The Land of Thor

The general aspect of the citizens of Stockholm is that of extreme plainness and simplicity. I take them to be an honest, substantial, and reliable people, well educated and intelligent; satisfied with themselves and the world, and proud of their country and its history. Politeness is a national characteristic. Every person, of high and low degree, upon entering a shop, takes off his hat, and remains with uncovered head while making his purchase. Gentlemen who meet on the street knock the tops of their “tiles” against their knees, and continue to bow at each other long after they have passed. In feature and general appearance the Swedes are handsomer than the southern races of Europe, and for that reason wear a nearer resemblance to the Americans. I saw several men in Stockholm who would not have done discredit to California, in point of fine faces and commanding figures. The Swedish ladies are proverbially beautiful. It was really refreshing, after my visit to Russia, to see so many pretty women as I met here. Light hair, oval features, sparkling blue eyes, and forms of intoxicating grace and beauty – ah me! why should such dangers be permitted to threaten the defenseless traveler with instant destruction, when the law provides for his protection against other disasters by land and sea, assault and battery, false imprisonment and highway robbery? Yet here were lovely creatures, gliding about at large, shooting mutilation and death out of their bright blue eyes, and apparently as indifferent to the slaughter they committed as if it were the finest fun in the world! Talk of your French beauties, your Italian beauties, your Spanish beauties! Give me, for the impersonation of soul expressed in the human form divine – for features “woven from the music of the spheres and painted with the hues of the aurora borealis” – a Swedish beauty, the nearest approach upon earth to an American beauty, which, being altogether angelic, must ever remain the highest type of perfection known to mankind.

I don’t wonder Swedenborg made so many heavens for his female characters. His “conjugal felicity” required at least seven. One small heaven, constructed upon the Swedish plan, would certainly afford but limited accommodations for all the beauties of Stockholm.

A day or two after my arrival in Stockholm I called to Mr. Fristadius, the American consul, from whom I obtained the latest news in reference to the progress of the rebellion. Accustomed as we are in the United States to read the newspapers every morning, wherever we may happen to be, the deprivations in this respect to which an American traveler in Europe is subjected must be experienced to be fully appreciated. Even in the principal cities of Germany it is difficult to find a newspaper that contains any thing more than a notice of the price of stocks, a few telegraphic items about the petty court movements of neighboring cities, a rehash of slander upon our country from the London Times, or an item of news about the war, in which the states are misplaced, the names misspelled, and the most important points omitted. I do not think there is a village press in California that would not be ashamed to turn out such trashy little sheets as are issued in Frankfort; and as for the matter of fairness and honesty, it is rare to find an independent newspaper in any part of Europe. To suppress truth and subserve some military or financial interest is the business for which they are paid. Making due allowance for party prejudices, you may guess at the truth in most of our American journals, but it would be a waste of time to search for it in the newspapers published on this side of the water. While they studiously refrain from indecorous language, they are corrupt and unreliable beyond any thing known in California, and have not even the merit of being energetic and entertaining liars. This is the case in Russia and Finland as well as in Germany. Where the press is subjected to a rigid censorship, it is of course useless to look for reliable information, and as for late intelligence, it does not travel through official bureaus. Before leaving Frankfort I had news to the 28th of June. A week after my arrival at St. Petersburg the same news was promulgated in that city. On my return from Moscow I had the pleasure of reading the details in an American newspaper. One or two mutilated telegraphic dispatches seemed to sharpen my appetite during the trip to Revel, Helsingfors, Abo, and Stockholm; and now, arrived at the head-quarters of Swedish civilization, after searching in vain for a late English or American newspaper at the principal cafés, I was compelled to make application to our consul, in the faint hope that he might be an occasional reader of that ephemeral species of literature. Fortunately, Mr. Fristadius had spent some time in the United States, and learned to appreciate the magnitude and importance of the struggle in which we were engaged.

I had the pleasure, during my sojourn in Stockholm, of getting a glimpse of Swedish social life in one of its most agreeable phases. Mr. Fristadius, who is a Swede by birth and education, and occupies a prominent position as one of the leading iron-merchants of Stockholm, was kind enough to invite me to an entertainment at his villa, situated about four miles from the city, on one of the prettiest little islands in the Malar Lake.

At an early hour in the afternoon, the company, which consisted of thirty or forty ladies and gentlemen, assembled by appointment at a wharf near one of the principal bridges, where a small steam-boat belonging to Mr. Fristadius was in waiting. I was a little astonished, not to say taken aback, at the display of elegant dresses, liveried servants, and white kid gloves that graced the occasion, and looked at my dusty and travel-worn coat, slouched hat, and sunburnt hands – for which there was no remedy – with serious thoughts of a hasty retreat. One doesn’t like to be a savage among civilized people; yet, if one undertakes to travel with little baggage and less money, what can he do, unless he holds himself aloof from the world altogether, which is not the best way of seeing it? There was no time for reflection, however; the whistle was blowing, and we were hurried on board by our kind host, who seemed determined to make every body as happy as possible. The trip down the lake was delightful. On either side the hills and islands were dotted with villas and gardens; sail-boats were skimming over the water with gay parties intent on pleasure; the views of the city from every turn were picturesque beyond description, and the weather was quite enchanting. As we swept along on our course, the gentlemen of the party, who were nearly all Swedes, united in a wild and beautiful Scandinavian glee, the mellow strains of which swept over the water, and were echoed from the wooded islands and shores of the lake with a magnificent effect. Whether it was the scenery, the weather, or the singing, or all combined, I could scarcely tell, but this little trip was certainly an episode in life to be remembered with pleasure in after years. In about half an hour we drew near a perfect little Paradise of an island, upon which, half hidden in shrubbery and flowers, stood the villa of our friend, Mr. Fristadius. Here were winding graveled walks overhung by rich foliage; beds of flowers in full bloom; grottoes of rock laved by the waters of the lake; immense boulders of granite surmounted by rustic pavilions; hedges of privet and hawthorn to mark the by-paths; a miniature bridge from the main island across to a smaller island, upon which stood an aquatic temple for the fishing-boats and gondolas; with a wharf jutting out into the deep water at which the little steam-boat landed. Nothing could be more unique than the whole place. Nature and art seemed to have united to give it the most captivating effects of wildness, seclusion, comfort, and elegance. It was Crusoe-life idealized. As we approached the landing-place, the interesting family of our host, surrounded by numerous friends, stood upon a little eminence awaiting our arrival. While we gazed with pleasurable emotions at the pretty scene before us, a most delicate and appropriate compliment was paid to our excellent minister, Mr. Haldeman, and his accomplished wife, who were of the party. The American flag was hoisted upon a pole near the landing by Mrs. Fristadius, and the company with one accord arose and greeted with three cheers this glorious emblem of liberty. I shall never forget the mingled feelings of pride and pleasure with which I looked upon the stars and stripes once more, after months of dreary depression in countries where freedom is but a glimmering hope in the human heart. But here in Sweden the spirit of our institutions is appreciated; here I found myself surrounded by noble and trusty friends of the American Union, loyal to their own liberal government, yet devoted to the great cause of human freedom wherever it can exist consistently with the progress of the times and the capacity of the people for self-government. As the flag waved in the breeze, an inspiring song of liberty burst from the joyous company – one of those soul-stirring songs of Belman, which find a response in the breast of every Swede – wild, impassioned, and patriotic, breathing in every word and intonation the chivalrous spirit of men whose ancestry had fought under the glorious banners of Gustavus Adolphus.

As soon as the song was concluded the little steam-boat drew up to the wharf, where we were most kindly and cordially greeted by the family of our host. After a pleasant ramble about the grounds we proceeded to the house, which is situated on a picturesque eminence overlooking the lake, and the adjacent shores and islands. Here, in a large and elegant saloon, opening on all sides upon a spacious veranda, a sumptuous collation was spread. The company lounged about without ceremony, eating, drinking, and enjoying themselves as they pleased; wit and wine flowed together, unrestrained by the slightest formality. In the midst of our “feast of reason and flow of soul,” Mr. Fristadius made a neat and appropriate little speech of “welcome to all his friends,” which was followed by a song from the musical gentlemen; after which he proposed a toast to a young married couple present. This was followed by another song. Then there was a toast to the American flag, another speech and a song, to which Mr. Haldeman, our minister, responded in such terms of enthusiasm and complimentary allusion to the Swedish nation that there was a general outburst of applause. I had hoped, in view of my rustic garb, to escape notice, and was snugly barricaded in a corner behind a table, looking on quietly and enjoying the scene, when, to my great astonishment, a toast was proposed “to the Distinguished Traveler from California!” In vain I looked about me to see if any prominent gentleman of my acquaintance from California would step forward and answer to the summons, when I was gently but firmly captured by our host, and duly brought forth to respond to the charge! Never having made a speech in my life, I could only seize hold of a wine-glass (which I think belonged to somebody else), and in the confusion of the moment drink spontaneously to the great traveler from California! Then there was an inspiring glee from the lively young gentlemen who did the music.

Thus passed the time till dinner was over, when we adjourned to the garden for coffee and cigars. Seated under the wide-spreading trees, in the balmy air of this summer evening, we had songs and recitations of Scandinavian poetry, anecdotes, and humorous dissertations till nearly midnight. I do not remember that I ever participated in a more rational or delightful entertainment. After a farewell glee to our host we marched down to the wharf, where the boat was in waiting, and embarked for Stockholm. I can only add that I was charmed with the refinement and intelligence of Swedish society, as far as I could judge of it by this casual glimpse. From many of the guests I received cordial invitations to prolong my sojourn, and the next morning found two or three of the gentlemen in readiness to show me every thing of interest about the city.

We visited the Museum, where there is an interesting assortment of Scandinavian antiquities, and the palace, and some half a dozen other places, all of which came in the regular routine of sight-seeing; but the fact is, I am getting dreadfully tired of this systematic way of lionizing the cities of Europe. I turn pale at the sight of a museum, shudder at a church, feel weak in the knees at the bare thought of a picture-gallery, and as for antiquities, they make my flesh creep. Between you and myself, dear reader, I wouldn’t give a sou-markee for all the old bones gathered up during the last eighteen centuries, unless to start a bone-mill and sell the dust at a remunerative profit.

After all, the more I saw of Stockholm the more the blues began to creep over me. It is depressingly slow in these far Northern cities; so slow, indeed, I don’t wonder every thing has a mildewed and sepulchral aspect. The houses look like slimy tombs in a grave-yard; the atmosphere, when the sun does not happen to shine – which is more than half the time – is dank and flat, and hangs upon one’s spirits like a nightmare, crushing out by degrees the very germ of vitality. I am not surprised that paralysis and hip-disease are frightfully prevalent in Stockholm.

Give me California forever – the land of sunshine and progress. I have seen no country like it yet. When I think of old times there, a terrible home-sickness takes possession of me. So help me, friends and fellow-citizens, I’d sooner be a pack-mule in California with a raw back, and be owned by a Mexican greaser, employed week in and week out in carrying barrels of whisky over the Downieville trail, fed on three grains of barley per day, and turned out to browse on quartz rock and sage-bushes every night – I’d rather be a miserable little burro, kicked and cuffed by a Mariposa Chinaman – I’d rather be a dog and bay the moon in the city of Oakland, or a toad and feed upon the vapors of a dungeon at San Quentin – I’d rather be a lamp-post on the corner of Montgomery Street, San Francisco, and be leaned against, and hugged, and kissed alternately by every loafer out of the Montgomery saloon – I’d rather be any of these than a human being compelled to live permanently in Europe, with a palace in every city, town, and village, and an income of fifty thousand dollars a day to defray expenses; so don’t be surprised if I should turn up again one of these fine mornings on the Pacific coast. The only difficulty at present is – a collapse in the financial department.

CHAPTER XXV.

WALKS ABOUT STOCKHOLM

If you expect any very lively or striking pictures of Stockholm from a tourist like myself, whose besetting trouble in life is a constitutional melancholy, I am afraid you will be disappointed. It is beyond doubt one of the most agreeable cities in the North, and, so far as public institutions are concerned, affords a fine field of research for the antiquarian and the naturalist. Any enterprising gentleman who desires to improve his mind by the study of Puffendorf can here find the original. Linnæus, Berzelius, and others will materially assist him in grasping at the mysteries of animated creation; and if he be of a poetical turn, he can enjoy Belman in the unadulterated Scandinavian metre. For me, however, the public museums and libraries possessed only an external interest. I would gladly have devoted the remainder of my life to Scandinavian researches, but, having several other important matters to attend to, I was reluctantly forced to give up the idea. The main object at present was to escape from “an eternal lethargy of woe,” which seemed to grow worse and worse every day. I really had nothing particular to afflict me, yet I both felt and looked like “a man sore acquaint with grief.” Day after day I wandered about the streets in search of excitement. All in vain; such a luxury is unknown to strangers in Stockholm. I visited the fruit-markets, jostled about among the simple and kind-hearted peasants, bought bunches of cherries and baskets of raspberries from the pretty peasant-girls, and then stood eating my way into their acquaintance, while they laughed, and talked, and wondered where in the world such a strange man came from, and when I told them I came from California they looked incredulous, having probably never of such a country. Then I strolled down through the fish-market, where there were a great many queer fish exposed for sale by ancient and slimy old men and women, whose hands and aprons were covered with fish-scales, and whose faces had a very fishy expression. They offered me fish in every shape – skinned, gutted, chopped up, or whole, just as I pleased to buy them. One wrinkled old woman, with a voice much broken by shouting against the Gulf storms from high rocks, or some such cause, called my attention to a monster fish that must have weighed at least sixty pounds, and insisted upon letting me have it at a reduced price. I shook my head and smiled. In that smile I suppose the sagacious old fishwoman discovered the pliancy of my disposition, for she immediately commenced a wild harangue on the merits of the fish, scarcely a word of which I understood. Two or three times I started to leave, but each time she made a motion to detain me. The fact is, I was afraid she would get hold of me with her fishy hands, and was considerably embarrassed what to do. The price of the fish was reasonable enough – only two marks (about forty cents); but I had no use for it, and did not like to carry it to my hotel. The worst of it was, the old woman thought the price was the only obstacle, and finally came down to a mark and a half. What was to be done? From Billingsgate to Stockholm, it is notorious that a disappointed fishwoman is a very dangerous and uncertain foe to be encountered by any man, however brave. She began to get excited at the bare prospect of having taken so much trouble for nothing. Several of her friends began to gather round. A cold tremor ran through my frame. There seemed to be no possible way of evading the purchase without creating an unpleasant scene. To make an end of it, I bought the fish. With a bunch of grass wrapped around its tail, I made my way through the crowd. To be sure, I felt a little ashamed to be perambulating the streets of a strange city with a big fish in my hand, yet I could not well throw it down on the sidewalk, and was afraid, if I offered it to some little boy, he might stick his tongue in his cheek, and ask me if I saw any thing green in the corner of his eye. The case was getting worse and worse every moment. People stopped and looked at me as I passed. My arm was getting tired. Fortunately, I was close to the quay. A happy thought struck me; I walked over to the water’s edge and cast the fish into his native element. “Go,” said I, in the language of my uncle Toby; “there’s room enough in the world for you and me.” What the by-standers thought of the act I did not wait to see. It was enough that I was clear of a very unpleasant companion, though an ancient and fish-like odor remained with me for some time after. As for the fish, I doubt if he ever came to life; he must have been dead for several days when I bought him, judging by a taint upon my hands, which the best soap could not eradicate.

After this I rambled gloomily along the quays, and wondered what every body was waiting for. There were small vessels enough lying at the wharves, but every body on board seemed to be taking it easy. Cooks were lying asleep on the galleys; skippers were sitting on the poop, smoking socially with their crews; small boys, with red night-caps on their heads, were stretched out upon the hatchways, playing push-pin, and eating crusts of black bread; stevedores, with dusty sacks on their shoulders, were lounging about on the wharf, waiting for something in the way of trade to turn up; shabby citizens, who seemed to be out of profitable employment, were sitting on the loose timbers overlooking the water, bobbing for fish, and never catching any so far as I could perceive; and scattering crowds of idlers were strolling idly along like myself, in search of something particular to look at, but, failing to discover it, they looked about at things generally, and then strolled on to look at something else. I sighed at the stagnation of business, and hoped it would never be my fate to be engaged in mercantile affairs in Stockholm. Before the Gotha Canal was completed this was a very brisk city; but since that period, Gottenburg, being more accessible, has monopolized much of the European trade. The principal trade of Stockholm now consists of exports of iron, and imports of sugar, coffee, and liquors. Throughout the interior the peasantry manufacture most of the articles required for their own use, such as clothing, implements of husbandry, etc., so that they are not large consumers of foreign commodities. Finding it very dull in town, I walked out in the suburbs, which are pretty and picturesque, though primitive enough to be a thousand miles from a commercial city. The houses are chiefly constructed of wood, painted yellow, with red roofs, and neatly ornamented with verandas; and the people have a quaint and simple look, as if they knew but little of the world, and did not care much to trouble their heads about the progress of events. Here as well as elsewhere, children continue to be born in great numbers, and groups of them were to be seen before every house playing in the mud just as little cotton-headed children play all over the world. I say cotton-headed, because these were of the blue-eyed, white-haired race who have a natural affinity for muddy places, and whose cheeks have a natural propensity to gather bloom and dirt at the same time.

I struck out on the high points of the Normalm, and on one of them discovered an old church, surrounded by trees, with benches conveniently placed beneath their shade for weary pedestrians. Here were family groups quietly enjoying the fresh air, the men smoking and drinking, while the women and girls economized time by knitting and sewing. I took a vacant seat and looked down over the city. Surely a prettier prospect could not exist upon earth. There lay the city of the sea outspread beneath, its irregular streets, quaint old houses and churches covering every available space; the numerous wooded islands in the vicinity dotted with villas; sloops and boats floating dreamily on the Malar Lake, and larger vessels gliding over the waters of the Baltic; dense forests of pine dim in the distance; and over all a strangely colored Northern light, that gave the scene something of a spectral aspect. Yet the spirit of repose that seemed cast over this fair scene was absolutely oppressive to one like myself, accustomed to an active life. From the high points I wandered down into the low places, through narrow and tortuous streets; gazed into the stables and cow-houses; watched the tinners, and coppersmiths, and shoemakers as they wound up the labors of the day in their dingy little shops; peered into the greasy little meatshops and antiquated grocery-stores; studied the faces of the good people who slowly wended their way homeward, and bowed to several old ladies out of pure kindliness and good feeling; then wandered back into the public places, still pursued by a green and yellow melancholy. I gazed steadfastly at the statues of Gustavus Vasa, Charles XII., and Berzelius, and tried in vain to remember something of their history. I went into the picture-shops, took off my hat to small boys behind the counter, looked at the pictures, and bought several, for which I had no earthly use; then I went to the café on the bridge, drank coffee and cognac, and attempted to read the Swedish newspapers, of which I understood every letter, but not a word; after which I heard the whistle of a small steam-boat at the end of the café garden, and ran down in a hurry to get on board. The steam-boat was about equal to a good-sized yawl, and was bound for some port unknown to me; but that made no difference. I never see a boat of any kind going any where, or a locomotive, or a carriage, or any thing that moves by steam, sails, horse-power, or electricity, without feeling an unconquerable desire to be off too, so that I very much fear, if I should come across a convict vessel bound for Van Diemen’s Land, it would be impossible for me to avoid jumping on board and going with the crowd. In the present case it was essentially necessary that I should keep moving. I was almost sinking under the oppressive loneliness of the place. Rather than remain another hour within the limits of such a dreary old city, I would have taken passage in a tread-mill, and relied upon the force of imagination to carry me to some other place. Nay, a hangman’s cart on the way to the gallows would have presented a strong temptation. In saying this I mean nothing disrespectful to Birger Jarl, who founded Stockholm, and made it his place of residence in 1260; nor to Christina Gyllenstierna, who so heroically defended it against Christian II. of Denmark in the sixteenth century; nor to Gustavus Vasa, the brave liberator of Sweden; nor his noble and heroic grandson, Gustavus Adolphus; nor any body else famous in Swedish history; but the truth of it is, Sweden at the present day is essentially a home country, and the people are too domestic in their habits and modes of thought to afford any peculiar interest to a casual tourist. I like their simple and genial manners, and respect them for their sterling integrity, yet these are traits of no great value to one who travels so far out of the world in search of objects of more stirring interest. The ordinary traveler, who has no time to dive very deep beneath the surface of human life, is not satisfied to find things nearly as he finds them at home; streets, shops, and houses undistinguished by any peculiarity save the inconveniences and oddities of age; people every where around him who dress like all other civilized people, and possess the standard virtues and weaknesses of humanity; the proprieties of life decently observed, and loyalty to forms and time-honored usages a national characteristic. A Swede would no more violate a rule of etiquette, smile or bow out of place, eat a beefsteak or drink his schnapps at an unusual hour, or strike out any thing novel or original in the way of pleasure, profit, or enterprise, than a German. The court circle is the most formal in Europe, and the upper classes of society are absolute slaves to conventionality. A presentation at court is an event of such signal importance that weeks of preparation are required for the impressive ordeal; and when the tailor, and shoemaker, and the jeweler have done their part, and the unhappy victim, all bedeviled with finery and befrogged with lace, is brought into the presence of royalty, it is a miracle if he gets through without committing some dire offense against the laws of etiquette. Fine carriages, coats of arms, uniforms, and badges of office, are held in high veneration; and while the government is liberal and the people profess to be independent, their slavish devotion to rank, dress, and etiquette surpasses any thing I saw in Russia. With this, to be sure, is mingled a certain simplicity of manner and kindliness of expression toward inferiors which sometimes lead the stranger to believe that he is among a democratic people, but they are as far from democracy as the Prussians or the Austrians. The very affability of the superior to the inferior is the best evidence of the inseparable gulf that lies between them. In Russia there is the charm of barbarism, savagery, filth, and show; the people are loose, ferocious, daring, and wild; here in Sweden, the quiet, decent, home-aspect of the people, their rigid observance of the rules of etiquette, their devotion to royalty, law, and order, are absolutely depressing. In the abstract, many traits in their character are worthy of admiration, but as a traveler I detest this kind of civilization. Give me a devil or a savage at all times, who outrages the rules of society and carries an advertisement of character on his back. As an artist I can make something of him, either in the way of copy or pencil-sketches.

Which brings me back to my situation, in the natural course of events. The whistle blows. The little steam-boat is about to stop at the landing-place of the Djurgaard. The engineer, smutty and oily with hard service, gives a turn to the crank, pulls an iron bar with a polished handle, and then pushes it; the tea-kettle boiler fizzes and whizzes, and lets off steam; the paddles stop paddling; the gentlemen passengers stand up and adjust their shirt collars; the ladies gather their shawls around them, and pick up their scattered bundles; with a whirl and a jerk we are alongside the wharf, and the captain jumps from the bow with a rope in his hand, and makes all fast to a logger-head. And now step ashore, if you please, ladies and gentlemen, and let us take a stroll through the deer garden, where

“The ash and warrior oak
Cast anchor in the rifted rock.”

The walks through this beautiful park (said to be the finest attached to any capital in Europe) are broad, and handsomely graded. Grand old forest-trees on either side make “a boundless contiguity of shade” over the greensward. Pavilions and rustic summer-houses stand on the high points of rock, commanding magnificent views of the adjacent islands and waters of the lake. Flower-gardens are numerous, and every nook and dell contains some place of refreshment, where the gay company who frequent these delightful grounds in the long summer evenings can drink their tea and enjoy the varied beauties of the scene. Wandering through these sylvan glades, the eye is continually charmed with the rare combinations of natural and artificial beauties scattered around in every direction with such wonderful prodigality. At one moment you imagine yourself in a wilderness, hundreds of miles from any human habitation, so dense are the shades of the grand old forest-trees, and so wild and rugged the moss-covered rocks; a few steps bring you suddenly upon some fairy scene, where palaces and temples, gilded carriages, gayly-dressed companies of ladies and gentlemen, and groups of children sporting upon the grass, dispel the illusion. Ascending to the highest points by the narrow and tortuous by-paths, I could almost fancy myself in the midst of the Coast Range, so perfect was the isolation; then coming out suddenly upon some projecting cliff, the change of scene from rugged grandeur to the perfection of civilization was absolutely magical. Vegetation in this northern region, where the summer are so short and warm, flourishes with an almost tropical luxuriance. The melting of the snows in spring, followed by heavy rains and sudden heat, causes the earth to give forth its products with a prodigality that compensates in some degree for the long and dreary winters. Trees burst into leaf as if by magic; flowers shoot up and bloom in a few weeks; the grass, enriched by the snows, springs forth and covers the earth like a gorgeous carpet of velvet. All nature rejoices in the coming of the long summer days. The birds sing in the groves; the bees hum merrily around the flowers; the gay butterflies flit through the sunbeams; and day and night are an almost continued period of revelry for all those beautiful and ephemeral creatures that droop and die with the flowers. I have nowhere seen such a profusion of intensely rich green and such wonderfully deep shades as in the neighborhood of Stockholm. It is almost oppressive to one accustomed to California scenery, where the whole face of the country wears a dry red-and-yellowish hue in summer. Strange how one’s tastes change by association! I well remember when I first entered the Golden Gate, in August, 1849, after a long and dreary voyage round Cape Horn. Glad as I was to see land once more, it struck me that I had never looked upon so barren and desolate a country. The hill-sides had the appearance of parched and sodless deserts. Yet I soon learned to like that warm glow. I slept upon those parched hills, breathed the invigorating air, and felt the inspiration of California life. I would not now exchange the summer drapery of our hills and valleys for the deepest green upon earth. To my present frame of mind there is something flat and chilling in this redundancy of verdure that reminds one of death and the grave-yard. The moss-covered rocks jutting from the cold, grassy earth; the dripping fern; the pale, flitting gleams of sunshine struggling through the depths of foliage; the mould that seems to hang in the air – all these strike me as death-like. I long for the vital glow of a more genial sun, whose all-pervading light is reflected from the rich golden earth, shooting health and vigor through every fibre of the frame, permeating body and soul with its effulgence. Such intensity of light, such warmth of colors, fill the dullest mind with inspiration; the blood is quickened in its circulation; the respiration is full and free; the intellect becomes clearer and sharper; the whole man is quickened into the highest condition of mental and physical vitality. Is it a matter of wonder, then, that the people of California should be brave, generous, and loyal – that they should have a high sense of right, and an undying scorn of wrong? I hold that the species is improved by the climate and the country – that stronger men and better men are now undergoing the process of development in California than in any other country on the face of the earth. If we live fast and die suddenly, it is the natural consequence of increased bodily and mental vigor, which too often leads to excesses, but which, under proper training, must eventually lead to the highest moral and intellectual achievements. The fault does not lie in our climate. I have yet seen none to equal it North or South – not even in Italy. I do not think the climate of Sweden is conducive to longevity, or extraordinary mental or bodily vigor. Indeed, the same may be said of any climate abounding in such rigorous extremes. The Swedes, it is true, lead a placid and easy life, content with ordinary comforts, and worried by no exciting or disquieting ambitions; hence they enjoy good health, and generally get through the usual span allotted to man. If the same sanitary rules were observed in our country, there would be less sickness and fewer untimely deaths. Dissipation is not rare in Sweden, especially in the capital cities, but it is more methodical with us. The people have certain times and occasions for getting drunk; they make a regular business of it. Virulent and disgusting diseases are also prevalent among them, so that between the rigors of climate and other causes less excusable, they frequently appear old and decrepit before their time. That among the middle classes there are fine-looking men and beautiful women, is true; that in literature, science, and music, they can boast names that will go down to posterity, is a fact that can not be denied; but I think such a climate and the habits engendered by it are inimical to the highest order of physical and mental development among the masses. Hence we find throughout the country many diseased and deformed persons of both sexes; many weakly and not a few imbecile. The peasants are not so hardy and robust as I expected to find them; and I was told by competent judges, better informed than I could hope to become during so brief a sojourn, that they are progressively degenerating year after year, and can not now compare with the peasants of former times.

To say that I was charmed with my ramble through the Djurgaard would but faintly express the pleasure I derived from my visit to this beautiful park. Of all the resorts for recreation that I have yet seen in Northern Europe, I give it the palm for natural beauty and tasteful cultivation. In this the Swedes excel. Their villas, gardens, and parks are unsurpassed, and no people in the world better understand how to enjoy them.

Late in the evening I returned to my hotel, delighted with all I had seen. I was anxious to extend my rambles to Upsala, and to visit more in detail the various beautiful islands and places of interest in the vicinity of Stockholm; but the season was advancing, and I was reluctantly compelled to push on toward Norway.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE GOTHA CANAL

On a pleasant morning in August I called for my bill at the “Stadt Frankfort.” The landlady, a blooming young woman of rather vivacious and persuasive manners, wished me such a delightful journey, and looked so sorry I was going, that I could not muster resolution enough to complain of the various candles that were never burnt, and the numerous services that were never rendered, except in the bill; and had she charged me for washing my own face and putting on my own boots, I fear the result would have been the same. Wishing her a happy future, I shouldered my knapsack, which by this time contained only two shirts, an old pair of stockings, and some few flowers and stones from celebrated places, and, thus accoutred for the journey, made my way down to Riddarholm Quay. In a dingy old office, abounding in cobwebs, a dingy old gentleman, who spoke English, sold me a second-class ticket for Gottenburg. The little steamer upon which I had the good fortune to secure a passage was called the Admiral Von Platten, a name famous in the history of Swedish enterprise. It was Von Platten who, in 1808, took charge of the great work of internal improvement known as the West Gotha Canal, and by the aid of Telford, the celebrated English engineer, carried it into successful operation in 1822. The project of connecting the lakes of Wenern and Wettern, and forming a water communication all the way between Stockholm and Gottenburg, was entertained at a very early day by the different sovereigns and scientific men of Sweden. Bishop Brask in 1516, Gustavus I., Charles IX., Swedenborg, Gustavus Adolphus, and others, took particular interest in it, and some progress was made in the building of locks and opening of short passages up to the beginning of the present century. Daniel Thunberg contributed materially to the opening of the route between Wenern and the Baltic; and Colonel N. Eriksson, the celebrated engineer whose reputation stands so high in the United States, had the direction of the work for many years. It was not, however, till 1844 that the entire work was fully completed, although some years prior to that time the two seas were connected and open to navigation. The immense expense of this enterprise; the extraordinary natural obstacles that have been overcome; the patience and perseverance with which it has been carried into practical operation; the magnitude and durability of the work, can only be appreciated by one who has made the trip through Sweden by this route. It is certainly the grandest triumph recorded in Swedish history. It will exist and benefit generations to come, when the names of her kings, warriors, and statesmen shall be known only to antiquarians.

The steamers now plying on this route are small, but well arranged for the accommodation of passengers. There is a first and second cabin, and a restaurant at which the traveler can call for what he desires, and, provided his tastes are not eccentric, generally get what he calls for. The waiters are simple-minded, kind-hearted, and sociable; sit down and gossip with the passengers (at least those of the second class), and, what seems rather novel and amusing to a stranger, leave the bill to be made out and summed up by the passengers themselves. A general account-book is left open in the cabin, in which it is expected every traveler will set down his name and keep his own account. At the end of the trip, the head waiter goes the rounds of the cabin and deck, book in hand, and asks the passengers to designate their names and sum up their accounts. Nobody seems to think of cheating or being cheated. There is something so primitive in this way of dealing on a public highway between two commercial cities, that I was quite charmed with it, and have some thoughts of recommending it to the California Steam Navigation Company. Just think what a pleasure it would be to travel from San Francisco to Sacramento, and keep the record of your own bitters and cigars, to say nothing of your supper and berth! I am certain the plan would be approved by a majority of the traveling public throughout the state.

The company on board these little Swedish steamers is generally plain, sociable, and intelligent. Among the passengers I met many who spoke English and German, and few who did not speak at least one language in addition to their own. In midsummer the trip from Stockholm to Gottenburg usually takes three days, though it is sometimes accomplished in two. The distance is about three hundred and seventy miles by the shortest route, through the Wettern and Wenern lakes. Time, however, is no great object in Sweden, and a day or two more or less makes no great difference. The beauty of the scenery, and the diversity of land and water, render the trip one of the most agreeable in Northern Europe, and for one I can safely say it would have pleased me all the better had it lasted longer.

Leaving the Riddarholm Quay, our route lay for the first four hours through the Malar Lake. The weather was delightful, and there was scarcely a ripple on the water. Sloops and wood-boats lay floating upon its glassy surface without perceptible motion. All along on either side beautiful villas peeped from the umbrageous shores and islands. Behind us, the city loomed up in all its queenly beauty, the numerous churches and public buildings presented in majestic outline against the sky, while the forest of shipping at the quays added a more stirring and vital interest to the scene. As we turned the last promontory to the right, and took a lingering look at this charming “city of the sea,” I thought I had never enjoyed a more enchanting coup d’œil. The suburbs of Stockholm; the numerous little islands, with their rich green shrubbery; the villas and gardens; the sparkling vistas of water, form a combination of beauties rarely to be met with in any other part of the world. No wonder the Swedes regard their capital as a paradise. I fully agree with them that in summer it deserves all their praise; but I should prefer a warmer and more genial paradise for winter quarters. Earthen stoves and hot-air furnaces are not in any of the seven heavens that occur in my imagination.

Before many hours we passed a point somewhat celebrated in Swedish history. On a high peak of rock, hanging upon a pole, is a prodigious iron hat, said to be the identical “stove-pipe” worn by one of the old Swedish kings – a terrible fellow, who was in the habit of slaying hundreds of his enemies with his own hand. This famous old king must have been a giant in stature. Judging by his hat, as Professor Agassiz judges of fish by their scales, he must have been forty feet high, by about ten or fifteen broad; and if his strength corresponded with his gigantic proportions, I fancy he could have knocked the gable-end off a house with a single blow of his fist, or kicked the head out of a puncheon of rum, and swallowed the contents at a single draught, without the least difficulty. His hat probably weighs a hundred pounds – enough to give any ordinary man a severe headache. Here it has stood for centuries, in commemoration of his last struggle. Besieged by an overwhelming force of his enemies, as the chronicle goes, he slew some thousands of them, but, being finally hard pressed, he lost his iron hat in the fight, and then plunged headlong into the lake. Some historians assert that he took to water to avoid capture; but I incline to the opinion myself that he did it to cool his head. At all events, the record ends at this point. We are unable to learn any thing more of his fate. These Northern races are strong believers in their own aboriginal history, and although there may be much in this that would require the very best kind of testimony before a California jury, the slightest hint of a doubt as to its truth would probably be taken as a personal offense by any public spirited Swede. In that respect, thank fortune, I am gifted with a most accommodating disposition. I can believe almost any thing under the sun. Giants and genii are nothing to what my credulity is capable of; and as for fairies and hobgoblins, I can swallow them by wholesale. There is only one thing in this world that I entertain the least doubt about – the title to my house and lot in Oakland. Upon that point I question if it ever will be possible for human evidence to satisfy me. Three times I paid for it, and each time every body considered it perfect except myself. I expect daily to hear of another title, of which I trust some enterprising gentleman in want of funds will advise me. It will be a source of consolation to know that I was not mistaken.

Situated near the entrance of the canal, on the left bank, is the beautiful little town of Soderkoping, celebrated for its mineral springs, to which the people of Stockholm resort in great numbers during the summer for health and recreation. The scene as we approached was very pretty. Pine and oak forests cover the granite hills for many miles around, relieved by occasional openings dotted with villas, gardens, and farms; and the dark red wooden houses of the town have a singularly pleasant effect glimmering in the sunbeams through the rich masses of foliage by which they are surrounded. Groups of visitors stood at the locks awaiting the news from the city, or anxiously looking out for the familiar faces of relatives and friends, while the lock-men slowly and methodically performed their accustomed routine of labors. Soderkoping is a very ancient town, and in former times enjoyed considerable importance as a mart of commerce. Passing through a narrow stretch of canal, some miles in length, overhung by trees and rocks on the right, and affording some pleasant views of the rich valley to the left, the banks gradually widened till we entered a beautiful little lake, leading, after a short passage, to the waters of the Roxen. The narrow parts of the canal are difficult of navigation, owing to the various turns and the solid masses of rock through which it is cut; and the steamer sometimes proceeds very slowly, carefully feeling her way along, till an open space affords an opportunity of going ahead at a more rapid rate. In the mean time the passengers are all out on the decks, shaded by an awning, enjoying themselves in the most unceremonious manner, laughing and talking in groups, sipping their coffee, or promenading up and down to enjoy the sweet-scented breeze from the neighboring hills. The Roxen Lake, through which we next passed, is some seventeen miles long by seven broad, and is justly regarded as one of the loveliest sheets of water in all Sweden. The shores are neither very high nor very grand, but it would be difficult to find any thing more charming than the rich coloring of the rocks, their varied outlines, the luxuriance of the forests, and the crystal clearness of the water. Villages and farms are seen at occasional intervals in the distance, and sloops, with their sails hanging idly against their masts, float upon the placid surface of the lake as upon a mirror. Indeed, so perfect is the inversion, that the eye can scarcely determine how much is real and how much the result of optical illusion. Passing in sight of the town of Linkoping, which lies to the left, we soon reached the entrance of the West Gotha Canal, which here makes a direct ascent from the waters of the Roxen of seventy-five feet. At this point there are eleven locks, seven of which are closely connected, and the remainder separated by short stretches of canal. Near at hand is a pretty little village to the left, famous for its church, the Vretakloster, built in the Gothic style in 1128, by Inge II., one of the early kings of Sweden. While the steamer was slowly toiling through the locks, a party of the passengers, including myself, paid a visit to the church, and, aided by a venerable sacristan, saw all that was to be seen in it, chief among which are the tombs of the kings and the arms of the Douglas family, those warlike Scots who took such an active part in the military exploits of Sweden during the Thirty Years’ War. The walk was a pleasant relief after our trip across the lake, and on our return by a short cut to the upper locks we had a splendid view of the wood-covered shore and glistening waters of the Roxen, now fading away in the rich twilight. The steamer occupies about an hour and a half in getting through the locks, and most of the passengers take advantage of the delay to stroll about among the neighboring cottages and gardens, and enjoy the various refreshments offered for sale at the pavilions and tents erected near the upper extremity for the accommodation of travelers. Fresh milk, raspberries, coffee, sweet cakes, and ale are the principal articles furnished at these places. Notwithstanding there was an abundant supply of luxuries on board, every body seemed to be hungry and thirsty on getting ashore. The rapidity with which the plates, cups, and glasses were emptied was really surprising, and would have done credit to a crowd of Californians, who, I think, can eat more and drink more in a given time than any race of men upon the earth.

The canal for some distance beyond the locks is quite narrow – often barely wide enough for two steamers to pass. On the left the banks rise to a considerable height, and then gradually decline till the canal passes along a ridge, high above the surrounding country. The effect in these places is very peculiar. The overhanging trees almost unite their branches over the chimney of the steamer as she wends her way slowly and steadily along; deep ravines extend downward into an impenetrable abyss on either side; the sky glimmers through the foliage in a horizontal line with the eye, and one can almost fancy the world has been left below somewhere, and that a new highway has been entered, upon which passengers steam their way to the stars. I am quite certain, if we had kept a direct course long enough, we would have reached the moon or some of the heavenly bodies.

It was late at night when we reached the Boren Lake, another of those natural highways that lie between the Baltic and the North Sea. This lake is comparatively small, but it abounds in rocky islands and shoals which render the navigation through it rather intricate. A pilot is taken on board at the entrance of each lake, and discharged upon reaching the next canal station.

I remained on deck until midnight, enjoying the strange and beautiful lights spread over the heavens in this latitude, and was reluctant even then to lose the views during any part of the journey. Nature, however, can not be defrauded of her legitimate demands even by the beauties of scenery, and I went below to sleep out the remainder of the night. My berth was in the forward cabin, where twenty or thirty passengers were already stretched out – some on the tables, some on the floor, and as many as could find room were snoring away in the temporary berths erected on the seats for their accommodation. Toward morning I was suddenly aroused by a strange and jarring motion of the boat, accompanied by a grating sound. It seemed as if an earthquake were throwing us up out of the water; yet the shocks were more sudden and violent than any I had ever before experienced. Many of the passengers were cast out of their berths, and the glass and crockery in the pantry went crashing over the floor. Scarcely conscious whether I was dreaming or awake, I grasped a post, and sprang out on a pile of baggage, but was immediately precipitated across the cabin. Fortunately I fell against the chambermaid, and suffered no injury. Amid the confusion worse confounded, the screams of the women down below, the crash of broken glasses, and the general struggle to get to the cabin door, a German Jew sprang from his berth, and in frantic accents begged that his life might be spared. “Take my money!” cried he; “take it all, but for God’s sake don’t murder me!” The poor fellow had evidently been aroused out of some horrible dream, and between actual and imaginary dangers was now quite bewildered with terror. I could not help but be amused at the grotesque expression of his face, even at such a moment. It would have provoked a smile had we been going to the bottom. There was no fear of that, however, as I quickly ascertained. We were already hard and fast on the bottom. We had run upon a sunken rock, and were so firmly wedged between its crevices that it seemed likely we should remain there some time. As soon as all was still, I quietly dressed myself and went on deck to take an observation. It was just daylight. We were in the middle of a lake, surrounded by small rocky islands. One of these was only a stone’s throw distant on our starboard. The stakes between which our course lay were close by on the larboard. We had missed the channel by some twenty or thirty yards, and run upon a bed of solid boulders. The pilot, it seemed, had been drinking a little too freely of schnapps, and had fallen asleep at the helm. It was a miracle that we were not all dashed to pieces. A few yards to the right stood a sharp rock, which, had we run against it, would have crushed in the entire bow of the boat, and probably many of us would have perished.

Although there was no fear of our sinking any deeper unless the bed of rocks gave way, it was not a pleasant prospect to be detained here, perhaps for several days. The main shore was some five or six miles distant, and presented an almost unbroken line of granite boulders and dense pine forests. Most of the passengers were on deck, in a state of high excitement; the gentlemen running about in their shirt sleeves and drawers, and the ladies in those indescribable costumes which ladies usually wear when they go to sleep. The captain was mounted on the poop-deck, with his pipe in his mouth, giving orders to the men, who were pulling and tugging at big ropes, and trying to be very busy knocking things about; the pilot stood a little apart from the captain, pale and moody, having in a single moment destroyed his prospects for life. I felt very sorry for the poor fellow, though there was really no excuse for him. Every now and then the captain turned to him and gave him a broadside of curses, which he bore very meekly.

In vain the engineer put on additional steam; in vain the captain shouted “Back!” “Ahead!” “Stop!” We did nothing but stop. It was stop all the time. As there is no tide in these inland waters, the prospect was that we would continue to stop as long as the rocks remained stationary.

All hope of progress being at an end, the engineer slackened down the fires; the deck-hands went to breakfast, and the passengers went down below to dress and talk over their misfortune. The sun rose as usual, and the sky was as clear and the lake as placid as if nothing had happened. I had been trying all my life to get shipwrecked on a desolate island; now there seemed a fair prospect of success. The only difficulty was, that there was no heavy sea to break the vessel to pieces, and she was too substantial to go to pieces of her own account. The nearest island was little more than a barren rock. A few birds wheeled about over it, or sat perched upon its rugged points, but with that exception I doubt if it furnished a foothold for a living creature.

After a good breakfast of sausages and veal cutlets, brown bread and coffee, we again turned out on deck. This time the joyful tidings reached us from aloft that a Gottenburg steamer was approaching. Soon the smoke of her chimneys was perceptible from the deck, and in an hour or so she was alongside. A stout hawser was bent on to her, and after another hour of pulling and tugging, backing and filling, we slipped off the rocks, and floated out into the channel. I was destined, after all, never to be decently shipwrecked. We had suffered but little injury, and proceeded on our way as quietly as if nothing had interrupted our course. On our arrival at the next pilot station the captain put the pilot ashore, with a parting malediction in the Swedish vernacular.

The next place of importance on our route was the pretty little town of Motala, at which we stopped for some hours to take in freight and passengers. The neighborhood is undulating and picturesque, and abounds in rich farms. Motala is an old-fashioned place, with paved streets and wooden houses, much like the suburbs of Stockholm. It is celebrated chiefly for its manufactures of iron. The founderies are numerous, and cutlery of a very good quality is manufactured here. Besides these, it possesses many other objects of interest. The churches are well worth visiting, and the ruins of the fortifications erected in 1567, to resist the Danes, are among the finest in Sweden. From Motala, after another narrow stretch of canal, we soon reached the Wettern Lake, the next largest to the Wenern, and the waters of which are three hundred and four feet above the level of the sea.

In my recollections of travel I can scarcely call to mind any experience more pleasant than I enjoyed during this part of the trip. The lake scenery of Sweden, although not very grand compared with that of the Norwegian fjords, is certainly unsurpassed in the softness and beauty of its coloring, the crystal clearness of the water, the luxuriance of the surrounding forests, the varied labyrinths of charming little islands through which the channel winds, and the delicate atmospheric tints cast on the distant shores. By this time, too, the passengers have become better acquainted. The wonderful sights that we have seen together; the perils and dangers through which we have passed; the breakfasts, dinners, and suppers that we have eaten at the same board; the amount of solid sleeping that we have done in the same little cabin; the promenades we have had up and down the decks, and the rambles we have enjoyed together, have bound us together as one family, and now we come out with our individual histories and experiences, our accomplishments and humors. We (the gentlemen) drink schnapps together, smoke cigars, talk all the languages under the sun, tell our best anecdotes, and sing glees under the awning. The ladies look more beautiful than ever, and although they are still a little shy of us, as ladies in Europe generally are of the male sex, they sometimes favor us with a smile or a pleasant word, and thus contribute to our happiness. I don’t know, for the life of me, what dire offense the man who founded European society was guilty of; but it is certain his successors, from Algeria to the North Pole, are sadly mistrusted by the unmarried ladies. This, I regret to say, is the case in Sweden, as well as in Germany and France. A gentleman is generally regarded as a ferocious cannibal, ready without the slightest provocation to devour and swallow up defenseless maidens. The married ladies are free and easy enough, having discovered probably that men are not half so dangerous as they are reported to be. But, all things considered, the Swedish ladies are exceedingly polite and affable, and on occasions of this kind seem well disposed toward our rapacious sex.

The next important point in our route was the fortress of Wanas, which commands the channel entering the lake on the eastern side. This is considered a work of great importance in view of invasion by any foreign power. We did not stop long enough to examine it in detail, merely touching to put the mail ashore and take in a few passengers. Leaving the Wettern Lake, our route lay through a series of smaller lakes, beautifully diversified with wood-covered islands, till we entered the Viken, another magnificent stretch of water of less extent than the Wettern, but still more beautiful than any we had yet seen. Here the rocks and islands are innumerable, rising from the water in every direction; the smaller ones covered with moss, lichens, shrubbery, and flowers; and the larger darkened with a dense growth of fir, pine, and other evergreens, while the oak, elm, and ash occasionally enliven the masses of shade with their more lively foliage.

At the end of the Viken, which is some fifteen miles in length, the West Gotha Canal commences, and continues through a rich and beautiful farming country to the waters of the great Wenern Lake, some twenty miles distant. The passage through this portion of the route is less interesting than others through which we had passed – so far, at least, as the scenery is concerned. The country is undulating, but not sufficiently diversified for fine scenic effects. Farms and meadows extend nearly all the way to the shores of the Wenern; and the canal passes at frequent intervals through farming districts, which, in point of cultivation, are quite equal to any thing I had seen in more southern parts of Europe. The peasants’ houses along the route are neat and comfortable, and reminded me occasionally of our New England farm-houses. Villages enliven the route at intervals of a few miles, but generally they are of inconsiderable size, and may properly be regarded as mere gatherings of farm-houses around the nucleus of a church or post station. In this respect, I was struck with the difference between Sweden and Germany. The German peasantry, as a general thing, live in villages, and carry on their farming outside, sometimes at a distance of several miles. In the Thuringenwald, the Schwartzwald, the Spessart, and some other mountainous districts, it is true, exceptions may be found to this rule; but throughout the best cultivated districts of Germany there are but comparatively few farm-houses in which isolated families live. Hence villages, and, in many cases, large towns, form the head-quarters of each agricultural parish. The pedestrian, in traveling through Germany, is scarcely ever more than a “halp-stund” from one town or village to another. I think the longest stretch I ever made between two villages was two hours, or six and a half miles. In Sweden (and the same may be said of Norway) the farming districts have more of an American aspect. The houses are scattered about on the different farms, and the peasants do not seem to be so gregarious in their habits as those of Germany. This arises in part from the fact that the population is not so dense in Sweden as in the more central parts of Europe, and in part from the greater abundance of wood and pasture, and the predominance of the lumbering, mining, and stock-raising interests. Many of the farmers are also lumbermen and miners, and nearly all have a good supply of blood cattle. The extent of arable land in Sweden is comparatively small. It presents few attractions as an agricultural country. Its chief wealth consists in its vast forests and mines. The climate is too severe and the production of cereal crops too uncertain to render farming on a large scale a profitable pursuit. This is especially the case in the northern parts. South of Stockholm, between the lakes of Wettern and Wenern, and along the banks of the Gota River, farming is carried to considerable perfection; but with this exception, and some small and sheltered valleys to the north, in which the peasants manage with great care and labor to raise a sufficient supply of grain and potatoes for domestic consumption, but little is produced for exportation. The land generally throughout Sweden is barren and rocky, and it is only by great labor and constant manuring that fair crops can be produced. In the populous districts, where the soil possesses some natural advantages, the farms are mostly small, averaging from ten to seventy-five acres. A tract of forest is usually attached to these farming-lands, from which the peasants derive their supplies of lumber and fuel. Saw-mills are numerous on all the rivers, and a large trade in lumber is carried on in the lake regions. The main lumber region lies north of Stockholm, on the various small rivers emptying into the Gulf of Bothnia. Sundswall, Umea, Lulea, and Haparanda are the principal places of exportation on the eastern shore, and Gottenburg on the west. The fisheries are also an important branch of industry, and large quantities of stromung and herrings are exported. Salmon abound in the rivers, and the lakes and mountain streams furnish a very fine quality of trout. Game is more abundant in the densely wooded regions of Sweden than in Norway, being less accessible to English sportsmen. Of late years Norway has become the favorite hunting and fishing ground of the English, and every summer they swarm all over the country with their guns and fishing-rods. In Sweden, however, comparatively few have yet made their appearance. Bear, elk, red deer, ptarmigan, and wild-fowl abound in the forests and along the shores of the lakes. The Swedes themselves are not so much given to this kind of recreation as the English. Their chief amusements consist in Sunday afternoon recreations, such as theatrical representations, dancing, singing, drinking, and carousing. In their religious observances they are very strict, but after church they consider themselves privileged to enjoy a little dissipation in the Continental style. It too often happens that their frolics are carried to an excess. More brandy and other strong liquors are consumed in Sweden, according to the population, than in New Orleans or San Francisco, which is saying a good deal for the civilization of the people. Another good sign is that they chew tobacco. The better classes usually smoke this delightful weed, but the peasants both smoke it and chew it, showing conclusively that they are advancing rapidly toward emancipation from the narrow prejudices of European society. I saw drunken men and tobacco-chewers in Sweden who would have done credit to any little mining district in California. The habit of drinking is almost universal. The peasants drink to get drunk, the better classes drink for excitement, and all drink because they like it. At the principal restaurants in Stockholm and Gottenburg there is usually an anteroom opening into the main saloon. Here every gentleman who enters deposits his hat and cane. In the centre of the room stands a small table, upon which are several decanters containing “schnapps,” a pile of brown bread sliced, various plates of biscuit and thin flour-cake, butter, and pickled fish. Around this the customers gather to acquire an appetite, which they accomplish by drinking one or two glasses of schnapps, eating a few small fish (stromung) spread upon their bread and butter, and then drinking some schnapps. They then go in to dinner, and call for what they want, including the various wines necessary for the process of digestion. Having eaten heartily and emptied a few bottles of wine, they wind up with coffee and cognac or maraschino. One would think such a process every day would burn the lining off the best stomach in the world; but the Swedes, like the Russians, have gutta-percha stomachs. The same system, it is true, prevails in San Francisco, only in a different form, and the same consequences generally ensue. People are very apt to get up from the table with a rush of blood to the head, a general obliquity of vision, and a peculiar weakness in the knees. I tried it myself by way of experiment, and was sick of a headache for three days after. Somehow I can travel a long distance on foot without getting tired, but my stomach is not lined with sheet iron. I have seen women and children drink at a single sitting enough of intoxicating beverages, since my arrival in Europe, to have capsized me for a month. This, I think, will account for the prevalence of bloated bodies and red noses in these highly civilized countries.

I had read somewhere, before visiting Sweden, that the Swedes are not very sociable toward strangers. Perhaps in this respect they do not produce so favorable an impression as the Germans, but my experience has been such as to give me a very pleasant idea of their social qualities. It is true they are not so demonstrative in their manners as the French, or so enthusiastic as the Germans; but I found no difficulty in becoming acquainted with them, and was invariably treated with kindness and hospitality. When a Swede manifests an interest in your behalf, it is pretty certain that he feels it. If you become acquainted with one respectable family, you have a general entree into the entire social circle. No pains are spared to render your visit agreeable; and although the demonstrations of kindness are never intrusive, you feel that they are cordial and sincere. There may be among the more polished classes a certain degree of formality which to a stranger bears the appearance of reserve; but this quickly passes away, and the pleasure is all the greater in finding that there is really very little reserve about them. With all their adhesion to forms and ceremonies, they are simple and unaffected in their manners, and have a natural repugnance to whatever is meretricious. In a word, the Swedes are an honest, straightforward, sterling people, resembling more, in certain points of character, the English than any of their Continental neighbors, though I must do them the justice to say that they rarely have so unpleasant a way of manifesting their best traits. I can readily believe that the longer they are known the better they may be liked. It is true I saw nothing of Swedish society beyond what a casual tourist can see in passing rapidly through the country, yet that little impressed me very favorably, and disposes me to rely with confidence upon what I gathered from others who have enjoyed a more extended experience.

The home sketches of Fredrika Bremer give a more thorough insight of Swedish life and manners than perhaps those of any other writer. Of late years, however, Miss Bremer does not appear to have maintained her early popularity. She is said to have written some things which have given offense and provoked severe criticism, and I was surprised to hear her productions mentioned by several of her countrymen in somewhat disparaging terms. This was a source of disappointment to me, for I had supposed she was the most popular writer in Sweden; and I could not easily forget the pleasure I had derived from the perusal of “The H – Family,” “Nina,” “The Professor,” and other of her charming delineations of domestic life. As no man is a prophet in his own valley, I suppose the same may be said of women. To this, however, Jenny Lind is an exception.

But, as usual, I find myself steering out of the channel. We were now in the great Wenern Lake, a vast sheet of water fifty miles broad by one hundred in length. The elevation of this lake is 147 feet above the sea level. Its shores are densely wooded, and it abounds in islands, many of which are inhabited and cultivated. Several rivers of considerable size empty their waters into the Wenern, among which is the Klar, a large and rapid stream having its source in the mountains of Norway, at a distance of two hundred and fifty miles to the north. Fishing and lumbering are the principal occupations of the inhabitants living on the islands and shores. All these interior waters are frozen over in winter, and communication is carried on by means of sledges. The winters are very severe; and it is said that great numbers of wolves, driven from their usual haunts by starvation, prowl along the public highways during the winter months in search of prey. Traveling parties are sometimes attacked, and it is considered dangerous for children to go from one farm-house to another. The government, however, by a system of rewards for the destruction of these vicious animals, has succeeded of late years in greatly reducing their numbers.

In speaking of the severity of Swedish winters, it may be well to state that the cold is uniform, and consequently more easily endured than if the temperature were subject to sudden variations. There is, of course, considerable difference between the northern and southern parts of the country; but, taking the average or central parts, the winters may be considered as lasting about five months. During that period the snow covers the earth, and the lakes and rivers are frozen. At Stockholm the thermometer averages in summer about 70 degrees above, and in winter 29 degrees below zero, of Fahrenheit. At Gottenburg the summers are not quite so warm and the winters not so cold. The temperature of the Norwegian coast facing the Atlantic is less rigorous than that of the Swedish coast on the Baltic, arising from the influence of the Gulf Stream, and partly from the proximity of the open sea. Even at Wammerfest, which lies within the arctic circle, the winters are comparatively mild. At Bergen it rains over two hundred days in the year, and the fjords are seldom frozen over.

Passing along the eastern shore of the Wenern, we passed a series of rocky islands, well wooded till we reached the town of Wenersberg – an important dépôt for the commerce and products of the lake. At this place a brisk trade in iron and lumber is carried on during the summer months, and the wharves present quite a lively appearance, with their shipping, and piles of lumber and merchandise. The population of Wenersberg is about 2500; the houses are neat, and the general appearance of the town is thrifty. We stopped long enough to enjoy a ramble through the streets, and take a look at the inhabitants, after which our little steamer proceeded on her way through the Wassbottom Lake. At the end of this we entered the Carls Graf, or that portion of the canal built by Charles IX., to avoid the upper falls of the Gota River. The canal is here cut through solid masses of rock, and must have been a work of great difficulty and expense.

Late in the evening we arrived at the Falls of Trolhætta.

CHAPTER XXVII.

VOYAGE TO CHRISTIANIA

I shall not stop to describe the Falls of Trolhætta. Better word-painters have so often pictured the beauties of this region that there is nothing left for an unimaginative tourist like myself.

A few hours’ travel by the river steamer brought me to Gottenburg, where, for the first time since my arrival in Europe, I really began to enjoy life. Not that Gottenburg is a very lively or fascinating place, for it abounds in abominations and smells of fish, and is inhabited by a race of men whose chief aim in life appears to be directed toward pickled herring, mackerel, and codfish. There was much in it, however, to remind me of that homeland on the Pacific for which my troubled heart was pining. A grand fair was going on. All the peasants from the surrounding country were gathered in, and I met very few of them, at the close of evening, who were not reeling drunk. Besides, they chewed tobacco – an additional sign of civilization to which I had long been unaccustomed.