and lastly, another roast pig! We had fresh milk to drink, as formerly; and I ought to observe that we had also both the thin execrable bread of the country, and some of à supérior composition, to which latter I confined myself. Long before the frukost was concluded, I was obliged to acknowledge that I had been completely outmanoeuvred by my friends, who had judiciously saved themselves for this important moment, whilst my vigour had been pretty nearly exhausted by previous efforts. My feeble aid, however, was scarcely required by my companions, who did not fail to take ample revenge on the pig of to-day for the early secession of his predecessor last night.

I believe the young Swede was a married man, for I heard occasionally the squalling of children, that issued from some remote region of the house; but they did not make themselves otherwise manifest. His wife was, no doubt, in her peculiar province-the kitchen; for the Swedish ladies seldom show themselves in the

parlour, unless there happen to be female visitors.

I had brought with me from England a few engravings, taken from the Annuals and other works, for the purpose of presents, as I conceived they would not be unacceptable in places where such things were, perhaps, never before seen. Before parting with my host, I gave him two or three of these; on the back of one of which I wrote a few sentences in Latin, expressive of my sense of the kindness and hospitality I had met with at Dykalla, the name of the place. He did not appear to be much struck with the engravings (though gratified by the present), and stuck them within the frames of some old family portraits that adorned the room.

We parted with some concern, my host taking me a short distance on the road, and then sending me on under the guidance of a young girl for several miles across a cultivated country, that contained no regular track, until I reached a high road which was to conduct me to a place

called Becker Foss, of which more hereafter. My host was evidently of too haughty a temper to have accepted any remuneration, and therefore I did not insult him by the offer. My little guide bade me farewell when we reached the road to which she was told to conduct me, and I made her a present, and sent her home again.

I had gained from my good friend at Dykalla much useful information as to the part of the country in which I was, and he had produced for my inspection some very excellent maps. My own was a good one, but not sufficiently minute, and I frequently was obliged to attend rather to the compass, which I carried suspended from my neck. I had learnt from my host that there was (between twenty and thirty miles distant) at a place called Becker Foss, a colony of several Englishmen, but why they were esta blished there I could not then ascertain; I

resolved, however, to visit them.

CHAPTER X.

BECKER FOSS.

THE Country through which I passed between Dykalla and Becker Foss is generally flat; but there are occasionally high rocks, and extensive forests of pine and fir. Every person of whom I inquired the way, asked if I were an Englishman, and always added, with smiles and gratulations, that my countrymen were not far distant; indeed they seemed to take so much interest in my journey, that I had frequently great difficulty in breaking away from them, without treating their kind solicitude with rudeness

which, had I done, it would have given me the heartburn for two days after. The questions and observations of these honest and kindhearted people were not prompted by impertinent curiosity-they were suggested solely by the benevolence of their tempers; and they felt a greater pleasure in assuring me that my troubles and fatigues in journeying through a strange land were now nearly at a close (as they thought) than had I left among them as much wealth as would have stocked their farms. If there be any who could turn away with brutal roughness from the warm and affectionate good wishes of a simple-hearted people, or listen with scorn or indifference to their sincere and honest congratulations, it is not to them I write. I have read the heart, and not carelessly; and never beheld it the abode of singleness and truth without loving it. Who could fail to interpret aright the animated sparkle that glistens in the eye, or the beam that plays on the cheek, and lights up the countenance with