From Pole to Pole | Page 2

The Great Buddha at Kamakura 192
XXII. A Sedan-Chair in Seoul 199
XXIII. The Kremlin, Moscow 208
XXIV. Paris 216
XXV. Napoleon's Tomb 219
XXVI. The Colosseum, Rome 228
XXVII. Pompeii 233
XXVIII. The Great Pyramids at Ghizeh 238
XXIX. A Hippopotamus 254
XXX. The Fight on the Congo 294
XXXI. A Group of Beduins 300
XXXII. "Sky-Scrapers" in New York 323
XXXIII. Niagara Falls 331
XXXIV. Cañons on the Colorado River 339
XXXV. Cotopaxi 344
XXXVI. Indian Huts on the Amazons River 353

XXXVII. A Coral Strand 369
XXXVIII. Country near Lake Eyre 373
XXXIX. The "Fram" 393

LIST OF MAPS
PAGE
1. Map showing journey from Stockholm to Berlin 2
2. Map showing journey from Berlin to Constantinople 10
3. Plan of Constantinople 13
4. Map showing journey from Constantinople to Teheran, latter part of
journey to Baku, and journey from Baku across Persia to Baghdad and
back to Teheran 30
5. Map showing journey from Orenburg to the Pamir 56
6. Map showing journey from Teheran to Baluchistan 73
7. Map of Northern India, showing rivers and mountain ranges 82
8. Map of Eastern Turkestan 90
9. Tibet 112
10. Map of India, showing journey from Nushki to Leh, and journey
from Tibet through Simla, etc., to Bombay 132
11. The Sunda Islands 154
12. Map showing voyage from Bombay to Hong Kong 158
13. Map of Northern China and Mongolia 174

14. Map showing journey from Shanghai through Japan and Korea to
Dalny 184
15. The Trans-Siberian Railway 203
16. Map showing journey from Stockholm to Paris 216
17. Map showing journey from Paris to Alexandria 230
18. Map of North-Eastern Africa, showing Egypt and the Sudan 237
19. Livingstone's Journeys in Africa 262
20. North-West Africa 298
21. Toscanelli's Map 308
22. North America 325
23. South America 343
24. The South Seas 366
25. The North Polar Regions 378
26. The South Polar Regions 405


PART I

I
ACROSS EUROPE
STOCKHOLM TO BERLIN

Our journey begins at Stockholm, the capital of my native country.
Leaving Stockholm by train in the evening, we travel all night in
comfortable sleeping-cars and arrive next morning at the southernmost
point of Sweden, the port of Trelleborg, where the sunlit waves sweep
in from the Baltic Sea.
Here we might expect to have done with railway travelling, and we
rather look for the guard to come and open the carriage doors and ask
the passengers to alight. Surely it is not intended that the train shall go
on right across the sea? Yet that is actually what happens. The same
train and the same carriages, which bore us out of Stockholm yesterday
evening, go calmly across the Baltic Sea, and we need not get out
before we arrive at Berlin. The section of the train which is to go on to
Germany is run by an engine on to a great ferry-boat moored to the
quay by heavy clamps and hooks of iron. The rails on Swedish ground
are closely connected with those on the ferry-boat, and when the
carriages are pushed on board by the engine, they are fastened with
chains and hooks so that they may remain quite steady even if the
vessel begins to roll. As the traveller lies dozing in his compartment, he
will certainly hear whistles and the rattle of iron gear and will notice
that the compartment suddenly becomes quite dark. But only when the
monotonous groaning and the constant vibration of the wheels has
given place to a gentle and silent heaving will he know that he is out on
the Baltic Sea.
We are by no means content, however, to lie down and doze. Scarcely
have the carriages been anchored on the ferry-boat before we are on the
upper deck with its fine promenade. The ferry-boat is a handsome
vessel, 370 feet long, brand-new and painted white everywhere. It is
almost like a first-class hotel. In the saloon the tables are laid, and
Swedish and German passengers sit in groups at breakfast. There are
separate rooms for coffee and smoking, for reading and writing; and we
find a small bookstall where a boy sells guidebooks, novels, and the
Swedish and German newspapers of the day.
[Illustration: MAP SHOWING JOURNEY FROM STOCKHOLM TO
BERLIN.]

The ferry-boat is now gliding out of the harbour, and every minute that
passes carries us farther from our native land. Now the whole town of
Trelleborg is displayed before our eyes, its warehouses and new
buildings, its chimneys and the vessels in the harbour. The houses
become smaller, the land narrows down to a strip on the horizon, and at
last there is nothing to be seen but a dark cloud of smoke rising from
the steamers and workshops. We steam along a fairway rich in
memories,