The country round about Åbo is, for Finland, fertile and productive, and in this region is made much of the delicious butter that is sent to England, and often much farther afield, but which on its way through Denmark often gets labeled “Danish butter.”
It is interesting for those who butter their bread with the Finnish product to know that in the many steam creameries “the dairymaids in spotless white linen dresses and aprons receive, weigh, and sterilize the milk before it is made into butter, while all the churning, scalding, and butter-packing rooms are models of cleanliness.” It is always a wonder to me why countries that make such delicious butter seem to be so fond of margarine, for everywhere on the railway stations, in the tramcars and in the newspapers in Scandinavia one sees “Pellerin’s Margarine” advertised. But there are some questions which polite travelers must not be too inquisitive about, and this is one of them.
Butter would naturally lead us to cows (unless the suspicions excited by these advertisements turn us aside), and cows lead into the country, but I have not room in this letter to tell you of country life in Finland, a fascinating theme, which must be reserved for another letter.
Faithfully yours,
Phillips.
FOURTEENTH LETTER
Wherein something is told of the charming lakes of Finland and the canals that link them together; of the “Kalevala,” the great Finnish epic; of the Finnish farmhouse, without and within; of the inevitable bathhouse; of a melancholy Finnish wedding and the more cheerful Finnish funeral.
In Finnish Lakeland, July 10.