The Henson Journals

[16]

Thursday, August 22nd, 1901.

Woke at 5 a.m. & got up shortly after. We were well into the great lake, which even here, at its narrow end, is a noble sheet of water. The shores are well–wooded: between the trees at intervals are patches of cultivated land, from which the crops were being gathered. The timber–built houses, painted red after the pretty Swedish fashion, are scattered about, & at some places a tall chimney, belching smoke masks the site of some factory, commonly a ship–building yard. We left the lake & entered on a course of locks, designed to lift the boat over another great elevation. During this tedious process we left the ship, & walked on the banks. I read through Ibsen's Peer Gynt – a very powerful work, penetrated with a fine dramatic sense. The weather continues fair, but the journey tends to become monotonous. I wrote to Miss Lathbury, and Tommie.

The last 2 hours of daylight were spent amid the most beautiful scenes. The sun went down in a cloudless sky behind the pine wood, and the afterglow of its departed glory showered a deep orange light on one side of the lake, & reflected itself in roseate on the opposite shores. The number of thickly wooded islands in the lake, & the brilliant moon streaking the wavelets with rippling light, & the innumerable stars from the background of profound azure, across which occasional meteors shot like damned spirits hurled from the battlements of relentless heaven – all united in a spectacle of incomparable beauty. This splendour was the gorgeously–clad herald of a tragedy. Lake Wetter was in evil temper, & gave us a nasty passage. The vessel, not built for storms, rolled in the most violent way, & there was much distress among the passengers. I was on deck, and at the deck–side. The crossing occupied just 2 hours, after which we were again in the canals, and began the long series of docks which brought us down by slow steps from the altitude we had slowly reached.

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