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Pursuit of Sleep under Difficulties.

1859.] forced to dream a midsummer night upon its banks. Not that the river was black or otherwise infernal; on the contrary, the clearest water glided over its stony bed beneath a green sloping bank, whose upper parts were covered knee-high with birch. But it was so haunted by mosquitoes that I shudder to think of the bivouac there. However, we made a cup of tea, which is more refreshing than any other drink, and were then forced to retire, severely wounded. Necessity, the mother of invention, on this occasion gave birth to a small but commodious lodging. It united the roominess of a four-poster with the lightness of a tent-bed, and, best of all, was mosquito proof. Under a frame of sticks I arranged my tea things, encased myself in a night suit of waterproof to keep out the dews, laid down one of our miscellaneous parcels for a pillow, and having cast a mosquito net over all, made it taut with heavy stones at the sides. My tormentors, except the victims inside the fortress, all of whose heads I eventually punched, could do no further harm than hiss at me through the skylights of my many-windowed house. The besiegers were mustered in great force when I awoke, and all were absolutely delirious with anger at their exclusion. They closed on me as soon as I emerged in the grey of the morning. And therefore in haste we packed up, so dismayed that no word was said of breakfast; but sullenly, with muffled heads and gnashing of teeth, we got the beasts in motion and began to ascend. On the height a cool breeze came to our aid, and effectually thinned the enemy's ranks. Some precipitous ground that the horses could not cross gave us an opportunity of resting for half an hour, while David went forward to find an accessible route. This I employed in taking a bath in a rocky brookno bad substitute for the matutinal tub, which languid young gentlemen were having iced when I left England. I fancied that immersion in cold water rendered the bites less irritable, besides being a more pleasant specific than tar, butter, fard, almond oil, or even glycerine.

'I suppose this is what they

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meant by roughing it,' grumbled Harry, breaking silence for the first time, in place of his wonted morning carol of La ci darem la mano,' or a pathetic 'addio' to Leonora, emulous of Giuglini.

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Yes. I can't conceive anything much more wearing,' said I in earnest; it's enough to make one's hair turn white. I wonder how long this style of worry is going to last. Of course they'll return to the charge as soon as the wind drops. I wish we were well off this wretched Fjeld. It must be better when we get down into the low country. If they are as thick on the river, we shall have to take to our boats and drop down to the sea as fast as we can, and leave the fish to the Finns.'

As David had said it was possible to reach the dwellings of his countrymen to-day, it was resolved to make a brief midday halt, and press on without loss of time. A fair stock of game was dangling from Romsdal's back, and we longed for an opportunity of cooking some of it. It wanted a day or two of the first of August, and most of the ryper got up singly; but as the broods generally were quite old enough to be weaned, we thought ourselves justified by circumstances in shooting the old birds. And now we began to speculate on the kind of night-quarters we were likely to get. Owing to the limited medium of communication between ourselves and David-Norsk being a foreign language to all three-it was difficult to make out with precision where we should eventually turn up. Karasjok we were bound for, and that was the first inhabited place we expected to reach. But the ingenious Finn, in a fit of etymology, starting from the premiss that jok' means a river, went on to explain that there were two Karasjoks, a summer residence and a winter one, while to tie the tangle, the name of Assibakti appeared on the Karasjok river in this quarter. A place with such a name did not promise much accommodation for man and beast, certainly no choice of hotels, and we made up our minds for a night in the bosom of a nomad family, being not averse to take the chance of domestic ver

min as the lesser of two evils. David, who felt like MacGregor when his foot was on his native heath, dwelt with patriotic complacency on the fact that this was Finmark-and here he pointed to the unproductive domains of his Ugrian ancestors-that there were no Norwegians here that we should find a land flowing with oatmeal, flat bread (Finn cakes he called them), with sour milk, and butter, and might possibly procure boats for our projected expedition down to the sea.

During a long plod across a fenny tract, about the size of an average English county, I coached up some Finsk words from the guide, who seemed not a little proud to find himself in the position of a teacher. Eschewing the complimentary phrases of Le Parleur and the conversational manuals as formal, and omitting all introductory remarks on the weather as superfluous-the numerals as far as ten, yes, no, and three questions respecting the hire of a boat, composed the substance of this very elementary lecture. Mile after mile of flat was left behind while Vouriez Dudder seemed still to hang over our backs, and the mountain brink in front to become no nearer. At last, quite suddenly, we found ourselves on the top of a high bank fronting the east, and saw below us a string of lakes in the bosom of a wide valley, whose opposite side was covered with trees -actual trees-full-grown birches, Harry declared them to be, after a deliberate survey through his operaglass. Passing down a gulley where the last patch of snow was fast melting into a clear brimming rivulet, we crossed a bog, forded a river, and entered the wood.

The exchange from the open country was but a dubious gain. In addition to our old enemies, who lounged along at our pace, as if locomotion cost them no effort, or insulted us by riding on our heads, backs, and shoulders, we had now to struggle through a closely-grown wood, with the usual obstacles of rough stones, scandalous roots, recoiling twigs, and opposing trunks. There was no longer any dearth of vegetation. The ground in most places was covered deep with a

luxuriant undergrowth of dwarf birch, very pretty to the eye, but tiresome to wade through, while the moister spots produced besides bilberries, a crop of delicious moltebær, a fruit much used in Norway, both fresh and preserved. It is like a yellow mulberry growing among geranium leaves, and rejoices in the technical name of Rubus chamamorus. From an open patch forming the bald crown of a hill, we discovered a lake enbosomed in the perpetual birch forests, by its shape and islands reminding one of Windermere. It was somewhere on this water, David informed us, that the Assibaktians were out on a fishing expedition, the village itself being left in the occupation of the women. This lake had a dull and sombre look, as if some ancient race slept an enchanted sleep beneath its dark waves. I should have expected to catch in it golden fish, who would immediately open a conversation with their captor, and proceed to detail the story of their wrongs, ending with a formal protest against the use of the frying-pan. This is, however, a mere fancy, not warranted by fact. If there had been anything uncanny about the mere, David would certainly have mentioned it. Passing the fresh spore of a bear, in a deep dell overgrown with björnebær and hemlock, which umbelliferous vegetable Bruin uses as a salad with his autumnal repast of raw cow, for I had lain out long nights on the watch for autumn bears too many times to be fooled again, we came upon the vestiges of a path. As we were incredulous at the first, so no sooner had we accepted the notion that it was a path, than we jumped to the conclusion that our march was finished. But this was equivalent to holloaing before you get out of the wood, which the concentrated wisdom of our ancestors solemnly warns us never to do. We had wedged our way down among the trees, until we stood on a cliff overhanging a river, which to our entire discomfiture was too deep to ford. After so much walking it went against the grain to turn back, but there was no other remedy, and up we scrambled again. David, who for once was evidently astray, now tried another tack; and the

1859.]

A Party of Natives—Assibakti.

result was that about one quarter of an hour afterwards, we beheld our best horse floundering in a quagmire, and the tent, beds, gun-cases, and other articles wrecked among the spongy islands of that treacherous archipelago. It was enough to make a saint cry. I sat down with forced resignation, and wondered what deity would come to the rescue, and in what kind of machine. The sun blazing overhead infused fresh venom into the mosquitoes, who proceeded to take an ungenerous advantage of our position. The poor horses suffered most, on whom they clustered so thickly that a smart pat left the print of your hand marked in dead bodies. The boy was tugging at his hair, and weeping with an abandonment almost Oriental. His two compatriots, usually impassive as stones, were raised to angry abuse of each other, of the guide, of the path that was no path after all, and of the slemme myg,— the ill-behaved midges.

'Hard lines, mate,' exclaimed a muffled voice from behind. There was no denying this oracular assertion of the veiled prophet.

In the midst of this great strait I saw three creatures in an outlandish but picturesque dress bound from rock to rock until they stood at gaze about a dozen yards from us, when I perceived that they were two Finsk girls and a boy belonging to the tribe that were fishing in the lake, who had been attracted by the unwonted sound of voices. Standing in not ungraceful attitudes on the rock ledges, they looked like the quaint spirits that wait on Oberon, although a trifle more elvish and weird-like than the slim fairies who trip it among the pasteboard precipices of the Haymarket and Lyceum. David challenged them in his own sonorous dialect, and the forms answered with animated gestures and pointing of the hands. As I caught the wondering eye of one of them, I read that they were not malicious, and began to thank heaven for sending the good people to help us in our need. They pointed out the firm ground; the horses_presently emerged, and we came down upon a fording place. Then the two girls skimmed off in a canoe across the lake, probably to announce to

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their friends the unexpected arrivals. Once safely over the river our attendants immediately unpacked, ate their meal, and turned over on their bellies to sleep.

'I don't vote we stop here, at any rate; what do you say, Harry ?'

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Oh! I say go on; our bones would be picked clean in half an hour if we stayed here. The men can have their nap and follow with the baggage, and we'll make David lead us to the village. It can't be very much further.'

Three more hours passed, nevertheless, before we espied through an opening in the forest, in which tall pines had now taken the place of birches, the valley of the Karasjok lying below us. A broad river wound along between sandy islands and shelving banks, on its way to join the Anarjok, thence, under the name of Tana, to pour their mingled waters into the most easterly of the three great Fjords that indent the northern coast. For a long time we could discover no signs of human habitation. From the river to the rampart of cliff that bounded the valley on the eastern side, the limit of a still larger Fjeld, and up and down as far as the eye could reach, was one unbroken wood. Following David down the steep path, with more than voluntary agility, we came upon a meadow where a herd of cows were pasturing under the care of a brace of Finsk boys. A few hundred yards further on we reached a cluster of log-houses of a much more advanced style of architecture than the circular-vaulted houses of the Lapps. This was Assibakti. Karasjok Marken lay two Norsk miles further down the river. Besides the dwellings there were several outhouses, raised on stone foundations four feet above the ground, scaffolds supported on tall poles for stacking hay, and a crane of Titanic height for drawing water out of a well in the centre; the whole area of a few acres being separated from the surrounding forest by the national palisade of slanting stakes. The scene put one in mind of the Indian villages described by American novelists; the squaws and children left at home, the braves out fishing; while the cradles, like shortened canoes, in

which babies were encased up to the eyes, the kamargas like mocassins, the knives, belts, and axes, might well have formed part of the household furniture of a Mohawk or Ojibbeway. In personal appearance the Finns of this district, with their long hair and moustaches, are not unlike the ancient Britons, according to the popular conception of our respected progenitors. But although of mixed morals, they are not a bloodthirsty race; they keep. the majority of the ten commandments, and subsist mainly on fish.

The women gathered in a crowd around David, asking him a thousand questions about us. During a pause in the chattering, I inquired where we could lie until the baggage came up. He consulted an old woman, who, after a long parley, led us into the paddock, and pointed to one of the lofts for storing reindeer skins, of which she opened the door. We mounted the short ladder, put our guns inside, and crept in after them. But even in that dark vault the ubiquitous mosquitoes were already humming an exultant hymn over the anticipated feast. Although very tired, we were still more hungry, and I applied for some bread and milk. Presently a flat, shallow pail of the latter, and a huge disc of oatmeal bread, appeared, which we worried in silence. Two drains emptied the pail, and two more a second.

'Well, Harry, what's your opinion of our prospects now ?' said I, as soon as my tongue was at leisure.

'I think that we're jolly well in for it,' replied he, and I begin to wish we'd never heard of the Tana. Here we are, unable to speak six words of the language, that howling wilderness behind, and two hundred miles between us and the sea.'

Certainly things were not looking up. David would depart as soon as he had received his pay, and we should be left to our own resources; we were not sure that we could get boats or men, and we firmly believed that not an inch of habitable space between Assibakti and the Nordkyn was free from the pestilent mosquitoes. We spread a couch of rein-deer skins upon the boards of our cage, and with these reflections we fell asleep.

I was startled back into the present by David's voice at the trapdoor, announcing that the horses were arrived, and we crawled out into the solemn half-light of the morning. The baggage lay in a dark heap on the river bank, with the men like sad ghosts crouching beside it. Feeling rather cold, we thought we might as well go into the house of our Finsk hostess, and setting aside the leathery smell that pervaded the place, we found them very comfortable quarters. We ventured to unveil, finding there were not many mosquitoes inside, and in five minutes we were quite at home in the Finn family circle, playing with infant savages, talking by signs, and imbibing hot coffee tempered with candied sugar and excellent cream. It was a log mansion, containing a single apartment, about twenty-five feet square, with a large stone chimney and fireplace in one corner. It was partially lighted by the flame of a wood-fire, which gradually revealed the recumbent forms of nine natives, differing in size, and I suppose also in age and gender. They were sleeping on couches of birch twigs, laid to the depth of a foot, in pens or stalls, partitioned off from the centre space by beams running along the floor, parallel with two sides of the apartment. Besides these there were astir to receive us an old grandmother and two young women, one with a baby. This they called an English baby, which I would fain suppose was a complimentary fiction in honour of us, on learning from David that we were Englishmen. In a similar strain of politeness or policy, they omitted no opportunity of abusing their Russian kinsfolk on the opposite side of the river. 'Slem Karl Russ,' said Amoot, who subsequently became our interpreter, Bad fellows, those Russians;' and then he would go on to ask questions about the war in the Krim.

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I

SWORD AND, GOWN.

BY THE AUTHOR OF 'GUY LIVINGSTONE.'

CHAPTER XIII.

AM almost ashamed to confess how deeply the scene she had witnessed affected Cecil Tresilyan. The exhibition of Keene's fierce temper ought certainly to have warned if it did not disgust her. She could only think-'It was for my sake that he was so angry; and he yielded to my first word.'

There is rather a heavy run just now against the physical force' doctrine. It seems to me that some of its opponents are somewhat hypercritical. For many, many years, romancists persisted in attributing to their principal heroes every point of bodily perfection and accomplishment; no one thought then of cavilling at such a well-understood and established type. That most fertile and meritorious of writers, for instance, Mr. G. P. R. James, invariably makes his jeun premier at least moderately athletic; so much so, that when he has the villain of the tale at his sword's-point, we feel a comfortable confidence that virtue will triumph as it deserves. As such a contingency is certain to occur twice or thrice in the course of the narrative, a nervous reader is spared much anxiety and trouble of mind by this satisfactory arrangement. Nous avons changé tout cela. Modern refinement requires that the chief character shall be made interesting in spite of his being dwarfish, plain-featured, and a victim to pulmonary or some more prosaic disease. Clearly we are right. What is the use of advancing civilization if it does not correct our taste? What have we to do with the manners and customs of the English' in the eighteenth cen

tury, or with the fictions that beguiled our boyhood? Let our motto still be 'Forward;' we have pleasures of which our grandsires never dreamt, and inventions that they were inexcusable in ignoring. We are so great that we can afford to be generous. Let them sleep well, those honest but benighted Ancients, who went down to their graves unconscious of Aunt Sally,' and perhaps never properly appreciated caviare!

6

It is true that there are some writers-not the weakest-who still cling to the old-fashioned mould. Putting Lancelot and Amyas out of the question-I think I would sooner have stood up' to most heroes of romance than to sturdy Adam Bede. It can't be a question of religion or morality; for muscular Christianity' is the stock-sarcasm of the opposite party: it must be a question of good taste. Well, ancient Greece is supposed to have had some floating ideas on that subject; and she deified Strength. It is perfectly true, that to thrash a prize-fighter unnecessarily, is not a virtuous or glorious action; but I contend that the capability of doing so is an admirable and enviable attribute. There are grades of physical as well as of moral perfection; and, after all, the same Hand created both.

Have I been replying against the critics? Absit omen! They are more often right, I fear, than authors are willing to allow; for it is aggravating to have one's pet bits of pathos put between inverted commas for the world in general to make a mock at (we could hardly

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