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'Now, then, fancy you see me commencing my acquaintance with the social life of Sweden, standing alone on the pier of Stockholm, drenched by rain, half buried in mud, and quite resigned to misery.
Axone now in Stockholm! quite alone, and tranquil !—put away somewhere among the "sundries" of a labyrinthine hotel—which word, in Stockholm, signifies a great lodging-house, where coffee is served to you morn and eve; and dinner, if the inmates desire one, is carried from an eatinghouse at one common hour. Hotels, as we and other half-civilized people understand the term, are yet unknown to the capital of Sweden.
And have I been here before? or is it, indeed, but the vision of a fever-troubled night? Thoughts of the past! angels on wings of light, coming to fill the heart with yearning love or hallowing grief! spectres haunting the memory with visions of days of darkness! let me but reach beyond the gulf ye would interpose, and regain the fair spirit that knew ye not.
Come back to me, thou happy untried spirit of a blessed youth! Let me forget the wide gulf that parts us, and feel and enjoy as we did when standing on its further side! Come, with wings of hope and eyes of love, that saw beauty in all things, and good in all mankind! Come, dwell with me, while I sojourn as a stranger in a land that is not mine, and let me find thee sufficient for my contentment. Let us rove together through a foreign land, and abide together in a foreign town; let us think we sometimes see nature in her fairest form, and life in its mildest aspect. If I can do no good, thou wilt forbid me from saying any evil; if I make no friend, thou wilt keep any one from being my enemy. Come, let us spend out the lingering days of a northern autumn as we spent the brighter ones long, long ago; and when the white winter of the icy north shall wrap us in its frozen mantle, be thou still my comrade, my sole and sufficient joy!
Come back to me as thou once wast, undimmed by the world's blight, unconscious of life's cares, fresh from thine eternal source, hoping all things, believing all things; fresh, and calm, and happy as thy Creator sent thee forth to the battle of life. Let us forget that the conflict has been hard, and the victory been lost.—No, that forgetfulness must not be! Bather let us bind the remembrance of defeat to our hearts, and the shield we have lost may one day be regained.
You know, perhaps, what it is to be alone im a strange country, in a great rambling house, where you are in perfect solitude, while voices are talking away at the other sides of the many doors, which prevent you from having anything like repose. It was in a frame of mind corresponding to such a position, that I was led on to pen the above invocation to my young spirit— the long-parted spirit of a happy youth. Just as I had finished it, there came a tap to my door. I called out, "come in," which words do as well in Swedish as English. The door opened, and a very tall, gaunt, and perpendicularly erect figure entered, closed it, advanced some steps from it, bowed, took another step and bowed, another and bowed; then spoke, and told me he was an Adjunct.
Sow an adjunct was just what-1 had been, invocating,. but rather a different one. Knowing, however, that a Swedish Adjunct is what we usually term a curate, I requested my good visitor to take a seat; and, the chairs being at a tremendous distance, I offered him the sofa. The Adjunct was thrown into confusion. He bowed, declined, deprecated, bowed, and said,, "Nay, I thank you," many times. I never knew, until some time after, that the sofa is, in all Swedish houses, the seat of honour, and that to invite visitors to sit on it, is to show a sense of their dignity, and your own desire to pay them due respect.
We accommodated the matter at last, for, as the tall Adjunct remained standing, I abdicated my chair, and took the uneasy seat of honour myself.
Our attempt to converse was rather laborious. The Adjunct had taught himself the English grammar at Upsala University, and had existed, he said afterwards, in the belief that he could understand English, until he heard a native speak it; when, alas! to my disappointment and his own, he could not do so. I caught, however, at the reed he extended to me as a link of acquaint