of brilliant blue sky between the parting clouds. Our
deliverance from the Arctic cold was complete.

CHAPTER XVI.

CONCLUSION OF THE ARCTIC TRIP.

On leaving Onska, we experienced considerable delay on account of the
storm. The roads were drifted to such an extent that even the ploughs
could not be passed through in many places, and the peasants were
obliged to work with their broad wooden spades. The sky, however, was
wholly clear and of a pure daylight blue, such as we had not seen for
two months. The sun rode high in the firmament, like a strong healthy
sun again, with some warmth in his beams as they struck our faces, and
the air was all mildness and balm. It was heavenly, after our Arctic
life. The country, too, boldly undulating, with fir-forested hills,
green and warm in the sunshine, and wild, picturesque valleys sunk
between, shining in their covering of snow, charmed us completely. Again
we saw the soft blue of the distant ranges as they melted away behind
each other, suggesting space, and light, and warmth. Give me daylight
and sunshine, after all! Our Arctic trip seems like a long, long night
full of splendid dreams, but yet night and not day.

On the road, we bought a quantity of the linen handkerchiefs of the
country, at prices varying from twenty-five to forty cents a piece,
according to the size and quality. The bedding, in all the inns, was of
home-made linen, and I do not recollect an instance where it was not
brought out, fresh and sweet from the press, for us. In this, as in all
other household arrangements, the people are very tidy and cleanly,
though a little deficient as regards their own persons. Their clothing,
however, is of a healthy substantial character, and the women consult
comfort rather than ornament. Many of them wear cloth pantaloons under
their petticoats, which, therefore, they are able to gather under their
arms in wading through snow-drifts. I did not see a low-necked dress or
a thin shoe north of Stockholm.

"The damsel who trips at daybreak
Is shod like a mountaineer."

Yet a sensible man would sooner take such a damsel to wife than any
delicate Cinderella of the ball-room. I protest I lose all patience when
I think of the habits of our American women, especially our country
girls. If ever the Saxon race does deteriorate on our side of the
Atlantic, as some ethnologists anticipate, it will be wholly their
fault.

We stopped for the night at Hornas, and