n over the acts
of a visiting day, not overlooking the interludes.

Prelude a luncheon--then a succession of fish, flesh, and fowl for two
hours, during which time the dessert--I was sorry for the strawberries
and cream--rests on the table to be impregnated by the fumes of the
viands. Coffee immediately follows in the drawing-room, but does not
preclude punch, ale, tea and cakes, raw salmon, &c. A supper brings up
the rear, not forgetting the introductory luncheon, almost equalling in
removes the dinner. A day of this kind you would imagine sufficient; but
a to-morrow and a to-morrow--A never-ending, still-beginning feast may be
bearable, perhaps, when stern winter frowns, shaking with chilling aspect
his hoary locks; but during a summer, sweet as fleeting, let me, my kind
strangers, escape sometimes into your fir groves, wander on the margin of
your beautiful lakes, or climb your rocks, to view still others in
endless perspective, which, piled by more than giant's hand, scale the
heavens to intercept its rays, or to receive the parting tinge of
lingering day--day that, scarcely softened unto twilight, allows the
freshening breeze to wake, and the moon to burst forth in all her glory
to glide with solemn elegance through the azure expanse.

The cow's bell has ceased to tinkle the herd to rest; they have all paced
across the heath. Is not this the witching time of night? The waters
murmur, and fall with more than mortal music, and spirits of peace walk
abroad to calm the agitated breast. Eternity is in these moments.
Worldly cares melt into the airy stuff that dreams are made of, and
reveries, mild and enchanting as the first hopes of love or the
recollection of lost enjoyment, carry the hapless wight into futurity,
who in bustling life has vainly strove to throw off the grief which lies
heavy at the heart. Good night! A crescent hangs out in the vault
before, which woos me to stray abroad. It is not a silvery reflection of
the sun, but glows with all its golden splendour. Who fears the fallen
dew? It only makes the mown grass smell more fragrant. Adieu!

LETTER III.

The population of Sweden has been estimated from two millions and a half
to three millions; a small number for such an immense tract of country,
of which only so much is cultivated--and that in the simplest manner--as
is absolutely requisite to supply the necessaries of life; and near the
seashore, whence herrings are easily procured,