The heavy coils of smoke from the ELLENORA'S funnel unrolled in the
sky, the bridge shook with the quivering of the struggling steam; we
were on board, and owners for the time of two berths, one over the
other, in the only saloon cabin on board.

At a quarter past the moorings were loosed and the throbbing steamer
pursued her way over the dark waters of the Great Belt.

The night was dark; there was a sharp breeze and a rough sea, a few
lights appeared on shore through the thick darkness; later on, I
cannot tell when, a dazzling light from some lighthouse threw a
bright stream of fire along the waves; and this is all I can remember
of this first portion of our sail.

At seven in the morning we landed at Korsor, a small town on the west
coast of Zealand. There we were transferred from the boat to another
line of railway, which took us by just as flat a country as the plain
of Holstein.

Three hours' travelling brought us to the capital of Denmark. My
uncle had not shut his eyes all night. In his impatience I believe he
was trying to accelerate the train with his feet.

At last he discerned a stretch of sea.

"The Sound!" he cried.

At our left was a huge building that looked like a hospital.

"That's a lunatic asylum," said one of or travelling companions.