Part 19 (1/2)
Finland has her own stamps, but all letters pa.s.sing 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-cla.s.s 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 a.s.sets 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, ca.n.a.ls, 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 pa.s.sed on the calm waters round the coast, or the yet calmer lakes and ca.n.a.ls 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 pa.s.sengers 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 d.i.c.kenson, 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 l.u.s.ty 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 ”G.o.d save the King,” what would be the result? Why, that more than half the pa.s.sengers 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 ba.s.ses 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.
We wandered with a delightful man whose role it was to act as interpreter between the Finnish and Swedish languages in the House of Commons, a position called _tulkki_ or translator, just as Canada uses interpreters for English and French.
We were amazed to find him conversant with all kinds of English literature; he spoke with familiarity of d.i.c.kens, Thackeray, Shakespeare, twelve of whose plays, by the bye, have been translated into Finnish and performed at the theatre, and he was even acquainted with the works of Rudyard Kipling, Swinburne, Browning, and Mrs. Humphry Ward. With equal apt.i.tude he discussed Daudet and Zola, Tolstoi and Tourgenieff, and, to our astonishment, we found that although he spoke only indifferent German, he could read English, French, German, and Russian authors in the original.
As we wandered down the railway line, our attention was arrested by an extraordinary carriage which stood on a siding. A sort of engine was in front, but, behind, a gla.s.s house composed the remainder of the waggon.
We had never before seen anything like it, and wondered if it could be an observatory on wheels, until we noticed that in the forepart of the train was a snow-plough, such as is to be seen on every engine in Norway during mid-winter, a plough which closely resembles an American cow-catcher.
”That,” remarked our friend, ”is a Finnish snow-plough. It is with the greatest difficulty we can keep the lines clear in winter, and it is not sufficient to have an ordinary snow-plough attached to the engine, therefore, just as ice-breakers endeavour to keep the port of _Hango_ open during winter, so these snow-ploughs ply to and fro along the railway lines, throwing up vast heaps of snow on each side, until they make a wall sometimes ten or twelve feet high. These walls form a sort of protection to the trains, and gradually become so hard that, by the end of the winter snow, they might be built of stone, they are so strong.”
There are not many railways in Finland, the first being laid in 1862; with the exception of private ones, which are narrow, they all have the wide Russian gauge.