Linnæus on landing made his way across-country to Örebro, whence he embarked again on the Hjelmaren Lake for Eskilstuna, now called the Swedish Sheffield. It was then a mere village, though there were a few metal-works in that day, established by a Livonian from Riga, attracted by the fine water-power. At that time there were few of the neat streets that we see now, and factories were well-nigh unknown, except a few saw-mills by the rapids, which have mostly disappeared before a more lucrative industry. The town is clean and quiet, much of the iron-work being executed at the workmen's own cottages The fine new technical school, built of white stone, is externally clean. and quiet also. The church stands sequestered by the shady river banks. It was founded by Eskil, the English archbishop of Lund; hence the town's name Eskilstuna. The church doors are kept open, though guarded by pretty wrought-iron gates, through which one can peep at the elaborate black and white pulpit and general interior of the church. It is prettiest seen in this way. Beyond the pleasant quiet churchyard the river is crossed in several places by bridges of various builds, chiefly primitive forms of suspensionbridge, to the village of the factories, where there is plenty of noise of anvils, saws, and waterfalls. 1 From here Linnæus took a boat, a gaily beflagged vessel containing a pleasure-party-crowded, of course, with friends bidding farewell to parting friends--and Appointed by Nicholas Breakspear, Pope Adrian IV. 1 sailed down the Eskilstunaa for Thorshälla, one of the quaintest and most delightful places in Sweden. It is set nearly in the water, like the lake dwellings of old, and is full of picturesque bits and bridges intermingled with waterfalls and weirs. Some of the houses are built on piles, but most of them stand on rude but solid pedestals of stone, chiefly granite blocks, lichengrown, in all colours. One walks right through the wooden-built red-painted town in changing from one boat to another, the way being stopped by waterfalls, above which the lofty scaled tower of Thorshälla Church is the centre of many charming pictures. The Swedes are prouder of Eskilstuna, which has of late risen rapidly into prominence, and strongly recommend it to strangers in preference to Thorshälla, which was in Linnæus's time much the more important place, and is unaltered in its aspect. To the artist, however, there is no comparison between the two places. Eskilstuna has points of interest certainly, but it is on the whole a flourishing manufacturing town; while Thorshälla has all the charm and novelty of the real old world of ages long ago about it, grouped in a way to make it unusually interesting even among picturesque places. High, stately, fullsailed vessels glide, seemingly, through the fields, moving westward from Stockholm, saluted by the cheers of the crowd gathered on a Sunday evening. From other directions come smaller boats, carrying crowds of pleasureseeking passengers from many parts of the Mälar. Linnæus took again another boat (one is constantly shifting from boat to boat in these amphibious journeys) and sailed down the pretty winding river Thorshällaa (where there is excellent salmon-trout fishing), and crossed the rough and black Lake Mälar to Westerås ; the difficult navigation of this part of the Mälar, which is full of partially covered rocks, being guided by the two tall steeples of Thorshälla and Westerås, whose tall obelisk spire, three hundred and ten feet high, forms a capital landmark to steer by, being visible as far as the entrance to the Thorshälla River. A relay of good horses soon took him to Upsala. On Linnæus's return home he continued his academical occupations, and towards the end of the year was invested with the rectorship of the university, which office had been held by another person provisionally during his absence. In 1750, having administered the office of rector with great attention, and at the same time given private instructions, he, in consequence of his great exertions, and the spring setting in, had a very painful attack of gout, which obliged him at the expiration of his rectorship to keep to his bed.' He now wrote his 'Skåne Journey' for publication; but it was not printed till two years afterwards. His correspondents had every year requested him to publish his 'Philosophia Botanica,' in order that the terms and principles of his system might be explained in one work. Ellis writes on Oct. 30, 'I am glad to hear you are safe returned from your expedition into Scania.' CHAPTER XXI. THE KNIGHT OF THE POLAR STAR. Above may the Soul spread wing, spurn body and sense beneath her; LINNEUS has been as a dried flower to this generationa dry and dusty thing, with colour lost and form flattened, spoiled. In our meagre idea of his system-as merely a scaffold, now removed to show the solidity of some grand structure behind it—we have neglected him who was really the architect of the beautiful temple of natural history that we respect but care very little about. It was he who first planned-on paper for the world, and in practice for his own country-that science of insentient things, as well as of all the exquisite lesser life around us, and the application of that science to the well-being of man, that has since been worked out on his plan and foundation by men able to carry forward his ideas. The Polar Star was essentially his emblem. He guided the way. Into dusty drawers and tomes a young generation cannot be expected to look-as why should it ?—but a picture of the splendid autumn of this great man's life may have its attractions, nevertheless, to those who care for the story of life's work and its rewards, and not only for rhapsodies on misery quenched in love, or vice versa. Linnæus, from 1750 onwards, excited and directed the prevalent taste for natural history; heading a great movement, not national merely, but European, and indeed of universal application. 'To Linnæus belongs the renown of having been the only individual who arranged and described all the animals, plants, and minerals known in his time. And the fact of his having accomplished this herculean task is sufficient to prove his extraordinary genius and energy, his excellent judgment, and unwearied zeal.' His life is a turning-point in our knowledge; hitherto all learning had been veiled in a cloud of words, in the dead languages, which had long been used for the purpose of concealing the thoughts of learned men. Linnæus was the Luther of science; he revived the languages, raised them to life (galvanised them, if you will, though I say he gave them a new lease) for the purpose of clearing up all science to all the world by the use of one common tongue; he created, in fact, a new language out of a dead one; the phoenix of scientific terminology, with its uses and universal application, has arisen from the ashes of the ancient tongues. His unrivalled invention of nomenclature, which came from his hands, as it were, perfect, will remain of undiminished value so long as |