d to morals,
Copenhagen is said to be an improvement upon Stockholm.

During our short stay of three days, we saw the principal sights of the
place. The first, and one of the pleasantest to me, was the park of
Rosenborg Palace, with its fresh, green turf, starred with dandelions,
and its grand avenues of chestnuts and lindens, just starting into leaf.
On the 11th of May, we found spring at last, after six months of
uninterrupted winter. I don't much enjoy going the round of a new city,
attended by a valet-de-place, and performing the programme laid down by
a guide-book, nor is it an agreeable task to describe such things in
catalogue style; so I shall merely say that the most interesting things
in Copenhagen are the Museum of Northern Antiquities, the Historical
Collections in Rosenborg Palace, Thorwaldsen's Museum, and the Church of
our Lady, containing the great sculptor's statues of Christ and the
Apostles. We have seen very good casts of the latter in New-York, but
one must visit the Museum erected by the Danish people, which is also
Thorwaldsen's mausoleum, to learn the number, variety and beauty of his
works. Here are the casts of between three and four hundred statues,
busts and bas reliefs, with a number in marble. No artist has ever had
so noble a monument.

On the day after my arrival, I sent a note to Hans Christian Andersen,
reminding him of the greeting which he had once sent me through a mutual
friend, and asking him to appoint an hour for me to call upon him. The
same afternoon, as I was sitting in my room, the door quietly opened,
and a tall, loosely-jointed figure entered. He wore a neat evening dress
of black, with a white cravat; his head was thrown back, and his plain,
irregular features wore an expression of the greatest cheerfulness and
kindly humour. I recognised him at once, and forgetting that we had
never met--so much did he seem like an old, familiar acquaintance--cried
out "Andersen!" and jumped up to greet him. "Ah," said he stretching out
both his hands, "here you are! Now I should have been vexed if you had
gone through Copenhagen and I had not known it." He sat down, and I had
a delightful hour's chat with him. One sees the man so plainly in his
works, that his readers may almost be said to know him personally. He is
thoroughly simple and natural, and those who call him egotistical forget
that his egotism is only a naive and unthinking sincerity, like that of
a child. In fact, he is the