The Argosy — page 149: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

134 Under Northern S ktes. though it is so often not of the best. On the heights of Warburg reposed an old castle, for some reason fallen from its high estate, and degraded to the level of a House of Correction. After about an hour’s stay, scorched, almost melted, by the sun, we steamed again into broad waters. Dinner had been laid on deck, and nothing could be more charming under the sky’s blue canopy. The vessel glided along without motion. In the foreground were low, ereen shores, mile after mile apparently deserted; given over to the gulls and whosoever might choose to make there for himself a local habitation. To all seeming, none would dispute his right. Only at wide intervals was there sign or token of life, and then it disclosed itself far inland in the shape of a small village, or settlement, with perhaps a church spire pointing upwards from out the waving trees. In its trees, Sweden has certainly the advantage over Norway. ‘They are beautiful and well grown, and of many kinds. But we wanted no variety this morning in our passage down the Cattegat. People and their habitations were matters of indif- ference. We had grander and nobler objects to contemplate. The ever-rolling sea upon the beach. Long stretches of glistening sand on which the tide broke with soothing murmurs. White shores backed by green slopes and reaches, immense extents of barren, heathlike ground, giving place occasionally to less wild, more cultivated un- dulations. Again, there were rocks: not high and frowning, not the haunts and homes of the wild bird: but low and polished by the action of countless ages of receding and advancing tides. ‘To-day the water lapped gently round them, plashing and caressing, and retiring without even the energy to break into spray. But more often than not the angry Cattegat lashes itself into fury and beats and breaks upon the shores. In such a mood you will see little beauty in her, nothing attractive in land and sky. For the motion of the angry Cattegat is peculiarly restless, and few withstand her influence. About five o’clock we passed up the Nissa to Halmstad—a fine stream, with long reaches on either side, forming a_ sort of natural harbour and breakwater; possessing—said the pleasant captain of the AZermatd—excellent salmon fishing. ‘The town opened up, and we were soon alongside the quay: a broad thoroughfare stretch- ing upwards beyond the bridge. All journeying was over for the pre- sent. The afternoon train had left, and I must be content with such attractions as Halmstad offered, until about seven o’clock the next morning. These attractions were modest enough. A less exciting town could scarcely exist, as it appeared that evening. ‘The streets were uninteresting, almost deserted. Yet it is a town of con- siderable population, and has a flourishing trade in the way of corn and timber. It is a seaport, and has a railway station: a conjunction of privileges certain to be utilised in Sweden to the utmost. There were no shops to speak of, or rather none worth looking at, ECORMICLIOOKS., (Eve)