The Argosy — page 384: what you’re looking at

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

303 UNDER NORTHERN SKIES. By CHARLES W. Woop, F.R.G.S., AUTHOR OF ** THRouGH HOLLAND,” &c. (NE of the most popular and pleasant excursions round about Stockholm takes you to Mariefred and the ancient castle of Gripsholm: the former so called after a fifteenth century monastery dedicated to the Virgin. Grip is Swedish for vulture, and the very sound of Gripsholm suggests a wild, wooded place, given up to dark, solitary forests, haunted by birds of prey, and rock-bound shores washed by troubled waters. Such it may have been in ages past, but such it is no longer. _ These waters were not troubled the day we paid hae our visit, though winds blew cold and discoursed eloquently of the North Pole. Great coats were a painful necessity, in spite of sunshine. We had the upper deck to ourselves, and braved the chilling blast under the lee of the captain’s cabin and the steering box. On the main deck and in the saloon’s yet deeper depth, people of all nations sat and shivered, and shouted at each other in the shrill tones so dear to foreigners. All seemed to possess one link in common—a red Baedeker. Swedes, French, German, Spanish, and one or two English—all had a Baedeker. Like the sign of the Red Cross to the ancient crusader, so is Baedeker to modern tourists. And are they not also crusaders in their way ; 3; waging war upon all coun- tries ; not in the cause of religion, or freedom, or art; not always for love of nature; but too often following each other like a flock of sheep for the sake ‘of excitement and imitation ? We, too, should have had a Baedeker no doubt, but there had not been one left on English or foreign soil. The tourist army of locusts had gone before and devoured them-all.. “Another edition in two months,” was the invariable reply, in tones which seemed to say that for the sake of Baedeker it was well worth delaying one’s journey. ‘To-day there was quite a small edition on board, and the red covers were lying about the decks bright as poppies in a cornfield. Great coats and furs were at a premium, for the Swedes wrap up long before an Englishman dreams of doing so. The variable temperature perhaps gives them a sufficient reason ; and the Frenchman’s satirical definition that the climate is eight months winter and four months cold weather has some truth init also. No matter how hot and calm it might be in Stockholm, the moment we found ourselves on Lake Malaren a cold and cruel wind sprang up to mar its beauties. It seemed to blow from all quarters, swirl round all the islands, rush up all the arms and inlets, sough and sigh amongst the forest trees, hover about our little steamer with shrieks and moanings, like | ‘“ The wail of lost souls that in vain Seek rest from their pain.” COnnicboooks (C©) im