The Argosy — page 151: what you’re looking at

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

136 Under Northern Skies. fg it was also a somewhat monotonous journey, leading upwards _ thrcugh the valley of the Nissa. Yet, at times, it was very pretty. Hills, covered with fir trees, broad undulations, long stretches of green fields, giving place to thick, dark-looking forests, where wild flowers grew, and abundant strawberries—those wild strawberries that are more plentiful in Sweden than blackberries in our hedges, and that, mixed with cream and sugar, are worth a king’s ransom. Beside us the river ran, appearing and disappearing in its windings ; now so shallow that its rocky bed was laid bare, and again deepening where the banks narrowed. Occasionally these banks were adorned with a profusion of wild flowers and ferns. If communication with the engine-driver had been possible, he would no doubt have drawn up to HALMSTAD, allow one to gather them, and pluck the little red strawberries that cried out to be eaten. I do not think any of the passengers would have objected, or shown surprise. The Swedes are slow at taking in a fact, and very slow at putting themselves out of the way. At last our station. The long, slow journey was over. On the platform a kindly face to bid us welcome. Fortunately: for the station had apparently no name, and no guard or porter attempted to supply the deficiency. One might have travelled for another four hours, wondering whether the end of the world and the station would come together. ‘You have really arrived,” said a pleasant English voice—and how pleasant a ring it has in a foreign country. ‘“ But you need not hurry—the train itself is not in a hurry. These slow trains never are,” ECORMICLIOOL<S, (ele)