n this allegorical group, the neck of the wild bull of Crete
must have been a withe to her proportions. An anecdote is told of
Belzoni, when Feldborg showed this statue to him.

"I hope this is not the work of a Danish artist?" demanded Belzoni.

"No; oh, no," replied Feldborg. "If you want to see statues executed by
Danish artists, go to England, or your own country; don't come here.
The statue you are now looking at was sculptured, and no doubt
conceived, by a Frenchman, named Amoureux, who was sent here by Louis
XIV. for the purpose, Louis being excessively anxious, in every
imaginable way, to promote the welfare of the Danish sovereign of that
day."

"Well, the Frenchman who executed this statue has been a clever fellow,"
observed Belzoni; "the only animation I notice in his work, is in the
horse's _tail_."

We clambered up the Round Tower of the Trinity Church, which was founded
by Christian IV. in the year 1673, and finished five years afterwards.
It is 115 feet high, and was used as an observatory about the time of
Tycho Brahe. There are no steps, but the ascent is made by a gentle
spiral plane; and, as we wound our way up, thinking of Peter the Great,
who drove a carriage drawn by four horses to the top, and of the manner
the Czar contrived to reach the bottom without backing; all the names of
all the families of Smiths, Smythes, and Joneses, deeply incised on the
wall, pulled us, with a jerk, to vulgarities again.

From the summit is a fine view of Copenhagen. Before we had finished
moralizing about views and heights, the afternoon had slipped
imperceptibly away. Where we stood, the cowherd's long whoop at
intervals, and, in answer to his call, the faint low of cattle, could
be heard; and, from some cottages beyond the city walls, the bark of
dogs, and noise of faggots being hewn, were interrupted only by the loud
jests of fishermen, who sat at the cottage-doors, unravelling their
nets; while the dewy mist of evening kept rising till it reached the
elm-tree tops, then hung there, like a girdle of thin white gauze. It
was quite an English scene.

We descended; and lagging behind, I followed my companions in silence
home.

We remained on board during the evening, and played at whist. It was
some time before we could muster the ace of spades; but, after diligent
search, it was found, torn in twain, and the fragments stuck upright, in
a pot of marmalade. A small hole bored in the centre of the skin which
c