The guns of the citadel, as I said before, are of immense dimensions; and I do not think I exaggerate when I state that the body of a child, nine or ten years old, may very easily be placed inside of them. I never saw such heavy cannon either at Portsmouth, Plymouth, Dover, or any other fortified port in England. The sentinels would not allow us to take a minute survey of these ordnance; but as soon as we walked round from the muzzle to the breech, in order to examine their really herculean proportions, a bayonet, thrust before our eyes, would be sure to interrupt the stream of information which commenced flowing through them to the mind. I suppose the soldier had read or heard of England, and thinking the people who lived in it, or came from it, were wonderful creatures, deemed it not impossible we might put a few of the guns under his charge into our pockets, and walk off with them; and unless that was his thought, I cannot conceive what mischief can arise from four gentlemen looking at four dismounted guns. However, governments, like men, have their whims; and it is of very little use trying to talk them out of their fallacies. It is as likely, that, when meeting a maniac in Bedlam, who fancies himself Napoleon Buonaparte, or any other pagod, you will be able to point out the delusion under which he labours, and to assure him that his social position, though respectable, was never imperial. He will understand you as soon, and as soon assent to the truth of your observations.
Our scrutiny had been thus interrupted, when the Baron de B---- came up to us. We had expressed a desire to eat, for the mere sake of saying hereafter that we had eaten, a real Copenhagen dinner, and the Baron offered to show us an hotel, where we could gratify our wish to the utmost extent. Having made no arrangements to dine on board, we started at once for the hotel; and it turned out to be the identical one at which my old acquaintance, Joe Washimtum, held the official post of commissionaire. Like those useful and diligent bees of the great hive of mankind, Joe was standing, with his black hands in his black breeches' pocket, beneath the huge arch of the Hôtel d'Angleterre, chattering and laughing with a few other bees of a similar calling, but of a different colour to himself. Joe raised his white hat five distinct times the instant he saw our party, and, advancing towards us, he observed, still with doffed hat and bended body,