was a day to be remembered: such a glory of twilight
splendors for six full hours was beyond all the charms of daylight in
any zone. We started at seven, with a temperature of 20 deg. below zero,
still keeping up the left bank of the Tornea. The country now rose into
bold hills, and the features of the scenery became broad and majestic.
The northern sky was again pure violet, and a pale red tinge from the
dawn rested on the tops of the snowy hills. The prevailing color of the
sky slowly brightened into lilac, then into pink, then rose color, which
again gave way to a flood of splendid orange when the sun appeared.
Every change of color affected the tone of the landscape. The woods, so
wrapped in snow that not a single green needle was to be seen, took by
turns the hues of the sky, and seemed to give out, rather than to
reflect, the opalescent lustre of the morning. The sunshine brightened
instead of dispelling these effects. At noon the sun's disc was not more
than 1 deg. above the horizon, throwing a level golden light on the hills.
The north, before us, was as blue as the Mediterranean, and the vault of
heaven, overhead, canopied us with pink. Every object was glorified and
transfigured in the magic glow.

At the first station we got some hot milk, with raw salmon, shingle
bread and frozen butter. Our horses were good, and we drove merrily
along, up the frozen Tornea. The roads were filled with people going to
church, probably to celebrate some religious anniversary. Fresh ruddy
faces had they, firm features, strong frames and resolute carriage, but
the most of them were positively ugly, and, by contrast with the frank
Swedes, their expression was furtive and sinister. Near Packila we
passed a fine old church of red brick, with a very handsome belfry. At
Niemis we changed horses in ten minutes, and hastened on up the bed of
the Tornea to Matarengi, where we should reach the Arctic Circle. The
hills rose higher, with fine sweeping outlines, and the river was still
half a mile broad--a plain of solid snow, with the track marked out by
bushes. We kept a sharp look-out for the mountain of Avasaxa, one of
the stations of Celsius, Maupertius, and the French Academicians, who
came here in 1736, to make observations determining the exact form of
the earth. Through this mountain, it is said, the Arctic Circle passes,
though our maps were neither sufficiently minute nor correct to
determine the point. We took it for granted, how