After dinner, unappalled by an inky sky, we hired, at a rouble each, a little miniature steam-boat, with a machine scarce bigger than a tea-kettle, which whizzed and fumed us about at the will of two Swedish lads, and landed us at Sveaborg. This island is about five acres in extent, loaded with crown buildings and a population of military, and sacred to the memory of Field-Marshal Count Ehrensward, whose monument stands here. Thence we steered for the Scheeren, literally the Scissors, a beautiful chasm of sea, between meeting and retreating islands, where trees with leaves grow by the water's edge; and where the Helsingforstians in their holiday expeditions land and bear off a leaf with as keen a pleasure as we should the choicest bouquet. But "pleasure suits itself to all,-the rich can but be pleased." The rain fell occasionally in torrents around us; but our little puffing bark seemed to bear a charm, or, as a ready Russian officer of the party observed, " pas un, mais plusieurs ;" and we passed dry on, while some delicious voices on board gave us alternately German and Russian melodies.
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