The lark was my companion all the way, flying before me quivering in the air.
Ecce suum tirile, tirile, suum tirile tractat[1].
The weather was warm and serene. Now and then a refreshing breeze sprang up from the west, and a rising cloud was observable in that quarter.
Okstad (more properly Högsta) is a mile and a quarter from Upsal. Here the forests began to thicken. The charming lark, which had till now attended my steps, here left me; but another bird welcomed my approach to the forest, the Red-wing, or Turdus iliacus, whose amorous warblings from the tops of the Spruce Fir were no less delightful. Its lofty and varied notes rival those of the Nightingale herself.
In the forest innumerable dwarf Firs are to be seen, whose diminutive height bears no proportion to their thick trunks, their lowermost branches being on a level with the uppermost, and the leading shoot entirely wanting. It seems as if all the branches came from one centre, like those of a palm, and that the top had been cut off. I attribute this to the soil, and could not but admire it as the pruning of Nature. This form of the Fir has been called Pinus plicata.
Läby is a mile and a quarter further. Here the forest abounds with the Red Spanish Whortle-berry (Arbutus Uva Ursi), which was now in blossom, and of which, as it had not been scientifically described, I made a description; (see Flora Lapponica; and Engl. Bot. t. 714.)
A large and dreary pine-forest next presented itself, in which the herbaceous plants seemed almost starved, and in their place the soil, which was hardly two inches deep, all below that depth being pure barren sand (Arena Glarea), bore Heath (Erica),
Hypnum parietinum, and some Lichens of the tribe called coralloides.
Above a quarter of a mile beyond the post-house, near the road, is a Runic monument; but I did not allow myself time to copy the inscription, finding it had lately been deciphered by somebody else.