ALAND THE BALTIC IN 1854. 191 



stacks, palings, patches of meadow, and other signs of 

 habitation near us. Presently a bit of a steeple, the 

 side of a windmill, a mass of red roofs, and large 

 looming homesteads, gave ns the vague outline of a vil- 

 lage, dimmed and mazed by the folds of mist. As our 

 skirmishers passed through the scattered houses, feel- 

 ing for the enemy, the peasants were just waking up 

 to their labours, and evinced no sign of fear or sur- 

 prise no apprehension of violence or plunder. The 

 women came to the doors, the pigs wallowed, and the 

 fowls strutted most temptingly and trustfully before 

 us. The road wound now round an indent of the sea, 

 and there forts Nortike and Presto arose before us, 

 looming grey, grim, and sullen. Xo shot was fired; 

 and we passed on to make our first halt beside a 

 plantation. The men sat down in groups to munch 

 their biscuit and bacon, and smoke their pipes under 

 a hedge, shady and green enough for the days of merry 

 England. Suddenly there was a sound of wheels. 

 "Field-pieces !" said an alarmist. The sentries erected 

 their muskets fiercely, and the men stood to their 

 arms, when, lo ! round a turn of the wood came a pretty 

 pony-carriage driven by a lady, a priest sitting beside 

 her. Our interrogation was imperfect, but their 

 story seemed to run thus : She was a widow ; her 

 husband had been killed some time before by one 

 of our shells ; she had suffered enough from war, and 

 wished to seek a city of refuge in one of the neigh- 

 bouring villages. The priest was bent on some errand 



