altogether was excessively grand, and truly presented what in hackneyed poetic phrase is termed sublime. The jarring elements seemed to portend evil to the descendants of Odin, nor were there wanting some with evil eye who foreboded something rotten in the state of Denmark. CHAPTER II. I SERVE IN A DANISH CAMPAIGN WITH SMALL GLORY. For some days the most friendly intercourse was maintained between the inhabitants and the British officers. Parties from the fleet landed daily, were hospitably received, and both liberally and cheerfully provided with all such articles as could contribute to their comfort; no suspicion of our hostile intentions was even conjectured by the deluded Danes. At length, the true object of our designs being suspected, a Danish frigate which lay near us slipped her cable on the night of the 13th and contrived to get away in the dark; but on her escape being discovered at daybreak, the _Comus_ sloop of war was sent in pursuit. Since it was a dead calm, she was towed out by the boats of the fleet. The scene is still fresh in my memory, and I fancy that I see the long line of boats manfully urged forward, our brave jolly tars, after every two or three strokes of the oars, crying out, “Hurrah! hurrah! for the Danish black frigate!” At length the _Comus_ came up with her in the Cattegat on her way to Norway, and after a short conflict brought her back a prize into her own port, and this hostile act put an end to all further intercourse on friendly terms. Some English boats which approached the shore next morning were fired at, and none were thenceforward allowed to land. On the 15th we dropped down to Humlebek, a village about seven miles distant from Copenhagen; and on the following day, covered by seventeen ships of the line, a proportionate number of frigates, gunboats, etc., commanded by Admiral Gambier, the military commanded by Lord Cathcart landed with fire and sword upon ground suddenly considered hostile. No previous intimation of intended hostility was given, as is customary amongst all civilised nations, when real injuries have been suffered, or imaginary ones held forth as a pretext for political aggression. At this village (Humlebek) it was that a hundred and seven years previous to this our attack the Alexander of the north landed from the _King Charles_, the largest ship then known to the waves and carrying one hundred and twenty guns. Here it was that this extraordinary man heard for the first time the whistling of bullets. Ignorant of the cause, he asked General Stuart by whom he was accompanied; and the general with characteristic frankness answered, “It is the whistling of bullets fired at your Majesty.” “Good,” replied the warlike young monarch; “henceforth it shall be my music.”