destructive missiles in the same
place and position they were lodged forty years ago; and, that the
stranger may not fail seeing these emblems of "British friendship," as
the term goes, their visible sections are daubed all over with black
paint, so that they stand boldly out from the snowy aspect of the
houses.

The Exchange, opposite to the Palace windows, is an exquisite building,
constructed in 1624, by order of Christian IV. It is four hundred feet
in length, and sixty in breadth. The steeple is the most curious you can
imagine. Three dragons, their throats resting on the roof, intertwine
their bodies, and, tapering a hundred feet gradually upwards, point with
their tails to the sky. At a little distance, their large heads and
mouths opened to show some formidable teeth and tongues, have a very
good effect.

From Christiansborg we went to the Castle of Rosenberg. In the middle of
a park, not larger than St. James's, rise the slender red towers of
Rosenberg above the tops of the trees; and, as you catch a glimpse of
it, glancing in the sunshine, down an avenue of oak and elm, you wonder
not how the Fourth Christian, two centuries ago, made this his favourite
abode.

Crossing a drawbridge, we arrived at an arched door; and Mr. C----,
taking hold of an antique iron chain, pulled it. The noisy tongue of a
hollow-sounding bell roused not the bark of slumbering hound, but had
all the desolation to itself, and echoed loudly and longly, then slowly,
stroke by stroke, through the deserted corridors. In a few minutes a
man, courtierly and well dressed, grasping a huge bunch of keys in his
left hand, opened the door; and, judging from our countenances--for I
know not by what else he could judge--the nature of our visit,
requested, in Danish, that we would enter. Mr. C---- replied, and told
him we were Englishmen. He bowed, and addressed us afterwards in our own
language.

The hall in which we now stood was surrounded, near the roof, with the
escutcheons of the old Kings of Denmark; and, in niches, three or four
feet from the marble floor, were bright suits of armour belonging also
to the ancient Danish Monarchs. From one anteroom to another, and from
presence-chamber to throne-room, we passed, and found in each one some
remnant of chivalry to admire, and heard of some deed to regret.

In the room where Christian IV. used to hold his councils is a Throne of
state, exceeding, by a great deal, the dimensions of a large ar