t us, taking a shorter
footpath through the woods. We guessed at our proper direction,
sometimes taking the wrong road, but finally, after two hours or more,
emerged from the woods into Westerdal, one of the two great valleys from
which Dalecarlia (_Dalarne_, or The Dales) takes its name. The day was
magnificent, clear, and with a cold north-east wind, resembling the
latter part of October at home. The broad, level valley, with its fields
and clustered villages, lay before us in the pale, cold autumnal
sunshine, with low blue hills bounding it in the distance. We met many
parties in carts, either returning from church, or on their way to visit
neighbours. All were in brilliant Sunday costume, the men in blue
jackets and knee-breeches, with vests of red or some other brilliant
colour, and the women with gay embroidered boddices, white sleeves, and
striped petticoats of blue, red, brown, and purple, and scarlet
stockings. Some of them wore, in addition, an outer jacket of snowy
sheepskin, with elaborate ornamental stitch-work on the back. Their
faces were as frank and cheerful as their dresses were tidy, and they
all greeted us with that spontaneous goodness of heart which recognises
a brother in every man. We had again taken a wrong road, and a merry
party carefully set us right again, one old lady even proposing to leave
her friends and accompany us, for fear we should go astray again.

We crossed the Westerdal by a floating bridge, and towards sunset
reached the inn of Ragsveden, our destination. It was a farmer's _gard_,
standing a little distance off the road. An entrance through one of the
buildings, closed with double doors, admitted us into the courtyard, a
hollow square, surrounded with two story wooden dwellings, painted dark
red. There seemed to be no one at home, but after knocking and calling
for a time an old man made his appearance. He was in his second
childhood, but knew enough to usher us into the kitchen and ask us to
wait for the landlord's arrival. After half an hour our postillion
arrived with four or five men in their gayest and trimmest costume, the
landlord among them. They immediately asked who and what we were, and we
were then obliged to give them an account of all our travels. Their
questions were shrewd and intelligent, and their manner of asking,
coupled as it was with their native courtesy, showed an earnest desire
for information, which we were most willing to gratify. By and by the
hostes