The deck was comparatively deserted, as we once more entered the lake.
There were two or three new passengers, however, one of whom inspired me
with a mild interest. He was a St. Petersburger, who, according to his
own account, had devoted himself to Art, and, probably for that reason,
felt constrained to speak in the language of sentiment. "I enjoy above
all things," said he to me, "communion with Nature. My soul is uplifted,
when I find myself removed from the haunts of men. I live an ideal life,
and the world grows more beautiful to me every year." Now there was
nothing objectionable in this, except his saying it. Those are only
shallow emotions which one imparts to every stranger at the slightest
provocation. Your true lover of Nature is as careful of betraying his
passion as the young man who carries a first love in his heart. But my
companion evidently delighted in talking of his feelings on this point.
His voice was soft and silvery, his eyes gentle, and his air
languishing; so that, in spite of a heavy beard, the impression he made
was remarkably smooth and unmasculine. I involuntarily turned to one of
the young Finnish sailors, with his handsome, tanned face, quick,
decided movements, and clean, elastic limbs, and felt, instinctively,
that what we most value in every man, above even culture or genius, is
the stamp of sex,--the asserting, self-reliant, conquering air which
marks the male animal. Wide-awake men (and women, too) who know what
this element is, and means, will agree with me, and prefer the sharp
twang of true fibre to the most exquisite softness and sweetness that
were ever produced by sham refinement.

After some fifteen or twenty miles from the island, we approached the
rocky archipelago in which the lake terminates at its northern end,--a
gradual transition from water to land. Masses of gray granite, wooded
wherever the hardy Northern firs could strike root, rose on all sides,
divided by deep and narrow channels. "This is the _scheer_," said our