mirth by which I was moved,
"vil you have some schnapps? I dink schnapps is goot for de sea-sick."
"Thank you," said I, the tears streaming from my eyes, "I won't have
any just now." "Vel, 'twon't last long, any how," suggested the
good-natured monster. "By'm-by we be up to Vaxholm--in pout two hours.
Dere's land! Don't you see it?" I saw it, and right glad I was too,
for it is always refreshing to see land from the deck of a steamer. In
half an hour more we entered a smooth stretch of water, and soon the
wood-covered islands and shores of Sweden were close ahead.

Passing the fortress of Waxholm, we entered the magnificent fjord or
arm of the sea which extends for a distance of ten or twelve miles up
to the city. The scenery on this part of the route is very fine. All
along the shores of the main land and adjacent islands rugged cliffs
of granite reared their hoary crests over the waters of the fjord.
Forests of oak and pine cover the rolling background, and beautiful
villas, with parterres and blooming gardens, peep from every glen.
Sometimes for miles the solitude of the forests and rock-bound shores
is unbroken, save by an occasional fisherman's hut or an open patch
of green pasture; then suddenly, upon turning a point, a group of
red-roofed villas glimmer through the foliage; sail-boats are seen
gliding over the water with gay companies of ladies and gentlemen from
the city enjoying the fresh breeze that sweeps up from the Gulf; now a
hay-boat or a clumsy lugger laden with wood drifts along lazily toward
the grand centre of trade; and as we approach nearer to the dim
smoke-cloud that hangs over the city, big and little craft gather
thicker and thicker before us, till the whole fjord seems alive with
masts and sails. Soon the outlines of the churches and castles break
through the dim distance, and, like some grand optical illusion, the
whole city gradually opens up before us.

To say that I was charmed with the first view of Stockholm would but
faintly express the feelings with which I gazed upon this beautiful
metropolis of the North. Though different in almost every essential
particular, it has been not unaptly compared to Venice; and certainly,
if the sparkling waters from which it seems to rise, the wood-covered
islands, the rich and varied outlines of its churches and castles, the
forests of shipping at its wharves, the many-colored sail-boats and
gondolas sweeping hither and thither, the glowing atmosphere, a