f civilization is said to have hatched."

In these words, and with this somewhat far-fetched simile, does a German
tourist, Edward Boas by name, commence his narrative of a recent
pilgrimage to the far north. Undeterred by the disadvantageous accounts
given of those regions by a traveller who had shortly before visited
them, and unseduced by the allurements of more southerly climes, he
boldly sets forth to breast the mountains and brave the blasts of
Scandinavia, and to form his own judgment of the country and its
inhabitants. Almost, however, before putting foot on Scandinavian
ground, Mr Boas, who, as a traveller, is decidedly of the gossiping and
inquisitive class, fills three chapters with all manner of pleasant
chatter about himself, and his feelings, and his fancies, and the
travelling companions he meets with. His liveliness and versatility, and
a certain bantering satirical vein, in which he occasionally indulges,
would have caused us to take his work, had we met with it in an English
translation, for the production of a French rather than a German pen.

Leaving the railway at Angermunde, our traveller continues his journey
by the mail, in which he has two companions; a lady, "with an arm like
ivory," about whom he seems more than half inclined to build up a little
episodical romance, and a young man from the neighbouring town of
Pasewalk, "on whose thick lips," we are informed, "the genius of
stupidity seemed to have established its throne." This youth expressed
his great regret that the good old customs of Germany had become
obsolete, and expatiated on the necessity of striving to restore them.
"Those were fine times," he said, "when nobles made war on their own
account, burned down the villages, and drove the cattle of the peasants
on each other's territory. To themselves personally, however, they did
no harm; and if by chance Ritter Jobst fell into the hands of Ritter
Kurt, the latter would say, 'Ritter Jobst, you are my prisoner on
parole, and must pay me a ransom of five hundred thalers.' And thereupon
they passed their time right joyously together, drinking and hunting the
livelong day. But Ritter Jobst wrote to his seneschal that, by fair
means or foul, he must squeeze the five hundred thalers out of his
subjects, who were in duty bound to pay, to enable their gracious lord
to return home again. Those were the times," concluded the young
Pasewalker, "and of such times should I like to witness the return.