On the way to Carlstadt we had had one of our numerous carriage accidents, so were obliged to remain a few days in the town for some necessary repairs. There being so few resources within the walls, I was glad to accept the invitation of some brother sportsmen to accompany them to a neighbouring island, which they said abounded with game. After passing a wretched night in a peasant's cottage, walking twelve hours the following day, and narrowly escaping from drowning, I returned without firing off my gun or exchanging a word with my friends, who could speak nothing but Swedish. The result of the chase was one hare, which, not being able to escape from the island, was hunted down by the dogs.'

My father-in-law remained throughout his life the keenest of sportsmen. He shot woodcocks in the snow a few days before his death at the age of eighty-two.

We spent two or three days at Stockholm. The streets are for the most part narrow, badly paved and very dirty. No capital I have seen contains so few good houses as Stockholm.'

It is rather amusing to note that a modern tourist, writing to me while taking this same northern journey, says, on beholding the quays of St. Petersburg, 'I have never seen so fine a bit of town; the only thing at all approaching it is Stockholm.' So great a difference has grown up in the last fifty years.

Whilst at Stockholm I made the acquaintance of a Mr. Lloyd, better known as "the Bear-killer." He had just returned from an unsuccessful expedition against the Russian bears, who, living under a despotic government, are secure from the attacks of the stranger, since no one can penetrate into the interior of the country without a particular kind of passport. Mr. Lloyd was desirous of obtaining a general permission to go where he liked, as in Sweden; but his ideas and those of the Russian police on this subject did not exactly harmonise. Whilst at Stockholm he received a letter from the author of a tour in Sweden and Lapland, requesting him to pick up as many anecdotes as he could for the second edition of his work. He showed me his characteristically laconic answer: " Dear B., - Your work already contains so many lies that to add to them is not the wish of yours truly."