change
horses; and as for danger, come when it may, I dread it not sufficiently
to have any anticipating fears.

The road from Copenhagen was very good, through an open, flat country
that had little to recommend it to notice excepting the cultivation,
which gratified my heart more than my eye.

I took a barge with a German baron who was hastening back from a tour
into Denmark, alarmed by the intelligence of the French having passed the
Rhine. His conversation beguiled the time, and gave a sort of stimulus
to my spirits, which had been growing more and more languid ever since my
return to Gothenburg; you know why. I had often endeavoured to rouse
myself to observation by reflecting that I was passing through scenes
which I should probably never see again, and consequently ought not to
omit observing. Still I fell into reveries, thinking, by way of excuse,
that enlargement of mind and refined feelings are of little use but to
barb the arrows of sorrow which waylay us everywhere, eluding the
sagacity of wisdom and rendering principles unavailing, if considered as
a breastwork to secure our own hearts.

Though we had not a direct wind, we were not detained more than three
hours and a half on the water, just long enough to give us an appetite
for our dinner.

We travelled the remainder of the day and the following night in company
with the same party, the German gentleman whom I have mentioned, his
friend, and servant. The meetings at the post-houses were pleasant to
me, who usually heard nothing but strange tongues around me. Marguerite
and the child often fell asleep, and when they were awake I might still
reckon myself alone, as our train of thoughts had nothing in common.
Marguerite, it is true, was much amused by the costume of the women,
particularly by the pannier which adorned both their heads and tails, and
with great glee recounted to me the stories she had treasured up for her
family when once more within the barriers of dear Paris, not forgetting,
with that arch, agreeable vanity peculiar to the French, which they
exhibit whilst half ridiculing it, to remind me of the importance she
should assume when she informed her friends of all her journeys by sea
and land, showing the pieces of money she had collected, and stammering
out a few foreign phrases, which she repeated in a true Parisian accent.
Happy thoughtlessness! ay, and enviable harmless vanity, which thus
produced a _gaite du coeur_ worth all my ph