The weekly Ottumwa courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1857-1872, 1857-05-21
Bayard Taylor i'm Northern Eu.
rOpe-Life I'm Lapland.
Correspondence Of the New York Tribune.


MUoNIovARA, Lapland, Jan. IA, 1857.
As we drove up to the red two-story house,
on arriving here last Saturday, short man
with dark whiskers and commercial air came
forward to meet us. 4 accosted him in Swe-
dish, asking him whether the house was an
inn. He replied in the negative, adding that
the only inn was Muonioniska, on the Russian
side, mile Or more distant. then askel for
the residence Of Mr.. Wolley, the English nat
uralist, whose name had been mentioned to me
by Prof. Retzius and the botanist Hartmann
He thereupon called to some one across the
court, and presently appeared a tall, slender
man dressed in the universal gray suit which
travelling Englishmen wear, from the Equator
to the Poles. He came up with extended
hand, on hearing his own language; few
words snficed for explanations, and he devo-
ted himself to our interests with the cordiality
of an old acquaintance. He lived with the
Swede, Herr Forstrom, who was the merchant
of the place but the wife Of the latter had
just been confined, and there was no room in
his house. Mr.. Wolley proposed at first to
send to the inn in Muonioniska, and engage
room, but afterward arranged with Norsk
carpenter, who lives on the hill above, to give
US quarters in his house. so that we might be
near enough to take our meals together. Moth
ing could have suited us better. We took
possession at once, and then descended the
hill to dinner-I had ventured to hint at our.
famished coldition-of cepercailie, cranber-
ries, soft bread, whipped cream, and glass of
genuine Port
Warmed and comforted by such luxurious
fare, we climbed the hill to the carpenters
house, in the dreary Arctic twilight, in the most
cheerful and contented frame of mind. Was
this, indeed, Lap.and? Did we, indeed, stand
already in the heart of the polar winter2 Yes !;
there was no doubt Of it. The Imagination
could scarcely conceive a more desolate pic
ture than that upon which we gazed--the plair
of sonber snow, beyond which the black huts
of the village were family discernible, the
stunted woods and bleak hills, which night
and the raw snow-clouds had half obscured,
and yondsr fur-clad figure gliding silently
beside his reindeer. Yet, even here, where
Man seems to have settled cut Of pure spite
against Nature, were comfort and hospitality
and kindness. We entered the carpenters
house, lit our candles and pipes, and sat
down to enjoy at ease the unusual feeling of
shelter and a home. The building was OF
squared fir logs, with black moss stuffed in the
crevices, making it very warm and substantial.
Oar room contained loom, two tables, two
beds with linen of righteousness softness and
cleanness, an iron stove (the first we have seen
in Sweaen,) and the usual washing apparatus,
beside piece Of carpet on the floor. What
more coald ary man desire ? The carpenter,
Herr Knohlock, speaks some German; his
son, Ludwig, Mr. Wolley's servant, also looks
after our needs; and the daughter, fair,
blooming girl of about nineteen, brings US cof-
fee before we are out of bed, and keeps our
fire in order. Why, Lapland is very Sybaris
ir comparison with what had expected.