Swedish rule. King Eric the Fourteenth had been captivated by her winsomeness when he first saw her selling fruit on the street. He had her taken to his castle and educated her like a princess. When she was old enough he married her, much to the dissatisfaction of his conservative courtiers. Later the King was deposed and cast into prison. Here his wife showed her gratitude for all that he had done for her, sharing his imprisonment and ministering to him until his death. Then she renounced her crown and retired to live among the loyal Finns who loved her for the friendship that she had always shown them.

On the most comfortable chair in the room sat the pastor, a man who looked so serious that one wondered if he ever smiled. No one who knew his duties and responsibilities could wonder at this. Among them were visiting the widely scattered members of his parish, comforting them in sorrow and distress, helping them with advice when needed. Just outside the nearest village, on the other side of the lake, he had a little patch of land of his own which he cultivated when he could, to help out his slender salary.

The children greeted the pastor like an old friend, and seating themselves sedately on chairs opposite him stiffened up in anticipation of the questions that he would ask them.

Around four o'clock everything in the room became evening colored, and the mother came in and invited all into the kitchen for dinner. There was an abundance of simple food,—salt fish, meat and potatoes, hard rye bread, mead and coffee, of which latter even little Maja drank her share.

The first part of the meal made one think of a Quaker meeting, it was so very quiet; but after the mead had been passed around and the coffee poured, a sparkle came to the eyes of all, and even the pastor's face took on a genial glow as, prompted by kind inquiries, he related some of his recent experiences.

"You know poor old Yrjo (George)," he said, "who is now one of my people. Well, he's trying to learn to read and write and having a hard time doing it. You see, he never had a chance earlier in life, for he used to live way up north on the outskirts of Lapland. He is doing all this because—well, I guess you can guess why—. Yes, he wants to be married, and you know how strict our law is that no pastor shall marry men or women unless they know how to read and write. I think he'll learn, for he's dogged. He's already built himself a shack on my grounds not to waste time in coming and going. When I told him this morning that he was making progress he was as delighted as a child."

Then he told of a recent visit to a big dairy farm, of the long low buildings with ice chambers here and there. "It was a great pleasure," he said, "to see how neatly everything is kept. All the floors and walls are of blue and white tile, and the windows of stained glass—a pretty sight. I can't forget the rows of shelves with their big earthenware vessels of rich-looking milk and cream. In one room women dressed in white were putting up butter for export. I agree with those who think that dairying is going to grow in importance here. It certainly seems to pay our farmers better than farming."

"I am going to be a dairy man," said Juhani.

"And I am going to a University and be an architect," piped in little Maja quite as decidedly.

At this the family laughed, but the pastor remarked seriously, "It's well to make plans early. There are many women who are succeeding in architecture, little Maja."

"Yes," remarked the mother, "and Maja has an aunt in Helsingfors who is among the number."

As it was Saturday night the usual preparations had been made for a family bath, and the kindly pastor who was not considered an outsider was invited to share in it as a matter of course. Every one seemed to look to this bath as a great pleasure. After the pastor had accepted, Juhani, with face glowing, ran at once to show the bath whisks that he had himself made.

"I made a lot of them in the summer," he explained, "for then the leaves are soft."

"Go take them to the bath house and steep them in hot water," said his father, "and see that the maids have not forgotten to strew fresh straw on the floor."

"May I not get ready first," asked Juhani. And when his father nodded, he slipped off his clothes and ran naked to where the bath house stood alone not far from the lake.

The little structure was made of pine logs on a foundation of moss and stones. The roof was thatched. Over the door the farmer had carved the Finnish proverb: "The Church and the Sauna (Bath-house) are holy places." Within, on one side, was a stone oven, while opposite this was a series of wooden steps to the ceiling. These were covered with straw.

When Juhani entered, an old woman servant was already there poking at the big fire. Now and then she threw on water so that it was quite steamy when the other members of the family came trooping in. Juhani at once seized Maja around the waist, all his shyness evidently left outside, and twirled her around until she shouted for him to stop.

It grew hotter and hotter in the room and more and more steamy as the different members climbed on the step-like platforms and beat themselves with the birch twigs which now gave forth a pleasant fragrance.

Juhani and Maja had also mounted the steps, but every once in a while they would jump down and try to whip each other on the back and legs.

When all had perspired enough, they took turns in sitting on a chair and letting the old woman give each a quick massage and a wash down with cold water. Then oh, what a race there was for the lake, into which all plunged with shouts of laughter! Then out again and a race for home. Maja somehow got a big start and came in a foot ahead of her brother who, when he saw what she was after, almost tumbled over her in his eagerness to win.

CHAPTER II

Preparations for going to church next morning were soon made. Some things that we should consider unusual were taken, including a big lunch and a couple of hammocks. Two row boats carried the party some distance down the lake to a much larger boat, called the Church Boat. It was already half filled. After a short wait, other peasants arrived, greeted their friends soberly and sat down.

The men had on somber-looking suits, with big felt hats and high boots. The women's costumes varied, although the majority had on black shapeless jackets with a white kerchief crossed under the chin; some, however, had on bright bodices, embroidered aprons, and blue or crimson kerchiefs. Most of the women carried their prayer-books wrapped in white handkerchiefs. When all were seated, the young women, as well as the young men, seized hold of the oars and the boat left the pier.

It was a slow journey, stops being made at a few places where people stood waiting. It was rather solemn, too; there was no idle chatter; at the minister's suggestion, however, hymns were sung.

The Lutheran Church, at which the party at last arrived, was a plain building both inside and out. It was built entirely of timber and had a separate bell tower. As the people walked in, the women all took their places on one side, the men on the other.

The services lasted until three in the afternoon. Maja yawned and almost put herself asleep counting the stitches in the woman's jacket in front of her. But when it was all over and the people filed out of