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After leaving Dalecarlia and crossing the Dal River for the fifth and last time, the country gradually sank into those long, slightly rolling plains, which we had traversed last winter, between Stockholm and Gefle. Here villages were more frequent, but the houses had not the same air of thrift and comfort as in Dalecarlia.
After I left the town of Gefle the blue sky became obscured by clouds, a few flakes of snow began to fall, then more and more came down, and soon they covered the old snow, that was already of good depth. I had never before had a post-horse that went so fast, and I wondered why. The horse knew, but I did not: a big snowstorm was coming!
At the next stopping-place, which was Gefle, the captain took them on shore to see the shipyard where his own launch, the North Star, was built; and so, all day long, there was something to keep them busy. As the boat steamed farther north, each new day grew longer, each night shorter, until Birger declared that he believed the sun did not set at all. "Oh, yes it does," his father told him.
We reached Mo Myskie on the second night after leaving Sundsvall, and I was greeted with "Salaam aleikoom, ya Sidi!" from the jolly old Tripolitan landlord. There was an unusual amount of travel northward on the following day, and we were detained at every station, so that it was nearly midnight before we reached the extortionate inn at Gefle.
Two and a half Swedish miles from Gefle, where the high road to Upsala goes over the Dal-elv, we see from the walled bridge, which we pass over, the whole of that immense fall. Close up to the bridge, there is a house where the bridge toll is paid.
It was too late to return, and we were obliged to content ourselves with the hope of supplying them at Upsala or Gefle. We rolled by twilight through the Northern suburb. The morning was sharp and cold, and the roads, which had been muddy and cut up the day before, were frozen terribly hard and rough.
We mounted, rolled ourselves in our furs, thrust our feet into the hay, and rattled out of Gefle in the frosty moonlight. Such was our first experience of travelling by skjuts. The road went northward, into dark forests, over the same undulating, yet monotonous country as before.
Born at Gefle, Sweden. Pupil of the Technical School, Stockholm, and of H. Chapu, A. Mercie, and D. Puech at Paris. Among the works of this artist are "Mama!" a statue in marble; "Loké," a statue; "Dans les Vagues," a marble bust; "Funeral Monument," in bronze, in Gefle, Sweden; and a great number of portrait busts and various subjects in bas-relief.
We came hither from Gefle, and saw at a great distance on the way, the blue clouds from the broken, rising spray, ascend above the dark-green tops of the trees. The carriage stopped near the bridge; we stepped out, and close before us fell the whole redundant elv.
Everything being at last arranged, so far as our limited information made it possible, for a two months' journey, we engaged places in a diligence which runs as far as Gefle, 120 miles north of Stockholm. There we hoped to find snow and a colder climate.
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