we remained on shore after ten, we should run the
risk of being kept out of our beds all night. The plan suggested was to
write to the Prince of Hesse, and, stating our position, beg that his
Royal Highness would grant us permission to pass backward and forward
at any hour. Reconsidering, however, the matter, we determined not to do
so; but to call on our Consul, and, through him, represent the hardship
of our case to the British Minister. This determination was adopted, and
ordered to be carried into execution the following day, this one being
the Sabbath. Is it not strange how Englishmen long to break through all
restraint, and regard the laws of foreign countries as so many
impediments in their path of pleasure?

As in England, many well-dressed people were walking about under the
shade of the trees planted with great regularity along the ramparts of
Fredrikshavn. We could hear children calling aloud, as soon as they
caught sight of the yacht, decked out with all the elegance of her
whitest ensign, and best Burgee "Engelskt! Engelskt!" with shrill
tongues they cried; and, denoting with their little hands the object of
delight, disturbed the stillness of the holy day.

The French customs are generally followed, I fancy, in this country; for
to-day, being Sunday, more entertainment is to be met with in Copenhagen
than on any other day of the week. The theatres are all open, and the
casino, sacred by the royal presence of Christian, lures, with its sweet
tones of operatic music, the prudish Englishman from thoughts of
Paradise and the fourth commandment. Moses, Daniel, and the Chronicles
are quite forgotten; and, putting Ecclesiastes in our pocket, we are
going to the casino to-night.

"Do you know," suddenly said P----, as he closed a large chart of
Norway, up and down the rivers of which he had been floating for some
time on the tip of his pen-knife, "I met old C---- ashore, and he stuck
to me like birdlime. He is a bore; I wonder who he is!"

Like a black cloud, you sometimes see on sultry summer days, moving
sluggishly across the purely azure sky; so this remark of
P---- overshadowed my mind with a misgiving feeling; and Horace's Ninth
Satire, seizing my memory with prophetic tenacity, made me involuntarily
mutter,--

"Ibam forte via sacra, sicut meus est mos,
Nescio quid meditans nugarum, et totus in illis;
Accurrit quidam notus mihi nomine tantum,
Arrep----"

"A note, my Lord," and the steward placed a