saw Sundsvall, which
lay beneath us, with its wintry roofs, like a city of ivory and crystal,
shining for us with the fairy promise of a warm supper and a good bed.

On the 9th, we drove along the shores of the magnificent bay of
Sundsvall. Six vessels lay frozen in, at a considerable distance from
the town. Near the southern extremity of the bay, we passed the village
of Svartvik, which, the postillion informed us, is all owned by one
person, who carries on ship-building. The appearance of the place
justified his statements. The labourers' houses were mostly new, all
built on precisely the same model, and with an unusual air of comfort
and neatness. In the centre of the village stood a handsome white
church, with a clock tower, and near it the parsonage and school-house.
At the foot of the slope were the yards, where several vessels were on
the stocks, and a number of sturdy workmen busy at their several tasks.
There was an air of "associated labour" and the "model lodging-house"
about the whole place, which was truly refreshing to behold, except a
touch of barren utilitarianism in the cutting away of the graceful firs
left from the forest, and thus depriving the houses of all shade and
ornament. We met many wood-teams, hauling knees and spars, and were
sorely troubled to get out of their way. Beyond the bay, the hills of
Norrland ceased, sinking into those broad monotonous undulations which
extend nearly all the way to Stockholm. Gardens with thriving
fruit-trees now began to be more frequent, giving evidence of a climate
where man has a right to live. I doubt whether it was ever meant that
the human race should settle in any zone so frigid that fruit cannot
ripen.

Thenceforth we had the roughest roads which were ever made upon a
foundation of snow. The increase in travel and in the temperature of the
air, and most of all, the short, loosely-attached sleds used to support
the ship-timber, had worn them into a succession of holes, channels, and
troughs, in and out of which we thumped from morning till night. On
going down hill, the violent shocks frequently threw our runners
completely into the air, and the wrench was so great that it was a
miracle how the sled escaped fracture. All the joints, it is true, began
to work apart, and the ash shafts bent in the most ticklish way; but the
rough little conveyance which had already done us such hard service held
out gallantly to the end. We reached Mo Myskie on the second