Steering his course south-west, Linnæus proceeded to the lofty ice mountains, or “main ridge of the country,” which he had no sooner reached, than a storm overtook him, accompanied by a shower of thin pieces of ice, which soon encrusted his garments. The cold was intense, and the whole country was one dazzling waste. No sooner, however, had he crossed the summit of the ridge than a change was perceptible, and soon, from the lofty heights, he beheld the ample forests of Norway lying far beneath. The whole appearance of the country was perfectly green, and, notwithstanding its vast extent, looked like a garden in miniature. The descent was slow and long protracted, but at length he reached the plains, of which he had enjoyed so glorious a prospect. “Nothing (he exclaims) could be more delightful to my feelings than this transition from all the severity of winter, to the warmth and beauty of summer. Oh! how most lovely of all is summer! The verdant herbage, the sweet-scented clover, the tall grass reaching up to my arms, the grateful flavour of the wild fruits, and the fine weather that welcomed me at the foot of these Alps, seemed to refresh me both in mind and body.” Here Linnæus found himself close to the sea-coast, and he went to sea in a boat to search for the natural productions of that element. He would fain have approached the celebrated whirlpool, called the Maelstrom, but he found no one willing to venture it. On the 13th of July, he arrived at the parsonage house of Rorstadt, from the occupant of which, himself a traveller and a naturalist, Linnæus received a cordial welcome. A rather significant entry in Linnæus’ diary tells us that here, “in this far distant nook of the wide peopled earth,” the young enthusiast found an object of surpassing interest. “The pastor (he says) has a handsome daughter, named Sarah Rask, eighteen years of age; she seemed to me uncommonly beautiful.” The next morning, Linnæus took his leave of this elysium, and proceeded on his way. Climbing the mountains again, he found a work of “no small fatigue and exhaustion,” and he has given us a most painful account of the subsequent route he pursued towards the Alps of Tornea. “What I endured,” he concludes, “is hardly to be described; how many weary steps I had to set, the precipices that came in my way, and my excessive fatigue. Water was our only drink during the journey, and it never appeared so refreshing as when we sucked it out of the melting snow.” At length, tired of advancing further into this inhospitable country, he determined to return to Quickjock. In the course of his journey thither his life was twice endangered, but at length he reached the place of his destination, “having been four weeks without tasting bread.” After resting some days at Quickjock, Linnæus descended the river again to Lulea, where he “learned the art of assaying from the mine-master, Swanberg, at Calix, in two days and a night,” and thence