Through Finland in Carts

From the poor the rich have taken a hint, and where, in England, we have work parties for bazaars, or to make garments for the village clubs, in Finland they have a talkko. Especially is this the custom just before Christmas time, when many presents have to be got ready, and all the girl friends assemble and prepare their little gifts for distribution on Christmas Eve. On this night there is much festivity. A tree is lighted even in the poorest homes, and presents are exchanged amid much feasting and merriment.

Christmas comes in the winter, when snow and ice are everywhere; therefore the richer folk drive to their balls and parties in sledges, rolled up in furs, and big skating-parties are the order of the day.

It is amusing at these gatherings to hear the young people all calling one another by their Christian names, and as some of the real Finnish names are musical and pretty, we give a few of the most usual —

Winter in the South of Finland generally sets in about the last week of November, and when it comes is usually very severe, while the nights are long and the days short. As a rule the air is dry, and therefore that delightful fresh crispness, which is so invigorating, prevails, as it does in Norway, where, one day when we were with Dr. Nansen at Lysaker, the thermometer registered 9° below zero Fahr., yet we found it far less cold than England on a mild damp day.

The mean temperature of the North of Finland is 27° Fahr., and round Helsingfors in the South, 38° Fahr.

As November advances every one in the Southern districts looks forward eagerly to black ice; that is to say, that the ice should form before the first fall of snow covers the land. This often happens, and then the lakes, the rivers, and all round the coast, rapidly freeze some inches thick, the surface being as flat as a looking-glass, unless the wind has seriously disturbed the ice much while forming, and Finland becomes one enormous skating-rink from end to end. Every one throughout the country skates – men, women, and children. Out they come in the early morning, and, with some refreshments in their pockets, they accomplish visits and journeys which, to the uninitiated, seem impossible. Fifty or sixty miles a day can be managed on skates, and even the peasantry avail themselves of this opportunity of enjoying sport, and, at the same time, accomplishing a vast amount of friendly visiting and work. It is during this black ice that the ice-boats are most in requisition; for the bumpiness so often experienced when snow has settled on the frozen surface does not exist, and the ice-boats' speed, which is tremendous at all times, becomes absolutely terrific and wildly exciting, as we know from our experiences in Holland.

However, Finland is not always so fortunate, and sometimes the frost and snow come together; and then, although the peasantry, as in Holland, skate over the waterways to market and on business, the better-class folk, who skate for amusement, betake them to rinks.

Roadways are marked out on the ice in Finland the same as in Norway; that is to say, little holes are dug along the would-be path into which small fir-trees are stuck, and therefore these impromptu roads look like little avenues.

In the case of an ice-rink, fir-trees are planted all round the edge in a veritable wall, to keep out the non-paying public. Bands play in the afternoon and evening, and when it becomes too dark to see by nature's light, electric lamps are kindled, and the place becomes a regular rendezvous, not only for skaters, but for onlookers, who walk about on those bright starlight evenings, chatting to their friends, sipping their coffee, and listening to the music.

As a rule, in Finland they go in more for distance than figure-skating, as is also the case in Holland, Norway, etc., where long distances have to be traversed, and speed is of more importance than style. Still, in the Finnish towns, where people skate on rinks merely for amusement, some beautiful figure-skating may be seen.

Once a Finnish lady went over to Paris and received the sum of £120 a month for giving entertainments in figure-skating. All Paris was charmed, and Finland naturally felt proud.

Sledging, of course, is everywhere necessary in Finland in the winter, and only those who have enjoyed the delights of a drive, with a good horse briskly passing through the crisp air to the tingling of sleigh bells, can realise its delights.

Skidåkning is also much in vogue, but in Finland it is not so dangerous as in more mountainous countries. In Norway ski are absolutely essential. There the snow lies so deep on the mountains and in the valleys that the peasantry could never get about at all were it not for their ski. But in Finland the country is so much flatter, and the lakes so much more numerous, that people can walk on the hard-frozen surface readily. Therefore the peasantry – except in certain districts – do not use ski so much as a necessity, as for pleasure and sport. The upper classes go on skidor as constantly as they skate. They get up competitions; they go for whole days' expeditions into the country, and, on their "wooden shoon," enjoy themselves thoroughly in the winter months.

In a Winter Jaunt to Norway, I described a jump of eighty-eight feet made on these strange snow-shoes, and the ski themselves, as follows: —

It is perhaps a bold statement to call ski-racing one of the finest sports of the world, but to our mind it undoubtedly is, and one which requires wondrous pluck and skill, and for a man to jump eighty-eight feet from a height, with a pair of ski securely fixed on his feet, requires some courage!

They are utterly unlike Canadian snow-shoes, because they are required for a very hilly country, and over a great depth of snow. An ordinary-sized man's ski are eight or nine feet long. They are only about 4½ inches wide, and an inch at the thickest part, that is to say, immediately under the foot, but towards either end they taper to half this thickness. As a rule they are both the same length, and pointed upwards at the toes; but in some of the Norwegian valleys and in Finland, one ski is much longer than the other, and that one is usually quite flat.

In the middle of this plank-like piece of wood, which is split with the grain to stand the great strain often imposed upon it, and never sawn at all, the toes are fastened by a leather strap. Another strap goes round the heel in a sort of loop fashion, securing the foot, but at the same time giving the heel full play. A special ski boot is worn over enormously thick horsehair stockings. This boot has no hard sole at all, and, instead of being sewn at the sides, the large piece of thick leather which goes under the foot is brought well over the top and secured to what might ordinarily be called a leather tongue. At the back of the boot is a small strap, which is used to fasten the ski heel-strap securely to the boot. Once fixed on the ski, the foot is so secure no fall can loosen it, and the only way to extricate the foot is to undo the three straps. Outside these huge ungainly hair stockings and strangely comfortable boots very thick gaiters are worn. It is very necessary to keep the feet and legs warm in such a cold land as Norway, where the mercury freezes oft-times in the thermometers, and snow six or seven feet deep covers the land sometimes for months. Such cold sounds appalling, but it is quite the reverse. The air is absolutely dry, and there is seldom any wind.

At the given word, No. 1 rushed from the plateau on the hilltop, down the hill itself. The pace, in consequence of the steepness, was tremendous. On he came; on to the little platform built out from the mountain-side he rushed; then, with a huge spring, his legs doubled up, and whirling his arms like a windmill to keep his balance, he jumped.

Oh, what a moment of profound excitement! Would he regain his footing all that distance below? Balancing himself for a moment in the air after his jump, he regained his footing, and sped away down the hillside, stopping himself by a sharp turn of the ski as he was nearing the loudly applauding spectators. One after another they came, and at least 50 per cent, succeeded in landing on their feet and speeding away.

The longest jump of all was 26½ metres, that is to say, nearly 88 feet, and this was done by Ustvedt; but he did not regain his footing. Ingemann Sverre, who jumped 22 metres, and landed on his feet to continue his course, won the king's cup and the ladies' purse.

We looked on and marvelled.

Since then a hundred and twenty feet is the record jump. Strange as it may seem, ski was a word practically unknown in England.

Such competitions are now held in Finland, where ski soon promise to be as fashionable as in Norway. Ski are called —

In Swedish Skida, plural Skidor.

In Finnish Suksi, " Sukset.

They are almost the same as the Norwegian shoes, excepting that they always have an inward curve under the foot, and seldom have a heel-strap. The heel-strap is only necessary for jumping or for going uphill, and as there is little jumping and no hills to speak of in Finland, the shoe, being curved up at the toe like a Chinaman's, is sufficient to keep the Sukset on the feet.

Bears, as said before, do not walk hourly in the streets of Finland. Nevertheless, bears do exist, and in the Northern and Easterly districts in considerable numbers. It is in winter that the bear-hunts take place, and, having discovered the whereabouts of the monarch of the forest, the Finlander disturbs him from his winter sleep, either by smoke or by the aid of dogs, and then for days follows him over the snow. The bear is an adept at walking through snow, but man on sukset is his match. After circling bruin in parties, or chasing him alone, the bear generally falls in the end to some sportsman's gun. It is a great day when the dead bear is brought back to the village, and one usually celebrated by a triumphal procession, merry-making, and a grand feast, followed by much singing of the national songs, handed down from father to son, and thrilling tales of wondrous acts of daring at bear-hunts, for, as we have seen, in the Kalevala the bear is a great subject for the poet's verse. The man who fired the fatal shot is, on the occasion of the bear-feast, naturally the hero, and for him it is an occasion to be gratefully remembered. Every Finn speaks with profound admiration and bated breath of Mårten Kitunen, who during his life killed a hundred and ninety-eight fully-grown bears, besides innumerable young ones. It must not be imagined from this that bear-killing is an easy sport; on the contrary, it is extremely dangerous, for the fatigue and perils of skidåkning the wild forests, with a very low temperature, for hours and hours is in itself a perilous pastime. Frost-bite is by no means uncommon, and, of course, in such cold, it is impossible to sit down and rest, lest that drowsy sleep, so dreaded in northern climates, should take hold of the weary man and gradually lull him into his last slumber. Nevertheless, women, who in Finland are particularly enterprising, sometimes take part in bear-hunts, and it is on record that several have themselves shot fully-grown animals. No mean achievement for a woman; but Finnish women are go-ahead, and have given the world a lead by gaining admittance to Parliament.

Many women stalk the deer in Scotland, and some have made wonderful bags, but then, although stalking often necessitates many weary hours' walking, there is not in Scotland such severe and perilous cold to deal with. In Finland many ladies shoot, and when a hare is killed the cry of All's Tod rings through the forest, and sounds almost as inspiriting as the cry of the hounds at home.

Tobogganing is another great institution in Finland, and as the hills in the South are not steep enough for a really good spin, the Finlanders put up a Kälkbacke or Skrinnbacke, in imitation of their Russian friends, and enjoy rattling spins, and moments of intense excitement, gliding down these dangerous routes. They are really switchbacks made of ice and snow, and as they are steep, the pace is terrific.

In summer yachting is one of the great institutions of Finland, and we were lucky enough to be in Wiborg at the time of the great race between Wiborg and Helsingfors for the Yacht Cup.

It was a delightful day, and a large steamer having been chartered by our host, whose son was the President of the Wiborg Yacht Club, he invited his friends to see the race. We were a very merry party of forty or fifty, as we steamed away from the Wiborg pier to where the two yachts were to meet.

The Menelik belongs to Wiborg; the Thelma to Helsingfors. The Menelik is a lugger, built in Wiborg at the yard of Hackman Company, although designed by Arthur E. Payne of Southampton. She is a two and a half rater.

The Helsingfors boat was designed by Charles Sibbick in Cowes, England.

The Yacht Club in Helsingfors began its existence in 1876, and is certainly in a very flourishing condition. The course was a long one, and the two best days' sailing out of three secures the Cup. The first day was a trial to the patience of the steersmen. It was a dead calm; such a calm as one seldom meets with, and not until the afternoon did the faintest breeze spring up, while even then the sailing so far exceeded the seven hours' time allowed that the day was drawn as a blank.

But, as onlookers, we enjoyed ourselves immensely; there were numbers of steamers like ourselves on pleasure bent, the umpire's boat, and several rowing boats which had managed to come out so far to sea, the day being calm. The end was all that our kind host could wish, for the Menelik won by three minutes. Yachting and canoeing are fine pastimes in this land of waterways.

Dancing is a very popular form of entertainment in Finland, and often indulged in by old and young. It is quite a custom on Saturday evening for the young folk from various villages to meet together at some workmen's recreation room, or at one of the larger farms, and have a ball. One of the best specimens of such an entertainment we chanced to see was at the old-world city of Åbo. About a mile from the town a new park has been opened, in the arrangements of which our friend, the Chief of the Police, took the greatest interest, and to it, after a charming little dinner, he escorted us to see the peasant ball in full swing.

Every Saturday at six o'clock it begins; and, as some sort of restraint is necessary, the sum of one penny is charged to each would-be dancer.

In the middle of the park is a large kiosk, big enough for a couple of hundred folk to pirouette at a time. It has a roof supported by pillars, but there are no side walls. A couple of fiddlers were playing hard when we entered, and a cornet coming in at odd minutes composed the band, and, until midnight, the couples twirled and whisked round and round the wooden floor. Why should not something of the kind be allowed in our parks from seven to twelve in the evening at a charge of a few pence?

The great national dance of the country is called the jenka. It is more like a schottische perhaps than anything else; and really it was extraordinary to see how well these peasants danced, and how they beat time. Thoroughly they entered into the spirit of the thing, the polka, waltz, and jenka being all danced in turn, until the park closed.

Writing letters in Finland is an expensive amusement. Every epistle, not delivered by private hand, costs twopence for transmission; rather a high rate for home postage, considering that foreign letters only cost a fourth more. Postcards cost one penny, whether for home or foreign use.

This high rate of postage seems very remarkable, considering the almost universal adoption of my father's old friend's (Sir Rowland Hill) enlightened suggestion that a penny would pay.

We learn that during the year 1896 our English post-office passed 1,834,200,000 letters and 314,500,000 postcards; and, writing on the same subject, the Duke of Norfolk said, "The penny letter has long been known to be the sheet anchor of the post-office, and it is interesting to record that no less than 95 per cent. of the total number of inland letters passed for a penny each." Fifteen years later every English-speaking land could be reached by a penny stamp.

Finland might take the hint and institute a penny post; but we hope she will not send some fifty thousand letters unaddressed, as we English did, their valuable contents amounting to several thousands of pounds!

The quickest postal route to Finland is viâ St. Petersburg; but letters are often delayed to be searched, and they are not unfrequently lost, so that all important epistles are best registered; and one Finnish family, some of whose relations live in Germany, told us they never thought of sending letters either way without registering them first.

Finland has her own stamps, but all letters passing direct from Russia to Finland, or Finland to Russia, must have special stamps upon them, the Tzar having forbidden the Finnish stamps to be used on letters going out of Finland, which is contrary to Finnish laws.

Telegrams from or to Finland are ruinous. Even in Suomi itself they cost a small fortune, and outside they are even worse; but then no one telegraphs to any one in the territory, for almost every person has a telephone, which can be annexed from town to town, and those who have not telephones can go to a public office in every village and expend a penny on their message, therefore in that respect the Finns are in advance of us.

We were amused to find the Finlanders very inquisitive. This is as much a trait in their character as their stubborn obstinacy, their intense truthfulness, or their wondrous honesty. And a Finn runs a Scotchman very hard in evading a straightforward answer.

"Does the train leave at two?"

The question is replied to by the Scot, "Maybe it does;" but the Finlander says, "It is advertised to do so;" thus getting out of a direct answer, for where the Englishman would say "Yes" or "No" if he knew, the other two nations would never dream of doing such a thing. The inhabitants of this Grand Duchy are, as has been stated, wondrously inquisitive. The peasant asks where you come from the moment he sees you are a stranger, and the better-class folk soon turn the traveller in their midst inside out with questions. They ask not only "Where do you come from?" but, "Where are you going?" "What is your business?" "Have you a husband, wife, father, mother, brother, sisters," and so on. One inquiry is piled upon another, just as is the custom in the United States, where a railway journey is like a query and answer column.

The Finns do it all most good-naturedly, 'tis true, but occasionally it is inconvenient nevertheless.

Finns are very intense; they are men of few words; slow to anger, and slower to forgive. They never do anything in a hurry. Life is very serious to them, and they endure great privations with patience. They never trifle; flirtation they abhor; and chaff they simply do not understand. They are honest to a degree, kindhearted, respect law and order, and love peace. They are more than hospitable; they are, in fact, overpoweringly generous in their invitations to the veriest stranger; they are kind in their dealings with foreigners – doing their best to entertain them, to understand their speech, although often speaking four or five languages themselves, and to show them all they can of their land, of which they are immensely proud.

They have none of the beauty, brilliancy, or charm of the South; but all the sterling assets and good qualities of the North.

CHAPTER VIII

IMATRA'S ROARING CATARACT

The scenery of Finland is, as a rule, neither grand nor impressive. It has not the mountains of Switzerland topped with everlasting snow, nor the rocky fjords of Norway; no dear little Tyrolese chalets, nor sweet English cottages set in fair gardens, no splendid stretches of emerald-green sward, and iron-bound coast scenery such as is the delight of the tourist in Ireland, nor purple-crowned hills as in Scotland; nevertheless, it has a charm of its own, and can boast more lakes, canals, and rivers, all connected in some marvellous way, than any of the countries mentioned.

It is indeed a land of many thousand lakes, and one might add many, many thousand islands. There are large islands covered with pine forests, tiny solitary rocky islets, on which perchance a house has been built for a pilot; mere patches of earth islands, where flourishes one solitary pine, that looks from a distance as if it were actually growing on the surface of the water.

Round the coast line there are dangerous and hidden haunts where smuggling goes on to a large extent, while, when traversing the inland lakes, big steamers have to keep to certain routes marked by buoys – sometimes merely by sticks.

Except in the far North the country is very flat, and even in the North a few hundred feet is the limit of the highest land. Further South even less elevation is found, although the country is by no means so uniformly level as Holland, Denmark, or Russia.

One can travel nearly all over Finland in steamers, and very comfortable steamers they are too, with nice little cabins and good restaurants. Provided with one's own deck-chair, many pleasant days can be passed on the calm waters round the coast, or the yet calmer lakes and canals inland, where one marvels at the engineering skill and the wonderful steering powers of English-speaking captains of Finnish birth.

We decided on our way back from Sordavala to stop at the famous cataract of Imatra. It was one of the few railway journeys we made during our jaunt in Finland, for we always went by water for choice, and it proved somewhat remarkable.

Can there be such a thing as a musical train? If so, verily the name would apply to that by which we travelled. The passengers were made up of odds and ends; among them were most of the students who had taken part in the Festival, a great many representatives of various choirs, some of the athletes who had charmed us with their gymnastic exercises, for which the country is famous, and several visitors like ourselves. Of course, these folk never previously practised singing together, but after Professor Dickenson, standing on the platform, had returned thanks on behalf of the visitors for their cordial reception in Sordavala, which speech was replied to by the Mayor of the town, some one called upon the audience to sing the national air "Maamme." The voices rose and fell immediately. Heads were poked out from carriage windows in order that lusty throats might sing their beloved air. All at once three students on the platform waved their caps on high, and a regular musical performance ensued. To a stranger it seemed a remarkable demonstration.

Supposing the occupants of an English train were suddenly called upon to sing "God save the King," what would be the result? Why, that more than half the passengers would prove so shy they could not even attempt it; another quarter might wander about the notes at their own sweet will, and, perhaps, a small percentage would sing it in tune. But then, just think, the Finns are so imbued with music, and practise so continually – for they seem to sing on every conceivable occasion – that the sopranos naturally took up their part, the basses and the tenors kept to their own notes, and perfect harmony prevailed.

Not content with singing half a dozen songs while waiting for the train to get under way, many carriage loads sang off and on during the whole seven hours of the journey to Andrea, where we changed in order to catch a train for Imatra. Having an hour to spare at this junction, a walk was suggested along the railway line. This was not at all so dangerous a feat as might be imagined, for although only a single line, trains ran so very seldom that pedestrians might walk up and down for half a day and never see one.