The Land of the Long Night | Page 5

and also that you have on board many
Scandinavians going to our shores to make their home with us."
I thought I again heard the same voices as before cry in response,
"Good for you, Paul, good for you!"
I felt now that I was a different man. It was as if I had actually heard
the voices of the dear young people encouraging me to go forward. I
suddenly became very restless and full of energy. I wanted my horse to
go faster. The young folks wished me to go to "The Land of the Long
Night." To that country I should go.
From that day I was ready for any amount of hardships, of bumping
and knocking about in sleighs. I did not care if my ears and nose were

frozen. All I wanted was to go ahead as fast as I could until I reached
"The Land of the Long Night."
I was in splendid condition for the journey. I had been roughing it all
summer in the mountain fastnesses of Norway. I had been living on
cream, butter, cheese, and milk, and had had bacon twice a week, on
Sundays and Wednesdays.
There were about one hundred and forty or fifty post stations before I
reached Haparanda, the most northern town on the Gulf of Bothnia.
Every day's travel brought me nearer to "The Land of the Long Night,"
but it was still a very long way off. I had yet to sleep at many post
stations and to change horses and vehicles many times.
I entered and left many towns--Malmö, Skanör, Falsterbö,
Trelleborg,--these last three were quaint, and the most southern towns
in Sweden. How charming, clean, and neat are those little Swedish
towns! I wished I could have tarried in some of them. Then I made a
sweep eastward, following the coast, and passed the town of Ystad, and
then I gradually drove northward, for now the road skirted the shores of
the Baltic. I passed Cimbrishamn, Sölvesberg, Carlshamn, and
Carlskrona.
From Carlskrona the country was very pretty, and on my way to
Kalmar, and further north, I could see the Island of Öland with its
numerous windmills.
The continuous driving, often in vehicles without springs, was rather
hard on my trousers, and I had not many pairs with me. In a word my
outfit was very modest. To travel comfortably, one must have as little
baggage as possible; for if you have too much baggage it is as if you
were dragging a heavy log behind you; you are not your own master,
all kinds of difficulties come in the way, and you have become the
slave of your own baggage. I bought clothing as I went along. I wished
I could have found some trousers lined with leather, like those used by
cavalry soldiers and by men who ride much on horseback; these would
have lasted a long time.

The weather was getting colder every day, winter was coming, and we
had had a few falls of snow. I passed Oscarshamn and Westervik, and
at last about the middle of November I arrived in Stockholm. But I had
yet to travel more than nine hundred miles to the north before I came to
the southern border of "The Land of the Long Night."
I had to give up my New York overcoat for warmer clothing and get a
new winter outfit. I bought a long, loose overcoat coming down to my
feet. It was lined throughout with thick, hairy wolf skin, which is said
by the people of the far North to be the warmest lining after the skin of
the reindeer. I also purchased big top-boots lined inside with furry wolf
skin, and a round beaver cap with a border which, when turned down,
protected my ears and came to my eyes. I had besides a big, heavy
hood, lined with fur, to be used when it was very cold. I had a pair of
leather mittens lined inside with fur (mittens keep one's hands much
warmer than gloves, because they are not so tight and they do not
impede the circulation of the blood). The collar of my coat rose above
my head and almost hid my face, and when I wore my hood only my
eyes could be seen. In this winter costume I could drive all day long
without feeling cold.
From Stockholm I drove to Upsala by road--for I did not care for
railway travelling--changing horse and vehicle at every post station.
When I reached Gefle winter had come on in earnest. Now all the
houses in the hamlets and towns which I passed had double windows,
and at the bottom, between the two, a layer of cotton was spread to
absorb the moisture. Instead of sliding sashes, French