe:" and I was at once struck with the truth of his remark. Although
Copenhagen is by no means a commercial city--scarcely more so than
Stockholm--its streets are gay, brilliant and bustling, and have an air
of life and joyousness which contrasts strikingly with the gravity of
the latter capital. From without, it makes very little impression, being
built on a low, level ground, and surrounded by high earthen
fortifications, but its interior is full of quaint and attractive
points. There is already a strong admixture of the German element in the
population, softening by its warmth and frankness the Scandinavian
reserve. In their fondness for out-door recreation, the Danes quite
equal the Viennese, and their Summer-garden of Tivoli is one of the
largest and liveliest in all Europe. In costume, there is such a thing
as individuality; in manners, somewhat of independence. The Danish
nature appears to be more pliant and flexible than the Swedish, but I
cannot judge whether the charge of inconstancy and dissimulation, which
I have heard brought against it, is just. With regar