The Baron¹ arrives in England—the Colossus of Rhodes comes to congratulate him—Great rejoicings on the Baron's return, and a tremendous concert—The Baron's discourse² with Fragrantia, and her opinion of the Tour to the Hebrides.  
Having arrived in England once more, the greatest rejoicings were made for my return; the whole city seemed one general blaze of illumination, and the Colossus of Rhodes, hearing of my astonishing feats³, came on purpose to England to congratulate me on such unparalleled achievements. But above all other rejoicings on my return, the musical oratorio⁴ and song of triumph were magnificent in the extreme. Gog and Magog were ordered to take the maiden⁵ tower of Windsor, and make a tambourine⁶ or great drum of it. For this purpose they extended an elephant's hide, tanned and prepared for the design, across the summit of the tower, from parapet to parapet, so that in proportion this extended elephant's hide was to the whole of the castle what the parchment is to a drum, in such a manner that the whole became one great instrument of war.
 
To correspond with this, Colossus took Guildhall and Westminster Abbey, and turning the foundations towards the heavens, so that the roofs of the edifices⁷ were upon the ground, he strung them across with brass⁸ and steel wire from side to side, and thus, when strung, they had the appearance of most noble dulcimers. He then took the great dome⁹ of St. Paul's, raising it off the earth with as much facility as you would a decanter of claret. And when once risen up it had the appearance of a quart bottle. Colossus instantly, with his teeth, cracked off the superior part of the cupola, and then applying his lips to the instrument, began to sound it like a trumpet¹⁰. 'Twas martial¹¹ beyond description—tantara!—tara!—ta!
 
During the concert I walked in the park with Lady Fragrantia: she was dressed that morning in a chemise à la reine. "I like," said she, "the dew of the morning, 'tis delicate and ethereal, and, by thus bespangling me, I think it will more approximate me to the nature of the rose [for her looks were like Aurora]; and to confirm the vermilion I shall go to Spa." "And drink the Podhon spring?" added I, gazing at her from top to toe. "Yes," replied the lovely Fragrantia, "with all my heart; 'tis the drink of sweetness and delicacy¹². Never were there any creatures like the water-drinkers at spa; they seem like so many thirsty blossoms on a peach-tree, that suck up the shower in the scorching¹³ heat. There is a certain something in the waters that gives vigour¹⁴ to the whole frame, and expands every heart with rapture¹⁵ and benevolence¹⁶. They drink! good gods! how they do drink! and then, how they sleep! Pray, my dear Baron, were you ever at the falls of Niagara?" "Yes, my lady," replied I, surprised at such a strange association of ideas; "I have............