CHAPTER XVII.GOTHEBORG.

“A cautious guest,When he comes to his hostel,Speaketh but little;With his ears he listeneth,With his eyes he looketh,—Thus the wise learneth.“No better burthenBears a man on his journeyThan observation:—No worse provisionBears a man on his journeyThan frequent drunkenness.”High Song of Odin the Old.

“A cautious guest,When he comes to his hostel,Speaketh but little;With his ears he listeneth,With his eyes he looketh,—Thus the wise learneth.

“A cautious guest,

When he comes to his hostel,

Speaketh but little;

With his ears he listeneth,

With his eyes he looketh,—

Thus the wise learneth.

“No better burthenBears a man on his journeyThan observation:—No worse provisionBears a man on his journeyThan frequent drunkenness.”

“No better burthen

Bears a man on his journey

Than observation:—

No worse provision

Bears a man on his journey

Than frequent drunkenness.”

High Song of Odin the Old.

Early rising is not pleasant at sea. Captain Basil Hall may talk of the joyous morning watch if he likes,—but there is nothing joyous in washing decks, and that is what most ships are occupied with at that hour. The Parson did not make his appearance on deck till after breakfast, and he was the first of the party.

The steamer was now approaching the end of her voyage, for the land, closing on both sides, showed the estuary of the Gotha. Most of the party were not sorry for the conclusion of the voyage, enjoyable as the earlier part of it had been; for the steamer,—after coasting all the way to Christiania, where the party had supplied themselves with carioles for their land journey, which, with their wheels unshipped, were stowed away snugly forward,—had taken her course, southward, over the tumbling Skagarack—a part of the world notorious for sea-sickness.

All the morning long, preparations had been going forward for making a creditable appearance on arriving in port, andthe discomforts of the early-risers had been considerably increased by a very liberal use of the holy-stone,—an amusement which, as the men were still employed in blacking the rigging, gave promise of an early repetition.

Slung from a block at the mainmast head was a small triangular stage, made of three battens, on which sat a very dirty individual with a pot of slush before him and a tarring-brush in his hand, with which he was polishing off his morning’s work on the shining mast.

Seated on the bitts below was a sturdy Norwegian, who, as if disdaining the compromise usually adopted by the coasting inhabitants, appeared in the caricature of a full-dressed Tellemarker, with a strip of jacket like a child’s spencer, of orange tawny wadmaal, great loose blue trousers with a waistband over his shoulder blades, crimson braces, and two strings of silver bullets dependent from the collars of a very dirty shirt. He was caressing a particularly ugly dog, which he called Garm,—an appellation which proved him to be what in England would be called a fast man; it is much as if an English young gentleman were to call his dog Satan. He was haranguing, of course, on the vast superiority of Norway to Sweden, and the infinite degradation which the former country had received from the union of the crowns,—that being not only the most favourite topic of Norwegian declamation, but, in the present instance, at all events, the most injudicious and unsuitable subject in which to exhibit before so mixed an audience.

They behaved, however, exceedingly well, and rather trotted him out, much to the disgust of Torkel, who had sense enough to perceive what was going on, and would have infinitely preferred their beating him: after vainly endeavouring to draw his countrymen away, he had walked forward, and was looking moodily over the bows.

“As for the Swedes,” said our judicious friend, “they are nothing better than swindlers. I have, for my sins, to go to Gotheborg every year, to lay in stores for the winter, and I am sure to be cheated. We don’t let Jews land on our shores, and I must go to Gotheborg to find them.”

“Well, but we have no Jews either.” said a bye-stander; “they do not come to us, they go to the Free Towns.”

“You are all Jews; the real Jews don’t go to you, that is very true, but it is because they know that the Gotheborgers are hogs, and their law does not allow them to have anything to do with unclean animals. Yes, you are all swine together. Why, I tell you a Norwegian dog would not touch anything Swedish. Come here, Garm!”—and he pulled out of his pocket a bit of ham, evidently filched from the breakfast table.

Here the Parson thought he detected a glance of intelligence between Captain Hjelmar and the man at the mast-head, who, much amused, had left off his work to listen.

“Come here, Garm!”—placing the tempting morsel on the deck.

The dog wagged his tail, evidently preparing to seize it.

“Svenske!” said the man. The dog, who had been well trained in this common trick, turned up his nose with apparent disgust, and refused the meat.

“There!” said he, “I defy any Swede among you all to make a true Norwegian dog eat a bit of it. Garm knows what you all are, don’t you, Garm?”

Just then, by the merest accident in the world, the slush-kettle got unhitched from the stage above his head, and came tumbling over on the deck, and in its descent, taking the unfortunate Norwegian on the nape of his neck as he was leaning forward to caress his dog, pitched the whole of its contents between his jacket collar and his back.

Captain Hjelmar rated the man severely for his carelessness in spoiling his decks, and, ordering him off the stage, directed the boatswain to put his name into the black list. The man, however, did not seem much cast down about it, but slid down the greasy mast with a broad grin on his countenance, while the Norwegians carried their discomfited companion forward to purify him; and Garm, profiting by the confusion, proved a traitor to his country, by not only swallowing down the Swedish ham, but also by licking up as much as he could of the Swedish slush that had pouredfrom the head and shoulders of his master on the Swedish deck.

The coast of Sweden and the banks of the Gotha below the town, offer a striking contrast to the lovely scenery they had left. There are the rocks and the fringing islets, as in Norway, but here they are all flat, and most of them absolutely bare. The coasts, too, where they could be seen, exhibited ledges of rock and wastes of sand, with just enough cultivation to make the desolateness painful, by connecting it with the idea of people living there. Eider ducks would dive before them, and wild-fowl in little knots would cross their course, and hoopers would go trumpeting over their heads, with their white wings reflecting the sun like silver, and dippers of all sorts would play at hide-and-seek with the waves, and seals would put up their bullet-heads to gaze at them as they passed. The water is always beautiful when the sun shines directly upon it; but the eye must not range so far as the shore, for no sunshine could gild that.

There was a good deal of life, and traffic too, upon the waters, for Gotheborg, the nearest port to the Free Towns and to all foreign trade whatever, as well as the outlet of the river navigation, may be considered the Liverpool of Sweden.

As they proceeded the scenery slightly improved: the right bank began to be dotted with houses and small villages, wretched enough compared with the picturesque places on the other end of the Skaggerack, but at all events showing signs of life. At length they became continuous, and at a couple of miles distance, the three churches of Gotheborg, with the close cluster of houses, came into view. The anchor was dropped opposite to the fishing suburb of Gammle Hafvet, and a shore-going steamer came alongside to receive the passengers; which steamer, much to the fishermen’s delight, contained their old friend Moodie, who, on hearing that the Norway packet had been signalized, had gone to meet her on the chance of seeing them.

Moodie was a singular character,—a cadet of good family, and brought up to no profession; he had been from his childhood passionately fond of field sports, in all of which heexcelled. At an early age he had become his own master, with a good education, some usage of the world, a handsome person, a peculiarly active frame and sound constitution, and two hundred a year,pour tout potage. Rightly judging that England afforded no fitting scope for his peculiar talents, without the imminent danger of a committal for poaching, he had expatriated himself to Ireland; which country, he had, in a sporting point of view, thoroughly studied, and made himself completely master of its resources; he knew when every river in the whole island came into season and went out, and the best and cheapest way of transferring self and encumbrances from one point to another. He knew the times at which the woodcocks and the snipes would arrive, and the out-of-the-way places at which they may be safely shot; he could give a catalogueraisonnéeof all the wayside public-houses in sporting localities, and was hand-in-glove with half the disreputable squireens of Ireland. Certainly, he bagged more grouse annually than many a man who pays a rent of five or six hundred a year for the privilege of supplying the London markets.

It was on the Erne that the fishermen had met him, and Moodie being an extremely well-informed and gentleman-like man, besides being a thorough sportsman, they had struck up with him what might be called an intimate acquaintance, which, now that they met as Englishmen on a foreign land, might be considered an intimate friendship.

It was the railroads, and the consequent invasion of the cockneys, which had expatriated Moodie from his adopted country; people began to preserve, too, and to let their fishing and shooting-grounds; even the Erne was not what it had been, and Moodie, whose whole belongings, besides his live stock in the shape of dogs, were contained in two portmanteaus and as many gun-cases, packed them, and one morning found himself standing on the quay of Gotheborg.

If, instead of the coast of Sweden, it had been the coast of the Cannibal Islands, Moodie would soon have found himself at home; but here he had letters of introduction, and Karl Johann, who had a high opinion of the English, wasvery anxious to get an infusion of English blood among his Swedes. Moodie’s peculiar talents, too, which in England might have consigned him to the county jail, in Sweden found their legitimate outlet; he soon found a beautiful little country house on the banks of the Gotha; had no difficulty in renting the exclusive right of fishing for some miles above and below it; paid the rent and all expenses of boats and boatmen, and put a handsome sum into his pocket besides, by supplying Gotheborg with lake salmon (salmo ferox). He then got the rangership of a royal forest, by which he kept his numerous hangers-on in what he called butcher’s meat, and traded with the Zoological Gardens and private collections in the wild beasts and birds of the country, by means of which traffic, he had furnished himself with the choicest collection of sporting fire-arms and fishing tackle to be found in the north. Besides which, Moodie had become a public character. Sweden has its wild beasts as well as its ordinary game,—he who destroys a wolf or a bear is a public benefactor, and Moodie had a peculiar talent for tracking them. Every farmer within a hundred miles of Gäddebäck would pull off his hat to him; but that is not saying much, for a Swede is always pulling off his hat, and if he had nothing else to pull it off to he would be making his salaams to the cows and sheep.

It was not a great deal of Gotheborg the fishermen saw that evening; their experience of the country was confined to a march by the shortest road from the landing place to Todd’s Hotel, and their subsequent view to a sort of Dutch interior, of which pipes, tobacco, bottles, glasses, juniper beer of native manufacture, and thin vinous importations from Bordeaux, made up the accessories; but the fishermen had much to inquire after, and Moodie had much to tell.

Breakfast, always a luxurious meal in the north, at least, in summer time, on account of the quantities of berries and the abundant supply of cream, brought a visitor,—a young artillery officer, a friend of Birger, by name Dahlgren, and by rank Count, who had his quarters in the inn,—for the Swedish officers have no mess like ours, but lodge permanently in the hotels, paying a fixed sum per week, anddining at thetable d’hôte. Like Birger, he was a painter, but whereas the guardsman exercised his art simply as an amateur, or at most, in the public service of his country, his friend, Count as he was, exercised his as a profession, and as a means of eking out his scanty pay.

There would be a grand review that afternoon, he said, and it would be well worth seeing, for Gotheborg is the great artillery station of Sweden, and the Commander-in-Chief, with his staff, who were on a tour of inspection, had arrived by the canal steamer from the new fortress of Wanås, on the Wetter.

This piece of information, which the artilleryman detailed with great glee, was received by Birger with a wry countenance, as certain to detain him within doors as long as the General remained at Gotheborg,—for it will be remembered he was at that very time unable to join his regiment on account ofpressing family affairs.

This did not affect the others, so, leaving their friend to amuse himself as best he might, by improving his sketches or watching the magpies from the window, they started, under the pilotage of their new ally, for a tour of observation.

Whatever else Gotheborg is famous for, certainly the most remarkable thing in it is its flocks of magpies,—birds which, in our country, are extremely wild, and by no means fond of town life. Gregarious, in the proper sense of the term, they are not, but they are as numerous as sparrows in London, very nearly as tame, and much more impudent. This by no means arises from any affection which the inhabitants have for the bird—for magpies are ugly and mischievous all the world over, and quite as mischievous in Gotheborg as anywhere else,—but from a popular superstition they are under the especial protection of the devil—and truly the devil cares for his own: they build their nests and bring up their young under the very noses of the schoolboys; they feed them with stolen goods, filched from every kitchen,—and often and often, among the delicacies of the season, they regale them with spring chicken of their own killing. But no one molests a magpie; Heaven only knows what would bethe consequences of killing one; and, though Government has set a price on their heads, they sleep in safety, under the protection of their great master.

The town ought to be handsome, but it is not; the description would look well on paper. A great broad canal through the centre, with quays all the way on both sides, as at Dublin, only twice as broad, forming a very wide street; and from this five or six similar canals, similarly furnished with quays and streets, branch off at right angles. The banks of all these canals are planted with trees, and arranged as shaded footways. All this sounds as if the place ought to be pretty, but, though every word of this is true, the reality falls far short of the ideas it conveys. The houses are mean and low, and, the windows being flush with the sides, the whole appearance is pasteboard-like and unsubstantial, which the reality is not. The Swedes build their wooden houses in very good taste, and they harmonise very well with the scenery, but they should stick to that—ne sutor ultra crepidam: let not the carpenter aspire to be a mason. Every house, large or small, in town or in country, has very large panes of glass,—the very cabins have them; the glass is as bad as bad can be, full of flaws and waves, and very thin besides; even this produces a bad effect; besides, it is impossible to admire the finest of towns, when walking over streets so roughly paved that eyes and thoughts must be continually directed towards the footing.

There is a capital market, and the canals bring the hay, and the fuel, and all other heavy articles from the interior, to the very doors of the houses. It was singular to see floating haystacks and faggot piles—for so they looked, the hulls of the boats being completely hidden by their freight,—towed up in strings by the little steam-tugs, and moored to the quays. If Gotheborg is not a prosperous town, Sweden will not support one at all, for it is impossible for any situation to be more favourable for trade. The river itself forms a secure harbour, its only fault being that vessels of heavy draught cannot anchor within a mile of the town. The interior water communications comprehend all the midland provinces, and the landing and shipping of goods is aseasy as art can make it; besides, it is the outermost port of the whole country.

The markets, certainly, are well supplied, especially that of fish, both salt and fresh-water. Beef and mutton are among its articles of export to the southern coasts of Norway, and there is not a bad display of vegetables for so northern a country. The quantities of spinach which are seen everywhere, and which mingle with every dish, rather surprise the traveller, till he finds out that the sandhills which he has seen on each side of him all the way up the river, are covered with it, growing wild—wild as it is, English garden spinach is not at all better flavoured. Singularly enough, melons are plentiful; one would almost as soon expect to meet with pines in these latitudes,—but the short summer of Sweden is peculiarly favourable for them.

The trade of the place does not look very lively, and the bustle in the streets is nothing at all like that of Bristol or Liverpool. What little stir there was just then, seemed to be rather military than mercantile. Dirty, slovenly-looking artillerymen, with ugly blue and yellow uniforms, putting one disagreeably in mind of theEdinburgh Review; overalls patched extensively with leather that terribly wanted the blacking-brush; and dingy steel scabbards, that did not know what emery-stone was, were clanking about the streets, followed by little crowds; and groups of officers were standing at the doors of the hotels and lodging-houses. Evidently a review was not an everyday business.

The Parson and Captain were soon deserted by their military cicerone, who left them, to prepare for his part in the military display, having directed them into the street that leads to the scene of action. This was a large meadow, or small park, to the east of the town, rather a pretty promenade, enclosed with trees, which was now crowded with people. Towns, especially trading towns, are not remarkable for costume. The people, seeing such a variety of foreigners, get to be citizens of the world themselves, and so lose their nationalities. But there were a few fancy dresses, too, from the country round; short round corduroy jackets, sometimes a sort of tartan, too, but which invariably had rows of buttonssewed as thick together as they could stand. Among the women, a handkerchief was frequently tied round the head instead of a bonnet; but every one, almost, carried his or her bunch of flowers, an article which abounded in the markets; these were very often carried in the hats, or stuck through the knots of the kerchiefs.

And now the bugles of the artillery were heard, and the rumbling of wheels, and the trampling of horses, as battery after battery rolled into the park. The Swedes call them horse artillery, but they are, in reality, only field batteries; for of horse artillery, properly so called, that most beautiful of military toys, they have none. Their guns, twelve pounders, are drawn by six horses, each of which carries a man. In bringing the guns into action, the off-man of each pair dismounted, and these were joined by three others, whose seat was on the limbers. These are hardly men enough to work so heavy a gun, allowing for the casualties of action, but on emergencies the driver of the middle pair also lends his services.

There was nothing showy in the review, the manœuvres of which were confined to advancing and retreating in line, and forming column, and deploying into line again; but all at a foot’s pace, or at a very slow trot. They had no idea of changing front, or retreating in echéllon, or any of those showy manœuvres in which the prolong is used. In fact, so far as display went, it was a very slow affair indeed; the men, however, seemed to know their work pretty well, and though individually dirty and slovenly and without the well set up carriage of our own soldiers, they bore, as a body, rather a soldier-like appearance. They ride very forward, absolutely on the horse’s withers—this is said to give the horse greater facility of draught; and it may, but at all events, it gives a most awkward and unsoldier-like appearance to the men, which is in no way improved by the manner in which they carry their swords—the elbows sticking out at right angles to the body, and their knuckles thrust into their sides, as if they had a pain in their ribs.

The guns seemed to be very much under-horsed, but perhaps this is more apparent than real; for the Swedishhorses, though small, are strong and wiry, and their enclosed country is not only not calculated for horse artillery manœuvres, but does not admit of them. The chances are, that a whole campaign might be fought in Sweden without the artillery being required to move faster than at a foot-pace. So far as numbers went, they mustered at least three times as many guns as can be got together at Woolwich for love or money at the best of times.

The army of Sweden is very curiously constituted, and it is not easy to reckon up its effective strength. The regular army does not consist of above 10,000 men; the guards—than which no finer body of men is to be seen in Europe,—the artillery, and three or four garrison regiments, who are stationed at Wanås, in the interior, and Carlscrona, and one or two other fortresses on the coast.

The militia, which is called Beväring, consists of every man in the country between the ages of twenty and twenty-five; these have regular days of exercise, generally Sunday evenings in the summer, which is with them by no means a popular arrangement, for those are the hours which the ingenuous youths of Sweden devote to dancing, an amusement of which they are passionately fond. This really is a much more effective force than it seems, for the Swedes are natural soldiers; besides which, it gives them all a habit of drill, which might be rendered serviceable in case of invasion; for, as every man in the country has been drilled in his youth, they are all capable of immediately taking their places in the ranks of the regular regiments. It would be a very great improvement if they were drilled to ball practice, like the Swiss and Tyrolese, for a Swede is terribly clumsy with fire-arms, and on a skal, is just as likely to shoot himself or his comrade, as a bear or a wolf.

But the strength of the Swedish army lies in its Indelta, a description of force peculiar to that country—unless the military colonies of Russia be considered a parallel case.

The crown possesses large estates, and these are leased out, like the knight’s fees in old times, on man service, and for that purpose are divided into hemmans, each hemman furnishing a man, who has a portion of it by way of pay—thehemman is not a measure of size, but of produce. Fertile hemmans are small, waste or barren hemmans are large; and thus it often happens, when a crown estate has been cleared and brought into cultivation, though quite as productive as some other estate, it furnishes a much smaller quota.

The holder of such a property, is then bound to serve himself, if capable, and to furnish a certain number of efficient soldiers, horse or foot, according to the size of his estate. The whole country is divided into military provinces, under colonels; these are subdivided into districts, under captains, with their proper complement of subaltern and non-commissioned officers, who are paid by the tenure of certain reserved farms, which they hold in virtue of their commissions.

Whenever the Indelta is called out—and a third of them assemble in camp every summer,—the crown tenants of the estates that furnished it are bound, at their own expense, to cultivate the farms which the soldiers hold, and to return to them their lands, when they are dismissed from active service, in the same condition in which they took charge of them, accounting for any sale of produce which they may have made.

The service of the Indelta is very popular, and for every vacancy there are at least half a dozen candidates. No application is ever received without written testimonials from the clergyman of the applicant’s parish, and no man is ever admitted who has been convicted of any crime. Many of these crown holdings have been purchased and re-purchased, and transferred from hand to hand so often, that they are regarded as a sort of private property, and their tenants very often complain of being burthened to a greater extent than their countrymen. This, however, is as unreasonable as that a tenant should complain that in paying rent he is not on an equality with the proprietor in fee. The sale of crown lands is merely the transference of a beneficial lease.

So far as the morals of the people are concerned, the patronage of the Indelta, and the reward it holds to good conduct, act very beneficially; as to the efficacy of the force, the wars of Gustavus Adolphus and of Charles XII., mayform a pretty fair criterion. The strength of this contingent to the Swedish army, may be reckoned at 20,000 infantry, and 5,000 cavalry, and has the advantage of being always available.

“You may come out of your hole now, Birger,” said his friend, the artilleryman, who, arriving hot and dusty from the barracks, was lounging down the streets, with his jacket open and his stiff military stock in his hand, a free and easy style of dress, in which an English officer would think it just impossible to put his nose beyond the barrack gates. “The General and all his staff are gone in a body to Arfwedsen’s Villa, so you are safe for to-day.”

“And for to-morrow, too,” said Birger, “for the steamer starts for Stockholm to-morrow morning early; while you were amusing yourselves, I have been doing business. As soon as I heard from the sound of your guns that the General was safe, I stepped down to the quay, went on board theDaniel Thunberg, and engaged two cabins—we will toss up who is to have the cabin to himself.”

“Why, where’s Moodie?”

“Moodie!” said Birger, taking out his watch, “why, by this time Moodie is at Agnesberg.”

“And where is Agnesberg?”

“The first stage to Trollhättan. He had transacted his business, and transferred his herd of deer to the Zoological men before we came, so he said he would start at once for Gäddebäck, and prepare to receive us. I rather think there is some bear hunting afoot, for the Stockholm post came in while you were at the review, and I am sure I recognised Bjornstjerna’s great splash of a seal, and his scratchy hand. At all events, off started Moodie.”

“Why! is it not necessary to lay a forebud.”

“Not on the main road; there is traffic enough between this and Wenersburg to keep holl-horses (retained horses) always at the stations. He will be at Gäddebäck, I will venture to say, before daybreak.”

“And when do we sail?”

“At ten to-morrow; we can see the falls and the canal before nightfall, and sleep at Trollhättan to-morrow night; and on the following morning Moodie is to send his boat for us. And now for dinner, I have ordered it at the Prinds Karl; Todd’s is a very good house to sleep at, and not bad for breakfast, but I want to shew you what Swedish cookery is, as far as you can get any worth eating in the provinces.”

p. 251.

“Ah! there spoke the guardsman.”

“Well, it is very true, as you will confess, if ever I get you to Stockholm; is it not, Count Dahlgren?” addressing the artillery officer. “You dine with us, of course; in with you, and wash off the stains of war, which are pretty visible at present. You have not more time than you know what to do with. If we do sail to-morrow, we will make a night of it to-night.”

“Like our first night at Mosse Eurd?”

“No, hang it, no; not so bad as that;—that was all very well for the men, but we do not make such beasts of ourselves in this country. I have told them, though, to put plenty of champagne in ice, and to provide the best claret they have got; we will be merry—and wise, if possible.”

“And if not possible?”

“Why, then, the merry without the wise.”

Whether mirth, or wisdom, or a judicious mixture of the two prevailed that evening at the Prinds Karl, need not be related; but the next morning saw the party on the clean white deck of the elegant little river steamerDaniel Thunberg, dashing along its broad, still stream, between rows of feathering rushes, sometimes so tall as to eclipse the still flat and uninteresting country beyond them. Ducks there were, in such numbers, that the fishermen half repented their engagement with Moodie; and Jacob, to whom every spot was familiar, kept up an incessant chorus of regrets, pointing out here a spot where he had made a fortune with the långref, having hauled up a three-pound eel on every hook,—there a corner where he had caught a pike so big he could not lift it into the boat, but was obliged to tow it astern all the way to Gotheborg,—and there a bay in the rushes in which he had bagged five swans, eight geese, and more ducks than he could count, at a single shot,—with as many morestories, equally veracious, as he could get people to listen to; and in fact, could be stopped by nothing short of that grand event in a Swedish day, dinner, which, announced by the steamer’s bell, was served with great magnificence in the saloon.

These little steamers form as luxurious a conveyance as can be imagined; they are galley-built, that is to say, the quarter deck is two or three feet higher than the waist; the after part is divided into ten or twelve little private cabins, each possessing its own port, and each furnished with its two sofas and its table; the fore part contains the saloon, or common cabin. They do not carry very powerful engines, but they burn wood, and are as clean and as free from disagreeable smells as if they were sailing vessels.

At the locks of Lilla Edet, where a reef comes across the river, forming a low but very picturesque fall, the fine scenery commences. The fall itself is singular. The water of the Gotha, fresh from the great lake of Wenern, which acts as an enormous cesspool, is as clear and bright as that of the Torjedahl, but with ten times its volume; it slips off the smooth ledge of rocks as if it were falling over a step; the ledge off which it slips is seen through it as distinctly as if it were enclosed in a glass case, for the water preserves its unbroken transparency till it reaches the bottom, and then spreads out into a broad border of foam, like a fan with swansdown fringe.

From this point, a very perceptible difference was remarkable in the run of the current, which retarded considerably the way of the steamer through the belt of highlands which separates the low tract bordering the sea-coast from the higher level of Wenersborglan; and it was not till past five, that the low rumbling, earth-shaking sound of the great falls began to tremble on the ear.

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