In the evening we arrived at the parsonage house of Rorstad, the residence of Mr. John Rask, _Pastor Secundarius_, and chaplain to the king. He has been in the West Indies, as well as Africa, and has published an account of his voyage, in which various fishes and plants are described in a very interesting style. He gave me a friendly reception. He has a handsome daughter named Sarah Rask, eighteen years of age. She seemed to me uncommonly beautiful. I must not omit to write to him hereafter; for, according to his account, he never expected to see an honest Swede. I wish Mr. Ingerald[63] may come and visit our neighbourhood, that I may have an opportunity of testifying my gratitude for his kindness, which otherwise I can never repay. [63] Who Mr. Ingerald was, does not appear. Perhaps the master of the boat, or somebody whom Linnæus met at the house of the good curate. _July 14._ In the morning I took leave of Mr. Rask, and returned with the master of the boat to Torfjorden. I had now before me the whole of this western Archipelago, and was told that, if we were to steer our course directly westward, we should arrive at Greenland. The conversation on our passage turned much upon a certain West Gothlander, who had been guilty of some treacherous conduct, and told various falsehoods. (To this the above conversation of Mr. Rask probably alluded). Tun-bread, as it is called in Westbothnia, is made of barley and chaff in the following manner. After threshing, they sift the corn through a large cribble, which retains not only the grain and chaff, but not unfrequently a small quantity of straw. This is dried and ground. The rich grind the corn alone; others one third part barley, with two of chaff; others again one of chaff to two of barley. The meal thus procured is moistened with cold water into a paste or dough, without being allowed to go into a state of fermentation, and without any yeast. Cold water is preferred to warm, the latter rendering the dough too brittle. The dough, being of a soft consistence, is then well kneaded on a table. A handful of it is sufficient to make one cake, though no person would suppose that so small a quantity could make so large a cake as afterwards appears. This lump of dough is spread out flat on a table, not with a rolling-pin, but with the hands and a flat trowel or shovel. A considerable quantity of flour is sprinkled over the surface, and the whole mass is extended till it becomes as thin as a skin of parchment. It is then turned by means of a very large shovel, after being previously pricked all over with an instrument made on purpose, and composed of a large handful of the wing feathers of ptarmigans, partridges, or some such birds. The other side, when turned uppermost, is subsequently pricked in the same manner. The cake is then put into the oven, only one being ever baked at a time. The attendance of a person is necessary, to watch the cake, and move or lift it up