But the grandest affair of all was the dinner given to Christian by the City. The lord mayor and aldermen proceeded in their state barges to fetch the king from the Stairs, at New Palace Yard, and conveyed him to Temple Stairs, where he landed, and took some refreshments offered by the Benchers. Judging from an engraving in the "Gentleman's Magazine," the scene on the river must have been very gay; and in those days, when the Thames still possessed some claim to the epithet of silvery, the king doubtless enjoyed the animated scene. From the Temple, the king proceeded in the City state coach to the Mansion House, preceded by the Honourable Artillery Company, and the Worshipful Company of Goldsmiths, the freedom of which Christian had deigned to accept. On arrival, there was the inevitable address read by Mr. Recorder, from which it is worth while to extract one passage, which seems to show that the force of lying could no further go:-- "The many endearing ties which happily connect you, sir, with our most gracious sovereign, justly entitle you to the respect and veneration of all his Majesty's faithful subjects; but your affability and other princely virtues, so eminently displayed during the whole course of your residence among us, have, in a particular manner, charmed the citizens of London, who reflect with admiration on your early and uncommon thirst of knowledge, and your indefatigable pursuit of it by travel and observation; the happy fruits of which, they doubt not, will be long employed, and acknowledged within the whole extent of your influence and command." Christian--I hope blushing as he did so--returned a most polite answer in Danish, and then, no doubt, was very glad to hear dinner announced. In the Egyptian Gallery, we read, that "His Majesty condescended to walk quite round, so that the ladies (who made a most brilliant appearance in the galleries) might have a full view of his royal person: and all the gentlemen of the common council below an opportunity of personally paying him their respects." Surely this was a heavy price to pay even for a lord mayor's feed! As history--at any rate since Macaulay's example--condescends, like the elephant's trunk, to take notice of the smallest things, I may be forgiven for quoting here the _menu_ of the remarkable dinner which took place in honour of the occasion, which has been duly enshrined in the "Annual Register":-- =O= Chickens. Harrico. Spanish Olia. Turtle. Mullets, removes. Venison. =O= =O= Tongue. Collops of Larded 4 Vegetables. Sweetbreads. =O=