my obligations to Mr. Wolley, whose
thorough knowledge of the Lapps and Finns enabled me to test the truth
of my own impressions, and to mature opinions which I should otherwise,
from my own short experience, have hesitated in stating. Mr. Wolley,
with that pluck and persistence of English character which Emerson so
much admires, had made himself master of all that Lapland can furnish to
the traveller, but intended remaining another year for scientific
purposes. If he gives to the world--as I hope and trust he will--the
result of this long and patient inquiry and investigation, we shall have
at last a standard authority for this little-known corner of Europe. We
were also indebted to Mr. Wolley for much personal kindness, which I
take pleasure in acknowledging in the only way he cannot prevent.

CHAPTER XIV.

EXPERIENCES OF ARCTIC WEATHER.

We bade a final adieu to Muoniovara on the afternoon of the 24th of
January, leaving Mr. Wolley to wait for June and the birds in that
dismal seclusion. Instead of resuming _skjuts_, we engaged horses as far
as Kengis from Herr Forstrom and a neighbouring Finn, with a couple of
shock-headed natives as postillions. Our sleds were mounted upon two
rough Finnish sledges, the only advantage of which was to make harder
work for the horses--but the people would have it so. The sun was down,
but a long, long twilight succeeded, with some faint show of a zodiacal
light. There was a tolerable track on the river, but our Finns walked
their horses the whole way, and we were nearly seven hours in making
Parkajoki. The air was very sharp; my nose, feet and hands kept me
busily employed, and I began to fear that I was becoming unusually
sensitive to cold, for the thermometer indicated but 15 deg. below zero when
we started. At Parkajoki, however, my doubts were removed and my
sensations explained, on finding that the temperature had fallen to 44 deg.
below.

We slept warmly and well on our old bed of reindeer skins, in one
corner of the milk-room. When Braisted, who rose first, opened the door,
a thick white mist burst in and rolled heavily along the floor. I went
out, attired only in my shirt and drawers, to have a look at the
weather. I found the air very still and keen, though not painfully
cold--but I was still full of the warmth of sleep. The mercury, however,
had sunk into the very bulb of the thermometer, and was frozen so solid
that I held it in the full glare of the fire for