CHAPTER XIV.

Marstrand Castle - The "manet," or sea-nettle cure-Jonathan Oldbuck and the Giant's Pots - The "naked maiden "- Thord Bonde, and Erik the Holy-'The Wave.'

MARSTRAND.

June 18th.-TO-DAY we quit Göteborg; our party is au grand complet; the Philistines turned up from London the very day of our arrival; even Vic, the terrier, who must needs go pup at Lund, has again made her appearance; and we are all ready for a start. Göteborg is a delightful place for boys; they can bathe, fish, shoot, from sunrise to sunset, go out and in at all impossible hours; feeding at a restauration, we farm them out at so much a,day and hear nothing more about them.

"Have you ordered rooms at Marstrand?" inquired the wife of a Swedish Consul-General on board the steamer. No, we had not; she looked grave, but said nothing. A Swedish clergyman, out for a holiday, who, in open defiance of vestry, had carried off the church chest to stow his luggage in—a chest full twelve feet long, with iron clamps and corners, boasting a key which might serve as a walking-stick— opened his eyes and sighed for very pity; while two artillery officers looked up from their chessboard to the sky, as much as to say, "You see your bed-curtains, and very black ones they are too,"-then continued

they gave us calf's-head soup, fresh lobsters as well as eels, veal cutlets, with vegetables, and, lastly, a sort of fruit cake, with vanille ice. The pickled salmon here is excellent, not served in vinegar as in England, but with a delicate white aspic made from a calf's head—a great improvement on our national receipt. Swedish ladies are not above saying their grace in public, ending the short prayer by a deep genuflexion.

To gain an idea of the island we mounted to the castle. It is refreshing, in this land of brickwork, to meet with a fort of granite, machicolated and architectural, but no admittance is granted to strangers,— some fungus ordinance of Magnus Smek still powdering in its mildew. "However," said the commandant, "though I can give no leave, I shall say nothing if you go." So, armed with these credentials, we bravely encountered a Swedish sentinel, full seven feet high, the showman of his regiment, who at first opposed our passage.

The castle of Marstrand, a first-class fortress in its day, is as strong as turret, casemate, souterrain hung with dripping stalactites, portcullis, drawbridge, guns with red carriages, and heaps of cannon-ball can make it all worth nothing, say the learned under the improved system of military warfare. The building is no longer a prison; the cells in the rock-side were found damp and unwholesome. Those doves perched upon the window's eaves once formed the solace of the prisoners; such was the love borne to them they hanged a comrade on the spot who wantonly killed one with a

stone.

The view from the tower's height is glorious: the island, small in itself, is defended on three sides by a

natural vallum of rocks, which again rise in double and triple range; on the north side alone it is open. Most striking is this wild scenery, with small fishingboats, and their white sails, flitting in and out among the channels. Marstrand has stood severe sieges in its day. In 1677 it was taken by Gyldenløve, after a gallant defence of three weeks under the old Scotchman Andrew Sinclair, who was allowed to retire with the honours of war. Again, in June, 1718, it surrendered to Tordenskiöld, an ignominious capitulation, for which the commandant, Colonel Dankwart, lost his head at Göteborg. The chaplain of the fort, Casten Rönnow, son of Parson Rönnow of Åhus, thus notes the event in the church-book :-" In 1718 no marriage took place in the island, on account of the surrendering of the castle to the Danes without any good cause!!! Nota bene!!! nota bene!!!" three times repeated. But if Casten Rönnow felt this degra dation, the people were far from doing so. As Carl Gustaf once said to the Danes, "What can it matter whether your king be called Charles or Frederik ?"— so thought they; and it is curious to witness the turncoat spirit of the age. In the parish register all children born before the siege bear the names of Charles and Gustavus, while the governor of the castle stands and signs as sponsor. In July, volte face-Frederik and Christian are the names now-nothing else goes down; and Tordenskiöld himself holds at the baptismal font the offspring of the island blacksmith, and honours the christening festival with his presence.

Opposite to Marstrand, divided by a narrow channel, lies Ko-ön, or Cow Island, granted to the inhabitants for cattle-grazing. As seen from the ramparts, the

small promontory on which the bathing-house stands juts out like a cauliflower's head against the waters. This island, a favourite promenade of the bathers, is rich and fertile, and contains several well-kept villas, with gardens open to all comers.

The "manet”* has not yet arrived, the “cure” for which Marstrand is famous. At Sandifiorde in Norway the jelly-fish are of greater size, similar to those we saw expiring on the sands of Skagen. In cases of rheumatism or paralysis they are most efficacious; though, if the limb retains any feeling, the process of friction is most painful, for these sea-nettles sting and burn like flames of purgatory.

Next morning I was accosted by a gentleman, who said, "I am the Jonathan Oldbuck of Marstrand; come, and I will show you the island." So he led me, nothing loth, over the rocks to view the Jätte-gryta, or "Giant's Pots," in which, says tradition, the giants cooked their food.

They are circular wells, a fathom deep and more, in the granite strata, varying from three to seven feet in circumference, rounded at the bottom; they occur by threes, the largest lowest down in the group, and are scattered liberally enough along the rocky coast. These pots were once under water, for the whole of Scandinavia is rising gradually to a higher

* Medusa aurita-sea-nettle-jelly-fish.

These "pots" are caused by the constant wearing of a round stone under water. In a tanyard near Götaborg several were lately discovered, with the stones still in their places, polished and round, as large as cannon-balls. At the bottom of each pot was found a greasy substance like tallow, probably decomposed vegetable matter. The owner of the land affirms that the stones when first removed were light, but after exposure to the air became heavy-so heavy are they now, I could not lift them.