Next morning we continued our march towards the capital; but ere we reached the immediate vicinity of Copenhagen our march was interrupted by an occurrence not ordinary in warfare. A dense column of dust proclaimed the advance of some large body, which we naturally considered to be hostile. Horsemen were soon discovered, when we immediately formed in battle array; but we soon learned that the approaching foe were no other than a civic cavalcade, who escorted the Royal Princesses of Denmark to a place of safety, having been by special permission allowed to retire from the scene of premeditated slaughter. The royal carriages slowly advanced, accompanied by many of the principal nobility of Denmark, and attended by a small escort of dragoons. The unfortunate Princesses wept bitterly, as did many of the nobles who were with them. In witnessing their grief it was impossible to remain unmoved. The whole appeared a sorrowful funeral procession, although all were living bodies. As the royal mourners passed between our hostile ranks, arms were presented, colours dropped and bands played the National Anthem, “God save the King,” thus adding to the poignancy of their woe by vain pageant and heartless courtesy. This distressing ceremony being ended, we pushed forward, and, having arrived before the destined town, each corps took up their proper position. Our station was near the village of Frederiksborg, in a wheatfield whose golden ears o’ertopped the tallest grenadier; the stems we trampled down for bedding, giving the grain to our sumpter animals. This being the first time I ever adventured from the shores of Great Britain, everything was new to me and consequently enjoyed. I saw the first Congreve rockets ever fired against an enemy. They seemed reluctant to add to the conflagration, many of them in the midst of their orbit turning back to whence they were sped. I witnessed the fall of the lofty and majestic steeple, bearing the three crowns, awfully tumbling down among the blazing ruins. The loud and tremendous crash, heard for miles around, was terrific; and it must have been a heartrending spectacle to the proud and patriotic Danes, who witnessed the destruction of such a noble monument of national grandeur. Immediately after the deafening crash, still growling in the distance, suddenly there arose an immense body of fire, which, detaching itself from the ruins, illumined the whole island, blazing in spiral form towards the heavens, as if to demand retribution. I saw well the splendour of the scene, being that night an outlying piquet with Captain (now Sir Frederick) Stovin. In the meantime the inhabitants were most liberally served with shells, shot and rockets.