ch horribly dismal scenery I have rarely beheld. We warmed
ourselves as well as we could, and started anew, having for postilions
two rosy boys, who sang the whole way and played all sorts of mad antics
with each other to keep from freezing. At the next station we drank
large quantities of hot milk, flavored with butter, sugar and cinnamon,
and then pushed on, with another chubby hop-o'-my-thumb as guide and
driver. The storm grew worse and worse: the wind blew fiercely over the
low hills, loaded with particles of snow, as fine as the point of a
needle and as hard as crystal, which struck full on our eyeballs and
stung them so that we could scarcely see. I had great difficulty in
keeping my face from freezing, and my companion found his cheek touched.

By the time we reached Abyn, it blew a hurricane, and we were compelled
to stop. It was already dusk, and our cosy little room was doubly
pleasant by contrast with the wild weather outside. Our cheerful
landlady, with her fresh complexion and splendid teeth, was very kind
and attentive, and I got on very well in conversation, notwithstanding
her broad dialect. She was much astonished at my asking for a bucket of
cold water, for bathing. "Why," said she, "I always thought that if a
person put his feet into cold water, in winter, he would die
immediately." However, she supplied it, and was a little surprised to
find me none the worse in the morning. I passed a terrible night from
the pain in my face, and was little comforted, on rising, by the
assurance that much snow had fallen. The mercury had risen to zero, and
the wind still blew, although not so furiously as on the previous day.
We therefore determined to set out, and try to reach Pitea. The
landlady's son, a tall young Viking, with yellow locks hanging on his
shoulders, acted as postilion, and took the lead. We started at nine,
and found it heavy enough at first. It was barely light enough to see
our way, and we floundered slowly along through deep drifts for a mile,
when we met the snow-plows, after which our road became easier. These
plows are wooden frames, shaped somewhat like the bow of a ship--in
fact, I have seen very fair clipper models among them--about fifteen
feet long by ten feet wide at the base, and so light that, if the snow
is not too deep, one horse can manage them. The farmers along the road
are obliged to turn out at six o'clock in the morning whenever the snow
falls or drifts, and open a passage for