one üx

two cax

three kolma

four nelia

five viis

six oos

seven settima

eight kahexa

nine öhexa

ten kiumene

a half puoli

horses hevorste

immediately varsin

ready walmis

drive on! ayò perli!

how much? guinga palia

a mile peligorma

bread leba

meat liha

milk maito

butter voy

fire valkär

a bed sängu (Swedish)

good hüva

bad páhá

We kept on our way up the river, in the brilliant afternoon moonlight.

The horses were slow; so were the two _skjutsbonder_, to whom I cried in

vain: "Ayò perli!" Braisted with difficulty restrained his inclination

to cuff their ears. Hour after hour went by, and we grew more and more

hungry, wrathful and impatient. About eight o'clock they stopped below a

house on the Russian side, pitched some hay to the horses, climbed the

bank, and summoned us to follow. We made our way with some difficulty

through the snow, and entered the hut, which proved to be the abode of a

cooper--at least the occupant, a rough, shaggy, dirty Orson of a fellow,

was seated upon the floor, making a tub, by the light of the fire. The

joists overhead were piled with seasoned wood, and long bundles of thin,

dry fir, which is used for torches during the winter darkness. There was

neither chair nor table in the hut; but a low bench ran around the

walls, and a rough bedstead was built against one corner. Two buckets of

sour milk, with a wooden ladle, stood beside the door. This beverage

appears to be generally used by the Finns for quenching thirst, instead

of water. Our postilions were sitting silently upon the bench, and we

followed their example, lit our pipes, and puffed away, while the

cooper, after the first glance, went on with his work; and the other

members of his family, clustered together in the dusky corner behind the

fireplace, were equally silent. Half an hour passed, and the spirit

moved no one to open his mouth. I judged at last that the horses had

been baited sufficiently, silently showed my watch to the postilions,

who, with ourselves, got up and went away without a word having been

said to mar the quaint drollery of the incident.

While at Haparanda, we had been recommended to stop at Kingis Bruk, at

the junction of the Torneå and Muonio. "There," we were told, "you can

get everything you want: there is a fine house, good beds, and plenty to

eat and drink." Our blind interpreter at Kardis repeated this advice.

"Don't go on to Kexisvara;" (the next station) said he, "stop at Kengis,

where everything is good." Toward Kengis, then, this oasis in the arctic

desolation, our souls yearned. We drove on until ten o'clock in the

brilliant moonlight and mild, delicious air--for the temperature had

actually risen to 25° above zero!--before a break in the hills announced

the junction of the two rivers. There was a large house on the top of a

hill on our left, and, to our great joy, the postilions drove directly

up to it. "Is this Kengis?" I asked, but their answers I could not

understand, and they had already unharnessed their horses.

There was a light in the house, and we caught a glimpse of a woman's

face at the window, as we drove up. But the light was immediately

extinguished, and everything became silent. I knocked at the door, which

was partly open, but no one came. I then pushed: a heavy log of wood,

which was leaning against it from the inside, fell with a noise which

reverberated through the house. I waited awhile, and then, groping my

way along a passage to the door of the room which had been lighted,

knocked loudly. After a little delay, the door was opened by a young

man, who ushered me into a warm, comfortable room, and then quietly

stared at me, as if to ask what I wanted. "We are travellers and

strangers," said I, "and wish to stop for the night." "This is not an

inn," he answered; "it is the residence of the _patron_ of the iron

works." I may here remark that it is the general custom in Sweden, in

remote districts, for travellers to call without ceremony upon the

parson, magistrate, or any other prominent man in a village, and claim

his hospitality. In spite of this doubtful reception, considering that

our horses were already stabled and the station three or four miles

further, I remarked again: "But perhaps we may be allowed to remain here

until morning?" "I will ask," he replied, left the room, and soon

returned with an affirmative answer.

We had a large, handsomely furnished room, with a sofa and curtained

bed, into which we tumbled as soon as the servant-girl, in compliance

with a hint of mine, had brought up some bread, milk, and cheese. We had

a cup of coffee in the morning, and were preparing to leave when the

_patron_ appeared. He was a short, stout, intelligent Swede, who greeted

us courteously, and after a little conversation, urged us to stay until

after breakfast. We were too hungry to need much persuasion, and indeed

the table set with _tjäde_, or capercailie (one of the finest game birds

in the world), potatoes, cranberries, and whipped cream, accompanied

with excellent Umeå ale, and concluded with coffee, surpassed anything

we had sat down to for many a day. The _patron_ gave me considerable

information about the country, and quieted a little anxiety I was

beginning to feel, by assuring me that we should find post-horses all

the way to Muonioniska, still ninety-five miles distant. He informed me

that we had already got beyond the daylight, as the sun had not yet

risen at Kengis. This, however, was in consequence of a hill to the

southward, as we afterwards found that the sun was again above the

horizon.

We laid in fuel enough to last us through the day, and then took leave

of our host, who invited us to visit him on our return. Crossing the

Torneå, an hour's drive over the hills brought us to the village of

Kexisvara, where we were obliged to wait some time for our horses. At

the inn there was a well forty feet deep, with the longest sweep-pole I

ever saw. The landlady and her two sisters were pleasant bodies, and

sociably inclined, if we could have talked to them. They were all

spinning tow, their wheels purring like pleased lionesses. The sun's

disc came in sight at a quarter past eleven, and at noon his lower limb

just touched the horizon. The sky was of a splendid saffron hue, which

changed into a burning brassy yellow.

Our horses promised little for speed when we set out, and their harness

being ill adapted to our sleds increased the difficulty. Instead of

hames there were wide wooden yokes, the ends of which passed through

mortices in the ends of the shafts, and were fastened with pins, while,

as there was no belly-bands, the yokes rose on going down hill, bringing

our sleds upon the horses' heels. The Finnish sleds have excessively

long shafts, in order to prevent this. Our road all day was upon the

Muonio River, the main branch of the Torneå, and the boundary between

Sweden and Russia, above the junction. There had been a violent wind

during the night, and the track was completely filled up. The Torneå and

Muonio are both very swift rivers, abounding in dangerous rapids, but

during the winter, rapids and all, they are solid as granite from their

sources to the Bothnian Gulf. We plunged along slowly, hour after hour,

more than half the time clinging to one side or the other, to prevent

our sled from overturning--and yet it upset at least a dozen times

during the day. The scenery was without change: low, black fir forests

on either hand, with the decorative snow blown off them; no villages, or

signs of life, except the deserted huts of the wood-cutters, nor did we

meet but one sled during the whole day. Here and there, on the banks,

were sharp, canoe-like boats, twenty or thirty feet long, turned bottom

upward. The sky was overcast, shutting out the glorious coloring of the

past days. The sun set before one o'clock, and the dull twilight

deepened apace into night. Nothing could be more cheerless and dismal:

we smoked and talked a little, with much silence between, and I began to

think that one more such day would disgust me with the Arctic Zone.

It was four o'clock, and our horses were beginning to stagger, when we

reached a little village called Jokijalka, on the Russian side. The

postilion stopped at a house, or rather a quadrangle of huts, which he

made me comprehend was an inn, adding that it was 4 _polàn_ and 3

_belikor_ (a fearfully unintelligible distance!) to the next one. We

entered, and found promise enough in the thin, sallow, sandy-haired, and

most obsequious landlord, and a whole herd of rosy children, to decide

us to stop. We were ushered into the milk-room, which was warm and

carpeted, and had a single narrow bed. I employed my vocabulary with

good effect, the quick-witted children helping me out, and in due time

we got a supper of fried mutton, bread, butter, and hot milk. The

children came in every few minutes to stare at our writing, an operation

which they probably never saw before. They would stand in silent

curiosity for half an hour at a time, then suddenly rush out, and enjoy

a relief of shouts and laughter on the outside. Since leaving Matarengi

we had been regarded at all the stations with much wonder, not always

unmixed with mistrust. Whether this was simply a manifestation of the

dislike which the Finns have for the Swedes, for whom they probably took

us, or of other suspicions on their part, we could not decide.

After a time one of the neighbors, who had been sent for on account of

his knowing a very few words of Swedish, was ushered into the room.

Through him I ordered horses, and ascertained that the next station,

Kihlangi, was three and a half Swedish miles distant, but there was a

place on the Russian side, one mile off, where we could change horses.

We had finished writing, and were sitting by the stove, consulting how

we should arrange the bed so as to avoid contact with the dirty

coverlet, when the man returned and told us we must go into another

house. We crossed the yard to the opposite building, where, to our great

surprise, we were ushered into a warm room, with two good beds, which

had clean though coarse sheets, a table, looking-glass, and a bit of

carpet on the floor. The whole male household congregated to see us take

possession and ascertain whether our wants were supplied. I slept

luxuriously until awakened by the sound of our landlord bringing in wood

to light the fire. He no sooner saw that my eyes were open than he

snatched off his cap and threw it upon the floor, moving about with as

much awe and silence as if it were the Emperor's bedroom. His daughter

brought us excellent coffee betimes. We washed our faces with our

tumblers of drinking water, and got under way by half-past six.

The temperature had changed again in the night, being 28° below zero,

but the sky was clear and the morning moonlight superb. By this time we

were so far north that the moon did not set at all, but wheeled around

the sky, sinking to within eight degrees of the horizon at noonday. Our

road led across the river, past the church of Kolare, and through a

stretch of the Swedish forests back to the river again. To our great

surprise, the wind had not blown here, the snow still hung heavy on the

trees, and the road was well beaten. At the Russian post-house we found

only a woman with the usual troop of children, the eldest of whom, a boy

of sixteen, was splitting fir to make torches. I called out

"_hevorste!_" (horses), to which he made a deliberate answer, and went

on with his work. After some consultation with the old woman, a younger

boy was sent off somewhere, and we sat down to await the result. I

called for meat, milk, bread, and butter, which procured us in course of

time a pitcher of cold milk, some bread made of ground barley straw,

horribly hard and tough, and a lump of sour frozen butter. There was

some putrid fish in a wooden bowl, on which the family had breakfasted,

while an immense pot of sour milk, butter, broken bread, and straw

meal, hanging over the fire, contained their dinner. This was testimony

enough to the accounts we had heard in Stockholm, of the year's famine

in Finland; and we seemed likely to participate in it.

I chewed the straw bread vigorously for an hour, and succeeded in

swallowing enough to fill my stomach, though not enough to satisfy my

hunger. The younger children occupied themselves in peeling off the soft

inner bark of the fir, which they ate ravenously. They were handsome,

fair-skinned youngsters, but not so rosy and beautiful as those of the

Norrland Swedes. We were obliged to wait more than two hours before the

horses arrived, thus losing a large part of our daylight. The postilions

fastened our sleds behind their own large sledges, with flat runners,

which got through the snow more easily than ours. We lay down in the

sledge, stretched ourselves at full length upon a bed of hay, covered

our feet with the deerskin, and set off. We had gone about a Swedish

mile when the postilions stopped to feed the horses before a house on

the Russian side. There was nobody within, but some coals among the

ashes on the hearth showed that it had been used, apparently, as a place

of rest and shelter. A tall, powerful Finn, who was travelling alone,

was there, smoking his pipe. We all sat down and did likewise, in the

bare, dark hut. There were the three Finns, in complete dresses of

reindeer skin, and ourselves, swaddled from head to foot, with only a

small segment of scarlet face visible between our frosted furs and icy

beards. It was a true Arctic picture, as seen by the pale dawn which

glimmered on the wastes of snow outside.

We had a poor horse, which soon showed signs of breaking down,

especially when we again entered a belt of country where the wind had

blown, the trees were clear, and the track filled up. At half-past

eleven we saw the light of the sun on the tops of the hills, and at noon

about half his disc was visible. The cold was intense; my hands became

so stiff and benumbed that I had great difficulty in preventing them

from freezing, and my companion's feet almost lost all feeling. It was

well for us that we were frequently obliged to walk, to aid the horse.

The country was a wilderness of mournful and dismal scenery--low hills

and woods, stripped bare of snow, the dark firs hung with black,

crape-like moss, alternating with morasses. Our Finnish postilions were

pleasant, cheerful fellows, who insisted on our riding when there was

the least prospect of a road. Near a solitary hut (the only one on the

road) we met a man driving a reindeer. After this we lost all signs of

our way, except the almost obliterated track of his pulk. The snow was

deeper than ever, and our horses were ready to drop at every step. We

had been five hours on the road; the driver said Kihlangi was "_üx

verst_" distant, and at three, finally, we arrived. We appreciated

rather better what we had endured when we found that the temperature was

44° below zero.

I at once ordered horses, and a strapping young fellow was sent off in a

bad humor to get them. We found it impossible, however, to procure milk

or anything to eat, and as the cold was not to be borne else, we were

obliged to resort to a bottle of cognac and our Haparanda bread. The old

woman sat by the fire smoking, and gave not the least attention to our

demands. I paid our postilions in Norwegian _orts_, which they laid upon

a chair and counted, with the assistance of the whole family. After the

reckoning was finished they asked me what the value of each piece was,

which gave rise to a second general computation. There was, apparently,

more than they had expected, for they both made me a formal address of

thanks, and took my hand. Seeing that I had produced a good effect I

repeated my demand for milk. The old woman refused, but the men

interfered in my behalf; she went out and presently returned with a bowl

full, which she heated for us. By this time our horses had arrived, and

one of our new postilions prepared himself for the journey, by stripping

to the loins and putting on a clean shirt. He was splendidly built, with

clean, firm muscle, a white glossy skin, and no superfluity of flesh. He

then donned a reindeer of _pösk_, leggings and boots, and we started

again.

It was nearly five o'clock, and superb moonlight. This time they mounted

our sleds upon their own sledges, so that we rode much higher than

usual. Our way lay up the Muonio River: the track was entirely snowed

up, and we had to break a new one, guided by the fir-trees stuck in the

ice. The snow was full three feet deep, and whenever the sledge got a

little off the old road, the runners cut in so that we could scarcely

move. The milk and cognac had warmed us tolerably, and we did not suffer

much from the intense cold. My nose, however, had been rubbed raw, and I

was obliged to tie a handkerchief across my face to protect it.

While journeying along in this way, the sledge suddenly tilted over, and

we were flung head foremost into the snow. Our drivers righted the

sledge, we shook ourselves and got in again, but had not gone ten yards

before the same thing happened again. This was no joke on such a night,

but we took it good-humouredly, to the relief of the Finns, who seemed

to expect a scolding. Very soon we went over a third time, and then a

fourth, after which they kept near us and held on when there was any

danger. I became very drowsy, and struggled with all my force to keep

awake, for sleeping was too hazardous. Braisted kept his senses about

him by singing, for our encouragement, the mariner's hymn:--

"Fear not, but trust in Providence,

Wherever thou may'st be."

Thus hour after hour passed away. Fortunately we had good, strong

horses, which walked fast and steadily. The scenery was always the

same--low, wooded hills on either side of the winding, snowy plain of

the river. We had made up our minds not to reach Parkajoki before

midnight, but at half-past ten our track left the river, mounted the

Swedish bank, and very soon brought us to a quadrangle of low huts,

having the appearance of an inn. I could scarcely believe my eyes when

we stopped before the door. "Is this Parkajoki?" I asked. "_Ja!_"

answered the postilion. Braisted and I sprang out instantly, hugged each

other in delight, and rushed into the warm inn. The thermometer still

showed -44°, and we prided ourselves a little on having travelled for

seventeen hours in such a cold with so little food to keep up our animal

heat. The landlord, a young man, with a bristly beard of three weeks'

growth, showed us into the milk room, where there was a bed of reindeer

skins. His wife brought us some fresh hay, a quilt and a sheepskin

coverlet, and we soon forgot both our hunger and our frozen blood.

In the morning coffee was brought to us, and as nothing else was to be

had, we drank four cups apiece. The landlord asked half a _rigs_ (13

cents) for our entertainment, and was overcome with gratitude when I

gave him double the sum. We had the same sledges as the previous night,

but new postilions and excellent horses. The temperature had risen to 5°

below zero, with a cloudy sky and a light snow falling. We got off at

eight o'clock, found a track partly broken, and went on at a merry trot

up the river. We took sometimes one bank and sometimes the other, until,

after passing the rapid of Eyanpaika (which was frozen solid, although

large masses of transparent ice lay piled like rocks on either side), we

kept the Swedish bank. We were in excellent spirits, in the hope of

reaching Muonioniska before dark, but the steady trot of our horses

brought us out of the woods by noon, and we saw before us the long,

scattering village, a mile or two distant, across the river. To our

left, on a gentle slope, stood a red, two-story building, surrounded by

out-houses, with a few humbler habitations in its vicinity. This was

Muoniovara, on the Swedish side--the end of our Finnish journey.

CHAPTER IX.

LIFE IN LAPLAND.

As we drove up to the red two-story house, a short man with dark

whiskers and a commercial air came forward to meet us. I accosted him in

Swedish, asking him whether the house was an inn. He replied in the

negative, adding that the only inn was in Muonioniska, on the Russian

side, a mile or more distant. I then asked for the residence of Mr.

Wolley, the English naturalist, whose name had been mentioned to me by

Prof. Retzius and the botanist Hartman. He thereupon called to some one

across the court, and presently appeared a tall, slender man dressed in

the universal gray suit which travelling Englishmen wear, from the

Equator to the Poles. He came up with extended hand, on hearing his own

language; a few words sufficed for explanation, and he devoted himself

to our interests with the cordiality of an old acquaintance. He lived

with the Swede, Herr Forström, who was the merchant of the place; but

the wife of the latter had just been confined, and there was no room in

his house. Mr. Wolley proposed at first to send to the inn in

Muonioniska, and engage a room, but afterwards arranged with a Norsk

carpenter, who lived on the hill above, to give us quarters in his

house, so that we might be near enough to take our meals together.

Nothing could have suited us better. We took possession at once, and

then descended the hill to a dinner--I had ventured to hint at our

famished condition--of capercailie, cranberries, soft bread, whipped

cream, and a glass of genuine port.

Warmed and comforted by such luxurious fare, we climbed the hill to the

carpenter's house, in the dreary Arctic twilight, in the most cheerful

and contented frame of mind. Was this, indeed, Lapland? Did we, indeed,

stand already in the dark heart of the polar Winter? Yes; there was no

doubt of it. The imagination could scarcely conceive a more desolate

picture than that upon which we gazed--the plain of sombre snow, beyond

which the black huts of the village were faintly discernible, the

stunted woods and bleak hills, which night and the raw snow clouds had

half obscured, and yonder fur-clad figure gliding silently along beside

his reindeer. Yet, even here, where Man seemed to have settled out of

pure spite against Nature, were comfort and hospitality and kindness. We

entered the carpenter's house, lit our candles and pipes, and sat down

to enjoy at ease the unusual feeling of shelter and of home. The

building was of squared fir-logs, with black moss stuffed in the

crevices, making it very warm and substantial. Our room contained a

loom, two tables, two beds with linen of voluptuous softness and

cleanness, an iron stove (the first we had seen in Sweden), and the

usual washing apparatus, besides a piece of carpet on the floor. What

more could any man desire? The carpenter, Herr Knoblock, spoke some

German; his son, Ludwig, Mr. Wolley's servant, also looked after our

needs; and the daughter, a fair, blooming girl of about nineteen,

brought us coffee before we were out of bed, and kept our fire in order.

Why, Lapland was a very Sybaris in comparison with what I had expected.

Mr. Wolley proposed to us another luxury, in the shape of a vapour-bath,

as Herr Forström had one of those bathing-houses which are universal in

Finland. It was a little wooden building without windows. A Finnish

servant-girl who had been for some time engaged in getting it in

readiness, opened the door for us. The interior was very hot and moist,

like an Oriental bathing-hall. In the centre was a pile of hot stones,

covered with birch boughs, the leaves of which gave out an agreeable

smell, and a large tub of water. The floor was strewn with straw, and

under the roof was a platform extending across one end of the building.

This was covered with soft hay, and reached by means of a ladder, for

the purpose of getting the full effect of the steam. Some stools, and a

bench for our clothes, completed the arrangements. There was also in one

corner a pitcher of water, standing in a little heap of snow to keep it

cool.

The servant-girl came in after us, and Mr. W. quietly proceeded to

undress, informing us that the girl was bathing-master, and would do the

usual scrubbing and shampooing. This, it seems, is the general practice

in Finland, and is but another example of the unembarrassed habits of

the people in this part of the world. The poorer families go into their

bathing-rooms together--father, mother, and children--and take turns in

polishing each other's backs. It would have been ridiculous to have

shown any hesitation under the circumstances--in fact, an indignity to

the honest simple-hearted, virtuous girl--and so we deliberately

undressed also. When at last we stood, like our first parents in

Paradise, "naked and not ashamed," she handed us bunches of birch-twigs

with the leaves on, the use of which was suggested by the leaf of

sculpture. We mounted to the platform and lay down upon our backs,

whereupon she increased the temperature by throwing water upon the hot

stones, until the heat was rather oppressive, and we began to sweat

profusely. She then took up a bunch of birch-twigs which had been dipped

in hot water, and switched us smartly from head to foot. When we had

become thoroughly parboiled and lax, we descended to the floor, seated

ourselves upon the stools, and were scrubbed with soap as thoroughly as

propriety permitted. The girl was an admirable bather, the result of

long practice in the business. She finished by pouring hot water over

us, and then drying us with warm towels. The Finns frequently go out and

roll in the snow during the progress of the bath. I ventured so far as

to go out and stand a few seconds in the open air. The mercury was at

zero, and the effect of the cold on my heated skin was delightfully

refreshing.

I dressed in a violent perspiration, and then ran across to Herr

Forström's house, where tea was already waiting for us. Here we found

the _länsman_ or magistrate of the Russian district opposite, a Herr

Bràxen, who was decorated with the order of Stanislaus for his services

in Finland during the recent war. He was a tall, dark-haired man, with a

restless light in his deep-set eyes, and a gentleman in his demeanor. He

entered into our plans with interest, and the evening was spent in

consultation concerning them. Finally, it was decided that Herr

Forström should send a messenger up the river to Palajoki (forty miles

off), to engage Lapps and reindeer to take us across the mountains to

Kautokeino, in Norway. As the messenger would be absent three or four

days, we had a comfortable prospect of rest before us, and I went to bed

with a light heart, to wake to the sixth birthday I have passed in

strange lands.

In the morning, I went with Mr. Wolley to call upon a Finn, one of whose

children was suffering from inflamed eyes, or snowthalmia, as it might

be called. The family were prolific, as usual--children of all sizes,

with a regular gradation of a year between. The father, a short,

shock-headed fellow, sat in one corner; the mother, who, like

nine-tenths of all the matrons we had seen between Lapland and

Stockholm, gave promise of additional humanity, greeted us with a

comical, dipping courtesy--a sudden relaxing and stiffening again of the

muscles of the knees--which might be introduced as a novelty into our

fashionable circles. The boy's eyes were terribly blood-shot, and the

lids swollen, but a solution of nitrate of silver, which Mr. W. applied,

relieved him greatly in the course of a day or two. We took occasion to

visit the stable, where half a dozen cows lay in darkness, in their warm

stalls, on one side, with two bulls and some sheep on the other. There

was a fire in one corner, over which hung a great kettle filled with a

mixture of boiled hay and reindeer moss. Upon this they are fed, while

the sheep must content themselves with bunches of birch, willow and

aspen twigs, gathered with the leaves on. The hay is strong and coarse,

but nourishing, and the reindeer moss, a delicate white lichen, contains

a glutinous ingredient, which probably increases the secretion of milk.

The stable, as well as Forström's, which we afterwards inspected, was

kept in good order. It was floored, with a gutter past each row of

stalls, to carry off the manure. The cows were handsome white animals,

in very good condition.

Mr. Wolley sent for his reindeer in the course of the morning, in order

to give us a lesson in driving. After lunch, accordingly, we prepared

ourselves for the new sensation. I put on a poesk of reindeer skin, and

my fur-lined Russian boots. Ludwig took a pulk also, to assist us in

case of need. These pulks are shaped very much like a canoe; they are

about five feet long, one foot deep, and eighteen inches wide, with a

sharp bow and a square stern. You sit upright against the stern-board,

with your legs stretched out in the bottom. The deer's harness consists

only of a collar of reindeer skin around the neck, with a rope at the

bottom, which passes under the belly, between the legs, and is fastened

to the bow of the pulk. He is driven by a single rein, attached to the

base of the left horn, and passing over the back to the right hand of

the driver, who thrusts his thumb into a loop at the end, and takes

several turns around his wrist. The rein is held rather slack, in order

that it may be thrown over to the right side when it slips to the left,

which it is very apt to do.

I seated myself, took proper hold of the rein, and awaited the signal to

start. My deer was a strong, swift animal, who had just shed his horns.

Ludwig set off first; my deer gave a startling leap, dashed around the

corner of the house, and made down the hill. I tried to catch the breath

which had been jerked out of me, and to keep my balance, as the pulk,

swaying from side to side, bounced over the snow. It was too late; a

swift presentiment of the catastrophe flashed across my mind, but I was

powerless to avert it. In another second I found myself rolling in the

loose snow, with the pulk bottom upward beside me. The deer, who was

attached to my arm, was standing still, facing me, with an expression of

stupid surprise (but no sympathy) on his face. I got up, shook myself,

righted the pulk, and commenced again. Off we went, like the wind, down

the hill, the snow flying in my face and blinding me. My pulk made

tremendous leaps, bounding from side to side, until, the whirlwind

suddenly subsiding, I found myself off the road, deep overhead in the

snow, choked and blinded, and with small snow-drifts in my pockets,

sleeves and bosom. My beard and eyebrows became instantly a white, solid

mass, and my face began to tingle from its snow-bath; but, on looking

back, I saw as white a beard suddenly emerge from a drift, followed by

the stout body of Braisted, who was gathering himself up after his third

shipwreck.

We took a fresh start, I narrowly missing another overturn, as we

descended the slope below the house, but on reaching the level of the

Muonio, I found no difficulty in keeping my balance, and began to enjoy

the exercise. My deer struck out, passed the others, and soon I was

alone on the track. In the grey Arctic twilight, gliding noiselessly and

swiftly over the snow, with the low huts of Muonioniska dimly seen in

the distance before me, I had my first true experience of Lapland

travelling. It was delightfully novel and exhilarating; I thought of

"Afraja," and the song of "Kulnasatz, my reindeer!" and Bryant's

"Arctic Lover," and whatever else there is of Polar poetry, urged my

deer with shouts, and never once looked behind me until I had climbed

the opposite shore and reached the village. My companions were then

nowhere to be seen. I waited some time before they arrived, Braisted's

deer having become fractious and run back with him to the house. His

crimson face shone out from its white frame of icy hair as he shouted to

me, "There is nothing equal to this, except riding behind a right whale

when he drives to windward, with every man trimming the boat, and the

spray flying over your bows!"

We now turned northward through the village, flying around many sharp

corners, but this I found comparatively easy work. But for the snow I

had taken in, which now began to melt, I got on finely in spite of the

falling flakes, which beat in our faces. Von Buch, in his journey

through Lapland in 1807, speaks of Muonioniska as "a village with an inn

where they have silver spoons." We stopped at a house which Mr. Wolley

stated was the very building, but it proved to be a more recent

structure on the site of the old inn. The people looked at us with

curiosity on hearing we were Americans. They had heard the name of

America, but did not seem to know exactly where it was. On leaving the

house, we had to descend the steep bank of the river. I put out my feet

to steady the pulk, and thereby ploughed a cataract of fine snow into my

face, completely blinding me. The pulk gave a flying leap from the

steepest pitch, flung me out, and the deer, eager to make for home,

dragged me by the arm for about twenty yards before I could arrest him.

This was the worst upset of all, and far from pleasant, although the

temperature was only zero. I reached home again without further mishap,

flushed, excited, soaked with melted snow, and confident of my ability

to drive reindeer with a little more practice.

During the first three days, the weather was raw, dark, and lowering,

with a temperature varying from 9° above to 13° below zero. On the

morning of the 14th, however, the sky finally cleared, with a cold south

wind, and we saw, for the first time, the range of snowy mountains in

the east. The view from our hill, before so dismally bleak and dark,

became broad and beautiful, now that there was a little light to see it

by. Beyond the snowy floor of the lake and the river Muonio stretched

the scattering huts of Muonioniska, with the church overlooking them,

and the round, white peak of Ollastyntre rising above his belt of black

woods to the south. Further to the east extended alternate streaks of

dark forest and frozen marsh for eighteen miles, to the foot of the

mountain range of Palastyntre, which stood like a line of colossal

snow-drifts against the soft violet sky, their sides touched by the

rosily-golden beams of the invisible sun. This and the valley of the

Torneå, at Avasaxa, are two of the finest views in Lapland.

I employed part of my time in making some sketches of characteristic

faces. Mr. Wolley, finding that I wished to procure good types of the

Finns and Lapps, kindly assisted me--his residence of three years in

Muoniovara enabling him to know who were the most marked and peculiar

personages. Ludwig was despatched to procure an old fellow by the name

of Niemi, a Finn, who promised to comply with my wishes; but his

ignorance made him suspicious, and it was necessary to send again. "I

know what travellers are," said he, "and what a habit they have of

getting people's skulls to carry home with them. Even if they are

arrested for it, they are so rich, they always buy over the judges. Who

knows but they might try to kill me for the sake of my skull?" After

much persuasion, he was finally induced to come, and, seeing that Ludwig

supposed he was still afraid, he said, with great energy: "I have made

up my mind to go, even if a shower of knives should fall from heaven!"

He was seventy-three years old, though he did not appear to be over

sixty--his hair being thick and black, his frame erect and sturdy, and

his colour crimson rather than pale. His eyebrows were jet-black and

bushy, his eyes large and deep set, his nose strong and prominent, and

the corners of his long mouth drawn down in a settled curve, expressing

a melancholy grimness. The high cheek-bones, square brow, and muscular

jaw belonged to the true Finnish type. He held perfectly still while I

drew, scarcely moving a muscle of his face, and I succeeded in getting a

portrait which everybody recognised.

I gave him a piece of money, with which he was greatly delighted; and,

after a cup of coffee, in Herr Knoblock's kitchen, he went home quite

proud and satisfied. "They do not at all look like dangerous persons,"

said he to the carpenter; "perhaps they do not collect skulls. I wish

they spoke our language, that I might ask them how people live in their

country. America is a very large, wild place. I know all about it, and

the discovery of it. I was not there myself at the time, but Jenis

Lampi, who lives in Kittila, was one of the crew of the ship, and he

told me how it happened. Jenis Lampi said they were going to throw the

captain overboard, but he persuaded them to give him three days, and on

the third day they found it. Now I should like to know whether these

people, who come from that country, have laws as we have, and whether

they live as comfortably." So saying, Isaaki Anderinpoika Niemi

departed.

No sooner had he gone than the old Lapp woman, Elsa, who had been sent

for, drove up in her pulk, behind a fast reindeer. She was in complete

Lapp costume--a blue cloth gown with wide sleeves, trimmed with scarlet,

and a curious pear-shaped cap of the same material, upon her head. She

sat upon the floor, on a deerskin, and employed herself in twisting

reindeer sinews, which she rolled upon her cheek with the palm of her

hand, while I was sketching her. It was already dark, and I was obliged

to work by candle light, but I succeeded in catching the half-insane,

witch-like expression of her face. When I took the candle to examine her

features more closely, she cried out, "Look at me, O son of man!" She

said that I had great powers, and was capable of doing everything, since

I had come so far, and could make an image of her upon paper. She asked

whether we were married, saying we could hardly travel so much if we

were; yet she thought it much better to be married and stay at home. I

gave her a rigsdaler, which she took with joyful surprise, saying,

"What! am I to get my coffee and tobacco, and be paid too? Thanks, O son

of man, for your great goodness!" She chuckled very much over the

drawing, saying that the dress was exactly right.

In the afternoon we took another reindeer drive to Muonioniska, paying a

visit to Pastor Fali, the clergyman whom we had met at Forström's. This

time I succeeded very well, making the trip without a single overturn,

though with several mishaps. Mr. Wolley lost the way, and we drove about

at random for some time. My deer became restive, and whirled me around

in the snow, filling my pulk. It was so dark that we could scarcely see,

and, without knowing the ground, one could not tell where the ups and

down were. The pastor received us courteously, treated us to coffee and

pipes, and conversed with us for some time. He had not, as he said, a

Swedish tongue, and I found it difficult to understand him. On our way

back, Braisted's and Ludwig's deers ran together with mine, and, while

going at full speed, B.'s jumped into my pulk. I tried in vain either to

stop or drive on faster; he trampled me so violently that I was obliged

to throw myself out to escape his hoofs. Fortunately the animals are not

heavy enough to do any serious harm. We reached Forström's in season for

a dinner of fat reindeer steak, cranberries, and a confect of the Arctic

raspberry.

After an absence of three days Salomon, the messenger who had been sent

up the river to engage reindeer for us, returned, having gone sixty

miles before he could procure them. He engaged seven, which arrived the

next evening, in the charge of a tall, handsome Finn, who was to be our

conductor. We had, in the meantime, supplied ourselves with reindeer

_poesks_, such as the Lapps wear,--our own furs being impracticable for

pulk travelling--reindeer mittens, and boas of squirrel tails strung on

reindeer sinews. The carpenter's second son, Anton, a lad of fifteen,

was engaged to accompany us as an interpreter.

CHAPTER X.

A REINDEER JOURNEY ACROSS LAPLAND.

We left Muoniovara at noon on the 15th, fully prepared for a three days'

journey across the wilds of Lapland. We were about to traverse the

barren, elevated table-land, which divides the waters of the Bothnian

Gulf from those of the Northern Ocean,--a dreary, unfriendly region,

inhabited only by a few wandering Lapps. Even without the prevalence of

famine, we should have had difficulty in procuring food from them, so we

supplied ourselves with a saddle of reindeer, six loaves of rye bread,

sugar, and a can of coffee. The carpenter lent us a cup and saucer, and

Anton, who felt all the responsibility of a boy who is employed for the

first time, stowed everything away nicely in the broad baggage pulk. We

found it impossible to procure Lapp leggings and shoes at Muoniovara,

but our Russian boots proved an admirable substitute. The _poesk_ of

reindeer skin is the warmest covering for the body which could be

devised. It is drawn over the head like a shirt, fitting closely around

the neck and wrists, where it is generally trimmed with ermine, and

reaching half-way below the knee. A thick woollen sash, wrapped first

around the neck, the ends then twisted together down to the waist,

where they are passed tightly around the body and tied in front, not

only increases the warmth and convenience of the garment, but gives it a

highly picturesque air. Our sea-otter caps, turned down so as to cover

the ears and forehead, were fastened upon our heads with crimson

handkerchiefs, and our boas, of black and red squirrel tails, passed

thrice around the neck, reached to the tips of our noses. Over our

dog-skin mittens we drew gauntlets of reindeer skin, with which it was

difficult to pick up or take hold of anything; but as the deer's rein is

twisted around one's wrist, their clumsiness does not interfere with the

facility of driving. It would seem impossible for even Arctic cold to

penetrate through such defences--and yet it did.

Herr Forström prepared us for the journey by a good breakfast of

reindeer's marrow, a justly celebrated Lapland delicacy, and we set out

with a splendidly clear sky and a cold of 12° below zero. The Muonio

valley was superb, towards sunrise, with a pale, creamy, saffron light

on the snow, the forests on the tops of the hills burning like jagged

masses of rough opal, and the distant range of Palastyntre bathed in

pink light, with pure sapphire shadows on its northern slopes. These

Arctic illuminations are transcendent; nothing can equal them, and

neither pen nor pencil can describe them. We passed through Muonioniska,

and kept up the Russian side, over an undulating, wooded country. The

road was quite good, but my deer, in spite of his size and apparent

strength, was a lazy beast, and gave me much trouble. I was obliged to

get out of the pulk frequently and punch him in the flanks, taking my

chance to tumble in headlong as he sprang forward again. I soon became

disgusted with reindeer travelling, especially when, after we had been

on the road two hours and it was nearly dark, we reached Upper

Muonioniska, only eight miles. We there took the river again, and made

better progress to Kyrkessuando, the first station, where we stopped an

hour to feed the deer. Here there was a very good little inn, with a bed

for travellers.

We had seven reindeer, two of which ran loose, so that we could change

occasionally on the road. I insisted on changing mine at once, and

received in return a smaller animal, which made up in spirit what he

lacked in strength. Our conductor was a tall, handsome Finn, with blue

eyes and a bright, rosy complexion. His name was Isaac, but he was

better known by his nickname of _Pitka Isaaki_, or Long Isaac. He was a

slow, good-humoured, prudent, careful fellow, and probably served our

purpose as well as anybody we could have found. Anton, however, who made

his first journey with us, was invaluable. His father had some

misgivings on account of his timidity, but he was so ambitious to give

satisfaction that we found him forward enough.

I have already described the country through which we passed, as it was

merely a continuation of the scenery below Muonioniska--low, wooded

hills, white plains, and everywhere snow, snow, snow, silence and death.

The cold increased to 33° below zero, obliging me to bury my nose in my

boa and to keep up a vigorous exercise of my toes to prevent them from

freezing, as it is impossible to cover one's boots in a pulk. The night

was calm, clear, and starry; but after an hour a bank of auroral light

gradually arose in the north, and formed a broad arch, which threw its

lustre over the snow and lighted up our path. Almost stationary at

first, a restless motion after a time agitated the gleaming bow; it shot

out broad streamers of yellow fire, gathered them in and launched them

forth again, like the hammer of Thor, which always returned to his hand,

after striking the blow for which it had been hurled. The most wonderful

appearance, however, was an immense square curtain, which fell from all

the central part of the arch. The celestial scene-shifters were rather

clumsy, for they allowed one end to fall lower than the other, so that

it over-lapped and doubled back upon itself in a broad fold. Here it

hung for probably half an hour, slowly swinging to and fro, as if moved

by a gentle wind. What new spectacle was in secret preparation behind it

we did not learn, for it was hauled up so bunglingly that the whole arch

broke and fell in, leaving merely a pile of luminous ruins under the

Polar Star.

Hungry and nearly frozen, we reached Palajoki at half-past nine, and

were at once ushered into the guests' room, a little hut separated from

the main building. Here, barring an inch of ice on the windows and

numerous windy cracks in the floor, we felt a little comfort before an

immense fire kindled in the open chimney. Our provisions were already

adamantine; the meat was transformed into red Finland granite, and the

bread into mica-slate. Anton and the old Finnish landlady, the mother of

many sons, immediately commenced the work of thawing and cooking, while

I, by the light of fir torches, took the portrait of a dark-haired,

black-eyed, olive-skinned, big-nosed, thick-lipped youth, who gave his

name as Eric Johan Sombasi. When our meal of meat, bread, and coffee

had been despatched, the old woman made a bed of reindeer skins for us

in one corner, covered with a coarse sheet, a quilt, and a sheepskin

blanket. She then took her station near the door, where several of the

sons were already standing, and all appeared to be waiting in silent

curiosity to see us retire. We undressed with genuine Finnish freedom of

manner, deliberately enough for them to understand the peculiarities of

our apparel, and they never took their eyes from us until we were stowed

away for the night in our warm nest.

It was snowing and blowing when we arose. Long Isaac had gone to the

woods after the reindeer, and we employed the delay in making a

breakfast off the leavings of our supper. Crossing the Muonio at

starting, we entered the Russian territory and drove up the bed of the

Palajok, a tributary stream which comes down from the north. The sky

became clearer as the dawn increased; the road was tolerably broken, and

we sped merrily along the windings of the river, under its tall banks

fringed with fir trees, which, loaded with snow, shone brilliantly white

against the rosy sky. The temperature was 8° below zero, which felt

unpleasantly warm, by contrast with the previous evening.

After a time we left the river and entered a rolling upland--alternate

thickets of fir and birch, and wastes of frozen marsh, where our path

was almost obliterated. After more than two hours' travel we came upon a

large lake, at the further end of which, on the southern side of a hill,

was the little hamlet of Suontajärvi. Here we stopped to bait the deer,

Braisted's and mine being nearly fagged out. We entered one of the huts,

where a pleasant woman was taking charge of a year-old baby. There was

no fire on the hearth, and the wind whistled through the open cracks of

the floor. Long Isaac and the woman saluted each other by placing their

right arms around each other's waists, which is the universal manner of

greeting in Finland. They only shake hands as a token of thanks for a

favour.

We started again at noon, taking our way across a wilderness of lakes

and snow-covered marshes, dotted with stunted birch-thickets. The road

had entirely disappeared, but Eric of Palajoki, who accompanied us as an

extra guide, went ahead with a strong reindeer and piloted us. The

sagacity with which these animals find the track under a smooth covering

of loose snow, is wonderful. They follow it by the feet, of course, but

with the utmost ease and rapidity, often while going at full speed. I

was struck by the sinuous, mazy character of our course, even where the

ground was level, and could only account for it by the supposition that

the first track over the light snow had followed the smoothest and

firmest ridges of the marshes. Our progress was now slow and toilsome,

and it was not long before my deer gave up entirely. Long Isaac, seeing

that a change must be made, finally decided to give me a wild, powerful

animal, which he had not yet ventured to intrust to either of us.

The deer was harnessed to my pulk, the rein carefully secured around my

wrist, and Long Isaac let go his hold. A wicked toss of the antlers and

a prodigious jump followed, and the animal rushed full tilt upon

Braisted, who was next before me, striking him violently upon the back.

The more I endeavored to rein him in, the more he plunged and tore, now

dashing against the led deer, now hurling me over the baggage pulk, and

now leaping off the track into bottomless beds of loose snow. Long Isaac

at last shouted to me to go ahead and follow Eric, who was about half a

mile in advance. A few furious plunges carried me past our little

caravan, with my pulk full of snow, and my face likewise. Now, lowering

his neck and thrusting out his head, with open mouth and glaring eyes,

the deer set off at the top of his speed.

Away I went, like a lance shot out from the auroral armoury; the pulk

slid over the snow with the swiftness of a fish through the water; a

torrent of snow-spray poured into my lap and showered against my face,

until I was completely blinded. Eric was overtaken so quickly that he

had no time to give me the track, and as I was not in a condition to see

or hear anything, the deer, with the stupidity of his race, sprang

directly upon him, trampled him down, and dragged me and my pulk over

him. We came to a stand in the deep snow, while Eric shook himself and

started again. My deer now turned and made for the caravan, but I

succeeded in pulling his head around, when he charged a second time upon

Eric, who threw himself out of his pulk to escape. My strength was fast

giving way, when we came to a ridge of deep, loose snow, in which the

animals sank above their bellies, and up which they could hardly drag

us. My deer was so exhausted when we reached the top, that I had no

further difficulty in controlling him.

Before us stretched a trackless plain, bounded by a low mountain ridge.

Eric set off at a fast trot, winding hither and thither, as his deer

followed the invisible path. I kept close behind him, white as a Polar

bear, but glowing like a volcano under my furs. The temperature was 10°

below zero, and I could have wished it ten degrees colder. My deer,

although his first savage strength was spent, was still full of spirit,

and I began to enjoy this mode of travel. We soon entered the hills,

which were covered with thickets of frozen birch, with here and there a

tall Scotch fir, completely robed in snow. The sun, which had showed

about half his disc at noon, was now dipping under the horizon, and a

pure orange glow lighted up the dazzling masses of the crystal woods.

All was silver-clear, far and near, shining, as if by its own light,

with an indescribable radiance. We had struck upon a well-beaten track

on entering the hills, and flew swiftly along through this silent

splendour, this jewelled solitude, under the crimson and violet mode of

the sky. Here was true Northern romance; here was poetry beyond all the

Sagas and Eddas that ever were written.

We passed three Lapps, with heavy hay-sleds, drawn by a reindeer apiece,

and after a time issued from the woods upon a range of hills entirely

bare and white. Before us was the miserable hamlet of Lappajärvi, on the

western side of the barren mountain of Lippavara, which is the highest

in this part of Lapland, having an altitude of 1900 feet above the sea.

I have rarely seen anything quite so bleak and God-forsaken as this

village. A few low black huts, in a desert of snow--that was all. We

drove up to a sort of station-house, where an old, white-headed Finn

received me kindly, beat the snow off my poesk with a birch broom, and

hung my boa near the fire to dry. There was a wild, fierce-looking Lapp

in the room, who spoke some Norwegian, and at once asked who and what I

was. His head was covered with a mop of bright brown hair, his eyes were

dark blue and gleamed like polished steel, and the flushed crimson of

his face was set off by the strong bristles of a beard of three weeks

growth. There was something savage and ferocious in his air, as he sat

with his clenched fists planted upon his knees, and a heavy knife in a

wooden scabbard hanging from his belt. When our caravan arrived I

transferred him to my sketch-book. He gave me his name as Ole Olsen

Thore, and I found he was a character well known throughout the country.

Long Isaac proposed waiting until midnight, for moon-rise, as it was

already dark, and there was no track beyond Lippajärvi. This seemed

prudent, and we therefore, with the old woman's help, set about boiling

our meat, thawing bread, and making coffee. It was necessary to eat even

beyond what appetite demanded, on account of the long distances between

the stations. Drowsiness followed repletion, as a matter of course, and

they gave us a bed of skins in an inner-room. Here, however, some other

members of the family were gathered around the fire, and kept up an

incessant chattering, while a young married couple, who lay in one

corner, bestowed their endearments on each other, so that we had but

little benefit of our rest. At midnight all was ready, and we set out.

Long Isaac had engaged a guide, and procured fresh deer in place of

those which were fatigued. There was a thick fog, which the moon

scarcely brightened, but the temperature had risen to zero, and was as

mild as a May morning. For the first time in many days our beards did

not freeze.

We pursued our way in complete silence. Our little caravan, in single

file, presented a strange, shadowy, mysterious appearance as it followed

the winding path, dimly seen through the mist, first on this side and

then on that; not a sound being heard, except the crunching of one's own

pulk over the snow. My reindeer and myself seemed to be the only living

things, and we were pursuing the phantoms of other travellers and other

deer, who had long ago perished in the wilderness. It was impossible to

see more than a hundred yards; some short, stunted birches, in their

spectral coating of snow, grew along the low ridges of the deep, loose

snow, which separated the marshes, but nothing else interrupted the

monotony of the endless grey ocean, through which we went floundering,

apparently at haphazard. How our guides found the way was beyond my

comprehension, for I could discover no distinguishable landmarks. After

two hours or more we struck upon a cluster of huts called Palajärvi,

seven miles from Lippajärvi, which proved that we were on the right

track.

The fog now became thicker than ever. We were upon the water-shed

between the Bothnian Gulf and the Northern Ocean, about 1400 feet above

the sea. The birches became mere shrubs, dotting the low mounds which

here and there arose out of the ocean of snow. The pulks all ran in the

same track and made a single furrow, so that our gunwales were generally

below the sea-level. The snow was packed so tight, however, that we

rarely shipped any. Two hours passed, and I was at length roused from a

half-sleep by the evidence of our having lost the way. Long Isaac and

the guide stopped and consulted every few minutes, striking sometimes

in one direction and sometimes in another, but without any result. We

ran over ridges of heavy, hard tussocks, blown bare of snow, which

pitched our pulks right and left, just as I have bumped over the coral

reefs of Loo-Choo in a ship's cutter. Then followed deep beds of

snow-drifts, which tasked the utmost strength of our deer, low birch

thickets and hard ridges again, over which we plunged in the wildest way

possible.

After wandering about for a considerable time, we suddenly heard the

barking of a dog at some distance on our left. Following the welcome

sound, we reached a scrubby ridge, where we were saluted with a whole

chorus of dogs, and soon saw the dark cone of a Lapp tent. Long Isaac

aroused the inmates, and the shrill cry of a baby proclaimed that there

was life and love, even here. Presently a clumsy form, enveloped in

skins, waddled out, and entered into conversation with our men. I

proposed at once to engage a Lapp to guide us as far as Eitajärvi, which

they informed us was two Norwegian (fourteen English) miles farther. The

man agreed, but must first go off to the woods for his deer, which would

detain us two hours. He put on his snow-skates and started, and I set

about turning the delay to profit by making acquaintance with the

inmates of the tents. We had now reached the middle of the village; the

lean, wolfish dogs were yelling on all sides, and the people began to

bestir themselves. Streams of sparks issued from the open tops of the

tents, and very soon we stood as if in the midst of a group of volcanic

cones.

The Lapps readily gave us permission to enter. We lifted the hanging

door of reindeer hide, crept in, stumbling over a confused mixture of

dogs and deerskins, until we found room to sit down. Two middle-aged

women, dressed in poesks, like the men, were kindling a fire between

some large stones in the centre, but the air inside was still as cold as

outside. The damp birch sticks gave out a thick smoke, which almost

stifled us, and for half an hour we could scarcely see or breathe. The

women did not appear to be incommoded in the least, but I noticed that

their eyes were considerably inflamed. After a time our company was

increased by the arrival of two stout, ruddy girls of about seventeen,

and a child of two years old, which already wore a complete reindeer

costume. They were all very friendly and hospitable in their demeanour

towards us, for conversation was scarcely possible. The interior of the

tent was hung with choice bits of deer's hide, from the inside of the

flanks and shoulders, designed, apparently, for mittens. Long Isaac at

once commenced bargaining for some of them, which he finally purchased.

The money was deposited in a rather heavy bag of coin, which one of the

women drew forth from under a pile of skins. Our caps and Russian boots

excited their curiosity, and they examined them with the greatest

minuteness.

These women were neither remarkably small nor remarkably ugly, as the

Lapps are generally represented. The ground-tone of their complexion was

rather tawny, to be sure, but there was a glowing red on their cheeks,

and their eyes were a dark bluish-grey. Their voices were agreeable, and

the language (a branch of the Finnish) had none of that barbaric

harshness common to the tongues of nomadic tribes. These favorable

features, nevertheless, were far from reconciling me to the idea of a

trial of Lapp life. When I saw the filth, the poverty, and discomfort in

which they lived, I decided that the present experience was

all-sufficient. Roasting on one side and freezing on the other, with

smarting eyes and asphyxiated lungs, I soon forgot whatever there was of

the picturesque in my situation, and thought only of the return of our

Lapp guide. The women at last cleared away several dogs, and made room

for us to lie down--a more tolerable position, in our case; though how a

whole family, with innumerable dogs, stow themselves in the compass of a

circle eight feet in diameter, still remains a mystery.

The Lapp returned with his reindeer within the allotted time, and we

took our leave of the encampment. A strong south wind had arisen, but

did not dissipate the fog, and for two hours we had a renewal of our

past experiences, in thumping over hard ridges and ploughing through

seas of snow. Our track was singularly devious, sometimes doubling

directly back upon itself without any apparent cause. At last, when a

faint presentiment of dawn began to glimmer through the fog, the Lapp

halted and announced that he had lost the way. Bidding us remain where

we were, he struck off into the snow and was soon lost to sight.

Scarcely a quarter of an hour had elapsed, however, before we heard his

cries at a considerable distance. Following, as we best could, across a

plain nearly a mile in diameter, we found him at last in a narrow dell

between two hills. The ground now sloped rapidly northward, and I saw

that we had crossed the water-shed, and that the plain behind us must be

the lake Jedeckejaure, which, according to Von Buch, is 1370 feet above

the sea.

On emerging from the dell we found a gentle slope before us, covered

with hard ice, down which our pulks flew like the wind. This brought us

to another lake, followed by a similar slope, and so we descended the

icy terraces, until, in a little more than an hour, some covered

haystacks gave evidence of human habitation, and we drew up at the huts

of Eitajärvi, in Norway. An old man, who had been watching our approach,

immediately climbed upon the roof and removed a board from the chimney,

after which he ushered us into a bare, cold room, and kindled a roaring

fire on the hearth. Anton unpacked our provisions, and our hunger was so

desperate, after fasting for twenty hours, that we could scarcely wait

for the bread to thaw and the coffee to boil. We set out again at noon,

down the frozen bed of a stream which drains the lakes, but had not

proceeded far before both deers and pulks began to break through the

ice, probably on account of springs under it. After being almost

swamped, we managed to get up the steep snow-bank and took to the plain

again, making our own road over ridge and through hollow. The caravan

was soon stopped, that the pulks might be turned bottom upwards and the

ice scraped off, which, like the barnacles on a ship's hull, impeded

their progress through the snow. The broad plain we were traversing

stretched away to the north without a break or spot of color to relieve

its ghastly whiteness; but toward the south-west, where the sunset of an

unrisen sun spread its roseate glow through the mist, arose some low

mounds, covered with drooping birches, which shone against the soft,

mellow splendor, like sprays of silver embroidered on rose-colored

satin.

Our course, for about fifteen miles, lay alternately upon the stream

(where the ice was sufficiently strong) and the wild plain. Two or three

Lapp tents on the bank exhibited the usual amount of children and dogs,

but we did not think it worth while to extend the circle of our

acquaintance in that direction. At five o'clock, after it had long been

dark, we reached half a dozen huts called Siepe, two Norwegian miles

from Kautokeino. Long Isaac wished to stop here for the night, but we

resolutely set ourselves against him. The principal hut was filthy,

crowded with Lapps, and filled with a disagreeable smell from the warm,

wet poesks hanging on the rafters. In one corner lay the carcases of two

deer-calves which had been killed by wolves. A long bench, a table, and

a rude frame covered with deerskins, and serving as a bed, comprised all

the furniture. The usual buckets of sour milk, with wooden ladles, stood

by the door. No one appeared to have any particular occupation, if we

except the host's wife, who was engaged with an infant in reindeer

breeches. We smoked and deliberated while the deers ate their balls of

moss, and the result was, that a stout yellow-haired Lapp youngster was

engaged to pilot us to Kautokeino.

Siepe stands on a steep bank, down which our track led to the stream

again. As the caravan set off, my deer, which had behaved very well

through the day, suddenly became fractious, sprang off the track,

whirled himself around on his hind legs, as if on a pivot, and turned

the pulk completely over, burying me in the snow. Now, I had come from

Muoniovara, more than a hundred miles, without being once overturned,

and was ambitious to make the whole journey with equal success. I

therefore picked myself up, highly disconcerted, and started afresh. The

very same thing happened a second and a third time, and I don't think I

shall be considered unreasonable for becoming furiously angry. I should

certainly have committed cervicide had any weapon been at hand. I seized

the animal by the horns, shook, cuffed, and kicked him, but all to no

purpose. Long Isaac, who was passing in his pulk, made some remark,

which Anton, with all the gravity and conscientiousness of his new

position of interpreter, immediately translated.

"Long Isaac says," he shouted, "that the deer will go well enough, if

you knew how to drive him." "Long Isaac may go to the devil!" was, I am

sorry to say, my profane reply, which Anton at once translated to him.

Seating myself in the pulk again, I gave the deer the rein, and for a

time kept him to the top of his speed, following the Lapp, who drove

rapidly down the windings of the stream. It was quite dark, but our road

was now somewhat broken, and for three hours our caravan swiftly and

silently sped on its way. Then, some scattered lights appeared in the

distance; our tired deers leaped forward with fresher spirit, and soon

brought us to the low wooden huts of Kautokeino. We had travelled

upwards of sixty miles since leaving Lippajärvi, breaking our own road

through deep snow for a great part of the way. During this time our

deers had not been changed. I cannot but respect the provoking animals

after such a feat.

CHAPTER XI.

KAUTOKEINO.--A DAY WITHOUT A SUN.

While in Dresden, my friend Ziegler had transferred to me a letter of

introduction from Herr Berger, a merchant of Hammerfest, to his

housekeeper in Kautokeino. Such a transfer might be considered a great

stretch of etiquette in those enlightened regions of the world where

hospitality requires certificates of character; but, in a benighted

country like Lapland, there was no danger of very fine distinctions

being drawn, and Ziegler judged that the house which was to have been

placed at his disposal had he made the journey, would as readily open

its doors to me. At Muoniovara, I learned that Berger himself was now in

Kautokeino, so that I needed only to present him with his own letter. We

arrived so late, however, that I directed Long Isaac to take us to the

inn until morning. He seemed reluctant to do this, and I could not

fathom the reason of his hesitation, until I had entered the hovel to

which we were conducted. A single room, filled with smoke from a fire of

damp birch sticks, was crammed with Lapps of all sizes, and of both

sexes. There was scarcely room to spread a deerskin on the floor while

the smell exhaled from their greasy garments and their unwashed bodies

was absolutely stifling. I have travelled too much to be particularly

nice in my choice of lodgings, but in this instance I instantly

retreated, determined to lie on the snow, under my overturned pulk,

rather than pass the night among such bed-fellows.

We drove on for a short distance, and drew up before a large,

substantial log-house, which Long Isaac informed me was the residence of

the _Länsman_, or magistrate of the district. I knocked at the door, and

inquired of the Norwegian servant girl who opened it, where Herr Berger

lived. Presently appeared a stout, ruddy gentleman--no less than Herr

Berger himself--who addressed me in fluent English. A few words sufficed

to explain everything, and in ten minutes our effects were deposited in

the guest's room of the Länsman's house, and ourselves, stripped of our

Polar hides, were seated on a sofa, in a warm, carpeted room, with a

bountiful supper-table before us. Blessed be civilisation! was my inward

ejaculation. Blessed be that yearning for comfort in Man, which has led

to the invention of beds, of sofas, and easy chairs: which has suggested

cleanliness of body and of habitation, and which has developed the noble

art of cooking! The dreary and perilous wastes over which we had passed

were forgotten. With hearts warmed in both senses, and stomachs which

reacted gratefully upon our hearts, we sank that night into a paradise

of snowy linen, which sent a consciousness of pleasure even into the

oblivion of sleep.

The Länsman, Herr Lie, a tall handsome man of twenty-three, was a native

of Altengaard, and spoke tolerable English. With him and Herr Berger, we

found a third person, a theological student, stationed at Kautokeino to

learn the Lapp tongue. Pastor Hvoslef, the clergyman, was the only other

Norwegian resident. The village, separated from the Northern Ocean, by

the barren, uninhabited ranges of the Kiölen Mountains, and from the

Finnish settlements on the Muonio by the swampy table-lands we had

traversed, is one of the wildest and most forlorn places in all Lapland.

Occupying, as it does, the centre of a large district, over which the

Lapps range with their reindeer herds during the summer, it is

nevertheless a place of some importance, both for trade and for the

education, organization, and proper control of the barely-reclaimed

inhabitants. A church was first built here by Charles XI. of Sweden, in

1660, although, in the course of subsequent boundary adjustments, the

district was made over to Norway. Half a century afterwards, some

families of Finns settled here; but they appear to have gradually mixed

with the Lapps, so that there is little of the pure blood of either race

to be found at present. I should here remark that throughout Norwegian

Lapland the Lapps are universally called _Finns_, and the Finns,

_Quäns_. As the change of names, however, might occasion some confusion,

I shall adhere to the more correct Swedish manner of designating them,

which I have used hitherto.

Kautokeino is situated in a shallow valley, or rather basin, opening

towards the north-east, whither its river flows to join the Alten.

Although only 835 feet above the sea, and consequently below the limits

of the birch and the fir in this latitude, the country has been stripped

entirely bare for miles around, and nothing but the scattering groups of

low, dark huts, breaks the snowy monotony. It is with great difficulty

that vegetables of any kind can be raised. Potatoes have once or twice

been made to yield eight-fold, but they are generally killed by the

early autumn frosts before maturity. On the southern bank of the river,

the ground remains frozen the whole year round, at a depth of only nine

feet. The country furnishes nothing except reindeer meat, milk, and

cheese. Grain, and other supplies of all kinds, must be hauled up from

the Alten Fjord, a distance of 112 miles. The carriage is usually

performed in winter, when, of course, everything reaches its destination

in a frozen state. The potatoes are as hard as quartz pebbles, sugar and

salt become stony masses, and even wine assumes a solid form. In this

state they are kept until wanted for use, rapidly thawed, and

immediately consumed, whereby their flavour is but little impaired. The

potatoes, cabbage, and preserved berries on the Länsman's table were

almost as fresh as if they had never been frozen.

Formerly, the place was almost entirely deserted during the summer

months, and the resident missionary and Länsman returned to Alten until

the Lapps came back to their winter huts; but, for some years past, the

stationary population has increased, and the church is kept open the

whole year. Winter, however, is the season when the Lapps are found at

home, and when their life and habits are most characteristic and

interesting. The population of Kautokeino is then, perhaps, about 800;

in summer it is scarcely one-tenth of this number. Many of the

families--especially those of mixed Finnish blood--live in wooden huts,

with the luxury of a fireplace and chimney, and a window or two; but

the greater part of them burrow in low habitations of earth, which

resemble large mole hills raised in the crust of the soil. Half snowed

over and blended with the natural inequalities of the earth, one would

never imagine, but for the smoke here and there issuing from holes, that

human beings existed below. On both sides of the stream are rows of

storehouses, wherein the Lapps deposit their supplies and household

articles during their summer wanderings. These structures are raised

upon birch posts, each capped with a smooth, horizontal board, in order

to prevent the rats and mice from effecting an entrance. The church is

built upon a slight eminence to the south, with its low red belfry

standing apart, as in Sweden, in a small grove of birches, which have

been spared for a summer ornament to the sanctuary.

We awoke at eight o'clock to find a clear twilight and a cold of 10°

below zero. Our stay at Muoniovara had given the sun time to increase

his altitude somewhat, and I had some doubts whether we should succeed

in beholding a day of the Polar winter. The Länsman, however, encouraged

us by the assurance that the sun had not yet risen upon his residence,

though nearly six weeks had elapsed since his disappearance, but that

his return was now looked for every day, since he had already begun to

shine upon the northern hills. By ten o'clock it was light enough to

read; the southern sky was a broad sea of golden orange, dotted with a

few crimson cloud-islands, and we set ourselves to watch with some

anxiety the gradual approach of the exiled god. But for this

circumstance, and two other drawbacks, I should have gone to church to

witness the Lapps at their religious exercises. Pastor Hvoslef was ill,

and the service consisted only of the reading of some prayers by the

Lapp schoolmaster; added to which, the church is never warmed, even in

the coldest days of winter. One cause of this may, perhaps, be the dread

of an accidental conflagration; but the main reason is, the

inconvenience which would arise from the thawing out of so many

antiquated reindeer garments, and the effluvia given out by the warmed

bodies within them. Consequently, the temperature inside the church is

about the same as outside, and the frozen moisture of the worshippers'

breath forms a frosty cloud so dense as sometimes to hide the clergyman

from the view of his congregation. Pastor Hvoslef informed me that he

had frequently preached in a temperature of 35° below zero. "At such

times," said he, "the very words seem to freeze as they issue from my

lips, and fall upon the heads of my hearers like a shower of snow."

"But," I ventured to remark, "our souls are controlled to such a degree

by the condition of our bodies, that I should doubt whether any true

devotional spirit could exist at such a time. Might not even religion

itself be frozen?" "Yes," he answered, "there is no doubt that all the

better feelings either disappear, or become very faint, when the mercury

begins to freeze." The pastor himself was at that time suffering the

penalty of indulging a spirit of reverence which for a long time led him

to officiate with uncovered head.

The sky increased in brightness as we watched. The orange flushed into

rose, and the pale white hills looked even more ghastly against the bar

of glowing carmine which fringed the horizon. A few long purple streaks

of cloud hung over the sun's place, and higher up in the vault floated

some loose masses, tinged with fiery crimson on their lower edges.

About half-past eleven, a pencil of bright red light shot up--a signal

which the sun uplifted to herald his coming. As it slowly moved westward

along the hills, increasing in height and brilliancy until it became a

long tongue of flame, playing against the streaks of cloud we were

apprehensive that the near disc would rise to view. When the Länsman's

clock pointed to twelve, its base had become so bright as to shine

almost like the sun itself; but after a few breathless moments the

unwelcome glow began to fade. We took its bearing with a compass, and

after making allowance for the variation (which is here very slight)

were convinced that it was really past meridian, and the radiance, which

was that of morning a few minutes before, belonged to the splendours of

evening now. The colours of the firmament began to change in reverse

order, and the dawn, which had almost ripened to sunrise, now withered

away to night without a sunset. We had at last seen a day without a sun.

The snowy hills to the north, it is true, were tinged with a flood of

rosy flame, and the very next day would probably bring down the

tide-mark of sunshine to the tops of the houses. One day, however, was

enough to satisfy me. You, my heroic friend,[A] may paint with true

pencil, and still truer pen, the dreary solemnity of the long Arctic

night: but, greatly as I enjoy your incomparable pictures, much as I

honour your courage and your endurance, you shall never tempt me to

share in the experience. The South is a cup which one may drink to

inebriation; but one taste from the icy goblet of the North is enough to

allay curiosity and quench all further desire. Yet the contrast between

these two extremes came home to me vividly but once during this journey.

A traveller's mind must never stray too far from the things about him,

and long habit has enabled me to throw myself entirely into the

conditions and circumstances of each separate phase of my wandering

life, thereby preserving distinct the sensations and experiences of

each, and preventing all later confusion in the memory. But one day, at

Muoniovara, as I sat before the fire in the afternoon darkness, there

flashed across my mind a vision of cloudless Egypt--trees rustling in

the hot wind, yellow mountain-walls rising beyond the emerald plain of

the Nile, the white pencils of minarets in the distance, the creamy

odour of bean-blossoms in the air--a world of glorious vitality, where

Death seemed an unaccountable accident. Here, Life existed only on

sufferance, and all Nature frowned with a robber's demand to give it up.

I flung my pipe across the room and very soon, behind a fast reindeer,

drove away from the disturbing reminiscence.

I went across the valley to the schoolmaster's house to make a sketch of

Kautokeino, but the frost was so thick on the windows that I was obliged

to take a chair in the open air and work with bare hands. I soon learned

the value of rapidity in such an employment. We spent the afternoon in

the Länsman's parlor, occasionally interrupted by the visits of Lapps,

who, having heard of our arrival, were very curious to behold the first

Americans who ever reached this part of the world. They came into the

room with the most perfect freedom, saluted the Länsman, and then turned

to stare at us until they were satisfied, when they retired to give

place to others who were waiting outside. We were obliged to hold quite

a levee during the whole evening. They had all heard of America, but

knew very little else about it, and many of them questioned us, through

Herr Berger, concerning our religion and laws. The fact of the three

Norwegian residents being able to converse with us astonished them

greatly. The Lapps of Kautokeino have hitherto exalted themselves over

the Lapps of Karasjok and Karessuando, because the Länsman, Berger, and

Pastor Hvoslef could speak with English and French travellers in their

own language, while the merchants and pastors of the latter places are

acquainted only with Norwegian and Swedish; and now their pride received

a vast accession. "How is it possible?" said they to Herr Berger, "these

men come from the other side of the world, and you talk with them as

fast in their own language as if you had never spoken any other!" The

schoolmaster, Lars Kaino, a one-armed fellow, with a more than ordinary

share of acuteness and intelligence, came to request that I would take

his portrait, offering to pay me for my trouble. I agreed to do it

gratuitously, on condition that I should keep it myself, and that he

should bring his wife to be included in the sketch.

He assented, with some sacrifice of vanity, and came around the next

morning, in his holiday suit of blue cloth, trimmed with scarlet and

yellow binding. His wife, a short woman of about twenty-five, with a

face as flat and round as a platter, but a remarkably fair complexion,

accompanied him, though with evident reluctance, and sat with eyes

modestly cast down while I sketched her features. The circumstance of my

giving Lars half a dollar at the close of the sitting was immediately

spread through Kautokeino, and before night all the Lapps of the place

were ambitious to undergo the same operation. Indeed, the report reached

the neighboring villages, and a Hammerfest merchant, who came in the

following morning from a distance of seven miles, obtained a guide at

less than the usual price, through the anxiety of the latter to arrive

in time to have his portrait taken. The shortness of the imperfect

daylight, however, obliged me to decline further offers, especially as

there were few Lapps of pure, unmixed blood among my visitors.

Kautokeino was the northern limit of my winter journey. I proposed

visiting Altengaard in the summer, on my way to the North Cape, and

there is nothing in the barren tract between the two places to repay the

excursion. I had already seen enough of the Lapps to undeceive me in

regard to previously-formed opinions respecting them, and to take away

the desire for a more intimate acquaintance. In features, as in

language, they resemble the Finns sufficiently to indicate an

ethnological relationship. I could distinguish little, if any, trace of

the Mongolian blood in them. They are fatter, fairer, and altogether

handsomer than the nomadic offshoots of that race, and resemble the

Esquimaux (to whom they have been compared) in nothing but their rude,

filthy manner of life. Von Buch ascribes the difference in stature and

physical stamina between them and the Finns to the use of the vapor bath

by the latter and the aversion to water of the former. They are a race

of Northern gipsies, and it is the restless blood of this class rather

than any want of natural capacity which retards their civilisation.

Although the whole race has been converted to Christianity, and

education is universal among them--no Lapp being permitted to marry

until he can read--they have but in too many respects substituted one

form of superstition for another. The spread of temperance among them,

however, has produced excellent results, and, in point of morality, they

are fully up to the prevailing standard in Sweden and Norway. The

practice, formerly imputed to them, of sharing their connubial rights

with the guests who visited them, is wholly extinct,--if it ever

existed. Theft is the most usual offence, but crimes of a more heinous

character are rare.

Whatever was picturesque in the Lapps has departed with their paganism.

No wizards now ply their trade of selling favorable winds to the

Norwegian coasters, or mutter their incantations to discover the

concealed grottoes of silver in the Kiölen mountains. It is in vain,

therefore, for the romantic traveller to seek in them the materials for

weird stories and wild adventures. They are frightfully pious and

commonplace. Their conversion has destroyed what little of barbaric

poetry there might have been in their composition, and, instead of

chanting to the spirits of the winds, and clouds, and mountains, they

have become furious ranters, who frequently claim to be possessed by the

Holy Ghost. As human beings, the change, incomplete as it is, is

nevertheless to their endless profit; but as objects of interest to the

traveller, it has been to their detriment. It would be far more

picturesque to describe a sabaoth of Lapland witches than a

prayer-meeting of shouting converts, yet no friend of his race could

help rejoicing to see the latter substituted for the former. In

proportion, therefore, as the Lapps have become enlightened (like all

other savage tribes), they have become less interesting. Retaining

nearly all that is repulsive in their habits of life, they have lost the

only peculiarities which could persuade one to endure the inconveniences

of a closer acquaintance.

I have said that the conversion of the Lapps was in some respects the

substitution of one form of superstition for another. A tragic

exemplification of this fact, which produced the greatest excitement

throughout the North, took place in Kautokeino four years ago. Through

the preaching of Lestadius and other fanatical missionaries, a spiritual

epidemic, manifesting itself in the form of visions, trances, and

angelic possessions, broke out among the Lapps. It infected the whole

country, and gave rise to numerous disturbances and difficulties in

Kautokeino. It was no unusual thing for one of the congregation to arise

during church service, declare that he was inspired by the Holy Ghost,

and call upon those present to listen to his revelations. The former

Länsman arrested the most prominent of the offenders, and punished them

with fine and imprisonment. This begat feelings of hatred on the part of

the fanatics, which soon ripened into a conspiracy. The plot was matured

during the summer months, when the Lapps descended towards the Norwegian

coast with their herds of reindeer.

I have the account of what followed from the lips of Pastor Hvoslef, who

was then stationed here, and was also one of the victims of their

resentment. Early one morning in October, when the inhabitants were

returning from their summer wanderings, he was startled by the

appearance of the resident merchant's wife, who rushed into his house in

a frantic state, declaring that her husband was murdered. He fancied

that the woman was bewildered by some sudden fright, and, in order to

quiet her, walked over to the merchant's house. Here he found the

unfortunate man lying dead upon the floor, while a band of about thirty

Lapps, headed by the principal fanatics, were forcing the house of the

Länsman, whom they immediately dispatched with their knives and clubs.

They then seized the pastor and his wife, beat them severely with

birch-sticks, and threatened them with death unless they would

acknowledge the divine mission of the so-called prophets.

The greater part of the day passed in uncertainty and terror, but

towards evening appeared a crowd of friendly Lapps from the neighbouring

villages, who, after having received information, through fugitives, of

what had happened, armed themselves and marched to the rescue. A fight

ensued, in which the conspirators were beaten, and the prisoners

delivered out of their hands. The friendly Lapps, unable to take charge

of all the criminals, and fearful lest some of them might escape during

the night, adopted the alternative of beating every one of them so

thoroughly that they were all found the next morning in the same places

where they had been left the evening before. They were tried at Alten,

the two ringleaders executed, and a number of the others sent to the

penitentiary at Christiania. This summary justice put a stop to all open

and violent manifestations of religious frenzy, but it still exists to

some extent, though only indulged in secret.

We paid a visit to Pastor Hvoslef on Monday, and had the pleasure of his

company to dinner in the evening. He is a Christian gentleman in the

best sense of the term, and though we differed in matters of belief, I

was deeply impressed with his piety and sincerity. Madame Hvoslef and

two rosy little Arctic blossoms shared his exile--for this is nothing

less than an exile to a man of cultivation and intellectual tastes. In

his house I saw--the last thing one would have expected to find in the

heart of Lapland--a piano. Madame Hvoslef, who is an accomplished

performer, sat down to it, and gave us the barcarole from Massaniello.

While in the midst of a maze of wild Norwegian melodies, I saw the

Pastor whisper something in her ear. At once, to our infinite amazement,

she boldly struck up "Yankee Doodle!" Something like an American

war-whoop began to issue from Braisted's mouth, but was smothered in

time to prevent an alarm. "How on earth did that air get into Lapland!"

I asked. "I heard Ole Bull play it at Christiania," said Madame Hvoslef,

"and learned it from memory afterwards."

The weather changed greatly after our arrival. From 23° below zero on

Sunday evening, it rose to 8-1/2° above, on Monday night, with a furious

hurricane of snow from the north. We sent for our deer from the hills

early on Tuesday morning, in order to start on our return to Muoniovara.

The Lapps, however, have an Oriental disregard of time, and as there was

no chance of our getting off before noon, we improved part of the delay

in visiting the native schools and some of the earthen huts, or, rather,

dens, in which most of the inhabitants live. There were two schools,

each containing about twenty scholars--fat, greasy youngsters, swaddled

in reindeer skins, with blue eyes, light brown or yellow hair, and tawny

red cheeks, wherever the original colour could be discerned. As the

rooms were rather warm, the odour of Lapp childhood was not quite as

fresh as a cowslip, and we did not tarry long among them.

Approaching the side of a pile of dirt covered with snow, we pushed one

after another, against a small square door, hung at such a slant that it

closed of itself, and entered an ante-den used as a store-room. Another

similar door ushered us into the house, a rude, vaulted space, framed

with poles, sticks and reindeer hides, and covered compactly with earth,

except a narrow opening in the top to let out the smoke from a fire

kindled in the centre. Pieces of reindeer hide, dried flesh, bags of

fat, and other articles, hung from the frame and dangled against our

heads as we entered. The den was not more than five feet high by about

eight feet in diameter. The owner, a jolly, good-humoured Lapp, gave me

a low wooden stool, while his wife, with a pipe in her mouth, squatted

down on the hide which served for a bed and looked at me with amiable

curiosity. I contemplated them for a while with my eyes full of tears

(the smoke being very thick,) until finally both eyes and nose could

endure no more, and I sought the open air again.

FOOTNOTES:

[A] This was written in Lapland; and at the same time my friend Dr.

Elisha Kent Kane, of immortal memory, lay upon his death-bed, in Havana.

I retain the words, which I then supposed would meet his eye, that I may

add my own tribute of sorrow for the untimely death of one of the

truest, bravest, and noblest-hearted men I ever knew.

CHAPTER XII.

THE RETURN TO MUONIOVARA.

While at Kautokeino I completed my Lapp outfit by purchasing a scarlet

cap, stuffed with eider down, a pair of _boellinger_, or reindeer

leggings, and the _komager_, or broad, boat-shaped shoes, filled with

dry soft hay, and tightly bound around the ankles, which are worn by

everybody in Lapland. Attired in these garments, I made a very passable

Lapp, barring a few superfluous inches of stature, and at once realized

the prudence of conforming in one's costume to the native habits. After

the first feeling of awkwardness is over, nothing can be better adapted

to the Polar Winter than the Lapp dress. I walked about at first with

the sensation of having each foot in the middle of a large feather bed,

but my blood preserved its natural warmth even after sitting for hours

in an open pulk. The _boellinger_, fastened around the thighs by

drawing-strings of reindeer sinew, are so covered by the poesk that one

becomes, for all practical purposes, a biped reindeer, and may wallow in

the snow as much as he likes without the possibility of a particle

getting through his hide.

The temperature was, nevertheless, singularly mild when we set out on

our return. There had been a violent storm of wind and snow the previous

night, after which the mercury rose to 16° above zero. We waited until

noon before our reindeers could be collected, and then set off, with the

kind farewell wishes of the four Norwegian inhabitants of the place. I

confess to a feeling of relief when we turned our faces southward, and

commenced our return to daylight. We had at last seen the Polar night,

the day without a sunrise; we had driven our reindeer under the arches

of the aurora borealis; we had learned enough of the Lapps to convince

us that further acquaintance would be of little profit; and it now

seemed time to attempt an escape from the limbo of Death into which we

had ventured. Our faces had already begun to look pale and faded from

three weeks of alternate darkness and twilight, but the novelty of our

life preserved us from any feeling of depression and prevented any

perceptible effect upon our bodily health, such as would assuredly have

followed a protracted experience of the Arctic Winter. Every day now

would bring us further over the steep northern shoulder of the Earth,

and nearer to that great heart of life in the south, where her blood

pulsates with eternal warmth. Already there was a perceptible increase

of the sun's altitude, and at noonday a thin upper slice of his disc was

visible for about half an hour.

By Herr Berger's advice, we engaged as guide to Lippajärvi, a Lapp, who

had formerly acted as postman, and professed to be able to find his way

in the dark. The wind had blown so violently that it was probable we

should have to break our own road for the whole distance. Leaving

Kautokeino, we travelled up the valley of a frozen stream, towards

desolate ranges of hills, or rather shelves of the table-land, running

north-east and south-west. They were spotted with patches of stunted

birch, hardly rising above the snow. Our deer were recruited, and we

made very good progress while the twilight lasted. At some Lapp tents,

where we stopped to make inquiries about the ice, I was much amused by

the appearance of a group of children, who strikingly resembled

bear-cubs standing on their hind legs. They were coated with reindeer

hide from head to foot, with only a little full-moon of tawny red face

visible.

We stopped at Siepe an hour to bait the deer. The single wooden hut was

crowded with Lapps, one of whom, apparently the owner, spoke a little

Norwegian. He knew who we were, and asked me many questions about

America. He was most anxious to know what was our religion, and what

course the Government took with regard to different sects. He seemed a

little surprised, and not less pleased, to hear that all varieties of

belief were tolerated, and that no one sect possessed any peculiar

privileges over another. (It is only very recently that dissenters from

the Orthodox Church have been allowed to erect houses of worship in

Norway.) While we were speaking on these matters, an old woman, kneeling

near us, was muttering prayers to herself, wringing her hands, sobbing,

and giving other evidences of violent religious excitement. This

appeared to be a common occurrence, as none of the Lapps took the

slightest notice of it. I have no doubt that much of that hallucination

which led to the murders at Kautokeino still exists among the people,

kept alive by secret indulgence. Those missionaries have much to answer

for who have planted the seeds of spiritual disease among this ignorant

and impressible race.

The night was cold and splendidly clear. We were obliged to leave the

river on account of rotten ice, and took to the open plains, where our

deers sank to their bellies in the loose snow. The leading animals

became fractious, and we were obliged to stop every few minutes, until

their paroxysms subsided. I could not perceive that the Lapps themselves

exercised much more control over them than we, who were new to the

business. The domesticated reindeer still retains his wild instincts,

and never fails to protest against the necessity of labour. The most

docile will fly from the track, plunge, face about and refuse to draw,

when you least expect it. They are possessed by an incorrigible

stupidity. Their sagacity applies only to their animal wants, and they

seem almost totally deficient in memory. They never become attached to

men, and the only sign of recognition they show, is sometimes to allow

certain persons to catch them more easily than others. In point of speed

they are not equal to the horse, and an hour's run generally exhausts

them. When one considers their size, however, their strength and power

of endurance seem marvellous. Herr Berger informed me that he had driven

a reindeer from Alten to Kautokeino, 112 miles, in twenty-six hours, and

from the latter place to Muoniovara in thirty. I was also struck by the

remarkable adaptation of the animal to its uses. Its hoof resembles that

of the camel, being formed for snow, as the latter for sand. It is

broad, cloven and flexible, the separate divisions spreading out so as

to present a resisting surface when the foot is set down, and falling

together when it is lifted. Thus in snow where a horse would founder in

the space of a hundred yards, the deer easily works his way, mile after

mile, drawing the sliding, canoe-like pulk, burdened with his master's

weight, after him.

The Lapps generally treat their animals with the greatest patience and

forbearance, but otherwise do not exhibit any particular attachment for

them. They are indebted to them for food, clothing, habitation and

conveyance, and their very existence may therefore almost be said to

depend on that of their herds. It is surprising, however, what a number

of deer are requisite for the support of a family. Von Buch says that a

Lapp who has a hundred deer is poor, and will be finally driven to

descend to the coast, and take to fishing. The does are never made to

labour, but are kept in the woods for milking and breeding. Their milk

is rich and nourishing, but less agreeable to the taste than that of the

cow. The cheese made from it is strong and not particularly palatable.

It yields an oil which is the sovereign specific for frozen flesh. The

male deer used for draft are always castrated, which operation the old

Lapp women perform by slowly chewing the glands between their teeth

until they are reduced to a pulp, without wounding the hide.

During this journey I had ample opportunity of familiarising myself with

reindeer travel. It is picturesque enough at the outset, but when the

novelty of the thing is worn off nothing is left but a continual drain

upon one's patience. Nothing can exceed the coolness with which your

deer jumps off the track, slackens his tow-rope, turns around and looks

you in the face, as much as to say: "What are you going to do about

it?" The simplicity and stupidity of his countenance seem to you to be

admirably feigned, and unless you are an old hand you are inevitably

provoked. This is particularly pleasant on the marshy table-lands of

Lapland, where, if he takes a notion to bolt with you, your pulk bounces

over the hard tussocks, sheers sideways down the sudden pitches, or

swamps itself in beds of loose snow. Harness a frisky sturgeon to a

"dug-out," in a rough sea, and you will have some idea of this method of

travelling. While I acknowledge the Providential disposition of things

which has given the reindeer to the Lapp, I cannot avoid thanking Heaven

that I am not a Lapp, and that I shall never travel again with reindeer.

The aberrations of our deer obliged us to take a very sinuous course.

Sometimes we headed north, and sometimes south, and the way seemed so

long that I mistrusted the quality of our guide; but at last a light

shone ahead. It was the hut of Eitajärvi. A lot of pulks lay in front of

it, and the old Finn stood already with a fir torch, waiting to light us

in. On arriving, Anton was greeted by his sister Caroline, who had come

thus far from Muoniovara, on her way to visit some relatives at

Altengaard. She was in company with some Finns, who had left Lippajärvi

the day previous, but losing their way in the storm, had wandered about

for twenty-four hours, exposed to its full violence. Think of an

American girl of eighteen sitting in an open pulk, with the thermometer

at zero, a furious wind and blinding snow beating upon her, and neither

rest nor food for a day! There are few who would survive twelve hours,

yet Caroline was as fresh, lively, and cheerful as ever, and

immediately set about cooking our supper. We found a fire in the cold

guest's room, the place swept and cleaned, and a good bed of deerskins

in one corner. The temperature had sunk to 12° below zero, and the wind

blew through wide cracks in the floor, but between the fire and the

reciprocal warmth of our bodies we secured a comfortable sleep--a thing

of the first consequence in such a climate.

Our deer started well in the morning, and the Lapp guide knew his way

perfectly. The wind had blown so strongly that the track was cleared

rather than filled, and we slipped up the long slopes at a rapid rate. I

recognised the narrow valley where we first struck the northern streams,

and the snowy plain beyond, where our first Lapp guide lost his way. By

this time it was beginning to grow lighter, showing us the dreary wastes

of table-land which we had before crossed in the fog. North of us was a

plain of unbroken snow, extending to a level line on the horizon, where

it met the dark violet sky. Were the colour changed, it would have

perfectly represented the sandy plateaus of the Nubian Desert, in so

many particulars does the extreme North imitate the extreme South. But

the sun, which never deserts the desert, had not yet returned to these

solitudes. Far, far away, on the edge of the sky, a dull red glimmer

showed where he moved. Not the table-land of Pamir, in Thibet, the

cradle of the Oxus and the Indus, but this lower Lapland terrace, is

entitled to the designation of the "Roof of the World." We were on the

summit, creeping along her mountain rafters, and looking southward, off

her shelving eaves, to catch a glimpse of the light playing on her

majestic front. Here, for once, we seemed to look down on the horizon,

and I thought of Europe and the Tropics as lying below. Our journey

northward had been an ascent but now the world's steep sloped downward

before us into sunshine and warmer air. In ascending the Andes or the

Himalayas, you pass through all climates and belts of vegetation between

the Equator and the Pole, and so a journey due north, beyond the circle

of the sun, simply reverses the phenomenon, and impresses one like the

ascent of a mountain on the grandest possible scale.

In two hours from the time we left Eitajärvi we reached the Lapp

encampment. The herds of deer had been driven in from the woods, and

were clustered among the birch bushes around the tents. We had some

difficulty in getting our own deer past them, until the Lapps came to

our assistance. We made no halt, but pushed on, through deeper snows

than before, over the desolate plain. As far as Palajärvi we ran with

our gunwales below the snow-level, while the foremost pulks were

frequently swamped under the white waves that broke over them. We passed

through a picturesque gorge between two hills about 500 feet high, and

beyond it came upon wide lakes covered deep with snow, under which there

was a tolerable track, which the leading deer was able to find with his

feet. Beyond these lakes there was a ridge, which we had no sooner

crossed than a dismally grand prospect opened before us. We overlooked a

valley-basin, marked with belts of stunted birch, and stretching away

for several miles to the foot of a bleak snowy mountain, which I at once

recognised as Lippavara. After rounding its western point and turning

southward again, we were rejoiced with the sight of some fir trees, from

which the snow had been shaken, brightening even with their gloomy

green the white monotony of the Lapland wilderness. It was like a sudden

gleam of sunshine.

We reached Lippajärvi at twelve, having made twenty-eight miles of hard

travel in five hours. Here we stopped two hours to cook a meal and

change our deer, and then pushed on to reach Palajoki the same night. We

drove through the birch woods, no longer glorious as before, for the

snow had been shaken off, and there was no sunset light to transfigure

them. Still on, ploughing through deep seas in the gathering darkness,

over marshy plains, all with a slant southward, draining into the

Muonio, until we reached the birchen ridge of Suontajärvi, with its

beautiful firs rising here and there, silent and immovable. Even the

trees have no voices in the North, let the wind blow as it will. There

is nothing to be heard but the sharp whistle of the dry snow--the same

dreary music which accompanies the African simoom. The night was very

dark, and we began to grow exceedingly tired of sitting flat in our

pulks. I looked sharp for the Palajok Elv, the high fir-fringed banks of

which I remembered, for they denoted our approach to the Muonio; but it

was long, long before we descended from the marshes upon the winding

road of snow-covered ice. In vain I shifted my aching legs and worked my

benumbed hands, looking out ahead for the embouchure of the river.

Braisted and I encouraged each other, whenever we were near enough to

hear, by the reminder that we had only one more day with reindeer. After

a long time spent in this way, the high banks flattened, level snows and

woods succeeded, and we sailed into the port of Palajoki.

The old Finnish lady curtsied very deeply as she recognised us, and

hastened to cook our coffee and reindeer, and to make us a good bed with

sheets. On our former visit the old lady and her sons had watched us

undress and get into bed, but on this occasion three buxom daughters, of

ages ranging from sixteen to twenty-two, appeared about the time for

retiring, and stationed themselves in a row near the door, where they

watched us with silent curiosity. As we had shown no hesitation in the

first case, we determined to be equally courageous now, and commenced

removing our garments with great deliberation, allowing them every

opportunity of inspecting their fashion and the manner of wearing them.

The work thus proceeded in mutual silence until we were nearly ready for

repose, when Braisted, by pulling off a stocking and displaying a

muscular calf, suddenly alarmed the youngest, who darted to the door and

rushed out. The second caught the panic, and followed, and the third and

oldest was therefore obliged to do likewise, though with evident

reluctance. I was greatly amused at such an unsophisticated display of

curiosity. The perfect composure of the girls, and the steadiness with

which they watched us, showed that they were quite unconscious of having

committed any impropriety.

The morning was clear and cold. Our deer had strayed so far into the

woods that we did not get under way before the forenoon twilight

commenced. We expected to find a broken road down the Muonio, but a

heavy snow had fallen the day previous, and the track was completely

filled. Long Isaac found so much difficulty in taking the lead, his deer

constantly bolting from the path, that Anton finally relieved him, and

by standing upright in the pulk and thumping the deer's flanks,

succeeded in keeping up the animal's spirits and forcing a way. It was

slow work, however, and the sun, rolling his whole disc above the

horizon, announced midday before we reached Kyrkessuando. As we drove up

to the little inn, we were boisterously welcomed by Häl, Herr Forström's

brown wolf-dog, who had strayed thus far from home. Our deer were

beginning to give out, and we were very anxious to reach Muoniovara in

time for dinner, so we only waited long enough to give the animals a

feed of moss and procure some hot milk for ourselves.

The snow-storm, which had moved over a narrow belt of country, had not

extended below this place, and the road was consequently well broken. We

urged our deer into a fast trot, and slid down the icy floor of the

Muonio, past hills whose snows flashed scarlet and rose-orange in the

long splendour of sunset. Hunger and the fatigue which our journey was

producing at last, made us extremely sensitive to the cold, though it

was not more than 20° below zero. My blood became so chilled, that I was

apprehensive the extremities would freeze, and the most vigorous motion

of the muscles barely sufficed to keep at bay the numbness which

attacked them. At dusk we drove through Upper Muonioniska, and our

impatience kept the reindeers so well in motion that before five o'clock

(although long after dark,) we were climbing the well-known slope to

Herr Forström's house at Muoniovara. Here we found the merchant, not yet

departed to the Lapp fair at Karessuando, and Mr. Wolley, who welcomed

us with the cordiality of an old friend. Our snug room at the

carpenter's was already warmed and set in order, and after our reindeer

drive of 250 miles through the wildest parts of Lapland, we felt a

home-like sense of happiness and comfort in smoking our pipes before the

familiar iron stove.

The trip to Kautokeino embraced about all I saw of Lapp life during the

winter journey. The romance of the tribe, as I have already said, has

totally departed with their conversion, while their habits of life

scarcely improved in the least, are sufficiently repulsive to prevent

any closer experience than I have had, unless the gain were greater. Mr.

Wolley, who had been three years in Lapland, also informed me that the

superstitious and picturesque traditions of the people have almost

wholly disappeared, and the coarse mysticism and rant which they have

engrafted upon their imperfect Christianity does not differ materially

from the same excrescence in more civilised races. They have not even

(the better for them, it is true) any characteristic and picturesque

vices--but have become, certainly to their own great advantage, a pious,

fanatical, moral, ignorant and commonplace people. I have described them

exactly as I found them, and as they have been described to me by those

who knew them well. The readers of "Afraja" may be a little disappointed

with the picture, as I confess I have been (in an artistic sense, only)

with the reality; but the Lapps have lost many vices with their poetic

_diablerie_, and nobody has a right to complain.

It is a pity that many traits which are really characteristic and

interesting in a people cannot be mentioned on account of that morbid

prudery so prevalent in our day, which insults the unconscious innocence

of nature. Oh, that one could imitate the honest unreserve of the old

travellers--the conscientiousness which insisted on telling not only the

truth, but the whole truth! This is scarcely possible, now; but at the

same time I have not been willing to emasculate my accounts of the tribes

of men to the extent perhaps required by our ultra-conventionalism, and

must insist, now and then, on being allowed a little Flemish fidelity to

nature. In the description of races, as in the biography of individuals,

the most important half of life is generally omitted.

CHAPTER XIII.

ABOUT THE FINNS.

We remained but another day in Muoniovara, after our return from

Kautokeino, and this was devoted to preparations for the return journey

to Haparanda. My first intention had been to make an excursion across

the country to the iron mountains of Gellivara, thence to Quickjock, at

the foot of the Northern Alp, Sulitelma, "Queen of Snows," and so

southward through the heart of Swedish Lappmark; but I found that such a

journey would be attended with much difficulty and delay. In the first

place, there were no broken roads at this season, except on the routes

of inland trade; much of the intermediate country is a wilderness, where

one must camp many nights in the snow; food was very scarce, the Lapps

having hardly enough for their own necessities, and the delays at every

place where guides and reindeer must be changed, would have prolonged

the journey far beyond the time which I had allotted to the North. I

began to doubt, also, whether one would be sufficiently repaid for the

great fatigue and danger which such a trip would have involved. There is

no sensation of which one wearies sooner than disgust; and, much as I

enjoy a degree of barbarism in milder climates, I suspected that a long

companionship with Lapps in a polar winter would be a little too much

for me. So I turned my face toward Stockholm, heartily glad that I had

made the journey, yet not dissatisfied that I was looking forward to its

termination.

Before setting out on our return, I shall devote a few pages to the

Finns. For the principal facts concerning them, I am mostly indebted to

Mr. Wolley, whose acquaintance with the language, and residence of three

years in Lapland, have made him perfectly familiar with the race. As I

have already remarked, they are a more picturesque people than the

Swedes, with stronger lights and shades of character, more ardent

temperaments, and a more deeply-rooted national feeling. They seem to be

rather clannish and exclusive, in fact, disliking both Swedes and

Russians, and rarely intermarrying with them. The sharply-defined

boundaries of language and race, at the head of the Bothnian Gulf, are a

striking evidence of this. Like their distant relatives, the Hungarian

Magyars, they retain many distinct traces of their remote Asiatic

origin. It is partly owing to this fact, and partly to that curious

approach of extremes which we observe in nature no less than in

humanity, that all suggestive traits of resemblance in these regions

point to the Orient rather than to Europe.

I have already described the physical characteristics of the Finns, and

have nothing to add, except that I found the same type everywhere, even

among the mixed-blooded Quäns of Kautokeino--high cheek-bones, square,

strong jaws, full yet firm lips, low, broad foreheads, dark eyes and

hair, and a deeper, warmer red on the cheeks than on those of the rosy

Swedes. The average height is, perhaps, not quite equal to that of the

latter race, but in physical vigor I can see no inferiority, and there

are among them many men of splendid stature, strength, and proportion.

Von Buch ascribes the marked difference of stature between the Finns and

the Lapps, both living under precisely the same influences of climate,

to the more cleanly habits of the former and their constant use of the

vapor-bath; but I have always found that blood and descent, even where

the variation from the primitive stock is but slight, are more potent

than climate or custom. The Finns have been so long christianised and

civilised (according to the European idea of civilisation), that

whatever peculiar characteristic they retain must be looked for mainly

in those habits which illustrate their mental and moral natures. In

their domestic life, they correspond in most particulars to the Swedes

of the same class.

They are passionate, and therefore prone to excesses--imaginative, and

therefore, owing to their scanty education, superstitious. Thus the

religious element, especially the fantastic aberrations thereof

engendered by Lestadius and other missionaries, while it has tended

greatly to repress the vice, has in the same proportion increased the

weakness. Drunkenness, formerly so prevalent as to be the curse of

Lapland, is now exceedingly rare, and so are the crimes for which it is

responsible. The most flagrant case which has occurred in the

neighborhood of Muoniovara for some years past, was that of a woman who

attempted to poison her father-in-law by mixing the scrapings of lucifer

matches with his coffee, in order to get rid of the burden of supporting

him. Although the evidence was very convincing, the matter was hushed

up, in order to avoid a scandal upon the Church, the woman being a

steadfast member. In regard to drunkenness, I have heard it stated that,

while it was formerly no unusual thing for a Finn to be frozen to death

in this condition, the same catastrophe never befell a Lapp, owing to

his mechanical habit of keeping his arms and feet in motion--a habit

which he preserves even while utterly stupefied and unconscious.

A singular spiritual epidemic ran through Polar Finland three or four

years ago, contemporary with the religious excitement in Norwegian

Lapland, and partly occasioned by the same reckless men. It consisted of

sobbings, strong nervous convulsions, and occasional attacks of that

state of semi-consciousness called trance, the subjects of which were

looked upon as having been possessed by the Spirit, and transported to

the other world, where visions like those of John on Patmos, were

revealed to them. The missionaries, instead of repressing this unhealthy

delusion, rather encouraged it, and even went so far as to publish as

supernatural revelations, the senseless ravings of these poor deluded

people. The epidemic spread until there was scarcely a family some

member of which was not affected by it, and even yet it has not wholly

subsided. The fit would come upon the infected persons at any time, no

matter where they were, or how employed. It usually commenced with a

convulsive catching of the breath, which increased in violence,

accompanied by sobbing, and sometimes by cries or groans, until the

victim was either exhausted or fell into a trance, which lasted some

hours. The persons who were affected were always treated with the

greatest respect during the attack no one ventured to smile, no matter

how absurd a form the visitation might take. The principle of abstinence

from strong drinks was promulgated about the same time, and much of the

temperance of the Finns and Lapps is undoubtedly owing the impression

made upon their natures by these phenomena.

The same epidemic has often prevailed in the United States, England and

Germany. The barking and dancing mania which visited Kentucky thirty or

forty years ago, and the performances of the "Holy Rollers," were even

more ludicrous and unnatural. Such appearances are a puzzle alike to the

physiologist and the philosopher; their frequency shows that they are

based on some weak spot in human nature; and in proportion as we pity

the victims we have a right to condemn those who sow the seeds of the

pestilence. True religion is never spasmodic; it is calm as the

existence of God. I know of nothing more shocking than such attempts to

substitute rockets and blue lights for Heaven's eternal sunshine.