The captain came to my cabin, where I was writing, and asked me on deck to see the sunset and the loveliest view as we approached the village of Forsvik. It stands at the head of a small lake, and is embosomed with field and forest—a sweet picture; the manor-house, whose owner is also at the head of the iron-works, is large and elegant. Here we pass into the canal again, and through a dense forest, the banks of the canal being bold and rock-bound, and we just graze them as we pass; indeed, we seem to be more on land than water; and in fifteen minutes we have cut through the woods, and rush out into another lake, coming soon to the highest level between the two seas. We are three hundred and twenty feet above the sea level, all of which has been surmounted by locks, and now we must begin the descent by the same means, seventy-five locks in all being required to take us up from one sea, on one side of Sweden, and set us down in another sea, on the other side. The evening had been delicious on deck, but as it drew nigh to midnight, I would turn in. My companion for the night was the Russian gentleman whose friendship I had secured during the day. His long, white beard had commanded my respect. He had asked me innumerable questions of my country and myself, all of which I had answered to the best of my ability. He had learned my name,—which he pronounced _Preem_, as all the continental Europeans do,—and somewhat of my profession, and he determined to do the polite thing, and in English too, before going into retirement for the night. His berth was on one side of the little cabin, mine on the other. We could shake hands across, but we did not. He arrayed himself in his robes of the night: a red night-cap surmounted his head, making a fiery contrast with his snow-white beard. Sitting up on his couch, he addressed me with great dignity and formality: “My Reverend Preem, I wish you good-night,” and subsided into the pillow. In the course of the night we steamed out of the canal into Lake Wenner, the largest in Sweden, and the third in size of all the lakes in Europe. Even in bed we could perceive that we were at sea, for the roll of the ship was as if we were on the Mediterranean. But we made the most of the passage before morning, and touched the next day at Johkoping, one of the most important inland towns in the kingdom. This Lake Wenner abounds in trout, and to catch them of the modest weight of forty pounds is nothing remarkable. It would have been remarked, however, if we had had the luck to catch one of that weight, or any thing like it.