No one touring in Sweden should omit a visit to the province of Dalecarlia. It is a most lovely district, inhabited by a people who stick to their old customs and national dress. They are very proud and manly, and have done a great deal for the freedom of their country.

The chief town is Falun, which is well known because of its copper mine, said to be the oldest in Europe, as it has been worked more than 600 years. It is named the Treasury of Sweden. More than £5,000,000 worth of copper has been extracted. It was here Gustavus Vasa worked when he was in hiding from the Danes, and got his men and money to fight against them. The fumes from the works have spoiled the vegetation in the neighbourhood; but travel in the train a short distance, and you soon get a sight of what the Dalecarlians are very proud of—Lake Siljan, the Eye of Dalecarlia. Down the slopes of the mountain the train proceeds until it reaches RÄttvik on the edge of the lake. You seem in a new world, for you see young and old, men, women, and children, going about in costumes similar to what their grandfathers and grandmothers wore. In some parts of Sweden you see people wearing these costumes on Sundays and gala-days, but in Dalecarlia they wear them at church and at market. The men have a long coat which extends below the knee, knee-breeches, white woollen stockings, and shoes. On the head they wear a low-crowned felt hat. From the neck there hangs a long leather apron. The women wear a skirt of a blue colour with a green border. The bodice is of a dark colour, and is only as high as a broad belt, laced together in front with bright red ribbons, the eyelets being of silver. They have also a white blouse. Round the neck is a red kerchief with a bright pattern, fastened at the throat with an old-fashioned silver brooch. The apron is dark, with transverse stripes of blue, red, yellow, and white. The cap is a black, peaked one, with red trimming round it, and red tassels hanging down. It is something in shape like a helmet. In winter they wear a short jacket made of sheepskin. Their clothes-store is a treasure-house.

In days gone by the sound of the shuttle used to be heard in every Dalecarlian home, as the women used to spin and weave all the cloth required for the clothes of the family. They now buy from the merchant. The Dalecarlians are of a mechanical turn of mind. They make watches and baskets, and the women do hair-work. The natives travel over the country to sell their wares. The RÄttvikians excel chiefly as painters, and they cover the walls of their houses with paintings instead of putting up hangings.

The traveller usually proceeds by steamer from RÄttvik to Leksand, where on a Sunday a most interesting sight is seen.

Looking across the lake, you see many large boats, driven through the water by means of eight or ten pairs of oars. Each of them may contain forty, sixty, or eighty men, women, and children. They present a very picturesque appearance with their national costumes. They are very similar to the RÄttvikians, except that the women wear a tight-fitting cap—that of the married women white, of the unmarried red. The little boys are dressed in yellow-coloured clothes, and the little girls in the same as their older sisters. They soon land and wend their way to church through a beautiful avenue of trees. Here they are joined by others, who have walked or driven in carts for perhaps ten miles. They are regular church-goers. The church is not only a religious, but also a social centre. Sunday is newspaper day. The gossip of the whole district is then retailed. The men meet in crowds in the avenue, and the women and children wander in the churchyard until the service begins. It is like fairyland to see the bright costumes moving among the luxuriant foliage on a Swedish summer day.

The church at Leksand is an imposing structure, in the shape of a Greek cross, with a Russian ball-spire. It was built by some Swedes who had been prisoners in Russia, and it holds about 5,000 people. The sight is most impressive when it is crowded, men and women sitting apart. The sermons must at one time have been longer or the people not so devout, as in some country churches can be seen a relic of bygone days in a long stick, with which an official, “the church awakener,” used to poke anyone who fell asleep. When the service is over, the horses are yoked, the boats pushed into the water, and the vast crowd is soon scattered.

There is, however, one place of interest that must not be passed over—Mora, a quiet little spot on the northern shore of Lake Siljan. It was here that the standard of revolt against the Danes was raised by the men of Mora under Gustavus Vasa. Near the church is the mound where he made his famous speech that roused them to action. Dear to the heart of the Swede is the national memorial at Mora. It is situated about a mile from the village, and is a little square building lit from the roof. In the middle of the stone floor is the cellar in which Gustavus Vasa hid when the Danes were pursuing him. The walls are covered with paintings of scenes in the life of the patriot, and one of them represents what took place here. You see the open trap-door, Gustavus Vasa descending into the cellar with an axe in his hand, the woman lifting a tub to cover the trap, and through the window you can see the Danes in the distance on horseback.

No one need be at a loss as to the meaning of any of the pictures. The custodian has a description written in English, French, and German. He usually succeeds in finding out the nationality of the visitor, and gives him the proper copy.

It is with reluctance one leaves Dalecarlia, with its proud and independent people, and its bright and smiling valleys.