The Coolidge examiner., 1935-12-13

Gotta Canal.
singing, fOamy waters under its
span. 1t forms link between the
old 'city between the bridges"
with its medieval quaintness of mar
row lanes, and the newer Stock
holm, with it's many public build
ings impressively modern in de-
sign, which suggest something of
the splendor that legend and his
tory have cast over the age Of the
Renaissance.
Before him rises the facade Of
the house of parliament. With the
Socialists in the majority, things
are in a bad way for our country"
he reflects gloomily. But he catches
the incOngruity in his fears, too. as
he faces the commanding simplicity
of the massive royal palace. With
in its walls, for more than cen
tury. rulers of the Bernadotte line
have held the reins of a limited
monarchy, untouched by the terrors
of revolution or the tumult of war.
The quivering beauty Of the anne
thyst twilight, which before long
will begin to throb with the glow
of ruby dawn, possesses his soul.
And love for his capital city. Of
silvery waterways and emerald
islands, cOnquerS doubts.
Courage to experiment with new
forms of the changing social order.
ranging widely from statecraft to
architecture" he reflects, land wis
dom to direct these experiments.
rooted firmly in past experience, to-
ward evolutionary progress-sOme-
thing of that courage and that wis
dom is the spirit of Stockholm, of
Sweden, today"
In the Forest Land.
In the solitudes of the Norrland
forests the frOntierSman has swung
his ak during the brief dusk that
is high noon of the winter day.
Throwing the logs on the ice-lOcked
rivers, natural floating channels for
the timber industry of the Far
North, he waits for the release that
comes with the thaws of spring.
Under his hand the primeval for
est has almost vanished, but the re-
growth of spruce and fir and pine is
straight and tall. For several dec
AIDES the Swedish state, stepping in
to check indiscriminate waste of
virgin forest, has been a jealous
guardian of this it's most important
source of wealth.
By midsummer the rivers will
have carried their cargo of logs,
numbered by the millions, we'll
down to sorting boom, near the
mills, on the eastern coast, where
the freighters lie in port. Hope
sings in the lumberman's heart as,
fascinated, he watches that silent
trek of the logs toward the sea.
1t is the season of light. On the
upper reaches of the NOrrland riy-
ers the midnight sun blaZes unre-
lentingly on glaciers and snow
capped peaks, converting them into
rushing torrents and Swift-Surging
rapids. Modern industry steps in
and in turn converts that tremen-
dous natural force into white coal"
for the country.
Electricity Is conQuering the will
derness of the North. White coal,
not black, feeds the trains that in
unending procession haul ore to sea-
ports from the huge mountains of
iron in the Arctic regions.
The tempo of life quickens in the
Far North. The frontiersman
catches the rhythm of the whir Of
wheels in sawmill. the roar Of tur-
bines in power plant, the click OF
steel rails in mountain tunnel.
ours are the riches of the fu-
ture," he eXults. Here are iron
ore fields among the largest in all
Europe. Outside of Finland, prob
ably no other European country has
such a high forest wealth (ours
approXimates 1000 acres per 100 in
habitants). Excluding Norway, what
European power is so lavishly
blessed by nature with bounteous
reserves of latent white coal? This
is Sweden, the Sweden of tomor-
row !"
Stockholm, the capital, turns away
from the West. Sweden faces the
Orient. The winds of induStrialism
coming from the West seem to have
been tempered by the restless bat
tling of the North sea and the lofty
snow-capped fields. 1t is as If Swe-
den had looked beyond the turbu-
lence of Russia and caught and pre-
served the spirit of the once serene
East.