in a misty ocean, in movable columns of snow, which were impetuous, and irresistible as the sand-whirlpools of the desert.  About midday a light purple tint, like a dying twilight, glittered in somber space:  a ray thrown by the sun across the clouds, gave an uncertain light.  All, however, soon became dark again.  One might have fancied that the god of day had retired over-wearied from regions he had in vain attempted to subdue.  Nowhere does the symbolical dogma of the contests of darkness and light manifest itself in more characteristic traits than in the Scandinavian mythology; and nowhere does it appear physically under a more positive image than in the regions which have been for centuries devoted to this mythology.  During the summer at the north, the sun reigns like an absolute sovereign over nature, and ceaselessly lights it with his crown of fire; he ever watches it, like a jealous lover.  If he inclines toward the horizon, if his burning disk disappears behind the purple mountain brows, he leaves for only a moment those polar regions, and leaves even then a clearness behind like the dawn.  He soon reappears in his spotless splendor.

In the winter, however, he yields to night, which, with her dark cortege, occupies the northern world.  She envelops space with her black wings, and casts the ice and snow from her bosom.  Sometimes, for weeks, the storms are so violent, that one cannot, without danger, venture into the fields; and cruel necessity alone induces the peasant to take the road, either to offer something for sale in the nearest market, or to gain a few shillings as a guide to some adventurous traveler.  Sometimes, even the peasants of this country are afraid to cast their nets in the river, and gulf, which in the greatest degree contribute to their subsistence.  During the greater portion of the time, the poor people of the north, secluded in their homes by masses of snow, isolated from their neighbors, pass whole winters by the fireside.  The men occupy themselves in repairing the harness of their horses, in mending the iron work of their carriages—­for in that country the homes of people are so far from each other, that each family is forced to provide for its daily wants, and every peasant is at once saddler, wagon-maker, and carpenter.  Women are busy in weaving and spinning.  In many provinces, especially in that in which the uncle of Ireneus had established himself, there was in existence an industry, which, during the last twenty years, has been much developed.  Every peasant’s house is a perfect workshop, for the manufacture of linen.  Woofs, white and fine as those of Holland, and quite as good, are there produced.  This variety of work commences after harvest.  In the autumn evenings, women, young girls, &c., assemble at different houses, with their distaff or bundle of flax, which they place before the hearth.  It is pleasant, indeed, to see this collection of industrious women, busied in the performance of the task prescribed to them, laughing, talking, without sometimes taking time even to listen to the young lovers who hover around them.