At sight of us the two women ceased working to stare, and then broke out into a hearty laugh--not of derision, but of welcome. The Laplander is of an extremely jovial disposition, and invariably prides himself on the possession of some nickname--not always complimentary--bestowed upon him in jest. My guide addressed herself to the younger of the two women, who, in addition to the garments I have enumerated, wore some splendid reindeer furs. Then a young peasant came out of the hut, and there ensued a tremendous discussion, the result of which was to convince us that we had made a mistake--Mickel Nilsson’s hut was farther on. The young man volunteered to accompany us there. [Illustration: MICKEL NILSSON NIA, THE “LAPP ROTHSCHILD,” WHO POSSESSES NINE THOUSAND HEAD OF REINDEER. _From a Photograph._] Finally, we came up to a group of men and women, in the centre of which, busily talking, a veritable Triton among minnows, was the person I sought. On the road I had, through my interpreter, been questioning our new companion, and had thus learned that Mickel Nilsson Nia was a sort of Lapp Rothschild, and possessed nine thousand head of reindeer. As each animal may be put down as worth roughly about a sovereign, the fortune of the little Lapp before me--who, hearing the object of my mission, had now put his finger to his cap and was wringing my hand with great affability--might be estimated at nine thousand pounds. We had come upon him on a holiday, it appeared, and Mickel Nilsson Nia was arrayed in his very best clothes. On his head he wore a tall sugarloaf, peaked cap, topped by a bright red “pompon,” which gave it a most extraordinary aspect. His body was covered by a superb white reindeer skin--the gala costume--and on his vest glittered the medal bestowed upon him by King Oscar as a reward for his success in breeding reindeer. The man’s whole appearance, with his moustache, short beard, cunning eyes, and perpetual smile, reminded me strongly of Li Hung Chang, the Chinese statesman of illustrious memory, and also the richest man in his country. Mickel Nilsson Nia courteously invited me to enter his hut. I hesitated for a moment, and then, with head bent low, bravely dashed into the malodorous atmosphere of leather and boiled coffee which I had already learned to dread. In the semi-gloom of the interior a mass of animals were wallowing about, though I could not see them very distinctly. I sank into a wicker arm-chair. “A cup of coffee?” “Many thanks.” Into my hands was thrust a grotesquely-coloured cup, bearing the fateful legend, “Made in Germany.” Like a hero I gulped down the mixture it contained; to tell the truth, it was not unsavoury. Then I commenced to ask him a few questions. “Are things prospering in the reindeer breeding?” I inquired. [Illustration: FRATERNAL AFFECTION--FAMILY TIES ARE STRONG IN LAPLAND, AND EVEN THE BOYS LOOK AFTER THEIR BABY BROTHERS WITH THE UTMOST SOLICITUDE. _From a Photograph._]