hich I was reduced, and, coming up to me, said in broken English,

"What you want, Sir? can I do you help?"

"Thank you," I replied; "I want some dinner; but I cannot make this girl
understand me."

"I not English," answered the man, "and I not speak te Swedish. I am
Russian. I alway make sign for tings I wish."

"And so do I," I said; "but in this case I am quite at a loss what to
do."

"You want dinner, Sir? When I want dinner," replied the Russian, "I
alway say, 'food,' vitch is, 'foeda,' and put my finger down my mout; and
if tey not know what I mean by 'foeda,' I say, 'koett,' vitch is meat."

"That's a capital plan; but, you see, I could not adopt it, for I never
heard of 'Foeda' and 'Koett' before."

"Ha! Sir," exclaimed the Russian, "I alway find out te word for 'eat' in
every country. I travel much. I starve if I not know. What shall I help
for you?"

"Why--I will have some dinner," I said; "anything I can get--I don't
care what it may be."

"Good," answered the Russian; and, turning to the girl, who had remained
listening to our dialogue, but totally at a loss to imagine its drift,

"Koett! koett!" he exclaimed.

"Visserligen," said the girl, and walked away with her tall coffee-pot
and tray; but, stopping when she had reached the door, she looked back
as if some other idea, which she had altogether forgotten, suddenly
presented itself to her mind, and she asked,

"Farkoett?"

The little Russian understood her directly, and told me she desired to
know if I would have some 'farkoett,' mutton. I undertook the task of
answering for myself, and exclaimed aloud, with striking brevity,

"Ja."

My pretty Hebe laughed outright, and left the apartment to seek the
mutton.

In ten minutes she reappeared smiling; and brought me not only what I
asked for, but three or four potatoes in the bargain. I pointed to them.
Nodding her head, as if she understood I meant to say "How kind of you
to bring those too," she said,

"Goot."

"Ja; manga goot," I answered in a dialect of my own. She hurried away
laughing heartily; but did not forget to glance at me over her shoulder
as she passed out of the room.

Crossing, on my way home, a bridge which is thrown over one of the many
canals that intersect Gottenborg in all quarters, I stumbled against an
old watchman. In one hand he held the formidable "Morning Star," or
truncheon, and in the other hand an implement of chastisement, of which
I could make out no de