Locks are now frequent, and the passage very slow. One of them was tended by a comely maiden, not more than sixteen years old, dressed neatly with an embroidered petticoat, which she had to expose in pushing the beam around to open and close the lock. This was a novel application of female influence, but not very pleasing, being the first thing I had seen in Sweden that was uncivilized and offensive. Lock after lock, slowly and tediously we made our way through a pretty country, the fields well tilled, woods and green meadows interchanging often, and the land fenced off into smaller divisions than we had noticed in any other country. The soil appeared to be good from the abundance of the growth. The houses were neat, and the out-buildings numerous and well arranged, showing signs of thrift and taste. The look was that of a farming people well to do. We enter another lake, short, but very pretty, by name Asplagen, with richly cultivated shores and sweet homes nestling among the trees; and on the rising grounds we see beautiful pictures of Swedish life, rich and prosperous residences, where it is evident that the good things of this life are enjoyed, and plenty of them. An elderly Russian gentleman and a Swedish professor of physics in Stockholm were among the passengers; the Swede had travelled in America, and was very happy to meet an American, while the Russian was greatly interested in learning of that wonderful country. He spoke five languages, and he said that his countrymen, if educated at all, could speak both English and French. While these gentlemen were my constant companions on board, they cordially hated each other’s country, the old antipathy of Russian and Swede cropping out continually, and making it a difficult task to keep the peace between them. [Illustration: ROXEN LOCKS.]