dimmed 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! Rather 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 in 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 spiritthe long-parted spirit of a happy youth. 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.

Just

He

Now an adjunct was just what I 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. 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

His

ance with "the social life of Sweden." knowledge of English was strictly grammatical, and between each word of a sentence he paused, I think, to run over the tenses and moods of a verb, and be sure that some one of them fitted into the place he wanted to fill up.

He came to tell me that the writer of my complimentary letter was absent, and had asked him to conduct me to see the Swedish Parliament, which was now holding the last days of its triennial term. Although I could not, at the epoch, speak Swedish, either grammatically or ungrammatically, I joyfully went forth with my Adjunct, depending that he would interpret to me all the debates I wished to hear.

We proceeded direct to Riddarholmen, or the Isle of Knights, through dirty, close, and crowded streets. Certainly, if I had never seen Stockholm again, I should now think of it just as many travellers have done who have landed there, perchance from Russia, for a few days, or even spent a few autumn weeks there in rainy weather.

Riddarholmen is the most picturesque of the seven connected isles which form this capital. The market, with the laborious women in their varied attire, and the always-delightful Dalecar

lians, or Dahlkuller, in their quaint costume, with their jocund laughter and arduously-plied boats, give it an air of animation which is a relief to the measured formality of progress and procedure that never seems totally absent from any of the leading streets of Stockholm. The buildings, though far from beautiful, may still lay claim to picturesqueness. The old church of the Isle of Knights, or Nobles, is more interesting than beautiful; it is now the royal burying-place, and its bell tolls only to announce some very few distinguished deaths. Its red and white colour, and the red and white of the Riddarhus, or House of Lords, beside it, are in keeping with the scenery of the spot.

There are a great many curious things to be seen within this old church, which once was to Stockholm what our Temple Church was to London. But the mighty are fallen in every sense. There is something so very cold, neglected-looking, about this still noble church, that everything seems mouldering in decay and rusting in damp. At the entrance you meet a range of mounted men in armour, representatives of kings and heroes, and exhibiting the armour worn in Sweden from the time of the founder of its capital, Birger Jarl.

Here, after life's fitful fever, sleep some who made much stir in this brief scene-Charles XII., Gustavus Adolphus, and Carl Johan, best known to England as Bernadotte. The choir is hung round with the shields of the Knights of the Seraphim, among them is that of Napoleon Buonaparte. This order is the highest in Sweden; and on the death of its members, the great bell of the church is tolled or rung, for they do not toll for deaths as we do.

And in the square or court, between the House of Lords and the church, there is a statue of Gustavus Vasa with a wreath of laurels. It looked very well as I saw it afterwards, covered with snow, and only the sharp laurel leaves projecting out. I am going, you must recollect, to see the Swedish Parliament, while I am thus drily chatting along the way-chatting with you-for my Adjunct is conjugating the English verbs. Now I must hammer out of my own brain all the information I have to give, for he has just managed to make me understand, that being nearly a stranger to Stockholm, he is a stranger to the Parliament of his country. This is by no means unlikely in Sweden. The Parliament of Sweden, however, consists in four chambers of members, occupying