es, which make
the view more interesting.

The lake is 306 feet above the level of the North Sea, and is the highest
point of the journey; from thence the locks begin to descend. The number
of ascending and descending locks amounts to seventy-two.

A short canal leads into the Boltensee, which is comparatively free from
islands. The passage across this little lake is very charming; the
shores are diversified by hills, woods, meadows, and fields. After it
comes the Weltersee, which can be easily defended by the beautiful
fortress of Karlsborg. This lake has two peculiarities: one being the
extraordinary purity and transparency of its waters; the other, the
number of storms which prevail in it. I was told that it frequently
raged and stormed on the lake while the surrounding country remained calm
and free. The storm sometimes overtakes the ship so suddenly and
violently, that escape is impossible; and the sagas and fables told of
the deceitful tricks of these waves are innumerable.

We fortunately escaped, and crossed its surface cheerfully and merrily.
On its shores are situated the beautiful ladies' pensionary, Wadstena,
and the celebrated mountain Omberg, at whose foot a battle was fought.

The next canal is short, and leads through a lovely wood into the little
lake of Norbysee. It is customary to walk this distance, and inspect the
simple monument of Count Platen, who made the plans for the locks and
canals,--a lasting, colossal undertaking. The monument is surrounded by
an iron railing, and consists of a slab bearing an inscription, simply
stating in Swedish his name, the date of his death, &c. Nearly opposite
the monument, on the other side of the canal, is the town of Motala,
distinguished principally for its large iron factories, in which the
spacious work-rooms are especially remarkable.

Fifteen locks lead from the Norbysee into the Roxersee, which is a
descent of 116 feet. The canal winds gracefully through woods and
meadows, crossed by pretty roads, and studded with elegant little houses
and larger edifices. Distant church-steeples point out the village of
Norby, which sometimes peeps forth behind little forests, and then
vanishes again from the view of the traveller. When the sun shines on
the waters of this canal, it has a beautiful, transparent, pea-green
colour, like the purest chrysolite.

The view from the hill which rises immediately before the lake of Roxen
is exceedingly fine. It l