ked from a
wooded height over the open expanse of the Gulf,--a plain of
snow-covered ice, stretching eastward as far as the eye could reach.

The day gradually became still and cold, until the temperature reached
-22 deg. again, and we became comfortable in the same proportion. The
afternoon twilight, splendid with its hues of amber, rose and saffron,
died away so gradually, that it seemed scarcely to fade at all, lighting
our path for at least three hours after sunset. Our postilions were all
boys--ruddy, hardy young fellows of fourteen or fifteen, who drove well
and sang incessantly, in spite of the cold. They talked much with us,
but to little purpose, as I found it very difficult to understand the
humming dialect they spoke. Each, as he received his _drickpenningar_
(drink-money, or gratuity), at the end of the station, expressed his
thanks by shaking hands with us. This is a universal custom throughout
the north of Sweden: it is a part of the simple, natural habits of the
people; and though it seemed rather odd at first to be shaking hands
with everybody, from the landlord down to the cook and the ostler, we
soon came to take it as a matter of course. The frank, unaffected way in
which the hand was offered, oftener made the custom a pleasant one.

At Stocksjo we decided to push on to a station beyond Umea, called
Innertafle, and took our horses accordingly. The direct road, however,
was unused on account of the drifts, so we went around through Umea,
after all. We had nearly a Swedish mile, and it was just dark when we
descended to the Umea River, across whose solid surface we drove, and up
a steep bank into the town. We stopped a few moments in the little
public square, which was crowded with people, many of whom had already
commenced their Christmas sprees. The shops were lighted, and the little
town looked very gay and lively. Passing through, we kept down the left
bank of the river for a little distance, and then struck into the woods.
It was night by this time; all at once the boy stopped, mounted a
snow-bank, whirled around three or four times, and said something to me
which I could not understand. "What's the matter?" I asked; "is not this
the road to Innertafle?" "I don't know--I think not," he said. "Don't
you know the way, then?" I asked again. "No!" he yelled in reply,
whirled around several times more, and then drove on. Presently we
overtook a pedestrian, to whom he turned for advice, and who willingly