30 A SPRING AND SUMMER IN LAPLAND. 



cap to coyer the head and ears, and warm gloves, 

 without fingers, completed my equipment; and 

 not one of these articles should the traveller omit 

 who undertakes a journey through these northern 

 climes in the winter, when the quicksilver varies 

 from 15° to 40° below zero, Celsius. Wrapped 

 up as I was, with the thermometer never lower 

 than 25° (13° below zero Fahr.), I was " none too 

 warm," and at times when the bleak north wind 

 came howling through the forests, dashing the 

 cutting sleet into my face, I fancied my nose would 

 snap off " like a carrot." 



The cap I wore was an old tiger- skin one, 

 which I picked up south of the Line ; and a most 

 imposing figure I cut as I sledged up to the doors 

 of the country public-houses, the " admired of all 

 admirers." My cap was an object of veneration 

 to all the peasant lads that drove us. I believe 

 there was nothing about me that they envied 

 except this ; but certainly, like the grandfather's 

 stick in Eliza Cook's beautiful poem, this cap 

 " was the coveted relic of all." 



Of course many inquiries were made by the 

 postmasters up the road as to who I was and what 

 was my business, and one and all firmly believed 

 that I was some rich Englishman or other, travel- 

 ling up to buy the great Grellivare iron mines. 

 One brandy-nosed old sinner was exceedingly 



