One of my most pleasant journeys in Europe was a trip which I took in company with wife and children in the early part of the summer of 1872. On this trip we went through the lovely province of Södermanland, and thence by rail to Stockholm, where we met many old friends and acquaintances. Midsummerday was celebrated in the circle of a number of happy friends at Hasselbakken, and on the following days we made repeated visits to the enchanting surroundings of the capital. On one of these outings to Drotningholm, a summer palace, we met other American tourists, and I remember distinctly how we all agreed that this was just the locality for some charitable institution, where the unfortunate poor and suffering members of society could be taken care of, as, for instance, a home for old widows, or orphans, or old men who have served their country faithfully in peace or war, but have been reduced to poverty in their old age. As a contrast to Drotningholm we pictured in our minds the Soldiers' Home near Washington, where Abraham Lincoln had a few rooms, and found rest and recreation among trees and flowers, and it seemed to us that some of the country palaces of Sweden might just as well be used for a similar purpose. Having remained in Stockholm for some time, we directed our course southward, by way of the Göta canal, past Motala, Trollhättan, and Gothenburg. How great, how delightful, how glorious! Dull and coarse must that man or woman be who can make this trip without being proud of the sons of Sweden and their peaceful avocations. In school I had read the history of Sweden, but it treated chiefly of warfare and of the exploits of the kings, only incidentally touching the achievements of peaceful work and the development of social and moral culture, which, in my opinion, are of supreme importance, and deserve the greatest honor. But then, it must be remembered that Swedish history was at that time written with the assumption that royalty and a few warriors are the sun and the stars around which the whole people and the country revolve, and from which they received their light and value. A better time has now dawned on Sweden, and even common people are acknowledged to have a certain inherent worth. Still I am afraid it will take some time before old prejudices can be dispelled. In the fall of the same year I took a trip through Finland and Russia, having secured a passport issued by Gen. C. C. Andrews, who was then United States minister in Stockholm. I went with the steamer Aura from Stockholm to Åbo, Helsingfors, and Cronstadt. The pine-clad islands and shores of the Bay of Finland afforded a beautiful panorama from the steamer. The sight of Sveaborg made me feel that I was still a Swede in soul and heart, for I was overpowered by a deep sadness when I thought of the heinous treason by which this impregnable fortress was forced to surrender.