[By the Rev. E. E. ADAMS, A. M., Seamen's Chaplain, Cronstadt.] If the traveller would visit Elsinore from Copenhagen, he can do so by the morning Post. Passing through the ancient gate of the city, you are immediately relieved from narrow dirty streets, the everlasting noise of men, and steeds, and chariots, and the dismal roll of the soldier's drum, by the delicious scenery. No cloud-capt mountain stands in the enchantment of distance before you; no mighty torrent leaps and thunders down the rugged cliff, pouring its hushed waters along the vale; no boundless forest lifts its ancient trunks, and spreads its beaten arms to the storm; but trees of the softest foliage adorn the bastions, and hang over the moat, casting their shadows on its silver water; gardens, bright with dew-drops and roses, and rich with every useful herb, smile and breathe their odours; gentle hills, crowned with parks, from the centre of which arise the mansions of Danish nabobs; and on one of which, the most distant, is a palace embosomed in shades, present an inviting aspect; whilst the road, adorned on either side with choicest trees, and kept in perfect order, enables you to glide onward with swiftness and ease. The ride to Elsinore occupies three hours, through a region highly cultivated, and presenting features not unlike those of English scenery, but not broken in upon by the innovating hand of art; no puffing and smoking engine, marring the beauty of nature, or disturbing the peaceful calm of the simple peasants. The swamps with which this island abounds, furnish vast quantities of peat, which is an article of traffic with the peasants, and of comfort to all classes. This is cut from the swamps in a dry season, and exposed in heaps to the sun and wind; when sufficiently dried, it is taken in the country waggons to the towns for fuel. There is nothing in the town of Elsinore to excite the attention of a stranger. The streets are narrow, and dwellings decaying. It is situated on the sound in latitude 56 N. and longitude 12o 28" E. It was a small village of fishermen's huts until 1445, when it was made a town by Eric, king of Pomerania, who granted many privileges to the inhabitants, and built a castle for their protection. Its increase in size has been gradual, the population at the present time being only 7,000. Amongst these are numbers of foreign merchants, many pilots, and a few artisans who excel in the manufacture of jewelry. L The passage of the sound is guarded by the fortress of Cronburg, situated upon a promontory, opposite which the coast of Sweden is but four miles distant. Towards the town it is fortified by walls and entrenchments; and toward the sea, by batteries mounted with 60 cannon, the largest of which are 48-pounders. This fortress was very richly furnished, but pillaged by the Swedes in 1658, who took away the furniture, amongst which were some statues of massy silver. Every vessel that passes, lowers her topsails, and pays a toll at Elsinore. This toll is paid from precedent, as a reward to the Danish government for the support of light-houses and signals to mark the shoals and rocks in the Categat. The number of vessels passing the sound annually is 16,000, and the toll amounts to 2,000,000 of Rix dollars, or £200,000 sterling. The right to such toll has long been questioned, and some mercantile bodies in England have recently taken steps to interest the English government in the matter. The toll is so valuable to the Danish ment, that Elsinore is called "the king of Denmark's gold mine." Vessels are often detained at Elsinore by head winds, when its streets are thronged with seamen, for whose spiritual welfare no one is concerned. Not long ago a house of worship was erected by the government of this country for the benefit of the Scotch and English residents at Elsinore ; but it is now in the possession of a Dane, who rents it to a dancing master for his school. govern A chaplain for English and American seamen might be exceedingly useful there, to the thousands who tarry for a day or a week, to the foreign residents, and to the native population. Numbers of the Danes understand the English language, and might be induced to attend religious worship, to read tracts and the word of God. Indeed the residents are anxious that some one should be sent by our Society, and they would doubtless contribute something for his support. The castle is an object of interest, from its historic and tragic associations. It is an ancient building of grit-stone, enclosing a square area capable of containing 20,000 men. It has numerous spires, one of which is an observatory, and serves as a light-house, commanding a view of the sound, of the Norwegian mountains, and the coast of Sweden with its flourishing towns. The princess Matilda was confined in this castle. The only amusement she had, was that of tracing upon the windows, flowers and other objects, together with the portraits of her parents and friends; and to ascend the tower, to look at evening by the light of the moon over the sea where all she loved had gone. She was finally rescued by the English. Shakspeare selected this castle as the scene of his "Hamlet." Standing in front of the castle at night, in the keen wind that sweeps over the sound, and listening to the solemn murmur of the breeze, you will readily appreciate the feelings of the poor soldier, Francisco, when being ordered to bed by his officer, he answered, “For this relief much thanks; for it is bitter cold, and I am sick at heart." Under this castle is a dismal cellar, into which light is admitted through cylindrical excavations like wells. This cellar, according to a superstitious tradition, was for centuries the abode of a mysterious being—the terror of all Denmark. His name was Ogier, or Halgar Danske— "Dane in the cellar." He is said to have sat by a marble table, with his elbows upon it, until his beard had grown down and taken root in the solid slab. The bravest dared not enter his subterranean domain, and his name was sufficient to disarm the stoutest combatant. At length a slave was induced, by the offer of his freedom, to enter the cellar. By the faint light, over bones and rusty armour,—the spoils of the dreadful orgier he approached his gloomy presence. "Pause," exclaimed a sepulchral voice, "why art thou here? Dar'st enter this dark and fatal abode ?” "I dare," said the slave, "knowing that I have nothing to lose if it please you to destroy me, and if you permit me to return I am free.” "It is well," replied the voice, “I am glad there are yet men in Denmark." It is not improbable that a knowledge of this tradition assisted Shakspeare in his conception of the ghost, whom he represents as appearing by night to the officer Marcellus, and Bernardo and Horatio, friends to Hamlet, and afterwards to Hamlet himself, as his father's spirit, declaring I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul-freeze thy young blood Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,— Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand on end, If thou didst ever thy dear father love. The royal palace is about half a mile from Cronburg castle, and adjoining it a garden, called Hamlet's Garden, said by tradition to be the very spot where his father was murdered. The house is situated at the foot of a sand ridge near the sea, of comparatively modern date, but neither grand nor elegant. The garden occupies the side of the hill, together with a small area below. The hill side is laid out in terraces, which are adorned with the common products of a garden, and on the angles stand a few indifferent statues. romance upon Those who would acquaint themselves with the history, or rather the which the great poet has founded his “ Hamlet," may be gratified by consulting "Shakspeare Illustrated;" or the Encyclopædia Britannica. NAUTICAL INTELLIGENCE. A SAILOR'S SUFFERINGS. [THE following, is a case calculated to impress every benevolent mind with the deepest sympathy; and to open the hand for the relief of the suffering. We often speak and read of the sorrows of seamen ; but we can hardly realize the extent of their wretchedness, until some miserable object from amongst them, appears in circumstances like those recorded below. No one can read this account without saying, "Poor fellow! how much he has suffered!" And yet it is a fact, that every day and night, in this very city, some poor cheated, poisoned sailor, is the subject of misery, which, if not felt at the time, is as deep in the event-as awful to his body and his soul—as can be imagined! Would that the arm of the law were made bare, for the rescue of such victims !—that its scrutiny were more rigid and searching,--and that its presence and power would break down and sweep to destruction, these human shambles of pollution and death! We hope many will be found who will cordially sympathise with this wretched sufferer; and, imitating the benevolent example of our worthy treasurer, Alderman Pirie, and Captain Brooks, add to the subscriptions already made for his relief and support. It will give us great pleasure to receive subscriptions for his benefit. -EDITOR.] THE other day, at the Mansion-house, a wretched-looking, broken down, and wounded seaman, named Joseph Forbes, was introduced to Alderman Pirie, by Mr. Brooks, the ship-owner of Broad-street, one of the directors of the London Docks, as an object of charity, from the strange and intense sufferings he had undergone for a series of years. Mr. Brooks said, that Forbes had been lately brought from Sydney to this country in one of his (Mr. Brooks's) vessels, and had been kept at his expense for the six weeks during which the unfortunate man had been in London, where medical aid of the highest kind had been administered, almost in vain, to his case. The circumstances in which the man had been placed, for the last sixteen years, (and of the accurate veracity of the statement there was no doubt,) would be best detailed by himself. There had been some instances of similar horrors, but he wa not aware of any of such long duration. The seaman then made a statement, of which the following is the outline :— "In the year 1822, I, being then a boy, sailed from London in the schooner 'Stedcombe,' with a crew consisting of thirteen persons, bound for Melville Island, on the north coast of New Holland. The vessel, which was a fine one, having discharged her cargo at Melville Island, proceeded to the island of Timor Laut, for the purpose of procuring buffaloes; and the natives came on board the schooner, appearing to have the most friendly disposition towards us, partook of food with the captain, and brought fruit and vegetables with them as a proof of their friendliness. There was nothing to interfere with this feeling, which seemed in every respect to be mutual. An arrangement was concluded with the natives, for the supply of a large cargo of buffaloes, which they stated were ready to be shipped; and the captain left the vessel in his boat, with all the crew, (amongst whom was my brother,) with the exception of myself, John Edwards, another boy, the cook, and a seaman, with the intention of accomplishing the traffic. Soon after the crew landed, to my great horror, I saw them attacked by a number of the natives, and savagely murdered. We, who were on board, looked forward for nothing less than sharing the awful fate of our friends; and a few minutes after the murder of the crew, the murderers came over to the schooner in vast num→ bers, and, seizing the cook and seamen, cut their heads off, and threw their bodies over-board. Edwards and I had taken to the rigging, and witnessed the murders on the deck from thence. The natives pursued us; and after a short time we descended in an exhausted state, convinced that our lives would also be taken. We were, however, but mere boys, and they did not use their weapons against us. They stripped us, put us into a canoe, and took us to the beach, where they compelled us to walk over the bleeding trunks of our poor shipmates, whose heads had been cut off and conveyed to the village. The schooner, after having been plundered of every thing of the least value, was hauled on shore and burnt. Edwards died about three months after this dreadful transaction, leaving me the sole survivor of the 'Stedcombe's' crew, to linger out all the horrors and miserics of the most frightful captivity. During the sixteen years of my captivity, they kept me to severe labour, such as cutting timber, cultivating yams, and other hard employment. In their wars I was compelled to accompany them; and I received two severe wounds, one in the neck, the other in the wrist, from the former of which I now suffer most bitterly. Whenever a ship appeared off the island, I was taken to a cavern, and there bound by the hands and legs. They no doubt supposed that if, by any chance, I succeeded in coming in contact with any of my own countrymen, I should mention all that had taken place, and bring down vengeance upon them. They bound me so tight as to cause wounds on my legs, and absolutely to stop the circulation of my blood. The frequent repetitions of this cruel treatment made me the poor cripple you see, with a constitution destroyed, and limbs which can scarcely perform any of their offices. Sir Gordon Bremer, of Her Majesty's ship 'Alligator,' made an attempt to rescue me, a report having reached Sydney that an Englishman was detained on the island; but I was bound hand and foot at the time. "It was to Captain Watson, of the trading schooner Essington,' of Sydney, he was indebted for his deliverance, from the dreadful slavery amongst the natives of Timor Laut, and much ingenuity was necessary to be used on the occasion, as well as resolution. Captain Watson, having been assured that an Englishman was amongst the natives, appeared off the island in March, 1839, and the natives proceeded to the vessel with their usual appearance of kindliness and goodwill. They had, however, as was evident from their conversation when the vessel approached the island, determined to seize her, and if that had been accomplished, |