But the lake itself is, if possible, even more picturesque than the river. It is one of those long, straggling bodies of water so common in the far North, resembling not so much one great lake as an endless series of small ones. Just at the sortie of the river a succession of rapids, scarcely less magnificent than those of the “Foss” itself, rush between the wooded shores, their unresting whirl and fury contrasting gloriously with the vast expanse of glassy water above, crested with leafy islets and mirroring the green boughs that droop over it along the shore. Here did we spend many a night fishing and “spinning yarns,” in both of which accomplishments the ex-chasseur was pre-eminent; and strange enough it seemed, lying in the depths of that northern forest, to listen to descriptions of the treeless sands of Egypt and the burning wastes of the Sahara. Our midnight camp, on a little promontory just above the rapids, was a study for Rembrandt,—the slender pine-stems reddened by the blaze of our camp-fire; the group of bearded faces coming and going as the light waxed and waned; beyond the circle of light a gloom all the blacker for the contrast; the ghostly white of the foam shimmering through the leaves, and the clear moonlit sky overhanging all.
When a wet day came upon us the inexhaustible ex-chasseur (who, like Frederick the Great, could “do everything but keep still”) amused himself and us with various experiments in cookery, of which art he was a perfect master. His versatility in sauces might have aroused the envy of Soyer himself, and the party having brought with them a large stock of provisions, he was never at a loss for materials. Our ordinary dinner consisted of trout sauced with red wine, mutton, veal, duck, cheese, fresh strawberries, and coffee; after which every man took his tumbler of tea, with a slice of lemon in it, from the stove, and the evening began.
The sight of the country, however, is undoubtedly the natives themselves. Their tawny skins, rough yellow hair, and coarse flat faces would look uninviting enough to those who have never seen a Kalmuck or a Samoyede, but, despite their diet of dried fish and bread mixed with sawdust both men and women are remarkably healthy and capable of surprising feats of strength and endurance. They make great use of bark for caps, shoes, plates, etc., in the making of which they are very skilful. As to their dress, it baffles description, and the horror of my friend the ex-chasseur at his first glimpse of it was as good as a play....
But there needs only a short journey here to show the folly of further annexations on the part of Russia while those already made are so lamentably undeveloped. Finland, which, rightly handled, might be one of the Czar’s richest possessions, is now, after nearly seventy years’ occupation, as unprofitable as ever. Throughout the whole province there are only three hundred and ninety-eight miles of railway. Post roads, scarce enough in the South, are absolutely wanting in the North. Steam navigation on the Gulf of Bothnia extends only to Uleaborg, and is, so far as I can learn, actually non-existent on the great lakes, except between Tanasthuus and Tammerfors. Such is the state of a land containing boundless water-power, countless acres of fine timber, countless ship-loads of splendid granite. But what can be expected of an untaught population under two millions left to themselves in an unreclaimed country nearly as large as France?
But better days are now dawning on the afflicted land. Roads and railways are being pushed forward into the interior, and the ill-judged attempts formerly made to Russianize the population have given place to a more conciliatory policy. A Russian from Helsingfors tells me that lectures are being delivered there, and extracts from native works read, in the aboriginal tongue; that it is being treated with special attention in the great schools of Southern Finland; that there has even been some talk of dramatic representations in Finnish at the Helsingfors theatre.
[ MOSCOW IN 1800.]
EDWARD DANIEL CLARKE.
[Of the English travellers of the latter part of the last century, none acquired greater distinction than Dr. Clarke. Born in Sussex in 1769, in 1790 he made a tour of Great Britain, in 1792 visited France, Switzerland, and Italy, and in 1799 started on a three-years’ tour of Northern Europe, Turkey, Syria, Egypt, etc., publishing, in 1810, “Travels in Various Parts of Europe, Asia, and Africa,” one of the most delightful and popular works of travel ever issued, and which has given him a durable celebrity. He died in 1822. We give below a portion of his animated description of Moscow, which he visited in 1800, years before the invasion of Napoleon and the burning of this celebrated Russian capital.]