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graduate here or at Lund, and the number of the two first orders is wonderful.

And so we went back from Upsala, and my vision was gone; and I recollected that there can be no very old towns in Sweden, because wooden houses cannot live so very long, and frequently they do not die a natural death. Many towns, Upsala among them, are nearly destroyed by fire, and so constantly renovated that they always look

new.

And the day was fine and bright, and we stopped at Skokloster, and saw more armour than I think I ever saw together; and saw the sitting-room floors covered with fine old tapestry, used as carpets, for carpeting is dear and scarce in Sweden, being almost entirely imported. And we saw two portraits of the celebrated lady of that old family, the lovely Ebba Brahe, the beloved of King Gustavus Adolphus, whom his mother prevented him from marrying. And I stood before the portrait of Ebba Brahe in her youth, and gazed upon her beauty as if those soft, loving eyes were speaking to my heart. And the groom who acted as our cicerone, pointed to an old, ugly, wrinkled face, and I thought he meant saucily to

show me what a contrast two women might present; but he said, "That is the same."

"What?" I said.

"That is Ebba Brahe," he answered, nodding his head to the lovely portrait; "and that also is Ebba Brahe," he added, nodding to the ugly old

woman.

And we saw such a library as few Swedish houses contain; I think of 18,000 volumes. It makes one feel curious to ascertain how many of them have been read. And we strolled among the pleasant grounds, and went beyond them, and saw one miserable specimen of a better class of farm-houses in Sweden; it belonged to some of the men employed on the estate; with a nice well-furnished parlour, but nothing else fit to be seen, which is not often the case in Sweden. And, in another poor hut, we found an industrious old grandfather working at watchmaking and watch mending such huge, old-fashioned, kettle watches, quite in character with himself! I sat some time to rest at their hearth, and gave a grandson a little coin at parting, which occasioned a look of surprise and an expression of thanks. Part of the Inspector's house here, where I am lodged, must have belonged to the original Klostor,

or cloister, which stood here in days of yore, long before the estate was purchased, and the house built by General Wrangel, one of the well-known names in the thirty years' war. The old arched entrance of this house, now used as an inn, or house of reception for travellers who stop here, is interesting. Close to it is the church, with its pious old tombs. The memorable Tycho was one of the ancestors of the ancient Brahe family, the head of which died shortly after my visit thereOld Grefvinnan Brahe, the widow of the friend of Carl Johan XIV., who contributed to his election as Crown Prince, and was his faithful adherent afterwards. The Court went into mourning at the death of this old and respected lady.

And so we got back safely to Stockholm; and when I went to my former abode, I found all the books and articles of vertu in the encumbered room where I used to sit, were in the very act of emigration-going to leave Sweden. So, being in want of "a home," I went to the usual asylum of travellers—Bairn's hotel garni in Drottninggaten, and there I was very comfortable, but very nearly as much afflicted as the Egyptians were with a plague of flies.

What the flies are in autumn in Sweden I cannot express, but by a reference to that plague. I never before understood what such a visitation might be. My face and hands are sore; my table, my paper, are black; I point my pen at them, try to dash the ink over them; write with one hand while I brush them away with the other. I am learning cruelty and treachery; every device do I use to ensnare them into delicious compounds of sticky matter. But I go down to the confectionary department, and there I see the walls covered over with the most frightful garniture of tortured flies; a sticky paper is suspended there, and the miserable things are fastened to it. I have not courage for such an expedient. Gnats, or a sort of mosquito, at midsummer, and flies in autumn, are undoubtedly the plagues with which travellers in Sweden are afflicted.

My tall Swede came in, and saw me engaged in a combat more useless than that of Don Quixote and the windmills.

"Poor lady," he said, "it is indeed too bad. She cannot stay here."

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"A Countess! take me in because the flies

devour me here!" I exclaimed, secretly thinking that I ought to beg their pardon and be grateful to their persecution.

"Yes, that she will do. She takes ladies to board."

"O-o-o! That is delightful," I said, but I was thinking of our proud title-Countess !-think of a Countess having board and lodging! But how silly it is to translate titles. There is nothing in Sweden equivalent to Earl or Countess; though Grefve and Grefvinnan are their highest titles, we well know that a foreign Count or his lady do not at all answer to our Earls and Countesses.

"But can I really go to live with this lady?" I asked; "because, you know, as I came here to make acquaintance with the H. family, and social life in Sweden, I ought not to lose time, and this seems a good opening."

"Yes, you can have your own rooms, and mix with the family as you like."

"Pray take me to see the Countess."

We set off, and came to a large, rather handsome house, the first floor, or voning, of which was occupied by my future hostess. We went up the broad stone stairs, rung a bell, and the door was opened by an old woman with a coloured cotton apron.

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