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 feB*"" 
 
 pHU^fl 
 
Class _^__ 
 
 Book 
 
 Copyright^ . 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
" Who comes not hither 
 
 ne'er shall know 
 
 How beautiful the World 
 
 below " 
 
 WORDSWORTH 
 
A TRIP TO THE LAND OF THE 
 MIDNIGHT SUN 
 
. 
 
 ■ 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 m 
 
 M 
 
 m ■ 
 
 1 ii v " 
 
 - 
 
 1 ^ i 1 I 
 
 /\.v/i/ Haakon, Queen Maud and Crozvnprin'ce 
 Olav at their Palace in Christiania. 
 
A TRIP TO 
 
 THE LAND OF THE 
 
 MIDNIGHT SUN 
 
 A NARRATIVE 
 OF PERSONAL 
 EXPERIENCES 
 
 BY 
 
 MARTHA BUCKINGHAM WOOD 
 
 NEW YORK 
 BRANDU'S 
 
 1910 
 
-$Y> X% 
 
 H\A 
 
 Copyright, 1910, by 
 Martha Buckingham Wood 
 
 PREMIER PRESS 
 NEW YORK 
 
 CCI.A278445 
 
^ 
 
 This book is most affectionately dedicated 
 to the memory of my father 
 
 Charles J. Buckingham 
 
 in whose kindly care I made many happy 
 journeys to distant lands. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 I. On Shipboard: Merriment and Happy- 
 Days II 
 
 II. At Christiansand : Facts and Jokes.,. .. 17 
 
 III. The Climate of Norway: The Magic of 
 
 Nature 25 
 
 IV. Krokkleven: The View that Inspired 
 
 Bjornson 34 
 
 V. Flora and Vegetation : Beauty Speaks for 
 
 Itself 49 
 
 VI. A Satirical Dane: Boasting Norwegians. 55 
 VII. Christiania: The Gate to the Country. . 63 
 VIII. A Royal Dinner: The Crowing Waiter. . 69 
 IX. Karl Johan: "The Gay White Way". . . 81 
 X. The Women of Norway: Pioneer Suffra- 
 gettes 89 
 
 XI. At the Graves of Bjornson and Ibsen: 
 
 Anecdotes .... .... 101 
 
 XII. Saga Houses : The Environs of Christiania 
 
 flaunt their joys 117 
 
 XIII. Vagabonding: Enjoyable excursions. . . 129 
 
 XIV. Northward Bound: In the Realm of Rocks 139 
 XV. The Laplanders: A little Sweetheart. . . 151 
 
 XVI. A Bit of Norwegian Mythology: The 
 
 Charm of Youth 157 
 
 XVII. The Marvelous Laplanders : Witchcraft 
 
 and Wonderful Dreams .... 163 
 XVIII. Tromso and Hammerfest : The Laps Per- 
 form 177 
 
 XIX. A Courteous Captain: Love for America. 183 
 XX. The Midnight Sun: The Lure of Nature . 189 
 XXI. A Unique Performance : Pigs at Sea . . ,. 195 
 XXII. Trondhjem : A Town of much historical 
 
 interest 201 
 
 XXIII. Bergen : Some places worth seeing . . . 213 
 
 XXIV. A Thrilling Journey: In the Kingdom of 
 
 Greatness 229 
 
 XXV. Back in Christiania: A Picnic. . . 251 
 
 XXVI. Norwegian Youth: A Boat-Race Celebra- 
 tion 281 
 
 XXVII. At the National Theatre : "A Doll's House" 
 
 and "Peer Gynt" 291 
 
 XXVIII. The Norwegian Winter: An Exciting 
 
 Ski-Match 301 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 King Haakon, Queen Maud and Crownprince 
 Olav at their Palace in Christiania . . . Frontispiece 
 
 Christiansand 19 
 
 Sogn 27 
 
 Romsdalen 46 
 
 Dalen, Telemarken 51 
 
 Karl Johan's Gade, Christiania's "Gay White Way" . 83 
 
 Bjornson's Grave 105 
 
 Saga-Houses, Bygdo 119 
 
 Holmenkollen's Hotel. Oscarshal, Bygdo . . . .131 
 Hammerfest's "Gay White Way." Torghattan . . 144 
 Laplanders. A Lapp woman with her Child . . . 153 
 King Haakon, Queen Maud and little Crownprince 
 Olav, enjoying the midnight sun from the King's 
 
 Yacht 193 
 
 Bergen 215 
 
 A Nordfjord Horse 226 
 
 View of Voss Railway 231 
 
 Vossevangen 232 
 
 Stalheim Hotel, Nerodalen 233 
 
 Nerofjord, Nerodalen 235 
 
 Skjervet in Eide, Hardanger 237 
 
 Tvinnefossen, Voss 239 
 
 Loatefos, Hardanger 242 
 
 A Hay-Rack, Hardanger 244 
 
 Snow Tunnel (The Fourth of July) on the Bergen- 
 
 Christiania Road 247 
 
 The National Theatre, Christiania 293 
 
 Fru Johanne Dybwad as Maria in Bjornson's Drama, 
 
 "At Stovhove" 297 
 
 Winter in Norway . 303 
 
 King Haakon on Ski 305 
 
 Queen Maud and Crownprince Olav on Ski . . . 308 
 
ON SHIPBOARD: 
 MERRIMENT AND HAPPY DAYS 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 ON SHIPBOARD: MERRIMENT AND HAPPY 
 DAYS 
 
 EING of a sight-seeing turn of mind, 
 and fortunately able to gratify my 
 taste, I have visited many foreign 
 countries. It was long a cherished dream 
 of mine to see the "Land of the Midnight 
 Sun," and at last I decided to take the trip. 
 To think was to act. Upon a beautiful June 
 morning, I embarked on the steamer United 
 States, of the Scandinavian-American line, 
 in command of a most efficient officer, Cap- 
 tain WulfT, whose home is in Copenhagen, 
 the gay capital of Denmark. 
 
 The meals on board were served a la Scan- 
 dinavian, and the dishes looked rather puz- 
 zling to me. In this respect, one must take 
 care not to judge a goat by its horns, as the 
 
 13 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 Danes say. I found that to be a good 
 maxim, as the dishes tasted much better 
 than they looked, although it happened now 
 and then that the horns were, to me at any 
 rate, the best part of the goat, after all. As 
 a rule, however, the cuisine was very good 
 and the service excellent in every respect. 
 
 There was a diverting brass band which 
 played three or more times a day; and a 
 string-band which performed with vigor 
 and faithfulness every evening, far into the 
 night, in the ladies' salon. Several times 
 during the voyage, a dance was given on 
 deck. On these occasions, one side of the 
 ship was enclosed in tarpaulin, and 
 decorated with the flags of many nations. 
 Chairs were scattered about, so that those 
 who wished to watch the merry dancers 
 could do so comfortably. 
 
 The usual recreations on board an ocean 
 liner, shufTleboard, cards, and so on, were 
 eagerly participated in during the day, espe- 
 cially by the lively Americans, while the 
 
On Shipboard 
 
 Scandinavians kept more to their cozy "cof- 
 fee-corners." 
 
 The great event, however, was the cap- 
 tain's dinner, given the night before arriv- 
 ing in port. The salon and the dining-room 
 had been most beautifully decorated during 
 the early morning hours, and the tables pre- 
 sented a most pleasing appearance. 
 
 Upon our ship were a number of distin- 
 guished Scandinavians, Danes and Norwe- 
 gians, who were to attend a national conven- 
 tion in Copenhagen. The means they em- 
 ployed to make the captain's dinner a fes- 
 tival not soon to be forgotten, can better be 
 imagined than described. Epigrams in all 
 languages were composed for the occasion, 
 some of them sentimental and touching, 
 others, especially those contributed by the 
 Norwegians, powerful and rather rough in 
 their sarcasm. Those offered by the Danes, 
 on the other hand, were mostly of a poetical 
 character and, although witty, perfectly 
 harmless. The part taken by the Swedes 
 
 15 
 
The 1 .ami of the Midnight Sun 
 
 was rather formal and polished, yet it made 
 a good impression. 
 
 Most of the speeches were given in a lan- 
 guage I did not understand, yet I enjoyed 
 every word, or to be more correct, every 
 laugh, if one can call the Scandinavians 1 
 way of expressing mirth, laughter. I would 
 rather call it a splendid imitation of the 
 roars of Norwegian waterfalls. Of course 
 other nationalities were represented, and 
 every one seemed eager to add his share of 
 merrymaking in order to make the affair a 
 huge success. 
 
 After the dinner, a most enjoyable concert 
 was given in the ladies' parlor, followed by 
 a dance on deck, in which the captain took 
 part with much enthusiasm. 
 
 If one does not suffer from mal de mcr. 
 and fortunately I was entirely exempt, this 
 twelve days' voyage to Christiania, Norway, 
 will be most thoroughly enjoyed. 
 
 16 
 
AT CHRISTIANSAND: 
 FACTS AND JOKES 
 

 <0 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 AT CHRISTIANSAND : FACTS AND JOKES 
 
 UR good ship made one stop before 
 docking at Christiania. This was 
 at Christiansand, a few hours' sail 
 from the capital. 
 
 Shall I ever forget that beautiful morn- 
 ing, when we cast anchor a short distance 
 from shore and I had my first glimpse of 
 Norway and its beautiful evergreen hills? 
 To stand on the deck of an ocean grey- 
 hound on a bright day in June, as she slowly 
 glides into the harbor of Christiansand, 
 greeted by the dozens of small craft and 
 pleasure-vessels, laden with flowers, fruits, 
 and happy excursionists, was indeed worth 
 the voyage across the sea. The clean look- 
 ing town with its red houses from which 
 many flags fluttering gayly in the mild sum- 
 19 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 mer breeze, framed by flower covered 
 mountains and hills is a sight not easily to be 
 forgotten. And such flowers! The very 
 atmosphere was ladened with the perfume 
 of lilies of the valley, and glorious lilacs of 
 a shade I had never seen before. We were 
 soon completely surrounded by tiny boats, 
 brightly painted and loaded with flowers of 
 all imaginable shapes, sizes and colors. Blue 
 eyed lads and lassies reached out their 
 hands, offering their beautiful, sweet-scent- 
 ed wares, with such a natural charm of 
 manner that one is tempted to purchase 
 from every one until all one's small coins 
 are gone and one's arms are burdened. I 
 pitied myself for not being able to under- 
 stand their language; it sounded so inter- 
 esting. 
 
 "What are they singing?" I asked the cap- 
 tain, as he passed me with an immense bou- 
 quet of laburnum, glittering and shimmer- 
 ing in the sun like a piece of magnificent 
 fire-works. 
 
 20 
 
At Christiansand 
 
 "They are not singing," he answered 
 laughingly, "they are talking." 
 
 And so they really were. Yet it sounded 
 so musical and so weird. 
 
 The Norwegian language, unlike most 
 others, has many words of exactly the same 
 phonetic structure which are distinguished 
 by emphasis only; and the distinction be- 
 tween the sounds is made by a certain way 
 of singing the words instead of speaking 
 them. Thus every word has its own pecu- 
 liar tune that could almost be set to music. 
 
 The captain assured me, however, that 
 theirs was the easiest language in the world, 
 in fact it was so simple that a certain three 
 words pronounced correctly and with suffi- 
 cient feeling would enable anyone to be un- 
 derstood and loved among the Norwegian 
 people. That I was eager to learn these 
 magical words goes without saying. The 
 courteous captain was willing to teach me 
 the words, but he absolutely declined to 
 translate them. Nothing, he assured me, 
 21 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 was like finding out for myself, and as noth- 
 ing would be more helpful than a little 
 practise, he advised me to try the three 
 words on a youth, who was busy selling sou- 
 venirs to an English diplomat. 
 
 "Say!" I called down to the lad, "J eg el- 
 sker dig!" 
 
 The boy instantly looked at me, quite for- 
 getting his customer. I repeated the magic 
 words slowly and put almost as much feel- 
 ing into them as the captain had. Lo! the 
 lad blushed crimson, from joy I suppose, 
 and such a smile as he gave me! Before I 
 could utter another word he had, with plea- 
 sant gallantry, handed me a bouquet of red 
 mountain roses. 
 
 "What did I tell you?" exclaimed the 
 captain proudly, his face flushed with re- 
 strained laughter. 
 
 Still I was not quite convinced of the 
 
 three words' magic power and promised 
 
 myself to remember and give them another 
 
 test. I still keep a pressed rose in my diary 
 
 22 
 
At Christians and 
 
 as a remembrance of a mischievous cap- 
 tain and a Norse youth who had blushed at 
 my words, "I love you!" 
 
 23 
 
THE CLIMATE OF NORWAY: 
 THE MAGIC OF NATURE 
 
C3> 
 
 to 
 
 Si 
 
 O 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 THE CLIMATE OF NORWAY : THE MAGIC 
 OF NATURE 
 
 AT the dinner table that day, the Nor- 
 wegian climate was discussed at 
 length and I learned that Norway 
 has a milder climate than any other coun- 
 try in the same latitude. It is evident, how- 
 ever, that one cannot expect to find a homo- 
 geneous climate in a country which stretches 
 through more than thirteen degrees of lati- 
 tude. While the southernmost point lies on 
 a parallel with northern Scotland, sur- 
 rounded by a warm ocean, the northern- 
 most point is in a latitude in which nowhere 
 else on earth is found the abode of civilized 
 people; where the cold, northern sea beats 
 full on with overwhelming power, and, a 
 few hundred miles further, lies eternal ice. 
 27 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 The inner country is, chiefly, an enor- 
 mous mountain ridge with glaciers and 
 high snow peaks; but deep down amid the 
 mass of mountains and close to the exten- 
 sive snow fields, are the warm, narrow 
 fjords cutting and winding their way 
 through fertile valleys and flowery mea- 
 dows. No wonder the climate differs so 
 greatly from one district to another. At 
 one place a heavy fur-coat is a comfort, 
 while at another one wishes to dress in mus- 
 lin all the time or even to go without clothes 
 at all. 
 
 The coldest tracts are of course in the 
 high, mountainous districts of the interior, 
 in Osterdalen, Trondelagen, Dovre and Fin- 
 marken. The perpetual snow boundary lies 
 at an altitude of six thousand feet in the 
 Gausta, three to four thousand feet on the 
 Folgefond, three thousand eight hundred in 
 the Jotunheim, and three to four thousand 
 feet on the Dovrefjeld. In the southern 
 part of Norway the upland climate ob- 
 28 
 
The Climate of Norway 
 
 tains, with its hot summer and severe win- 
 ter, especially well adapted for farming on 
 account of the warm summer. In the west- 
 ern part lies the coast region. Here the 
 summer is cold but the winter very mild, in 
 fact so mild that the mean temperature very 
 rarely goes below zero. Soothing and heal- 
 ing both to soul and body is the climate in 
 the interior of the beautiful fjord districts. 
 Here the summer is warmer than on the 
 coast and the rain-fall is less pronounced. 
 The banks of the fjords — covered with 
 wild flowers on both sides, shelter from the 
 cold northern winds. Altogether this pro- 
 duces a wealth of natural wonders which no 
 other country that I know of, equals. 
 
 I saw orchards in Hardanger and Sogn 
 with countless trees bending their branches 
 under the weight of apples, pears and 
 peaches, the sweet, delicious taste of which 
 I never found the like. The growth of 
 vegetation is exuberant and leafy trees of 
 all kinds give these Norwegian fjord dis- 
 29 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 tricts a certain southern character. Not 
 since I visited Italy and southern California 
 have I seen such a wealth of flowers as in 
 the gardens of Bergen, Hardanger and 
 Molde, the latter justly known as "The City 
 of Roses." I found the northern part of 
 Norway to be a mixture of upland and coast 
 climate where the summer is cold and the 
 winter mild, though raw on account of the 
 strong wind. 
 
 Even so far north vegetable life obtains in 
 glorious profusion not to be found anywhere 
 else on earth in the same latitude. 
 The fjord banks in the interior are 
 clothed with luxuriant birch trees and 
 the fields are covered with radiant ge- 
 raniums, dandelions, daisies and so on. 
 Still more wondrous are the beautiful dales 
 with the protecting but melancholy looking 
 mountain-ridges on both sides. If a gath- 
 ering of natives from different parts of the 
 country met and gave an account of the 
 vegetable world of Norway, the descrip- 
 
 30 
 
The Climate of Norway 
 
 tions would be as different and varied as 
 the pictures in a kaleidoscope. 
 
 There is a great contrast in climate be- 
 tween the west coast and the eastern val- 
 leys. The country in itself is high and 
 broken, with open mountain fields and 
 warm, well sheltered, inviting mountain 
 slopes, sunny hills and shady dales. If one 
 remembers that plants, more perhaps than 
 any other organism, depend on the condi- 
 tions offered by nature, it is easy to compre- 
 hend the great difference in appearance of 
 the vegetation in the various districts. 
 Sometimes the scenery as well as the flora 
 changes entirely as one crosses a mountain- 
 ridge, and one finds one's self suddenly in a 
 new country with its own peculiar scenery, 
 climate and vegetation. 
 
 3 1 
 
KROKKLEVEN: THE VIEW THAT 
 INSPIRED BJORNSON 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 krokkleven: the view that inspired 
 
 BJoRNSON 
 
 1 SHALL never forget the beauties of a 
 place called Krokkleven. It was my 
 first outing in Norway and the day 
 was perfect. There are many ways of reach- 
 ing this delightful mountain plateau and 
 for any one having but a limited time to 
 spare for Christiania, this is a tour not to 
 be missed. I had an impression as I was 
 standing at the "King's View" at Krok- 
 kleven, that I was looking into several en- 
 tirely different countries, each one with its 
 own nature and individuality. 
 
 As you gaze from the "King's View" to- 
 wards Krokkleven and the heights on the 
 other side of the beautiful Tyrifjord, you 
 see nothing but evergreens, ridge by ridge, 
 
 35 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 like magnificent mountain-high waves, 
 mostly spruce, pine and fir, with occasion- 
 ally a brilliant bouquet of birch and service 
 trees. Then look down at the smiling low- 
 land stretching beneath you miles and miles 
 on both sides of the glittering Tyrifjord, 
 and your eye meets luxuriant cornfields, 
 now and then broken by a picturesque rock 
 or a stony hill. Here and there a belt of 
 spruce or fir frames in the rocks and some- 
 times a wreath of leafy trees has taken upon 
 itself to hedge around the hills. Here and 
 there a group of whispering hazels catches 
 your eye; and then again a beautifully ar- 
 ranged garland of oak, cherry, lime and 
 lilac, mixed with birch and service, indi- 
 cates where the brooks and roads are wind- 
 ing. Below the rock on which you stand is 
 a mountain-morass, enwreathed by apple 
 and cherry trees. In this hothouse made by 
 nature herself, grow the rarest of plants and 
 flowers, so rare in fact that one needs little 
 imagination to dream of Southern Italy. 
 
 36 
 
Krokkleven 
 
 While I stood enjoying the magnificent 
 view and the tremendous mountain-preci- 
 pice, the wife of the president of a Norwe- 
 gian agricultural school, who was visiting 
 the place as chaperon to a couple of bright, 
 mischievous Norsemaids, was kind enough 
 to divert me by many a story about this fa- 
 mous place. I learned among other things 
 that it was this view which had inspired the 
 late Norwegian poet Bjornson to write his 
 introduction to "Arne." 
 
 While at college in Christiania, he had 
 been more fond of tramping in the woods 
 than of study, and he seldom missed his 
 week-end outing. It was on his first visit 
 to Krokkleven that young Bjornson stood 
 viewing the barren mountain precipice 
 while a young fellow tramper unpacked the 
 luncheon box. To his companion's despair 
 he began to write the now famous introduc- 
 tion to his novel "Arne," beloved of all Nor- 
 wegian people, while his friend stood with 
 hands clasped over a hungry stomach, wish- 
 
 37 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 ing his poetical comrade to a place where 
 pencil and paper were still unknown lux- 
 uries. 
 
 The fair maidens who were not entirely 
 without knowledge of my language, in- 
 formed me with much pride that their chap - 
 eron had once been a distinguished elocu- 
 tionist. They were kind enough to urge her 
 to recite the Introduction for the American 
 lady. I modestly added my voice to theirs, 
 and after a short explanation of the piece, 
 Fru H. mounted the rock on which young 
 Bjornson had been standing the day he made 
 his first crude outline of the beautiful piece, 
 and recited the little story with such sim- 
 plicity and so much natural feeling that it 
 actually seemed to me like a piece of touch- 
 ing music. It was as though a masterpiece 
 by Grieg had been rendered in the midst of 
 the grand spectacle that had inspired the 
 master. I am tempted to give the story as it 
 later was translated to me. 
 
 "It was the Juniper, the Oak, the Fir, the 
 
 38 
 
Krokkleven 
 
 Birch and the Heather who took it upon 
 themselves to clothe the barren mountain 
 side. The Juniper led the way. Before 
 long he began to slip. 
 
 " 'Catch hold of me,' said the Heather. 
 Juniper did so, and where there was only a 
 tiny crevice the Heather put in a finger, 
 and where the Heather once put a finger in, 
 there the Juniper worked in his whole hand. 
 
 "On they clambered, upward and upward, 
 the Fir slowly following them, and the 
 Birch laboring after. 
 
 " 'It's God's own work,' she said and went 
 on. The mountain began to wonder what 
 sort of live creatures it could be that were 
 clawing and creeping up, and sent down a 
 little Streamlet to investigate and report. 
 It was in the spring-flood days, and the 
 Streamlet rushed on till it became a big 
 laughing brook and 'Hi, hi, hi! Ha, ha, 
 ha, Ho, ho, ho!' she hurled Heather and 
 Juniper, and Fir and Birch flat on their 
 
 39 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 faces, and pell mell over the craggy boul- 
 ders. 
 
 "'Pluck up your heart, Children!' said 
 the Juniper and went on, and after a while 
 they all began to jog along again, and be- 
 have as if they had never tumbled down in 
 their life. The Birch had made her dress 
 very dirty in her fall, but she got up and 
 brushed off the earth, and went on, grow- 
 ing more and more, right up over the 
 Mountain side, in sunshine and in rain. 
 Then came the day when the Heather got 
 one eye over the edge of the Mountain wall. 
 
 "'Oh! How lovely, how lovely!' she 
 cried, and on she dashed. 
 
 " 'Dear me,' said Juniper, 'what can it 
 be that Heather sees?' and she pushed on 
 till she too could take a peep over. 
 
 "Oh! How beautiful!" burst from him, 
 and he, too, sped on and vanished. 
 
 " 'What's up with Juniper to-day, I won- 
 der?' said the Fir, making long, quick 
 strides beneath the burning summer sun. 
 40 
 
Krokkleven 
 
 Presently he stretched up on his toes and 
 peeped over. 'Oh how glorious! How 
 glorious!' he cried, all his leaves and 
 prickles standing on end with amazement. 
 He struggled up over the ledge, got a firm 
 footing, and was off after the other two. 
 
 " 'What in the world can it be they all see 
 up there that I can't?' cried the Birch, lift- 
 ing her skirts daintily, and tripping after 
 them. She got her whole head above the 
 edge at once. 
 
 " 'Oh, look, look! if there's not a great 
 wood of Firs and Heather and Juniper and 
 Birches upon the Common there waiting 
 for us! Oh dear, oh dear!' cried the Birch, 
 shaking her leaves in the beautiful sunlight 
 till the dew-drops trickled sparkling off. 
 
 " 'Yes,' said the Juniper, 'that's what 
 comes of going on!'" 
 
 And Fru H. repeated, "Yes, Children, 
 that's what comes of going on!" as she 
 stepped down from the stone. 
 
 Her interpretation of the piece was to the 
 
 4i 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 effect that Bjornson was the Juniper who 
 aroused his countrymen to love, courage and 
 endurance. The harsh Mountain was Nor- 
 way; and the Fir, the Oak, the Birch and 
 the Heather were the intelligent farmers, 
 the good school-teachers, clergymen, poets 
 and all the self-denying educators of the 
 country; but the wily stream represented 
 evil power and those who sowed discourag- 
 ing thoughts in human hearts. The glori- 
 ous meadow and the great forest of healthy 
 trees was the reward, the heavenly fore- 
 shadowing of a united, free and independent 
 people. 
 
 The younger of the two blue-eyed maid- 
 ens, Astrid by name, now climbed the stage, 
 and with flowing hair and outstretched arms 
 recited in fair English Bjornson's poem 
 from "The Fisher Maiden": 
 
 42 
 
Krokkleven 
 
 My land will I defend, 
 My land will I defend, 
 And my son, to help its fortunes and be 
 faithful will I train; 
 Its weal shall be my prayer, 
 And its want shall be my care, 
 From the rugged old snow mountains to the 
 cabins by the main. 
 
 "Now you, Aagot," said Fru H. to the 
 other girl, after the sucessful descent of 
 Astrid. But Aagot looked blushingly 
 about. 
 
 "Aagot," repeated the chaperon, "it's 
 your turn." 
 
 She arose, mounted the rock gracefully, 
 and with a modest bow to her audience de- 
 livered tastefully another poem by their be- 
 loved Bjornson: 
 
 43 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 "LiOVCSt thou I'"! i>i<\ 
 
 I will e'er love thee, 
 
 All my days on earth, so fondly, 
 
 Short were summer's days, 
 
 Now the flower decays, 
 
 Conns again with spring so kindly." 
 
 "Give us another one from 'A Happy 
 Boy,' said Fru H. with an encouraging nod. 
 The young girl could not recall any other, 
 but I'm ll. was not so easily rebuffed, ami 
 after a little coaxing the girl finally recited 
 ilus one: 
 
 "What you suiJ hist year 
 
 Still rings in my ear, 
 As 1 nil alone <n>/ silting, 
 J nd your thoughts do try 
 
 In my heart to fly. — 
 
 Picture life in sunshine flitting." 
 
 Other poems by Bjornson to which Grieg 
 
 hail set music were Sung, To the surprise 
 
 and delight of the trio 1 was able to accom- 
 44 
 
Krokkleven 
 
 pany them by whistling the airs of the songs. 
 Fru I J. put the finishing touch to the im 
 provised entertainment by recalling another 
 piece from Bjornson: 
 
 "Love thy neighbor with Christian zeal! 
 Crush him not with an iron heel, 
 
 Though he in Just he prostrated, 
 Love's all powerful, quickening hand 
 Guides, forever, with magic wand 
 All that it has created." 
 
 In returning, a giant rock pulpit was 
 climbed, from where we had a magnificent 
 view over a mighty forest. Fru H. did not 
 seem to share my enthusiasm, as her home 
 was in Oslenlalcn, which she assured me is, 
 and always will be, the forest valley of Nor- 
 way. As I was standing here looking over 
 the miles and miles of forest I could not but 
 think and speak to Fru TI. about the life 
 that is lived in these vast forests that cover 
 the country. 
 
 45 
 
77/r Lnii J of the Midnight Sun 
 
 "In addition to farming and cattle-rear- 
 ing, forestry plays a greatei pan in Oster- 
 dalen than in any other part of Norway," 
 1 was informed, "The forests here arc not 
 much to speak about. No, come with US to 
 Osterdalen, and you will see something 
 greater than even California can boast of!" 
 was the enthusiastic assurance from the vig- 
 orous chorus standing around me, The for- 
 ests in Fru H.'s home really, as I learned 
 while resting here, had been better pre- 
 served in former times than the forests in 
 many other places. They were far from 
 ports, ami when they were felled, they gene 
 rally grew again. It was only higher up on 
 the mountains that they gradually died out, 
 either because die telling was too wholesale, 
 or because the smoke from the mining works 
 choked the young trees. 
 
 Winter is the forester's time in Norway. 
 
 The sound of the axe begins to be heard in 
 
 the autumn, and the tall trees fall one by 
 
 one. The branches are then removed, and 
 
 4 6 
 
Romsdalen. 
 
Krokkleven 
 
 the bark, and the trunks arc cut into the 
 right length. When this is done, the wood 
 cutter waits for snow and hard frost to drive 
 the timber to some lake or river, where the 
 logs are laid in long rows called "lunns" to 
 be marked with the special mark of each 
 timber-owner. During this time the tim- 
 ber-drivers live a strenuous Life in the forest 
 with their surefooted, faithful, wise little 
 horses. They sleep in little huts, where the 
 snow keeps them as warm as any wall. In 
 the Spring the timber is floated down to the 
 mighty river Glommen and on to the wide 
 districts north and south of Oiern lake, 
 where it is sorted by the purchasers. 
 
 The wood-cutter's life is a toilsome one, 
 but that of the river-driver is excitingly 
 dangerous as he springs about upon yield- 
 ing, floating rafts and logs. 
 
 At last the sun set, and we reluctantly de- 
 scended the rock, and commenced our re- 
 turn to the capital. 
 
 47 
 
FLORA AND VEGETATION: 
 BEAUTY SPEAKS FOR ITSELF 
 

 ^ 
 
 q 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 FLORA AND VEGETATION : BEAUTY SPEAKS FOR 
 ITSELF 
 
 1HAVE written at length about this my 
 first excursion, in order to give a true 
 survey of the lowland vegetation that 
 exists almost everywhere in southern Nor- 
 way. Later I can confine myself to the daily 
 experiences and occurrences as I travel from 
 place to place in this interesting "Land of 
 the Midnight Sun." 
 
 In southern Norway also one is often sur- 
 prised by long sandy areas of big fleshy 
 plants with brilliant colored flowers. Here 
 rocks and slopes are overgrown with a cer- 
 tain kind of pale-blue copsewood or some- 
 times a peculiar hawthorne mixed with a 
 sharp tall-growing heather-like plant. 
 
 Beyond the region of the more susceptible 
 
 Si 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 leafy trees one enters the realm of the pine- 
 wood which is the undisputed ruler up to 
 two thousand feet or more. Above this belt 
 is the kingdom of the proud Norwegian 
 birch. Before my travel in Norway I 
 thought birch was birch and spruce was 
 spruce, but I soon found out my mistake. 
 There is the so called lowland birch with its 
 spotted rugged bark, tall stem and sharply 
 pointed leaves, and the mountain-birch with 
 its white smooth candle-like stem and round, 
 chubby, irregularly draped dress of toothed 
 leaves. The kind which is growing in the 
 lowland has about the same extension as 
 the oak or the hazel, and is rather suscep- 
 tible to the cold, while her cheerful moun- 
 tain sister does not object to her long season 
 of crystalline garb. 
 
 "When I feel blue and out of spirits," 
 said a Norwegian painter to me, "I put the 
 paint box on my back, and with staff in hand 
 and a piece of cheese in my pocket I ramble 
 away to the home of sweet sister birch." An 
 
 52 
 
Flora and Vegetation 
 
 old Norwegian farmer, brought up in 
 North Dakota, once told me that the realm 
 of the birch was looked upon by the pea- 
 sants of Norway as God's own temple. The 
 birch gives as well as consumes, light; that 
 is why her home is always the sweet abode 
 of fragrant flowers. 
 
 I wonder if any one who has stepped into 
 the quiet of a Norwegian birch-slope on an 
 early morning in June ever can forget the 
 solemnity of the vision. The delicious vel- 
 vet grass covering the smooth ground and 
 the wealth of tiny trembling ferns fluttering 
 towards their bigger relatives, create a 
 sensation beyond words to describe. And 
 who can ever forget the coquettish flirting 
 of the gigantic forget-me-nots? 
 
 53 
 
A SATIRICAL DANE: 
 BOASTING NORWEGIANS 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 A SATIRICAL DANE: BOASTING NORWEGIANS 
 
 A DANISH - AMERICAN friend 
 once told me with a touch of satire, 
 that I "would find everything big 
 in Norway; much bigger in fact than it 
 really is." 
 
 I thought of this and of the ironical smile 
 which accompanied it 2 as I sat in one of 
 those birch-slopes at Ringerike, caressing a 
 forget-me-not almost as big as an American 
 penny, and wished that I could have thrown 
 the flower at that skeptical Dane. In one 
 thing, however, I agree with him. The 
 Norwegian people do enjoy talking about 
 themselves. There is simply no end to their 
 enthusiasm for the grandeur of their coun- 
 try. 
 
 The Norwegian men of letters are of 
 
 57 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 course the most famous in the world. The 
 praise of their artists is touching, and no 
 other nation on earth is half so independent 
 as they. Their king, too, is the most demo- 
 cratic ruler ever heard of^ and the queen, 
 the loveliest woman, the best mother 
 and the smartest house-wife on earth. 
 Little Olaf, the precious crown-prince 
 of the land; is certainly the pet of all 
 the royalty of Europe, and there is no reason 
 at all why Kaiser Wilhelm's only daughter 
 shouldn't wait for him, though she may be 
 ten years older. If not, King George the 
 Fifth of England has a beautiful daughter 
 of the marvelous prince's own age, and so on 
 
 . Still I am not quite willing to agree 
 
 with my Danish friend in terming their un- 
 restricted praise as a mere habit of boasting. 
 A Norwegian's praise of his country and 
 compatriots is like a loving child's praise of 
 its mother, and is expressed with such inborn 
 simplicity and so much natural grace and 
 
 58 
 
A Satirical Dane 
 
 open heartedness, that the boast is a harmless 
 one. 
 
 "To boast like a Norseman" is a common 
 by-word in Sweden and Denmark, and 
 many an inoffensive tale is told about them. 
 A Danish singer and actor, returning to 
 the royal theatre in Copenhagen after tour- 
 ing the Danish settlements in America, was 
 full of jokes about Norwegian braggardism. 
 Whether through lack of common sense on 
 my part or bad translation on his, I cannot 
 say, but most of his jokes were far beyond 
 me. He, however, enjoyed every one of 
 them immensely, and as his teeth were pretty 
 and his laughter rather musical, I didn't ob- 
 ject in the least to act the part of an admir- 
 ing audience, by laughing pleasantly in the 
 wrong places. But he did not mind this so 
 long as I enjoyed myself. Once it happened 
 that I was able to catch the point of his joke 
 and to join genuinely in the mirth. 
 
 The joke I caught ran thus: The son of 
 a famous Norwegian came to Copenhagen 
 
 59 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 and was met by the director of the Royal 
 theatre, who at once took him to the Thor- 
 valdsen's museum, the pride of every loyal 
 Dane. 
 
 "Well what do you think of it?" the di- 
 rector at last asked with genuine national 
 pride. 
 
 "Did you ever see Lake Mjosen?" was 
 the Norseman's counter question. (Lake 
 Mjosen is the largest sheet of inland water 
 in Norway, about sixty miles long and ten 
 wide, and surrounded by beautiful scenery.) 
 Later, in their sightseeing trip about the 
 town, the Danish director made a halt at a 
 very large and modern-looking building, 
 pointing it out to his guest as the new lunatic 
 asylum. 
 
 "Ugh! Come to Norway, my boy," cried 
 the Norseman, enthusiastically, "and I'll 
 show you the biggest lunatic asylum in the 
 world!" 
 
 The Norwegians, however, do not hesi- 
 tate to pay back their jokes to the Danes 
 60 
 
A Satirical Dane 
 
 with interest, and many a pleasant hour was 
 spent on board in listening to the always 
 good-natured war of wits between the sons 
 of the sister nations. 
 
 61 
 
CHRISTIANIA: 
 THE GATE TO THE COUNTRY 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 christiania: the gate to the country 
 
 f~~| ~^HE approach to Christiania is so 
 I beautiful it must be seen to be ap- 
 preciated. I noticed as we entered 
 the port that we were about to pass what 
 appeared to be four large Norwegian forts. 
 As we came nearer and nearer I discovered 
 that they were immense galvanized iron- 
 tanks, painted white, upon which in large 
 black letters was Standard Oil Co. Al- 
 though quite protecting and home-like I 
 pitied helpless nature for these surely un- 
 asked for decorations. 
 
 Christiania, the capital of Norway, and 
 the royal residence, is situated upon the 
 beautiful Christiania-fjord. To me it is an 
 ideal city. The streets are wide and very 
 clean. In the parks with their elegant large 
 
 65 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 trees, under whose leafy branches most com- 
 fortable seats are placed, with beautiful 
 beds of flowers everywhere, I passed many 
 delightful hours. 
 
 Although in comparison with many other 
 Norwegian towns, Christiania is a young 
 place, founded as it was in 1624 by King 
 Christian IV, beneath the walls of Akershus 
 Fortress, it is not without historical associa- 
 tions. The old fortress is now undergoing 
 restoration, and in a few years' time will 
 have regained the form it had when King 
 Christian himself marked out the streets of 
 the town. 
 
 Before the founding of Christiania, Oslo 
 lay on the other side of Bjorviken, with its 
 churches, the bishop's residence and its me- 
 morials of the Roman Catholic time. In 
 the new quarter, Oslo, the old bishop's resi- 
 dence, is still preserved, now called Oslo 
 Ladegaard. In it, in 1589, King James VI 
 of Scotland, the son of Mary Queen of Scots, 
 was married to a Dano-Norwegian princess. 
 66 
 
Christiania 
 
 Remains of Dominican and Franciscan 
 monasteries are to be found in the Oslo Hos- 
 pital and Church, and in the present bish- 
 op's residence. One building of Christian 
 IVs time and style is still standing, the old 
 garrison infirmary, near St. John's Church. 
 Otherwise, Christiania is altogether a mod- 
 ern town, bearing the imprint of the latter 
 half of the eighteenth century, although 
 buildings such as the old military academy 
 and the royal palace, recall the palmy days 
 at the close of the previous century. 
 
 Christiania now has about a quarter mil- 
 lion of inhabitants. There are many fine 
 residences and hotels, the latter furnished 
 with every comfort. The stores are large 
 and quite modern. There are several lines 
 of street cars, and one finds also, any number 
 of automobiles. In Christiania I took my 
 first drive behind one of those delightful 
 ever gentle and sure-footed Norwegian 
 horses, which though quite small in stature 
 are persevering. My driver, a sturdy Nor- 
 
 6 7 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 wegian, told me he could speak "a little 
 English," and I'm sure I spoke far less of 
 his native tongue, but we managed to get 
 along, so I didn't think of employing the 
 captain's exorcism "Jeg-elsker-dig" on him 
 — and I'm glad I didn't. Yes, we managed 
 to get along splendidly. However, I admit 
 I was surprised when he suddenly asked 
 me, "if I had ever heard of a town called 
 Chicago." He was very proud of his horse 
 which possessed what seemed to me a rather 
 epicurean taste, as it enjoyed eating a nice, 
 rare beefsteak and drinking beer more than 
 anything we usually consider equine delica- 
 cies. 
 
 68 
 
A ROYAL DINNER: 
 THE CROWING WAITER 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 A ROYAL DINNER I THE CROWING WAITER 
 
 IN traveling through a foreign country, 
 unless one speaks the language or has 
 an interpreter, many amusing inci- 
 dents, and sometimes, I may add, discom- 
 forts, may occur. Upon my arrival in 
 Christiania I went to a hotel, which was 
 very prettily situated facing a lovely park. 
 The building was unpretentious and had 
 rather a home-like appearance. I entered, 
 and was met by a porter speaking Norwe- 
 gian only who ushered me to a room where 
 a woman was seated at a desk. She arose as 
 we entered and addressed me in very fair 
 English. I secured a room and then learned 
 she did not serve meals. What was to be 
 done? I was more hungry than I ever re- 
 membered to have been in my life, and so 
 
 7i 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 went out to see if I could discover a restau- 
 rant. 
 
 After some time I found one which was 
 neat and gave the impression that the food 
 served might prove to be tempting. A wait- 
 er appeared smiling gleefully, and I ad- 
 dressed him in three languages, but they 
 proved of no other avail than to change his 
 smiling good natured face into one of dark 
 despair. He spoke only Norwegian. Fi- 
 nally I picked up a menu and glancing over 
 it, my eye rested longingly upon a word that 
 to me had something of the word "chicken" 
 in it. Immediately I motioned to the wait- 
 er, who had withdrawn to the desk-corner, 
 where he stood whispering with the cashier, 
 a powerful Norse woman. He came over, 
 and seeing at a glance what I wanted, bowed 
 politely and began to flap both arms giving 
 a long "Coo-koo-oo!" That noise was fa- 
 miliar to me, and although it didn't sound 
 like the crow of an American rooster or the 
 cackling of a hen, I felt nevertheless at ease. 
 72 
 
A Royal Dinner 
 
 Maybe we could get along with that lan- 
 guage after all I thought, and smiled thank- 
 fully to indicate my satisfaction and admi- 
 ration of his voice. Away he went like a 
 flash, seemingly proud of his knowledge of 
 English. 
 
 I waited over an hour before anything in 
 the line of chicken or anything else arrived. 
 In the meantime my appetite had greatly 
 increased, and I wondered when that chick- 
 en did crow last and what size it would be. 
 Then it came! In size and appearance it 
 was all right; beautifully cooked and 
 served — but the taste! Oh, the taste! Shall 
 I ever forget it! I learned afterwards that 
 he had served me a crow. I selected some 
 other things out of the rather pretentious 
 bill of fare, but the waiter, who had lost his 
 head entirely, began to serve the whole bill 
 from the very top to the bottom. How I 
 wished in my embarrassment that all my 
 friends could have been with me and par- 
 taken of my unintended luxurious Norwe- 
 
 73 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 gian dinner. "Well," I thought to myself, 
 "if you ever again try out those magic words 
 the captain taught you surely the right oc- 
 casion is at hand," and in order to stop the 
 unending shower of queer dishes, I said, 
 imitating the captain's voice and expression 
 as near as possible, "Jeg-elsker-dig!" 
 
 Evidently not believing his own ears, the 
 waiter gave me a long, never to be forgotten 
 look and then with a peculiar whispering: 
 "Ha" (No, it was not a laugh; he just 
 meant "what") he stepped nearer. 
 
 I repeated the sentence. The effect was 
 tremendous indeed. He simply flew out of 
 the door, blushing and smiling, returning 
 with another carload of dishes. As I arose 
 and looked about for my bag, wondering 
 whether I had money enough with me, my 
 eyes fell on the cashier. To say she was 
 frowning at me would be to flatter her too 
 much. She looked simply furious, and I 
 promised myself never to use the magic 
 words to any man in the presence of a wom- 
 
 74 
 
A Royal Dinner 
 
 an, and I have kept my promise ever since. 
 I'm glad of it. I thought after this experi- 
 ence I would never again go to a Norwegian 
 restaurant, no matter how hungry I was, but 
 leave the hotel where I now stayed and go to 
 one where meals were served. Such a place 
 I found, by the help of Bennett's tourist of- 
 fice, in the Grand Hotel, a modern and a 
 most delightful hostelry. 
 
 When I came home to my lodging, the 
 landlady with the fear of losing her best 
 roomer, took me into her private parlor. 
 What is coming now, I thought? 
 
 "Are you fond of music?" she asked, as 
 I stepped over the threshold. 
 
 "Oh, yes" I replied relieved, "very!" 
 
 "Well, then I will play and sing for you 
 every afternoon and night," she said, as 
 though she had willed me half a million 
 dollars. 
 
 "Thank you!" I replied. 
 
 Seating herself at the piano she said: 
 
 "I have an American piece which may 
 
 75 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 please you that I will sing every night." 
 Opening the music sheet I saw the title: 
 "Ever of Thee." 
 
 "Have you ever heard it before?" she 
 asked me. 
 
 "Oh! yes!" I answered. She began to 
 sing and I, musician that I am, sat and lis- 
 tened. Where in the musical vocabulary 
 can I place that voice? It was a terrible 
 combination of soprano, contralto and fal- 
 setto. My! Would she ever finish singing? 
 When near to exhaustion, she did, and I was 
 still breathing. It is strange how much we 
 can endure before giving up the ghost. 
 Turning to me she said, "I hope you were 
 pleased with my singing? Do you want that 
 American piece repeated?" 
 
 What could I say? However, I man- 
 aged to get my expression of appreciation 
 collected enough to say: "Madam, who was 
 your teacher? You certainly have a very 
 powerful voice!" 
 
 "Oh! I am so glad that I have pleased 
 
 76 
 
A Royal Dinner 
 
 you!" she replied, and in order to show her 
 delight she insisted on singing "Ever of 
 Thee" once more, although I pleaded with 
 her, telling her that it would affect my 
 nerves too much to hear the dear song once 
 more, so far from home. But, although I 
 looked at the clock on the wall with eyes 
 that a dog would pity, she repeated the 
 piece. 
 
 She wasn't quite so pleased with me the 
 next morning when I told her I was going 
 to move. I must have seemed ungrateful, 
 to say the least, for she tried hard to make 
 me pay for the concert by charging me a 
 month's rent for the room. In this she was 
 not successful, however, as I, carefully 
 enough, had taken the room by the day. 
 
 I might easily have avoided this unpleas- 
 ant acquaintance if, immediately on my ar- 
 rival in Christiania, I had sought the advice 
 of Mr. Bennett. My experience with this 
 fatherly gentleman and his trusty son is such 
 that I most heartily agree with the enthusi- 
 
 77 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 astic traveler, who, after a pleasant journey, 
 sent Mr. Bennett, the following poetical ef- 
 fusion : 
 
 "If Norway, like Melrose, you'd visit aright 
 And go where there's hardly a pottle of 
 
 night; 
 Where the salmon and waterfalls strive for 
 
 the lead 
 And the ponies are sturdy and hardy in 
 
 breed — 
 Take an old man's advice and by no means 
 
 omit 
 To send Bennett a line ere you pack up 
 
 your kit. 
 
 "If you'd know where to go, where to sleep, 
 where to stay, 
 Where to travel by night, where to journey 
 
 by day, 
 That the most you may see in the very best 
 
 way, 
 Without nuisance or fuss or the risk of de~ 
 lay — 
 
 78 
 
A Royal Dinner 
 
 First call upon Bennett and ask his advice 
 Which he'll give you for nothing! That's 
 cheap at the price! 
 
 'In summer or winter, in sunshine or snow, 
 While skiing or fishing or taking a row, 
 He'll help you to everything — make it 
 
 quite plain, 
 And will lend an umbrella, I'm sure, in 
 
 the rain. 
 So be you a clerk or a lord of the Senate, 
 You'll always do well to rely upon Ben- 
 net" 
 
 79 
 
KARLJOHAN: 
 "THE GAY WHITE WAY" 
 

 "Q 
 Q 
 ^ 
 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 KARL JOHAN : "THE GAY WHITE WAY" 
 
 KARL JOHAN'S Gade, the "Gay 
 White Way" of Christiania, is a 
 broad and beautiful boulevard end- 
 ing at a hill on which stands the royal palace 
 surrounded by a beautiful park. Here re- 
 sides King Haakon, Queen Maud, and 
 Crownprince Olav, a small but sturdy lad. 
 The university buildings and the National 
 Theatre stand facing one another, while 
 farther on is the Storthing or Parliament 
 Building. Behind the University is the 
 Historical Museum; and close to it stands 
 the Art Museum, with its small but intense- 
 ly interesting collection of sculpture and 
 painting. 
 
 The Norwegian artists seem to take their 
 vocation very seriously > for their work has 
 
 83 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 the unmistakable keynote of suffering and 
 gloom. Sinding, Taulow, Gude, Kittelsen, 
 Wernskjold, Krogh, Munch and Shredsvig 
 are especially well represented at the Mu- 
 seum and there is much in these canvases to 
 interest an American visitor, even though he 
 may not be a judge of the fine arts. 
 
 Many of the new names are evidently 
 striving toward still undiscovered heights. 
 It must be hard for an artist in a poor little 
 country like Norway > to succeed even if he 
 chooses to follow the trodden paths, to say 
 nothing of those who try to break into new 
 fields. However, when the result of ridi- 
 cule, misjudgment and endless struggle is 
 such heart stirring art as some of the pic- 
 tures in this little gallery exhibit one cannot 
 help bowing the head to so much evident 
 self-denial, and to an energy and perseve- 
 rance not easily understood by a casual ob- 
 server, 
 
 In the University garden, near the chemi- 
 cal laboratory, are the three exhumed Viking 
 
 8 4 
 
Karl Johan 
 
 ships safeguarded in wooden sheds. One 
 cannot help wondering at this carelessness 
 of a people who seem to trust to common- 
 sense more than to Providence. Farther off, 
 on the corner of St. Olaf's Gade and Aker's 
 Gade, in a most beautiful building, is the 
 Industrial Art Museum. Here the collec- 
 tion of modern tapestry designed by native 
 artists from historical events in Norway is 
 especially interesting as are the old silver 
 bowls, drinking horns^ hunting weapons, 
 and such curios. 
 
 Between twelve and two o'clock, a mili- 
 tary band plays on a music-stand erected in 
 the Studenterlund near the National The- 
 atre. During these pleasant hours the pretty 
 Karl Johan's Gade wears its cosmopolitan 
 cloak, and reminds the onlooker of a great 
 fairy garden where large and small flower- 
 beds are grouped promiscuously. A crowd 
 of whispering, chattering, laughing people 
 from all lands is gathered here. Men, wom- 
 en and children are seen arm in arm stroll- 
 
 85 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 ing about in the Studenterlund or up and 
 down the bright boulevard. Some are stand- 
 ing in laughing groups, others sitting on 
 the benches alongside the grove, but 
 whether sitting, standing or walking the 
 keen enjoyment of the musical midday- 
 siesta is plainly to be read on every face. 
 There are warm handshakes, responsive 
 glances and expressive gestures everywhere. 
 Buoyant laughter is continually heard roll- 
 ing like distant thunder over the great 
 mass. 
 
 I cannot say, however, that I was espe- 
 cially impressed by the beauty of the Nor- 
 wegian women, but am willing to agree that 
 the somewhat negligee air about them is 
 quite refreshing. I must admit that their 
 brisk ways and arrogant manners didn't al- 
 ways strike me as unfeigned, especially dur- 
 ing the daily promenade on Karl Johan's 
 Gade. They are, taken as a whole, far from 
 chic and do not display any inborn feminine 
 taste for dressing to their individual advan- 
 86 
 
Karl Johan 
 
 tage. Their unchecked, deafening stream of 
 talking, especially when in the presence of 
 men, was to me like a roaring waterfall, to 
 say the least. 
 
 I am now especially speaking of the wom- 
 en of the two largest cities, Christiania and 
 Bergen. The latter differ in their ready 
 wit and liveliness from the former's heavi- 
 er and more manly type. I have had a fair 
 chance to mix with those two types and to 
 study them at close range, having seen them 
 in the streets, in stores, at big official affairs 
 as well as at their private gatherings. I 
 have joined in their outdoor sports, in their 
 home-life, and to their credit I must say 
 always to have found them trustworthy and 
 honorable. Still I want my opinion of the 
 Norwegian women as here briefly ex- 
 pressed, to be taken as a traveler's bird's- 
 eye view only. Not that I didn't meet mod- 
 est, ladylike and highly intellectual women 
 and lovable mothers among my Norwegian 
 
 87 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 sisters; indeed I did, especially in the small 
 towns and in the rural districts. 
 
 What I have said about the nature and 
 climate of Norway may be said about her 
 people. They differ in looks and manners 
 as does nature herself. In one part of the 
 country you find the inhabitants tall and 
 stately, with long bony faces, dark hair, big 
 blue eyes and a serious and searching ex- 
 pression. Cross a mountain ridge or two, 
 and you will be surprised by meeting an en- 
 tirely different type of people, short of sta- 
 ture with round faces, dark hair, dark com- 
 plexion, brown eyes 1 and of a cheerful dis- 
 position. The Norwegian peasants are as 
 a rule a reserved, cautious type, with pro- 
 nounced self-control, and conduct them- 
 selves remarkably well ; the men with strik- 
 ing dignity and the women with charming 
 modesty. 
 
 88 
 
THE WOMEN OF NORWAY 
 PIONEER SUFFRAGETTES 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 THE WOMEN OF NORWAY : PIONEER 
 SUFFRAGETTES 
 
 IT is immensely interesting to listen to 
 Gina Krog, Ragna Nilsen and others 
 of these dauntless pioneer women 
 speaking of their fights, with many a hearty 
 laugh at mistakes and foolish actions. Jokes 
 and anecdotes are told good-humoredly 
 about the so well ended war. The women 
 of Norway can well afford to take a good 
 laugh at themselves and to forgive the harsh 
 words showered down upon their heads 
 from the now conquered enemy, the strong- 
 er sex. 
 
 It is not so many years ago since the 
 women of Norway began to peep into the 
 social and political questions of their coun- 
 try. It happened one day that a woman by 
 
 9i 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 the name of Camille Collet began to ponder 
 about some lines in the Norwegian National 
 hymn: 
 
 "Norway, Norway, 
 Gentle or harsh, 
 You are our hope, 
 The land of the future." 
 
 After deeply considering for awhile, she 
 began to ask herself if these pretty lines 
 were true in every sense of the word. "The 
 land of the future/' thought this wise 
 woman, must be a land of liberty, peace and 
 justice. The very land all of mankind, 
 women not least, are dreaming about and 
 yearning for. A country, entirely ruled by 
 men can never be called our country in the 
 true sense of the beautiful word, but a coun- 
 try of men ruled by men, for men alone. In 
 these simple lines by Bjornson quoted above, 
 the shibboleth was found. "We must make 
 Norway our country, and that means a coun- 
 try ruled by women as well as by men." 
 92 
 
The Women of Norway 
 
 These words spoken by Camille Collet 
 and others fell on fertile soil, and so it hap- 
 pened that the gentle winds of a newborn 
 spring blew over the mountains of Norway 
 and brought along with it the living seeds 
 from a woman's heart and thought to thou- 
 sands and thousands of small homes. We 
 know now from what has happened in Nor- 
 way that the seed sown had a remarkable 
 life germ. They accumulated and took root 
 in sound and thoughtful minds for the good 
 of the bearers of future generations. 
 
 It was not legislation that Camille Collet, 
 the first woman of Norway that ever dared 
 to lift her voice for the independence of her 
 sisters, spoke about. No, she spoke merely 
 of the feelings of the human hearts and 
 souls. She spoke for the hearts of women, 
 their devotion and sacrifices ; spoke with all 
 her intelligence and enthusiasm, and with a 
 warmth and convincing power that not 
 alone overcame all prejudices, but awak- 
 ened, though slowly, the great minds who 
 
 93 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 were to take the task of emancipation on 
 their shoulders. Miss Collet was a remark- 
 able woman in more than one respect. Many 
 are the stories told and retold about her. 
 Thoughts and deeds that other people 
 looked upon as something great and broad- 
 minded, she considered small and selfish, 
 while that which looked small and selfish to 
 others seemed often great to her. In the 
 erotic relation between man and woman, 
 she claimed that the woman should rule, be- 
 cause she had the precedence of the inspira- 
 tions of the soul. 
 
 It is very intelligible that the women of 
 Norway bless the memory of this great pio- 
 neer. I presume that many of my country- 
 men who have heard of her work and how 
 she stood alone fighting martyrlike and fear- 
 lessly against the whole universe for the full 
 rights of women, will join in praise of this 
 remarkable woman. 
 
 Camille Collet knew that a woman's emo- 
 tions were the only superior quality that the 
 
 94 
 
The Women of Norway 
 
 stronger sex would grant. These feelings 
 were not always respected ; often they were 
 trampled into the dirt, and choked to death. 
 The right to love, was a right the Creator 
 had granted to women; not to love after the 
 prescription of a man's demand, but after 
 their own soul's law. This was the first out- 
 cry, the first slogan of the woman's question 
 in Norway. 
 
 There was another lonely but strong-im- 
 pressioned woman among the suffragette 
 pioneers, that will always live in the his- 
 tory of Norway. This is Froken Asta Han- 
 sten, who has spent several years in America. 
 Froken Hansten was once a noted artist and 
 during her first stay in Boston she painted 
 among other celebrities, Longfellow, at 
 whose house she was always a welcome 
 guest. This remarkable and admirable 
 fighter under the banner of the Skirt Regi- 
 ment, gave up her art and everything dear 
 to life, to throw herself, body and soul, into 
 the work for the rights of women. She 
 
 95 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 stepped forth about twenty years later than 
 Camille Collet and founded her campaign 
 on a religious basis. To her religion was the 
 life nerve of the woman question. Her war- 
 cry was: "Give us liberty to believe what 
 the divinity within our souls teaches us to 
 believe. Give us the right to love accord- 
 ing to our own personalities and not by di- 
 rections and compulsion. We will also have 
 the right to think our own thoughts and 
 bring them forth to develop our abilities; 
 the right to choose our work, and to take 
 part in all social conditions." This was her 
 demand, and from now on the slogan was, 
 "Show us justice!" That Asta Hansten has 
 created history in her country is sure enough 
 and her doings and great deeds are common 
 topics at woman's meetings. 
 
 She was, so goes her posthumous fame, 
 more undaunted, more rough in her ways 
 and as strongly built as any man in her com- 
 munity. She was not afraid to cry out the 
 naked truth on the streets when she met one 
 
 9 6 
 
The W omen of Norway 
 
 of the so-called pillars of society. She 
 seemed to know their rottenness and was not 
 afraid to show them a mailed fist if they 
 gave her the opportunity. Often when 
 royal audience was refused, she placed her- 
 self in front of the castle, standing there pa- 
 tiently hour after hour, gazing at the win- 
 dows in a mute prayer for justice. There 
 is no doubt that the late warm-hearted king 
 of Norway, Oscar II., received her as often 
 as he dared, and always listened with 
 interest and warm sympathy to this learned 
 woman of noble birth. She was hated, per- 
 secuted and scoffed at, and but for her birth, 
 education and a few influential friends 
 would have been exiled. 
 
 In those years of severe combat, Asta 
 Hansten was always seen with a dog whip 
 in her hand, in order to protect herself from 
 the terrible and revengeful mob. And she 
 was not afraid to use the whip. It happened 
 once while she was giving her powerful 
 speeches at a public park, that she suddenly 
 
 97 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 stopped short, covered with rotten eggs, 
 jumped down from her bench and used her 
 whip undauntedly and with manly fortitude. 
 Although her simple homemade black 
 dress often looked more yellow than black 
 while lecturing, she never changed it nor 
 washed her face until the day's work was 
 done. With this great-hearted woman, 
 whose memory the whole country now hon- 
 ors with thankfulness and esteem, did the 
 women of Norway forsake the individual, 
 for the social question. Froken Hansten 
 awakened them and showed that the only 
 thing to do was to unite and hold together 
 through thick and thin, and work with and 
 for themselves. Froken Krog, the well 
 known editor of the Norwegian Magazine 
 "The Nylande," to whom I owe so many of 
 my points about the fights of the pioneers, 
 goes so far as to say that all kinds of social 
 work rightly belong to woman, because, as 
 she says, the community is only to be looked 
 on as a home; a home on a large scale. It is 
 
 9 8 
 
The Women of Norway 
 
 not the clothes but the brains that make the 
 difference. Let whomsoever the crown fits, 
 wear it. All the sufferings, needs, terrors or 
 despairs the world is still sighing under can 
 be lightened only by educating the minds. 
 The hearts of mankind must be thrilled with 
 the light of love rather than fear before 
 righteousness and goodness can shine and 
 bear fruit. 
 
 99 
 
AT THE GRAVES OF IBSEN AND 
 BJORNSON: ANECDOTES 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 AT THE GRAVES OF IBSEN AND BJORNSON: 
 ANECDOTES 
 
 MY interesting acquaintance from 
 Krokkleven, Fru H., kept her 
 promise and called on me one af- 
 ternoon after my return from a trip to beau- 
 tiful Holmenkollen and its surrounding 
 places of interest. 
 
 She suggested a trip to the graves of 
 Bjornson and Ibsen, and although I was ra- 
 ther filled to overflowing with impressions 
 from my day's excursion, I was not reluctant 
 in accepting her kind invitation as I could 
 hardly find a more interesting or better in- 
 formed companion. 
 
 While walking through the beautiful 
 cemetery, my friendly guide told me about 
 having met the favorite niece of the late 
 103 
 
the M t Sun 
 
 Bjornstjerne Bjornson that day, and what 
 
 she had related about her (anions ancle. The 
 sincere grief of the people for the recent 
 death of their beloved uncrowned monarch, 
 Bjornson, was indeed touching. One could 
 scarcely take a step without being pleasantly 
 reminded in one way or another of their love 
 tor him. 
 
 "Bjornson had such a warm heart, his 
 niece told me," began my companion, in a 
 musical, subdued voice, "that he wouldn't 
 hesitate to take even his clothes and give 
 them to a poor creature. When one of those 
 who had been elose to him died, Ibsen, 
 Grieg, Taulow or his mother, his grief was 
 without bound and he was pitiful to look 
 upon. His love for birds and animals was 
 almost as great as his love for human beings. 
 It happened once at his estate, 'Aulestad,' 
 that a little bird had built its nest and was 
 hatching elose to the main entrance. 'The 
 bird must not be disquieted in its mother 
 duties, 1 was the great man's command, and 
 104 
 
oq 
 
At the Graves of Ibsen and Bjornson 
 
 they were all, large and small, forbidden to 
 enter that way. There were many notable 
 guests at Aulestad at that time, both princess 
 and dukes, but they had all to bend their 
 heads and use the kitchen entrance. The 
 bird was not to be disturbed." 
 
 The master's niece had told her further 
 that the day Bjornson's death was an- 
 nounced, she had gone to his mother's grave, 
 and while busy decorating it in the National 
 colors, a tall, serious looking man came to 
 her side without uttering a word. 
 
 When the decoration was finished, he had 
 asked if she knew where the great Bjornson 
 was to be buried. She had replied that it 
 was not decided as yet. The stranger smiled 
 and informed her that Bjornson had select- 
 ed his own burial place. On her request, 
 he had then introduced himself as the in- 
 spector of the cemetery^ saying in explana- 
 tion, that he had once accompanied her un- 
 cle to the grave of Ibsen. On this occasion, 
 the great poet had gazed at his friend's rest- 
 105 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 ing place for a long time and had then 
 walked toward a big poplar standing near. 
 He had paused for awhile in silence, then 
 turned about with a strange smile that spoke 
 plainer than words: "Here will be my final 
 resting place." 
 
 Her conversation with the inspector at the 
 grave of Bjornson's mother was immediate- 
 ly retold to Fru Karoline, the widow, and 
 to her oldest son Bjorn, the former director 
 of the National Theatre. The place for his 
 grave was then decided upon at once. Sure- 
 ly he could hardly have selected a more fit- 
 ting abode than this beautiful and solemn 
 spot. 
 
 That Bjornson had a high estimate of his 
 own genius and always looked upon himself 
 as the greatest among the great of his coun- 
 try is a fact the Norwegians do not try to 
 conceal, "But," they say, "there was a rea- 
 son!" And so there is. 
 
 While a little child, barely able to climb 
 the table, his favorite place, he became so 
 1 06 
 
At the Graves of Ibsen and Bjornson 
 
 seriously ill that his parents had no hope of 
 his recovery. As there was no physician in 
 their community and no way of getting any 
 from the nearest town, his mother sent a 
 messenger for Wise-Knut, a famous seer and 
 faith-healer. To the parents' despair the 
 man returned without Knut, who sent the 
 message to the sorrow stricken mother that 
 her child would not die. 
 
 "When he dies," Knut had said to the 
 messenger, "entire Norway will be in 
 grief." 
 
 This the mother afterward related to her 
 boy, and that Bjornson remembered well, 
 and with pleasure, the wise man's prophesy 
 was often proven by his hints to it. 
 
 Another peculiar occurrence that Bjorn- 
 son looked upon with much pleasure, hap- 
 pened in his twenty-second year. In com- 
 pany with some other college boys from 
 Christiania he had participated in the great 
 Upsala College procession, when a young 
 girl forced her way through the almost im- 
 107 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 penetrable throng of people and without the 
 slightest hesitation placed a laurel wreath 
 on his head. She did not search her man out 
 from among more than five thousand col- 
 lege boys, but went unhesitatingly to him as 
 though he were the only man present. Why 
 him more than the others? This incident 
 young Bjornson considered a good omen 
 and a dedication to his poetical vocation. 
 From that very moment he knew his path, 
 and never did he waver or doubt his God- 
 granted gift. 
 
 "How different he was from Ibsen," said 
 my interesting companion, in her musical 
 voice, as we stepped over to Ibsen's grave. 
 After seating ourselves on a bench she con- 
 tinued, 
 
 "Ibsen, with his gloomy and pessimistic 
 temperament, differs from Bjornson's sunny 
 disposition as much as two men living in 
 the same land, age and general environment 
 possibly could." She thought a stranger 
 could easily read their characters out of the 
 108 
 
At the Graves of Ibsen and Bjornson 
 
 appearances and positions of their graves. 
 With the imagination of a Norwegian I 
 might have been able to read quite a lot 
 from the arrangements of the two earthen 
 mounds, but as I am not endowed with any 
 such special gift I preferred to listen to my 
 amiable and well posted guide. While the 
 glorious sunset changed into twilight or 
 more correctly speaking, into a new subdued 
 color scheme, she continued her Ibsen an- 
 ecdotes : 
 
 "It was one of Ibsen's peculiarities," Fru 
 H. began, as she took a long reverend look 
 at the master's grave, "to take his daily glass 
 of beer regularly at a certain table reserved 
 for him at the Grand Cafe. The whole town 
 knew of this habit and tourists immediately 
 upon their arrival in Christiania were in- 
 formed by the travel-bureaus that at one 
 o'clock Ibsen would appear. Consequently 
 the Karl Johan street was thronged with 
 people of all creeds and colors eager to 
 take a look at the Norwegian sphinx. 
 109 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 When, punctual as clock-work, he appeared 
 with hands clasped tightly behind him, 
 moving slowly step by step down the street, 
 the tourists scrambled and clicked their 
 cameras and did not hesitate to even stop the 
 traffic in order to get a choice snapshot at 
 this town's biggest curiosity. 
 
 "It must have been annoying to the old 
 man," I could not help but remark. 
 
 "Yes, but he stood it bravely for the sake 
 of his country," answered my friend enthus- 
 iastically. "He knew I suppose that he was 
 Christiania's star attraction and the source 
 of the people's prosperity. Once, however, 
 when an English Bluestocking took a pair 
 of scissors from her bag and cut a handful 
 of hair from his shaggy mane he became 
 very angry and threatened to leave the city 
 for good and all. Since that incident Ibsen 
 was somewhat guarded from that kind of 
 vandalism." 
 
 "It may not be so pleasant to be famous 
 after all," I again interrupted, 
 no 
 
At the Graves of Ibsen and Bjornson 
 
 "Well," was her ready answer, "you may 
 be right in that madam, but he didn't mind 
 it when it meant being kissed by pretty girls ; 
 but he did hate to be clipped and hugged by 
 those silly English women." 
 
 That Ibsen could be malicious in his re- 
 bukes when irritated, is shown by another 
 little incident that took place at the Grand 
 Cafe, a few days after his homecoming from 
 a more than twelve years' exile. One night, 
 a captain in the Norwegian army passed the 
 Cafe in the company of two ladies, who ap- 
 parently were not of the captain's day-light 
 acquaintance, when he noticed Ibsen sitting 
 at a table. Boastingly he asked his com- 
 panions if they would like to be introduced 
 to Herr Ibsen. If they would! They 
 were overcome by the mere thought of such 
 an honor. The captain promptly marched 
 in with his ladies and soon stood in front of 
 the master's table. 
 
 "How do you do, friend Ibsen? Glad to 
 in 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 see you home again!" was the captain's jo- 
 vial greeting. 
 
 Ibsen, annoyed, looked up from his paper 
 without uttering a word. 
 
 "Don't you recognize me? We met at 
 Marienbad a couple of years ago," contin- 
 ued the captain, intimately^ and after in- 
 troducing himself anew proceeded, "Gee, 
 we had a gay time! Didn't we, doctor?" 
 Ibsen didn't move a muscle, but stared at 
 him, sphinx-like. 
 
 "I want to introduce you to the misses — " 
 the captain began undaunted, but was im- 
 mediately interrupted by Ibsen's retort: 
 
 "Wait a moment, please!" Then, turn- 
 ing to one of the waiters 2 Ibsen went on : 
 
 "Please find a vacant table for these peo- 
 ple?" 
 
 The captain made his exit with his ladies 
 even more quickly than he had entered, and 
 the famous man went back to his beer in 
 peace. 
 
 "Yes, he could hit the nail on the head 
 112 
 
At the Graves of Ibsen and Bjbrnson 
 
 when he wanted to, and hit it pretty hard," 
 said Fru H. laughingly^ again ready with a 
 story demonstrating Ibsen's ready wit and 
 sarcasm. 
 
 "One day 2 so goes the story, Ibsen was 
 driving with his secretary, when he met 
 Herr Fritjof Nansen, the explorer, who was 
 out walking. Without any ceremony Nan- 
 sen beckoned to the driver to stop, then went 
 to the carriage to greet his famous compa- 
 triot. Ibsen looked about seemingly an- 
 noyed, as though something had happened 
 to the horses or the driver. There was noth- 
 ing else for Herr Nansen to do, but to pro- 
 ceed on his walk 2 without having gained the 
 desired conversation. He thought, of course, 
 that Ibsen, poor fellow, had not recognized 
 him, feeble as he was at that time. How- 
 ever, Nansen had scarcely left before Ibsen 
 turned to his secretary and asked him, with a 
 satirical smile playing about his mouth, 
 if that tall, gray-clothed gentleman was not 
 a certain Herr-Herr-Herr-Hansen or Nan- 
 
 "3 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 sen who once had searched for something he 
 couldn't find." "You see," Fru H. ended, 
 respectfully, "nothing counted with him but 
 full success." And then she continued, "At 
 a banquet held in honor of Ibsen's seventi- 
 eth birthday at the Dagmar Theatre in Co- 
 penhagen, the director, after Ibsen had en- 
 tered into the spirit of the celebration, had 
 the courage to discuss several subjects with 
 him and ended by asking Ibsen how he 
 could say, 'That man is strongest who stands 
 alone.' 
 
 " 'Have I ever said such a thing?' asked 
 Ibsen, very much amazed. 
 
 "Now it was the director's turn to look 
 amazed. 
 
 " Why, yes 1 of course you have,' he an- 
 swered. 
 
 " 'My dear director,' said Ibsen, calmly, 
 'when and where did I say such a thing?' 
 
 " 'In your drama "The Enemy of the 
 People" of course,' answered the director 
 confused. 'In that splendid drama of yours 
 114 
 
At the Graves of Ibsen and Bjornson 
 
 Dr. Stockman says "that that man is strong- 
 est who stands alone.' " 
 
 "A broad smile covered Ibsen's coMnte- 
 nance, as he answered. 
 
 " 'Oh, Dr. Stockman! How can you hold 
 me accountable for all the stuff and non- 
 sense that man says?' 
 
 "Ibsen didn't like to discuss his works 
 with anybody, not even with his wife. 
 Also in this respect he differed greatly from 
 Bjornson, whose remarkable insight into a 
 woman's life, his understanding and true in- 
 terpretation of her, are attributed to the 
 wise influence of his wife. Not a single 
 book, scarcely an essay even, left Bjornson's 
 desk for publication without first having 
 been edited by Fru Karoline Bjornson." 
 
 ii 1 5 
 
SAGA HOUSES: 
 
 THE ENVIRONS OF CHRISTIANIA 
 
 FLAUNT THEIR JOYS 
 
=0 
 
 !H 
 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 SAGA HOUSES: THE ENVIRONS OF 
 CHRISTIANIA FLAUNT THEIR JOYS 
 
 HRISTIANIA is a hot place in sum- 
 mer, especially during July and 
 August. The early morning hours 
 are, however, delightful, and so are the eve- 
 nings. To make a few day's stop in Chris- 
 tiania during these two months was former- 
 ly most dreaded by travelers, but not since 
 the wise but slow-going Fathers of the City 
 opened the gates to this town's greatest at- 
 traction, its beautiful and refreshing sur- 
 roundings. Now small steamers ply among 
 the numerous picturesque islands in the 
 Christiania Fjord, at frequent intervals dur- 
 ing the day. 
 
 In the first place comes Bygdo, which 
 may be reached by boat in twenty minutes, 
 119 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 or by car and ferry in half an hour. Here 
 is the Norwegian Folk Museum, with its 
 large historic collections arranged as an 
 open-air exhibit. One of the old buildings 
 is the timber church of Gol, Hallingdal, 
 which was bought and presented to the out- 
 door museum by the former King of Nor- 
 way, the late Oscar II. It is the. oldest and 
 the prettiest of all the Norwegian Stave- 
 churches from the middle ages. The wood 
 carvings are very rare and wonderfully well 
 preserved. It belongs to the octagonal 
 style and has no pillars in the width. 
 
 Many of the old and extremely interesting 
 Saga-Houses of Norway have been pre- 
 served and removed to Bygdo. The best 
 preserved, although the oldest, of these 
 abodes for small kings and Vikings is called 
 the Raulandsstuen. It was removed some 
 years ago from the province of Numedal, 
 and belongs to the same type of log-houses as 
 are seen to-day in the rural districts of Nor- 
 way. 
 
 1 20 
 
Saga Houses 
 
 The interior of the house was usually di- 
 vided into four rooms by two cross-walls 
 and a floor, the largest being without a ceil- 
 ing. Adjoining this main room, were two 
 smaller oneSj the lobby and a little den, and 
 above these two a loft-room. The little den, 
 commonly reserved for the mistress of the 
 house, was used as a storeroom for cakes and 
 other tit-bits. The little room above this 
 was set aside as a spare room for highly hon- 
 ored guests. 
 
 It is believed that the difference between 
 the house from Numedal and those used by 
 the kings and wealthies, is very slight. Some 
 of the original contents have been remark- 
 ably well preserved, and this of course adds 
 greatly to the value of the house, as it tells 
 the history of Norway's progress in civiliza- 
 tion. 
 
 The broad door posts are carved and dec- 
 orated with Romanic brankursine motives, 
 and above is to be read in Runic inscription : 
 Torgautfifil mik gerpi; which has been 
 121 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 translated to read Torgaut Fifil gjorde mig 
 (Torgaut Fifil made me). Torgaut Fifil 
 must have been either the name of the wood- 
 engraver, the owner of the house or the 
 builder. 
 
 In the room are still the solid built-in 
 benches, and what may be counted as a still 
 greater antiquarian curiosity, the original 
 table, with its heavy weight and clumsy 
 carved legs. In the middle of the floor is 
 the open fire place and above this is the 
 square smoke-hole called "Ljoren," serving 
 as an exit for smoke as well as an entrance 
 for light. From the lobby one enters the 
 little loft room where the old bedstead is 
 still kept in its place, though sadly worm- 
 eaten. 
 
 On the gable end of the building's second 
 story, is the remnant of an open gallery. 
 This evidently once reached all the way 
 down and around the front. Besides the 
 main building, the storehouse or loft un- 
 doubtedly played a most important part on 
 
 122 
 
Saga Houses 
 
 an old Germanic farm. Here all the valu- 
 ables were stored, gold, silver, and all kinds 
 of holy-day garments, not to mention the 
 big stock of wool and textiles, besides dried 
 fish, meat, cheese, butter and many other eat- 
 ables. To this well closed and unapproach- 
 able depository, the solitary key was to be 
 found on the mistress' belt. On account of 
 this fortlike measure of precaution, highly 
 esteemed guests slept here. 
 
 The Sagas speak much about these store 
 rooms or lofts. In the middle-ages the loft- 
 house was often connected with the dwell- 
 ing-house by a tunnel or by an overbuilt 
 bridge. They were sometimes the abodes 
 of the women-folk and their belongings. 
 This of course lends to them a certain poeti- 
 cal or romantic air, and many a thrilling 
 tale is told about these ladies' bowers of the 
 middle-ages. 
 
 There are many typical loft-houses to be 
 seen all the way from the thirteenth century 
 down to our times. This peculiar structure 
 123 
 
The Land o[ the Midnight Sun 
 
 as seen here at Bygdo, has been removed 
 from Bolstad, Sondre Fron, and is said to be 
 the most representative type from the mid- 
 dle-ages. It looks very big with its broad 
 ornamental porch, and has one room in the 
 first and one in the second story. The small 
 windows along the gallery are Romanic, 
 and the gallery ends in a little secret room, 
 the lady's bower. 
 
 On this island, too, lies Bygdo Kongs- 
 gaard, King Haakon's summer residence. 
 Not far from here is the little summer pal- 
 ace Oscarshal, a chateau de plaisance, built 
 by Oscar I. It is beautifully situated on a 
 small prettily wooded hillside overlooking 
 both the fjord and the town. It is not used 
 as a dwelling, and visitors who are inter- 
 ested in old paintings may here have a 
 chance to see some old canvases, especially 
 a series of ten scenes by the celebrated Nor- 
 wegian artist Tidemand, depicting "The 
 Norwegian Peasant's Life from the Cradle 
 to the Grave." The best known is the last 
 124 
 
Saga Houses 
 
 and the best of the series, and portrays a 
 venerable couple, seated alone on a bench at 
 a large table, the man reading to his aged 
 wife from a large family Bible. 
 
 It is hard to say which trip, of all the 
 easy excursions which may be enjoyed, is 
 the prettiest, because they are all so different 
 in their character and beauty. One of the 
 most convenient excursions that can be made 
 from Christiania, is by a steam yacht, which 
 is specially run to convey visitors to the nu- 
 merous picturesque islands. It accom- 
 plished its round in about three hours; time 
 I found well spent indeed. 
 
 There are many surf-bathing establish- 
 ments in Christiania Fjord with restaurants 
 close by. Many of these inviting and re- 
 freshing sea-baths can easily be reached in 
 a few minutes by electric car, train or by 
 boat. If mountain air and magnificent 
 views are preferred, take a trip to beautiful 
 Holmenhollen, a large wooded park, situ- 
 ated about six miles from the city, and 
 
 I2 5 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 twelve hundred feet or more above the level 
 of the sea. This place, as well as the near- 
 by Frognesateren, fourteen hundred feet 
 above the sea level and Voksenkollen, seven- 
 teen hundred feet, can be reached part way 
 by trolley, zig-zagging up the mountain in 
 less than an hour, and the remainder of the 
 way by carriage. 
 
 From the many beautiful points of view 
 in this vast estate of needlewood, one can 
 spend a day in cool comfort. From view 
 towers one has a grand sight in every direc- 
 tion. The Christiania valley presents itself 
 from those towers as a charming, smiling 
 panorama, with broad fields, a shining, glit- 
 tering fjord, and blue hillsides. From an- 
 other point one has a magnificent view of 
 hill and forest, situated so near the town, 
 that they give it a strength and health that 
 few other communities possess. The hills 
 on the north and east are also exceedingly 
 pretty in their many shades of blue. The 
 Homenkollen Tourist Hotel is a magnifi- 
 
 126 
 
Saga Houses 
 
 cent structure in old Norwegian style, with 
 a dining-room which is especially attrac- 
 tive, not only on account of the excellent 
 viands provided, but also owing to the view 
 from its windows, and the charming, rustic 
 and national character of its adornments. 
 In the upper floor are bed and sitting rooms 
 with balconies affording bewitching views 
 of the valley. 
 
 127 
 
VAGABONDING: 
 ENJOYABLE EXCURSIONS 
 
Oscarshal BygcL 
 
 Holmenkollcn's Hotel. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 vagabonding: enjoyable excursions 
 
 THE newly built royal Sport- Villa, 
 most charmingly situated near the 
 Voksenkolien Hotel, is a gift to the 
 beloved King by popular subscription. Even 
 the inhabitants of the poor-houses were not 
 prevented from contributing their mite to 
 the King's gift. The money was quickly 
 collected and a very beautiful Sport-Villa 
 erected, in the old Norwegian style of the 
 thirteenth century. The heavy logs are 
 stained a beautiful light brownish color, 
 while the slate-roof is an attractive red. The 
 roof over the broad veranda is of grass-turf, 
 on w T hich a couple of small Norwegian 
 spruces, representing the king and queen, 
 are planted and seemingly thriving. 
 
 It is strange that little Prince Olaf was 
 
 I3 1 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 not remembered in this family group. Per- 
 haps it was because a suitable little spruce 
 could not be found in all the kingdom, or 
 else that he was ; in himself, so much an idol 
 of the Norwegian people that a memento 
 seemed superfluous. 
 
 The prettiest portion of the whole build- 
 ing is the carved main entrance, leading in- 
 to a comfortable hall. The furniture is 
 modern and looks ugly and out of place in 
 the mediaeval building. Very tasteful and 
 characteristic friezes decorate the rooms, 
 and a beautiful panoramic view from the 
 veranda and upper rooms adds to the attrac- 
 tiveness of the villa. 
 
 St. Hanshangen is a pretty place for an 
 early morning walk. It is a small hill situ- 
 ated within the boundaries of the town, at 
 the summit of which a reservoir has been 
 made to supply the water for the Capital, 
 the water being drawn from the lake system 
 of the neighboring district of Maridalen. A 
 very charming panoramic view of the city 
 132 
 
Vagabonding 
 
 and surroundings may be had from here, 
 and a look through the telescope and col- 
 ored glasses, which are kept in the tower, is 
 interesting. 
 
 Sarabraatan, situated about seven miles 
 to the east of Christiania and twelve hun- 
 dred feet above sea, is a most enchanting 
 little place. I found the latter part of the 
 journey especially to be most delightful, 
 and gained a fine view from the summit, 
 over big forests, fields and mountains. 
 
 Another excursion which no one will re- 
 gret, even though his stay in Norway's capi- 
 tal may be limited, is to the historical Bids- 
 void, a few hours' comfortable ride by train 
 from Christiania. 
 
 The old stately town hall itself is a fine 
 old manor-house built of wood and dating 
 from the latter half of the eighteenth cen- 
 tury. The building is of interest chiefly on 
 account of its being a national museum to 
 commemmorate the Norwegian Fourth of 
 July. It has now become the property of 
 
 133 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 the nation, and it is certainly with a feeling 
 of respect and admiration that one enters 
 the assembly-room in which the constitution 
 of May Seventeenth, 1814, was made. It 
 was in this solemn looking hall that the con- 
 stitution of new Norway was laboriously 
 drafted and signed by twelve men, the very 
 best of the country. After the act was per- 
 formed, the men arose, joined hands and 
 swore to "Stand together harmoniously and 
 loyally until the fall of Dovre!" (The 
 Dovre mountain is Norway's Gibraltar.) 
 
 The simple wooden benches on which the 
 honored representatives of the people sat 
 around the solid plank table are no more, 
 but the walls are decorated with portraits 
 of the twelve venerable liberators. It is 
 quite interesting to study these energetic 
 physiognomies. Cleverness, determination 
 and self-confidence, mingled with hope and 
 fear, are the most salient traits to be read 
 in those stern faces. 
 
 While at Eidsvold remember to take in 
 
 134 
 
Vagabonding 
 
 Mjosen, the largest sheet of inland water in 
 Norway, a lake of much varied beauty. I 
 made the round of it on one of the tiny plea- 
 sure boats plying its broad, glassy surface. 
 Comfortably seated in my chair, I enjoyed 
 to the full what has fascinated so many be- 
 fore me ; the sombre beauty of the wood-clad 
 Skrai-mountains, the large undulating corn- 
 fields with the glorious Norwegian blue- 
 bottles waving a beaming welcome toward 
 us. While the little steamer plows lazily 
 forward, cultivated mountain sides with 
 bright colored farm-houses catch one's eye. 
 It is a wonder how they manage to keep 
 from dropping down into the lake from 
 their dizzy heights. Once I caught a most 
 peculiar sight of some farmers who were 
 hoisting large heaps of hay down a moun- 
 tain by means of a heavy wire. 
 
 I do not wish, however^ to give the im- 
 pression that Lake Mjosen is surrounded by 
 the highest mountains or the most expansive 
 fields. On the contrary, although the Skrei- 
 
 *3S 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 mountains are majestic enough and some of 
 the fields quite large, they cannot be com- 
 pared to the colossal ones I have seen in 
 other districts of Norway. Still the pleas- 
 ant combination of mountains, hills and well 
 cultivated fields, with their bright, rich- 
 looking dwellings has a charm entirely 
 unique, and fully justifies a little chapter in 
 its praise. 
 
 In the middle of the lake lies a large 
 island with numerous pretty bits of scenery. 
 On the west side is the heavy, broad Skrei- 
 mountain; on the eas^ not far from a little 
 town called Hamar A rises the imposing sum- 
 mit of another mountain, Hestbjorkampen. 
 
 The town of Hamar 2 which is the seat of 
 the bishop and the civil governor of the dio- 
 cese, has about six thousand inhabitants. On 
 the shore of Mjosen is the extremely beauti- 
 ful ruin of an old cathedral, whose semi-cir- 
 cular arches are clearly visible as one sails 
 northbound. The ruin is located on the 
 outmost point of a tongue of land made by 
 136 
 
Vagabonding 
 
 two small fjords. The church is said to have 
 been destroyed during the Swedish invasion 
 in 1567, the Scandinavian seven-years' war. 
 But here as elsewhere^ I was informed, that 
 the dwellers in the district have done more 
 damage to the exquisite remains than has 
 the hand of the enemy. Fragments of stone 
 from the ruins of Hamar Cathedral may be 
 found in the foundation-walls of out-build- 
 ings in the adjacent farms. The battered 
 structure lends a peculiar interest to the 
 surroundings of the lake not only on account 
 of its rare lofty beauty, but also in its his- 
 torical and mystical character. 
 
 *37 
 
NORTHWARD BOUND: 
 IN THE REALM OF ROCKS 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 NORTHWARD BOUND: IN THE REALM OF 
 ROCKS 
 
 H 
 
 AVING seen all that was of interest 
 to me at Christiania, at this time 
 of the year, I decided to start upon 
 my way in a more northerly direction, at 
 last enroute to the true "Land of the Mid- 
 night Sun." The first few nights one passes 
 in northern Norway produce a peculiar sen- 
 sation, as you continually wonder when it 
 will become dark. You sit by your window 
 and gradually become sleepy. Looking at 
 your watchj you find to your surprise, it 
 may be twelve or one, and yet it is broad 
 day-light. So it continues during the twen- 
 ty-four hours. (Nine months of the year 
 from nine in the morning until three in the 
 afternoon, the people get along without 
 
 1! g ht ) i 4 i 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 I left Christiania by steamer for Ham- 
 merfest, having been told that I would be 
 more likely to see the Midnight Sun there, 
 than at the more famous North Cape. The 
 latter is a very high mountain, with no place 
 to remain after ascent, so that one would be 
 obliged to return to the ship. Then, too, the 
 fog is often so dense on the mountain as to 
 hide the sun entirely from view. One ex- 
 cursion of three hundred tourists remained 
 there a week and then turned back without 
 even a glimpse of what they had come so 
 many hundreds of miles to see. Another 
 party who had come all the way from St. 
 Louis, Missouri, to witness the famous sight, 
 insisted upon calling the whimsical sun a 
 fake. I met the party in Trondhjem, and 
 they tried to persuade me from falling into 
 that "fake advertising scheme called The 
 Midnight Sun." However, trustingly believ- 
 ing in the sun, I wouldn't take their word 
 for its mythical existence, and we parted; 
 I, relying on the sturdy Norwegians and the 
 142 
 
Northward Bound 
 
 capricious Midnight Sun, as well as believ- 
 ing in my own good luck, the Missouri 
 party looking at me with pitying smile. 
 
 No sooner had the northbound tourist 
 steamer Ragnvald Jarl weighed anchor 
 in the beautiful harbor of Trondhjem, the 
 coronation town and old capital of Norway, 
 than some of the veteran tourists began to 
 unpack and polish their field glasses. They 
 evidently knew from former trips that as 
 soon as the smiling Trondhjem's Fjord was 
 passed, the scenery would change as if by 
 magic. The fertile flower fields and arbo- 
 riferous mountain-sides with their large 
 prosperous farms soon give way to barren 
 rocks. In all imaginable forms and sizes 
 they appear, majestically face us, and just 
 as proudly pass us by, without so much as 
 changing a feature in response to all our 
 flattering outburst in their behalf. Centu- 
 ries of extravagant praise in all languages 
 of the world have made them stone-hard 
 in their imperturbability I suppose. They 
 
 H3 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 do not take the lavish acclaim too seriously. 
 They evidently know from experience that 
 fickle tourists are apt to forget their en- 
 thusiastic outcries at the sight of a fancied 
 more glorious rival. 
 
 So we sail on and on until one paritcular- 
 ly magnificent giant forces the outbursts in- 
 to one grand climax. Such a stirring dem- 
 onstration greeted a most peculiar moun- 
 tain formation called Torghatten, a curious 
 hat-shaped island-mountain, with a tre- 
 mendous natural tunnel through the cone. 
 
 The captain was good enough to tell me 
 the old legend of this strange phenomenon : 
 
 "At some distance from the rough rider, 
 Torghatten, lies a rocky mass called Hest- 
 mandsoen. This mighty but ugly ruler of 
 the Trolls once was madly in love with 
 Torghatten's beautiful sister, Bekoen, a 
 smiling little island, in the neighborhood of 
 Torghatten, but the virtuous maiden, per- 
 sistently refused to accept Hestmandsoen's 
 ardent love-making. After some thousand 
 144 
 
Hammer jest's "Gay White Way." 
 
 Torghatten. 
 
Northward Bound 
 
 years' of constant courtship, Hestmandsoen 
 became quite furious from passion, and in 
 his untamed anger shot an arrow at her 
 which hit her brother, Torghatten, who, 
 having expected some outrageous tricks of 
 Hestmandsoen, had come to his sister's suc- 
 cor. Luckily enough, the angry lover's 
 arrow struck only his hat. Then, in the same 
 moment the glorious northern sun arose in 
 full majesty and transformed all three into 
 stone." 
 
 That the ill-tempered lover's arrow must 
 have been a good sized one is easily under- 
 stood when one learns that the hole made 
 by the arrow is five hundred and twenty feet 
 long, sixty-four feet high at its eastern en- 
 trance, two hundred and forty feet high at 
 the western, and about two hundred feet 
 high in the centre. The floor slopes down- 
 ward from east to west from four hundred 
 and seventy to four hundred feet above the 
 sea level. As the steamer passes, daylight 
 is seen clear through the body of the moun- 
 
 145 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 lain which towers about nine hundred feet 
 in the air. 
 
 At the foot lies the historical farm Tor- 
 get, one of the oldest and most famous 
 manor houses in Northern Norway. It was 
 here that the mighty and terrible chief Tho- 
 rolf kvaldulfson had his seat under the 
 reign of Harald Haarfager. He compelled 
 the northern part of Norway to pay taxes to 
 him, instead of to the king, and it was often 
 a bloodthirsty tax at that. Fie was at last 
 overpowered and killed at the Sandnes 
 farm. At Torgct many interesting old- 
 No rthcrn curiosities may still be seen, and 
 around the farm are several barrows and 
 antiques. Ibsen selected this place as the 
 scene for his historical drama "The Vikings 
 of Helgeland." 
 
 After sailing through the beautiful Bro- 
 nosund, the steamer passes in view of De 
 Syv Sostre (The Seven Sisters), seven ex- 
 traordinary mountain peaks on the island of 
 Alsteno. The southern-most peak is about 
 146 
 
Northward Bound 
 
 three thousand feet above the sea. At Al- 
 steno, Peter Dass, Northern Norway's 
 Shakespeare, was born about two centuries 
 ago. 
 
 His "Nordland's Trompet" (The North- 
 ern Trumpet), a true and living picture of 
 the fisher-folk of Helgeland and Lofoden, is 
 popularly known as the "Fisherman's Bi- 
 ble." Fie was a minister, but very often he 
 left his pulpit for a three-months' fishing- 
 trip in Lofoden. Nobody dared to com- 
 plain as he was a devoted friend of the com- 
 mon people. Furthermore he could bind 
 the devil, still the storm, make fair wind 
 and perform many other things belonging 
 to the black art, according to the simple fish- 
 er folk. 
 
 After a pleasant acquaintance with the 
 fair sisters, we were ready for The Island of 
 Tronen, with its four peaks rising like 
 church-towers from the water; afterwards 
 we took a glance at the ardent lover of 
 Bekoen, The Hestmandsd. He looks furious 
 
 H7 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 indeed and resembles in shape a cloaked 
 horseman riding on the sea, whence its name 
 "The Horseman Island." In spite of his 
 furious demeanor I took a liking to him, 
 and it occurred to me that the fair maid 
 Bekoen was foolish in not accepting him. 
 However, she had known him for ages, and 
 might well have had her own reasons for 
 scorning him. 
 
 It was related at the supper table, the 
 same evening 1 that his name was likely to be 
 changed soon^ as some American tourists 
 who had found his resemblance to Theodore 
 Roosevelt most extraordinary, had insisted 
 upon renaming it "The Roosevelt Island." 
 After some animated discussion a petition to 
 that effect had at last been signed by twenty- 
 six prominent Americans and two English 
 lords, in addition to a German professor in 
 mineralogy. The resolution was then sent 
 to the President of the Norwegian Storth- 
 ing. The outcome of the proposal was not 
 yet known when I left the country, but, if 
 148 
 
Northward Bound 
 
 I may judge from the people's love for 
 America and her hero, there can be but lit- 
 tle fear of a refusal. 
 
 Svartisen, one of the largest glaciers in 
 Norway, was reached one evening, and al- 
 though the ship's captain was not always 
 willing to make stops on the northbound 
 voyage, he nevertheless granted a short stay 
 here and at sunset landed several boats full 
 of insistent sightseers. Svartisen (The 
 Black Ice) was like a great, frozen river. 
 Resistless, this vast glacier glides down the 
 mountain side^ and huge blocks of ice along 
 the edge are heaped one upon the other in 
 the wildest confusion, resembling tumbled 
 down houses. Deep, uncanny sounds are 
 heard incessantly from the glacier, as 
 though an ice-monster were groaning and 
 shuddering in agony beneath its burden of 
 eternal ice and snow. Enormous ice-blocks 
 are irresistibly pressed forward by their own 
 weight, often with gigantic fragments of 
 rock frozen between. Now and then a cre- 
 149 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 vice stands ready to receive one into its cold, 
 gruesome embrace. Frequently the upper 
 blocks, impelled beyond their centres of 
 gravity, topple over, and fall with a thun- 
 dering crash upon those beneath. Swiftly 
 they are carried onward, piled up, and 
 thrown out into the lake, while the very 
 earth trembles. 
 
 The whole effect is sometimes so violent 
 that the waves on the Svartisvand, a narrow 
 sheet of water half a mile in length, beat for 
 several fathoms up the strand opposite the 
 glacier. Hence in warm weather when the 
 glacier is said to "calve" one should not row 
 along the shores, but keep out in the middle 
 of the lake. 
 
 150 
 
THE LAPLANDERS: 
 A LITTLE SWEETHEART 
 
13 
 
 L> 
 
 
 "^ 
 
 <5m 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE LAPLANDERS: A LITTLE SWEETHEART 
 
 B 
 
 ODO, the principal town in the prov- 
 ince of NordlancL^ is an attractive 
 little place with a population of 
 about five thousand souls. The landscape 
 is barren^ but withal quite pleasant. From 
 the surrounding hills one has a beautiful 
 view of small fjords and several groups of 
 islands. I remember Bodo chiefly for two 
 things: first, because I had the opportunity 
 of meeting the Laps here, and second, for 
 the delicious sea foods which are most dain- 
 tily served in this town. 
 
 When we landed at Bodo we were met 
 at the wharf by a number of Laplanders, 
 men, women, children and dogs, who with 
 much ado about nothing came upon the 
 ship, and stayed for some time. The poor- 
 
 153 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 er class presented a dirty appearance and 
 reminded me of the poor peons of Mexico. 
 
 The Laps are small in stature and not of 
 particularly regular features. Some of 
 them wore their coats fur side in and others 
 vice-versa. It did not seem to make any 
 difference to many of them which side was 
 in or out. They had tight leather leggins 
 and moccasins upon their feet, a leather belt 
 around their waists, and upon their heads a 
 sort of cap, which had all the appearance of 
 a stuffed, four cornered pin-cushion. The 
 women's and children's costumes resembled 
 those of the Indians very greatly. They all 
 seemed well pleased with themselves and 
 their general make-up, for, as I was told, 
 they were wearing their holiday attire. 
 
 Even the dogs seemed to think themselves 
 of great importance, as though they too be- 
 longed to the two-footed race. They were 
 indeed peculiar looking beasts. Medium in 
 size, in head and ears they resembled an Es- 
 quimaux dog. Their hair was long, stiff 
 
 154 
 
The Laplanders 
 
 and mouse-colored. One of the dogs seemed 
 to fancy me and remained in my company 
 a good part of the time; in fact its owner 
 had great difficulty catching him when he 
 wished to leave the ship. I also saw many 
 reindeer, and thought that if others did not 
 look better, I had little desire to own or ride 
 behind them. 
 
 After the Laplanders had left the ship I 
 was entertained by a fine-looking chap of 
 twelve just returning to Tromso from his 
 vacation at school in Trondhjem. He man- 
 aged to make himself fairly well understood 
 by using German, with a smattering of 
 French, and we soon became great friends. 
 His tales about the Laps and their wonder- 
 ful doings were almost as weird and uncan- 
 ny as they sounded incredible to me, but 
 were quite entertaining. 
 
 The boy, so afraid that I would not be- 
 lieve or understand his marvelous stories, 
 unpacked a good sized book in the Norwe- 
 gian language, and pointed out words now 
 
 155 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 and then which were similar either to Ger- 
 man or French. If he had not been so over- 
 anxious to make "the American lady" un- 
 derstand fully how wonderful the Laps 
 were, in every detail^ I might have been 
 able to comprehend and remember more of 
 the strange performances of his beloved 
 Laplanders. 
 
 However, the boy's respect for the Norse 
 god Odin was remarkable, and he certainly 
 had his mythology at his tongue's end. 
 
 156 
 
A BIT OF NORWEGIAN MYTH- 
 OLOGY: THE CHARM OF YOUTH 
 
CHAPER XVI 
 
 A BIT OF NORWEGIAN MYTHOLOGY : THE 
 CHARM OF YOUTH 
 
 46 ^7"ES, American Lady 1 you can freely 
 believe me, Odin was the cleverest 
 of all gods, and from him the Lap- 
 landers learned their magic arts." Then he 
 continued to tell me how Odin's counte- 
 nance was so beautiful and pleasing that the 
 spirits of all who came near him were ex- 
 hilarated by it. But when he was in war, 
 he appeared fierce and dreadful. 
 
 "You see, lady 2 this arose from his being 
 able to change his color and form in any 
 way he wished. My 4 how I would like to 
 be able to do that," the boy suddenly inter- 
 rupted himself. I learned that this god 
 conversed so cleverly and smoothly, that all 
 who heard him were hypnotized. It seemed 
 
 iS9 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 to me that my Norwegian shipmate had a 
 little touch of the same power, but I care- 
 fully avoided any flattering remarks. 
 
 "Odin could make his enemies in battle 
 as blind as newborn kittens. Yes, he could! 
 And deaf, too, or terror-stricken! Their 
 weapons would become so blunt, mind you, 
 that they could no more cut than an old 
 woman's teeth. On the other hand his own 
 men would rush daringly and undauntedly 
 forward without so much as armor to pro- 
 tect them." 
 
 "Oh, how wonderful," I remarked. 
 
 "Yes, it is very wonderful indeed, and as 
 I said, he could also transform his shape. 
 Just think of it, Lady of America, he would 
 take the shape of a fish, a snake or an eagle 
 and then be off in a twinkling to distant 
 lands upon his own or other people's er- 
 rands. It wouldn't take him long to go to 
 New York, would it?" 
 
 "No, indeed," I agreed, "nor even to San 
 Francisco." 
 
 1 60 
 
A Bit of Norwegian Mythology 
 
 "Just think of it. Lady of America, he 
 could quench fire, still the ocean in its tem- 
 pest, and turn the wind to any quarter he 
 pleased. By means of magic power he knew 
 beforehand the predestined fate of men. He 
 could bring on death or life, ill or good 
 luck. But after displaying such witchcraft 
 there followed so much weakness and anxi- 
 ety, that it was not thought proper for men 
 to practice it. I wish I had the power 
 though ! My, you should see me off to New 
 York or Dakota in a flash!" 
 
 "But what about the Laplanders?" I at 
 last inquired cautiously. "Do they still prac- 
 tice these wonderful arts?" My ignorance 
 seemed to astonish him. 
 
 "Indeed they do — some of them," he ex- 
 claimed. "Odin you see, taught some of his 
 arts to the sacrificial priests who came near- 
 est to Odin himself in all wisdom, and from 
 the priests the cunning Laplanders learned 
 their arts." 
 
 161 
 
THE MARVELOUS LAPLANDERS: 
 WITCHCRAFT AND WONDER- 
 FUL DREAMS 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE MARVELOUS LAPLANDERS: WITCHCRAFT 
 AND WONDERFUL DREAMS 
 
 D 
 
 denly asked, aroused as from a 
 
 t4 ~| ^\0 you believe in dreams?" he sud- 
 denly a: 
 reverie. 
 
 "Indeed I do. Why?" I replied. 
 
 "Well, good for youl Have you ever 
 heard King Halfdan's dream?" 
 
 I admitted reluctantly that I had not. 
 
 "You don't know much about the history 
 of Norway, after all, do you?" 
 
 "No, not yet." 
 
 "That's tough! Do you want to hear the 
 dream of Bagnhild, King Halfdan's wife?" 
 
 "Indeed I do." 
 
 "All right! She had great dreams — 
 great! Once she dreamed that she was 
 standing in her herbgarden, when she took 
 i6 5 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 a thorn from her gown. While she stood 
 looking, the thorn suddenly began to grow 
 and soon became a big tree; one end stick- 
 ing down into the earth where it became 
 rooted instantly. The other end of the tree 
 raised itself so high into the air, that she 
 could scarcely see the top of it. The roots 
 of the tree were red like blood while the 
 stem was beautifully green, with branches 
 white as snow. There were many limbs far 
 up, others low dow^ and so vast was the 
 tree's foliage that it seemed to spread over 
 all Norway. 
 
 "Her husband, the good King Halfdan, 
 who never had dreams, told this extraordin- 
 ary circumstance to a second-sighted Lap- 
 lander called Thorife, The Wise. 'Take a 
 sleep in a swine stye, and you will dream of 
 your own future,' said the sage. The King 
 did not like this advice, because he loved his 
 eider-down bed. However, his curiosity got 
 the better of his pride, so one night he did 
 what Thorife had told him, and dreamed 
 1 66 
 
The Marvelous Laplanders 
 
 that he had the most beautiful hair ? all in 
 ringlets; some so long as to fall upon the 
 ground ; some reaching to the middle of his 
 legs; some to his knees; some to his loins, 
 some to his neck and some were only knots 
 springing from his head. 
 
 "The ringlets were of various colors, but 
 one surpassed all the others in beauty, lustre 
 and size. Thorife interpreted the dream 
 thus: His descendants should rule over 
 countries with great 2 but not all with equal- 
 ly great, honor as one of his race should be 
 more celebrated than all the others. Soon 
 after this Queen Bagnhild gave birth to a 
 son, who was christened Harald and became 
 the founder of the kingdom of Norway. 
 
 "King Harald, one winter, went about in 
 guest-quarters in Finmarken. On Christ- 
 mas eve there came a second-sighted Lap- 
 lander, by the name of Swase to the door. 
 The King was at the table, still the Laplan- 
 der sent an urgent message asking him to 
 come out and follow. The King became 
 167 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 very angry at such a daring message from 
 a stranger, and the page who brought the 
 message, took back a reply that clearly 
 showed the King's displeasure. 
 
 "The Laplander, notwithstanding, de- 
 manded that his request be delivered a sec- 
 ond time, adding that he was the mighty 
 Laplander whose abode the King had prom- 
 ised on his word of honor to visit. The 
 King, who had never heard of the man, 
 arose from the table, curious to see this 
 strange creature, and followed him to his 
 house. 
 
 "At the door stood Snefrid, the beautiful 
 daughter of Swase, who filled a cup of 
 mead for the King. The girl was so re- 
 markably beautiful that the King took hold 
 both of the cup and of her hand, and im- 
 mediately it was as though hot fire went 
 through his body. He wanted that very 
 night to take her as his wife. Swase said it 
 was not to be, unless he agreed to make her 
 the lawful Queen of Norway. The King 
 t68 
 
The Marvelous Laplanders 
 
 willingly complied with this and Snefrid 
 became his wife. So passionately did the 
 King love her, that he forgot his kingdom, 
 and Swase took much advantage of this. 
 
 "After having borne him four sons, Sne- 
 frid died ; but thanks to her father's witch- 
 craft her corpse never changed, and was as 
 fresh and lifelike as when she lived. The 
 King continually sat beside her, thinking 
 she would come to life again. So it went 
 on for three years and Swase was looked up- 
 on as the real ruler of the kingdom. At the 
 end of that time King Harald was still 
 mourning over Snefrid's death, and the peo- 
 ple worried over his delusion. At last 
 Thorife succeeded by his wisdom and pru- 
 dence in curing the King of his malady. 
 
 " 'It is only reasonable,' said the wise man 
 to the King, 'that thou grievest over so beau- 
 tiful and noble a wife, and bestowest costly 
 coverlets and beds of down on her corpse, 
 as she truly deservest; but these honors fall 
 far short of what is her due as she still lies 
 169 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 in the same clothes. It would be more suit- 
 able to raise her, and change her dress.' The 
 King who didn't comprehend the wise 
 man's idea agreed to this. 
 
 "Swase who was away from home, could 
 not by his witchcraft hinder the body from 
 being raised 1 and no sooner was the corpse 
 lifted, than all sorts of corruption came 
 from it, and it was necessary to gather a pile 
 of wood and burn it in haste. As the body 
 sank into ashes, out came a white bird that 
 descended upon the King's head, and then 
 vanished. 
 
 "After this, the King came to his senses 
 and ruled the kingdom better than ever be- 
 fore." The boy paused, then noticing my 
 nod of approval, commenced another leg- 
 end. 
 
 "When King Erik, Harald and Snefrid's 
 son, came to Finmarken, with his men, they 
 found a young girl in a Lapland hut, whose 
 equal for beauty they had never seen. She 
 told them her name was Gunhild, and that 
 170 
 
The Marvelous Laplanders 
 
 her father dwelt in Helgeland and was 
 called Ozur Tofte. They learned further 
 that she was there to learn Lapland art from 
 two of the most knowing Laps in all Nord- 
 land and Finmarken. She also informed 
 them that the Laplanders were great hunt- 
 ers, the sturdiest of whom wanted to marry 
 her. 
 
 " 'They were so skillful,' she assured 
 them 'that they can trace their game like 
 hounds either upon the frozen or the thawed 
 earth. They also ran so swiftly on skis that 
 neither man nor beast could come near 
 them. Furthermore they hit whatever they 
 aimed at, thus killing everything that comes 
 near.' She concluded by warning the men 
 not to come in their way, and then hid 
 them on their promise to kill the Lapland- 
 ers, as she was in their power and not al- 
 lowed to return to her father. 
 
 "When this was done, she took some 
 leather bags filled with ashes and strewed 
 both outside and inside the hut. Shortly 
 171 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 after, the bloodthirsty hunters came home, 
 and asked who had been there. Gunhild 
 cunningly denied the presence of her visi- 
 tors. 
 
 "That's strange!' they said. We fol- 
 lowed men's traces close to this hut and can 
 find none after that.' After kindling a fire, 
 and cooking their meal, Gunhild prepared 
 her bed. It had so happened that the girl 
 had slept alone the three nights before, 
 while the Laplanders, madly in love with 
 her, had jealously watched each other for an 
 advantage. 
 
 " 'Now,' she said to the weary Lapland- 
 ers, 'come here and lie down, one on each 
 side of me.' They eagerly consented, so she 
 soothingly laid an arm around the neck of 
 each, and soon they went soundly to sleep. 
 She tried to rouse them; but they fell back 
 again drowsily until she was convinced 
 they were not to be awakened. Thereupon 
 she put two great seal-skin bags over their 
 heads, and called to the King's men. They 
 172 
 
The Marvelous Laplanders 
 
 came forth with their, weapons, killed the 
 two Laplanders and dragged them out of 
 their hut. At the same moment such a fierce 
 thunder storm came up that they thought 
 the world's end was near. But Gunhild had 
 already gained so much wisdom from their 
 art that she easily quieted the storm. They 
 took the young girl along with them, and 
 presented her to King Erik who took her 
 on board his ship and sailed away with her 
 to her father at Helgeland, where she be- 
 came his queen." 
 
 The youthful narrator's enthusiasm was 
 such, that I was completely forgetting the 
 magnificent landscapes being unfolded, as 
 the ship drifted slowly northward. Perhaps 
 I flattered him with my attention, for he 
 continued, almost without a pause. 
 
 "One day Olaf Trygvason heard of a 
 Laplander, a remarkable seer who could 
 look into the future. Olaf, who was a 
 mighty king and a good Christian, became 
 curious to try this Laplander's gift of 
 
 173 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 prophecy, and so selected one of his men 
 who was the handsomest and strongest, 
 clothed him magnificently, and bade him 
 say to the seer that he himself was the king. 
 King Olaf was known to be handsomer, 
 stronger, and braver than all others. 
 
 "Now when the messenger came to the 
 fortune-teller and introduced himself as the 
 King, he received the answer: 'Thou art not 
 His Majesty, but I advise thee to be faith- 
 ful to thy King.' More he did not care to 
 say. The man on his return, related his ad- 
 venture, and this only served to increase the 
 King's desire to meet the Laplander, which 
 he soon did. 
 
 "The King on entering into conversation 
 with the seer, asked him if he could foresee 
 how it would go with him in regard to his 
 kingdom, or of any other fortune he was to 
 have. 
 
 " 'Thou wilt become a renowned king, 
 and perform celebrated deeds. Many men 
 wilt thou bring to faith and baptism, both 
 
 174 
 
The Marvelous Laplanders 
 
 to thy own and others' good.' When he had 
 told the King all that he wished, he added: 
 'And that thou mayest have no doubt of 
 the truth of these answers, listen to these 
 tokens: When thou comest to thy ships, 
 many of thy people will conspire against 
 thee, and then a battle will follow in which 
 many of thy men will fall, and thou wilst be 
 wounded almost to death, and carried upon 
 a shield to thine own ship ; yet after seven 
 days thou shalt be well of thy wounds.' 
 
 "Soon after, Olaf went down to his ships, 
 where he met some mutineers who would 
 destroy him and his men. A severe fight took 
 place and the. events happened exactly as 
 the Laplander had foretold." 
 
 While listening to this blue-eyed Norse 
 youth I was pleasantly reminded of The 
 Musician's Tale in Longfellow's "Tales of 
 a Wayside Inn," as the Interlude has it: 
 
 175 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 'And then the blue-eyed Norseman told 
 A Saga of the days of old. 
 'There is/ said he, 'a wondrous book 
 Of legends in the old Norse tongue, 
 Of the dead kings of Norroway, 
 Legends that once were told or sung 
 
 In many a smoky fireside nook 
 Of Iceland, in the ancient day, 
 By wandering Saga-man or Scald; 
 Heimskringla is the volume called; 
 And he who looks may find therein 
 The story that I now begin' 
 
 'And in each pause the story made 
 Upon his violin he played, 
 As an appropriate interlude, 
 Fragments of old Norwegian tunes 
 That bound in one the separate runes, 
 And held the mind in perfect mood, 
 Entwining and encircling all 
 The strange and antiquated rhymes 
 With melodies of olden times; 
 As over some half-ruined wall, 
 Disjointed and about to fall, 
 Fresh woodbines climb and interlace, 
 And keep the loosened stones in place/' 
 
 176 
 
TROMSO AND HAMMERFEST: 
 THE LAPS PERFORM 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 TR0MS6 AND HAMMERFEST: THE LAPS 
 PERFORM 
 
 Y youthful informant assured me 
 that many Laps were still pos- 
 sessed with this rare gift of magic 
 art, and in order to convince me, as well as 
 to give "the American lady" a rare treat, he 
 would ask his parents to take us up to the 
 real Laps, among the mountains. I have no 
 doubt they would have been quite willing 
 to do so, yet I resisted the tempting proposi- 
 tion, as my time was limited, but promised 
 to take advantage of his invitation on my 
 return voyage. 
 
 No wonder the lad was proud of his 
 
 home-town. It was really very beautiful. 
 
 We were rowed across the calm Tromso 
 
 sound, accompanied by a guide, to visit an 
 
 179 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 encampment of Laps, which was on the 
 mainland, a short distance from the beauti- 
 ful wooded island on which the little town 
 is located. After all the thrilling stories 
 told by my enthusiastic companion, the Laps 
 seemed tame and too modern for me. They 
 acted as though in an American dime muse- 
 um, eager to show their peculiarities to the 
 best advantage, and to sell their souvenirs 
 made from wood and skin. They expect a 
 fee for even allowing you to look at 
 them. 
 
 If you are in a generous mood they will 
 bring their reindeer flock down from the 
 hills into an enclosure, near their huts, 
 where, provided you remain in your gen- 
 erous mood, they will lasso and milk the 
 animals, and, if your generous mood re- 
 mains with you a bit longer, you may have 
 the questionable pleasure of tasting the rich 
 product. 
 
 Many beautiful views of islands, moun- 
 tains and fjords were passed before reach- 
 180 
 
Troms'6 and Hammerfest 
 
 ing Hammerfest. But such a place as this 
 northernmost town in the world was! The 
 whole land, and I may say the water sur- 
 rounding it, was impregnated with the odor 
 of codfish, for there are many thousands 
 caught every day 2 and the oil dried out and 
 put into immense tanks. 
 
 One of the ladies of the Missouri party, 
 told me before leaving Trondhjem that I 
 would never like Hammerfest, for there was 
 nothing but fish, fish, fish, and its odor fol- 
 lowing wherever one went. I soon came to 
 the conclusion that, in this instance, she had 
 really told me the plain truth. I stood up- 
 on the deck of the ship and overlooked what 
 to me was anything but an inviting scene. 
 I wondered whether I should climb down 
 the small ladder at the ship's side, jump in- 
 to a small row-boat and be rowed ashore, 
 and then walk to the top of a mountain sev- 
 eral hundred feet high. Upon further con- 
 sideration I decided not. My ticket had run 
 out and no ship would arrive at Hammer- 
 181 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 fest for two days, so I concluded to go to 
 the captain and ask his advice in the mat- 
 ter. 
 
 182 
 
A COURTEOUS CAPTAIN: 
 LOVE FOR AMERICA 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 A COURTEOUS CAPTAIN: LOVE FOR AMERICA 
 
 THE captain, after listening to the dis- 
 couraging report of the Missouri 
 party, as well as to my own ideas, 
 said in a most courteous manner: 
 
 "Madame, as an American lady, it will 
 give me the greatest pleasure to have you re- 
 main upon my ship, until we reach Russia 
 and then return. During these five days 
 you will certainly see the Mdinight Sun, 
 and be able to boast of your good luck to all 
 the Missouri parties you may come across." 
 
 "Can it be that because 'the American 
 Lady' has the honor and good fortune to 
 belonging to the most prosperous and pow- 
 erful nation in the world, that the Norwe- 
 gian people are so good to her?" I asked 
 myself, at the captain's courteous proposal. 
 
 185 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 The fact is that a Norwegian looks upon 
 America not only as great, but as a warm- 
 hearted stepmother, that he has been taught 
 to honor, respect and love with a filial es- 
 teem. And although America has lured 
 away some of Norway's best citizens, no 
 harsh word is ever heard against her. 
 
 In this respect as in many others I found 
 the Norwegians had their own original 
 view of things. Nothing but praise for my 
 country was heard, praise for the great op- 
 portunities she had given most of her Nor- 
 wegian step-children. Although she has 
 dimmed many an eye, and stained with 
 tears many a furrowed cheek, and parted 
 many faithful hearts, young and old, not a 
 word of bitterness was heard. A silent tear 
 or a heavy sigh might disclose a broken 
 mother-heart, but never a complaint. 
 
 Surely America is looked upon by the 
 Norwegian as a giant nation who stands for 
 liberty, justice, equality and opportunity for 
 all men. The great American Republic, 
 
 1 86 
 
A Courteous Captain 
 
 which so long has been the hope for the 
 hopeless, the refuge for the homeless, the in- 
 spiration of the oppressed is looked upon as 
 the standard, the guide, for all that is strong, 
 just and great. 
 
 It made a lasting impression on the Am- 
 ericans present at Theodore Roosevelt's visit 
 to Christiania, when the enormous throng 
 of festively dressed people received the ex- 
 President with endless and hearty shouts 
 "Hurrah for America!" Entirely forget- 
 ting the representative, they received the 
 great man as though it was Uncle Sam him- 
 self who had entered upon the soil of Nor- 
 way. 
 
 Thanking the captain for his exceedingly 
 kind offer, I decided to go. From now on, 
 our trip was most exciting. We passed 
 through fjords, so winding and narrow at 
 times, that it seemed almost as if our ship 
 would strike the rocks upon either side. 
 Such mountains as they were! Many were 
 clad in pine-trees, others were barren, and 
 
 i8 7 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 some few covered at their base with a white 
 lichen. We passed by many small houses 
 and gardens used mainly by the fishermen. 
 One day our ship stopped suddenly and I 
 looked to see if anything unusual had hap- 
 pened. It seemed that our supply of fish 
 had given out and a man in a small boat, in 
 the bottom of which were fish swimming 
 about, was at the ship's side. He caught and 
 dressed them as quickly and adroitly as an 
 oyster-man in our American markets 
 would open oysters. They were hurriedly 
 weighed and put upon our ship. I felt 
 doubly assured that I had no need to fear 
 the fish I had later for my dinner was not 
 of the freshest. 
 
 188 
 
THE MIDNIGHT SUN: 
 THE LURE OF NATURE 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE MIDNIGHT SUN : THE LURE OF NATURE 
 
 ON the second afternoon after I had 
 left Hammerfest, I was told that at 
 twelve o'clock I should see the 
 Midnight Sun. Accordingly I made myself 
 comfortable. Rolled up in my steamer rug 
 I stayed in the ladies' reception room await- 
 ing the call to see the sight anticipated for 
 so long. At five minutes of twelve I heard 
 the captain's voice saying: 
 
 "Madame, I have the Midnight Sun for 
 you!" Immediately I went upon deck. 
 
 How shall I describe this magnificent, ce- 
 lestial display, The Midnight Sun, which 
 for years I had hoped to witness. 
 
 Many a poet has sought to paint in words 
 the splendor of this scene. At midnight, 
 the glorious orb of day in gold and purple 
 191 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 hue, hangs above the horizon, diffusing 
 over everything a rich yet weird glow. How 
 can I express the awed silence that uncon- 
 sciously seized me? The feeling of mag- 
 ical wonder as I stood there at night, look- 
 ing over a nature that seemed soundly 
 asleep, as though it was shrouded in dark- 
 ness yet in bright daylight, cannot, as I have 
 said, be described in mere words. The light 
 is that of day, but a day of another world, a 
 better, sweeter and more peaceful world. 
 
 Bayard Taylor very exquisitely writes: 
 "Eddies of returning birds gleamed golden 
 in the nocturnal sun, like drift of beech 
 leaves in the October air. Far to the north 
 the sun lay in a bed of saffron light over the 
 clear horizon of the Arctic Ocean. A few 
 bars of dazzling orange clouds floated 
 above me, and, still higher in the sky, where 
 the saffron melted through delicate rose 
 color into blue, hung light wreaths of va- 
 por, touched with pearly, opaline flushes of 
 pink and golden grey. The sea was a web 
 
 192 
 
King Haakon, Queen Maud and little Crozvnprince Olav 
 enjoying the midnight sun from the King's Yacht. 
 
The Midnight Sun 
 
 of pale slate-color, shot through and 
 through with threads of orange and saffron, 
 from the dance of a myriad shifting and 
 twinkling ripples. The air was filled and 
 permeated with a soft, mysterious glow, and 
 between the headlands stood the Midnight 
 Sun, shining on us with subdued fires, and 
 with the gorgeous coloring of an hour, for 
 which we have no name, since it is neither 
 sunset nor sunrise, but the blended loveli- 
 ness of both." It is, I think, impossible to 
 paint this splendor in better words than 
 these. 
 
 The sun rose slowly and majestically 
 from the water's edge and instantly the sky 
 began to be illuminated with the most ex- 
 quisite colors of the rainbow. The color- 
 ings would remain a short time; then di- 
 minish, then again increase in brilliancy un- 
 til the skies looked like a burning ocean. 
 This continued for half an hour. Then I 
 could see that the finest of this magnificent 
 
 193 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 display was calmly fading, and was told that 
 it was morning! 
 
 To witness such a sight at midnight left an 
 impression of having witnessed something 
 unearthly, something unimaginably grand 
 and strange. I had but one regret that it 
 did not last for hours instead of one short, 
 oh, so very short, half hour! For three 
 nights in succession we were treated to this 
 wonderful display which was one ever to 
 remain most deeply impressed upon my 
 memory. 
 
 194 
 
A UNIQUE PERFORMANCE: 
 PIGS AT SEA 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 A UNIQUE PERFORMANCE: PIGS AT SEA 
 
 WHEN one is upon shipboard, the 
 smallest excuse for a laugh is 
 welcomed, and made the most of. 
 One beautiful afternoon, when comfort- 
 ably seated in my steamer chair, having just 
 enjoyed my tea, I witnessed what to me was 
 a very amusing performance and something 
 quite out of the ordinary even upon a Nor- 
 wegian ship. We had stopped in mid stream 
 and I was all curiosity as to what we were 
 to see now. I listened and soon discovered 
 that the narrow rope ladder was being low- 
 ered over the side of the ship. A large row- 
 boat was approaching in which were three 
 Italian organ-grinders, each with his own 
 instrument. Now was to commence what I 
 considered a most difficult feat, the climb- 
 ing of that ladder! 
 
 197 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 The first man ; with his organ strapped 
 upon his back, stepped cautiously from the 
 rowboat to the ladder and made his ascent 
 to the steamer's deck successfully. The sec- 
 ond was not so fortunate. About half way 
 up his organ caught upon the guard rope, 
 and describing a most artistic somersault 
 in the air, he fell headlong, sprawling and 
 screaming, into the water! 
 
 The man was evidently unhurt, still in a 
 moment everything was excitement. Ital- 
 ian curses flowed without limit, and as I 
 unfortunately understood what was being 
 said, I was not free to laugh at the epithets 
 so generously showered on our jovial captain 
 who stood innocently smiling at the angry 
 men. Each musician was evidently striving 
 to see who could outdo the other. 
 
 The orders given in the Norwegian lan- 
 guage by the crew only added to the general 
 confusion. More was to come! Accidents 
 rarely happen singly. What did I hear? 
 Could it be possible that live pigs were be- 
 198 
 
A Unique Performance 
 
 ing hoisted aboard to complete the already 
 lively scene. It was true. I had overlooked 
 them in the lively entertainment furnished 
 gratis by the organ-grinders. 
 
 I couldn't tell at first which were pig's 
 squeals or men's screams. The big basket 
 of pigs was not more than half way up, 
 when it burst, and in an instant its contents 
 were disputing their realm with the fishes. 
 We learned that the organ-grinders each 
 had a squealing pig instead of a monkey as 
 his associate and it was not to be wondered 
 at that these poor animals with the swish of 
 the water and the confusion then existing 
 were exercising their voices to their fullest 
 extent. I thought to myself that catching 
 a pig upon land was certainly no easy task, 
 so what must it be to catch them in the wa- 
 ter, and get them safely up the side of the 
 ship ! 
 
 Later, both men and pigs gave another 
 concert on shipboard, and although not so 
 199 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 successful from a humorous point of view, 
 as the former unintentional performance, 
 it was, nevertheless, a good harvest of coins. 
 
 200 
 
TRONDHJEM: A TOWN OF MUCH 
 HISTORICAL INTEREST 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 trondhjem: A TOWN of much historical 
 
 INTEREST 
 
 ON my return trip, I made a stop at 
 Trondhjem, founded about iooo 
 A. D. in the reign of Olaf Trygva- 
 son, which has been for centuries, and still 
 is, the coronation place of the Norwegian 
 kings. My first visit was to the world fa- 
 mous Trondhjem's Domkirke (The Cathe- 
 dral) the largest edifice of its kind in Scan- 
 dinavia. 
 
 Before landing, a Norwegian bishop who 
 had come on board ship at Bodo, told me a 
 legend about this cathedral, which is so ven- 
 erable and rich in association. The legend 
 runs that the destinies of Norway and the 
 cathedral are in close relationship. If a 
 tower or a wing of the church is allowed to 
 203 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 decay, hard times will descend upon the 
 country, but on the other hand if the church 
 is well cared for, prosperity will continue 
 its welcome abode in old Norway. 
 
 Once, when a prominent Norwegian sen- 
 ator upbraided the late King Oscar II. for 
 showing so much generosity towards the old 
 cathedral while many of the forts were in 
 bad shape, the King is said to have an- 
 swered, that he wanted prosperous times to 
 reign in Norway, and that no forts would be 
 needed during his administration. 
 
 If there should be anything in this legend, 
 and all good citizens blindly believe in it, 
 Norway certainly can look ahead to a most 
 prosperous period, as the restoration of the 
 cathedral, which was begun in 1869, is now 
 far advanced. The east transept, with the 
 chancel and the chapter house have already 
 arisen from their ruins, and show what the 
 appearance of the cathedral was in its 
 flourishing days. The handsome architec- 
 ture of the chancel and the King's entrance 
 204 
 
Trondhjem 
 
 on the south side is certainly worth study. 
 The cathedral is built of soapstone, which 
 is said to be an excellent material for the 
 architectural designs on account of its soft- 
 ness, since it is also of a very durable na- 
 ture. In about twenty-five years the cathe- 
 dral is expected to be fully restored to its 
 splendid and solemn form of a thousand 
 years ago. 
 
 The former residence of the Archbishop, 
 which lies close to the church and is now 
 transformed into an armory, also deserves a 
 visit. The old silk banners, as well as the in- 
 teresting architecture seen here, are of rare 
 interest for literary students, as this histori- 
 cal place, was used by Ibsen as a part of the 
 setting for his historical drama, "The Pre- 
 tenders." 
 
 Christianssten, a fortress used as a salut- 
 ing and fire alarm battery, is situated on a 
 high hill within the city limits. From the 
 ramparts, a splendid view of the town and 
 205 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 neighborhood rewards one royally for the 
 efforts in climbing. 
 
 Munkeholmen is another fortress situated 
 on a little island outside the town. It was 
 once used as a place of execution, but was 
 turned into its present use as a lighthouse, 
 centuries ago. The cell which the famous 
 Danish politician Peter Griffenfeld occu- 
 pied for years is still preserved. 
 
 Stiftsgaarden, which was erected about 
 1775, is supposed to be the largest wooden 
 building in Scandinavia. This imposing 
 building, with its large old fashioned rooms, 
 is the royal residence when the King visits 
 the town. The Trondhjemites are said to be 
 the most royalistic people of which any city 
 ever boasted, so it is not to be wondered at 
 that the royal family makes a yearly visit to 
 this most attractive town. The building is 
 situated in Munkegaden, a broad clean- 
 looking thoroughfare with an alley of old 
 oak-trees on each side. 
 206 
 
Trondhjem 
 
 The ruins of Steinviksholms Castle in 
 Stordalen is worth the drive, even if one has 
 to make a stop at a station that no good 
 Christian cares to mention especially in the 
 hot weather which I encountered on this 
 trip. The Norwegians have evidently no 
 idea why the brightly painted sign on the 
 station building evokes such amused glances 
 from the English-speaking tourists. In the 
 Norwegian language the unmentionable 
 name indicates merely a large flat stone, in- 
 stead of the infernal regions. 
 
 Those who have once visited Fjeldsater 
 Sanatorium, fourteen hundred feet above 
 the level of the sea, and one and a half hour's 
 drive from Trondhjem, cannot help but 
 yearn for this delightful place. There is an 
 extraordinary charm about the grand moun- 
 tain scenery which attracts as perhaps no 
 other part of Northern Norway does. The 
 dry, clear mountain air is most health-giv- 
 ing and the calm nights are superb. The va- 
 ried colors of the scene and cool days are 
 207 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 very invigorating both to soul and body. An 
 enjoyable walk can be taken from the sana- 
 torium to a tremendous hill called Graakal- 
 len, whose height is about eighteen hundred 
 feet. 
 
 The Lerfos waterfalls, situated about four 
 miles south of Trondhjem are well worth an 
 excursion. This waterfall, or more correctly 
 speaking, waterfalls, as there are really two, 
 the height of each being about a hundred 
 feet, was pointed out to me as a sight I could 
 not afford to miss. Truly a favored spot it 
 is. A beautiful open valley with green fields 
 is surrounded by tree-clad hills in all their 
 varied shapes, many of them brightly il- 
 luminated by those glorious Norwegian 
 birch and service-trees. 
 
 The falls are seen tumbling among moss- 
 grown rocks from the top of a tall cliff. 
 Close to the lower fall is a small plateau 
 which escapes the spray, and on this a pa- 
 vilion has been built, where refreshments 
 are served. 
 
 208 
 
Trondhjem 
 
 I was delighted to reach Molde, a smil- 
 ing little doll's town of a place, called the 
 "City of Roses." The village is surrounded 
 by hills, and, although in a high latitude, 
 the mild climate is evidenced by the luxuri- 
 ous vegetation of the country. 
 
 Molde is a little collection of brightly 
 painted wooden houses, with pretty gardens, 
 and in the picturesque church here, is the 
 well known canvas, "He Is Risen/' by the 
 famous native painter, Axel Ender. From 
 the church tower are seen hills, valleys and 
 the glorious Romsdal mountain chain with 
 its high and pointed peaks, forming a pic- 
 ture, which one may enjoy as a temple raised 
 by hands stronger than those of any master 
 builder. 
 
 While stopping here I met an English 
 lady who the previous day had lost her 
 purse containing a considerable amount of 
 money. As soon as she missed it she told 
 the proprietor of the hotel of her mishap. 
 
 "Where did you lose it?" he asked. 
 209 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 She explained that it must have been lost 
 in the morning on her trip to a farm, a few 
 miles from the town. 
 
 "Well," said the proprietor, calmly, "I'll 
 immediately send a messenger for it." 
 
 "What do you mean?" asked the lady 
 who thought the man was joking with her. 
 She angrily reminded him that scores of 
 people must have passed the spot since. 
 
 "Oh, yes," he answered confidently, "but 
 only natives I suppose, and they wouldn't 
 touch it. So if it dropped on the road it will 
 still be there, have no fear." 
 
 A boy was then dispatched to "fetch the 
 purse." Behold, an hour after, the mes- 
 senger returned with the pocketbook un- 
 touched, although a dozen or more people 
 had undoubtedly stepped over it. I sup- 
 pose, since the purse did not belong to any 
 of them, they felt it was not their business to 
 pick it up. 
 
 This calls to mind a similar incident of 
 which an American gentleman told me, in 
 
 210 
 
Trondhjem 
 
 Trondhjem. He had been out driving in a 
 Kariol, a two wheeled conveyance on 
 springs, drawn by one horse and holding one 
 person. As the day was warm the skydsgut 
 (driver) had suddenly stopped, removed his 
 coat and carelessly thrown it over a fence. 
 
 "It was a good and apparently new coat, 
 and I thought the man had suddenly gone 
 mad," my informer remarked. "On my in- 
 quiry the man assured me that we would 
 find the coat safe in the same spot when we 
 returned the next day; and, to my great as- 
 tonishment, we did." 
 
 2TB 
 
BERGEN: 
 SOME PLACES WORTH SEEING 
 
is 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 BERGEN: SOME PLACES WORTH SEEING 
 
 WHEN we reached Bergen, Nor- 
 way's Chicago, the sun was actu- 
 ally shining. This unusual sight 
 put our jocular captain on his mettle, and 
 to the passengers' great amusement he 
 threatened to return to Molde, assuring 
 every one who entered the bridge, that we 
 had come to a strange city, a place he pre- 
 tended not to know, as he never had seen the 
 sun in this locality before. 
 
 "Does it always rain in Bergen, then?" I 
 asked, innocently: 
 
 "Oh, no!" was his dry reply. "Once in a 
 while it snows." 
 
 Then in a very serious voice he warned 
 me from going out on the street without my 
 umbrella, as the horses were so accustomed 
 
 215 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 to seeing persons with their umbrellas that 
 they would be frightened should they hap- 
 pen to meet a person not carrying one. 
 
 Bergen, the city of commerce, is an old 
 town, pinched down between tall mountains. 
 It was founded by the Norwegian King, 
 Olaf Kyrre. During the civil war Bergen 
 was the scene of many a bloody battle. In 
 1 135 Magnus Sigurdson was blinded by 
 Harald Gilde, and the following year Har- 
 ald Gilde was assassinated by Sigurd 
 Slembe, and a few years after his son was 
 killed by his own brother. 
 
 It was in Bergen Magnus Erlingson was 
 crowned King of Norway, and in 1181 oc- 
 curred the famous sea-battle outside of 
 Nordnes between Magnus and Slembe. In 
 1223 tne big council was held in which 
 Haakon Haakonson was accepted as the 
 lawful heir to the throne of Norway. A 
 beautiful extract from the Norwegian saga 
 about this beloved king runs as follows : 
 
 One day as an important assembly was 
 216 
 
Bergen 
 
 held in Bergen, young Haakon Haakonson 
 was released from school and allowed to 
 spend the holiday with his dear foster-moth- 
 er, Astrid. When he reached home that 
 night, he went as usual to the room of Helge 
 Hvasse, who was a true, full-blooded Vi- 
 king in the employ of Haakon's uncle, to 
 bid him good night. Helge Hvasse was very 
 fond of the eight-year-old lad, but this night 
 he received him with coolness. 
 
 "Go away with you, you coward!" he 
 cried warningly, as the king's little son 
 rushed beamingly forward to place himself 
 on his robust friend's knee. 
 
 "Why are you so angry with me, father - 
 Hvasse?" said the astonished boy. 
 
 "Because this day you were deprived of 
 your paternal inheritance," answered the 
 old man with a lowering frown. 
 
 "Where did that happen and by whom?" 
 demanded the boy. 
 
 "It happened at to-day's assembly," was 
 the reply, "and it was your two brothers, 
 217 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 King Inge and Haakon Jarl who did it." 
 
 "Please don't be angry with me on that 
 account," pleaded the boy, "and don't worry, 
 for surely that law will never hold, as my 
 commissioners were not present to answer 
 for me." 
 
 "Bosh!" said the Viking, hiding a smile, 
 "Who are your commissioners, anyhow?" 
 
 "Our good Lord in Heaven, the Holy 
 Mother and St. Olaf," answered the boy 
 with touching confidence. "In their hands 
 lie my case and my future rights, and have 
 no fear, they will take good care of me." 
 
 The Viking embraced the boy devotedly. 
 
 "Thanks for those words, worthy son of a 
 righteous father. Your trust in God shall 
 tenfold reward you." 
 
 Haakon died in Bergen in 1264 and was 
 buried at Christ Church. During the peace- 
 ful reign of Haakon Haakonson, Bergen 
 was not only Norway's largest and richest 
 city, but by far the most important place of 
 commerce in the whole of Scandinavia. 
 218 
 
Bergen 
 
 For centuries Bergen had the honor of be- 
 ing the King's residence, and kept this pres- 
 tige until Christiania later, by its immense 
 growth, broke its power. Bergen had in its 
 days of glory more than thirty churches and 
 cloisters, besides many official and private 
 buildings of rare architecture. 
 
 In 1393 the prosperous city was infested 
 by German pirates, who several times re- 
 tarded the growth of the young and flourish- 
 ing town. The dreaded Hanseatic league — 
 a formidable German trading company 
 which during the fourteenth and fifteenth 
 centuries monopolized, by fair means or 
 foul, the commerce of Northern Europe — 
 was at last broken up by the Norsemen, who 
 from 1630 took the reins of government in- 
 to their own hands. 
 
 Tyskebryggen (the German wharf), 
 where trading was conducted, is still to be 
 seen. Here in a corner of the German 
 quay is a kind of museum, where one can 
 get an idea of the period when Bergen was 
 219 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 under the sway of the League. The unique 
 arrangements, fittings and furniture of the 
 room retain strictly their old Hanseatic 
 character. 
 
 In 1665 the harbor of Bergen was the 
 scene of a furious sea-battle between the 
 English and the Dutch East Indiamen. The 
 English squadron was defeated, and many 
 of the picturesque old buildings facing the 
 harbor boast of imbedded cannon balls and 
 other battle scars. 
 
 Of the old churches from the middle 
 ages only three remain: the Cathedral, the 
 Cross Church and the German Church. Of 
 the many historical cloisters, the ruins of 
 the Munkeliv monastery are the only ones 
 now standing. 
 
 Perhaps the most interesting edifice re- 
 maining from the Middle Ages is the newly 
 restored Haakonshal, the ancient place of 
 King Haakon Haakonson. This is an im- 
 posing little building which is looked upon 
 by the Bergenites as "a relic reminding them 
 220 
 
Bergen 
 
 of Haakon Haakonson's glorious rule. It 
 is beautifully situated within the fortress 
 ramparts, facing the German wharf. Here 
 is also the fish market, with its tempting sight 
 of salmon, trout and other varieties fresh 
 from the fjords and brooks. The costumes 
 of the women are odd indeed and the lan- 
 guage used by the fishermen very grotesque. 
 
 "Ska do ha fisk?" (Do you want any 
 fish?) I was asked by a dozen of them. 
 When I shook my head negatively they 
 held up scores of beautiful specimens say- 
 ing: "Ka feiler frua? E ho tullerusk i hue 
 sitf Ha dok set gildere fisk kanske. Dok 
 sku skam dok!" All these outcries meant 
 something like this: "What is the matter 
 with the lady? Is she out of her senses? Has 
 she ever seen finer fish? She ought to be 
 ashamed of herself!" 
 
 I couldn't help glancing admiringly at 
 their wares, even if the fishermen did get 
 angry at me for not buying. And so they 
 went on in a deafening chorus: 
 221 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 "Kom te meg tykka!" (Come to me, 
 Stouty) . "Nei, kom te meg, eg vil sjaa dok- 
 kor fisk som ha vasked seg!" (No, come to 
 me, I will show you fish that is celebrated!) 
 "Her kommer kona sjoll Kom til meg, eg 
 ska gi dig fisken for nesten ingenting eg fer 
 eg liker og handle med tykke madammer 
 eg, dem ved ka fisk e!" (Here comes the mis- 
 tress herself! Come to me, I shall give you 
 the fish for almost nothing because I like to 
 trade with stout women, they know a good 
 fish when they see it.) 
 
 Such screaming and yelling! So hard 
 they tried to outdo each other! How they 
 managed to keep their voices going was a 
 riddle to me. And the buyers! Men, 
 women and children, of all ages and all 
 walks of life evidently tried to outyell the 
 sellers, but they might have spared them- 
 selves the effort. However^ they were not in 
 want for words. Satirical remarks and 
 jokes paid the fishmen back readily in their 
 own coin. 
 
 222 
 
Bergen 
 
 That witticisms were highly appreciated 
 was plainly seen. It was altogether a war 
 of wordSj the like of which I never saw. 
 Once in a while it came to a scuffle, and I 
 witnessed a formidable fish-throwing com- 
 bat that looked fierce but ended neverthe- 
 less without fatality. A woman standing 
 aloof in a fishing smack quelled the com- 
 batants by a ready joke and the fight ended 
 in a crestfallen "Din Tosk!" (You fool.) 
 
 Bergen is surrounded by highly pictur- 
 esque mountains, and those who are suffi- 
 ciently energetic will be royally rewarded 
 by climbing their zigzag paths. One of 
 them overlooks the harbor^ whence a fine 
 view of the surrounding fjords may be ob- 
 tained, with Bergen lying at one's feet. If 
 one is not particularly fond of climbing a 
 carriage drive may be taken to the top of 
 one of the mountains. 
 
 While on the subject of Bergen I must 
 not omit to mention my pleasant drive 
 through the Nygaards Park, on a visit to 
 223 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 Fantoft Church. This is a typical example 
 of the Norwegian "Stavekirk" of the 
 twelfth century, whose style and size is 
 about the same as the Gol-s Stavekirk at 
 Bygdo. It has been carefully pulled down 
 and reconstructed on its present site. The 
 edifice has no windows and consequently is 
 dark inside. Like the sister-church at 
 Christiania, it is built entirely from wood 
 and of grotesque shapes, with shingled roof, 
 ornamented with carvings, relics of the Vi- 
 kings' worship. 
 
 It is hard to leave Bergen, although the 
 sun is a strange guest at that place, but the 
 Bergenites are of a pleasant disposition and 
 they do not mind this discomfort in the 
 least. Their cheerfulness and good nature, 
 though rather sarcastic, seems to have a 
 good effect on everybody. 
 
 "Oh, Bergen, fringed with purple isles. 
 Oh hills! Oh rock-bound coast! 
 I needs must say farewell, when I 
 Have learned to love thee most" 
 224 
 
Bergen 
 
 One must admire a particularly beautiful 
 custom of the Norwegians. As a ship is leav- 
 ing the wharf, especially from a large city, 
 many men and women gather, singing na- 
 tional hymns to the accompaniment of har- 
 monicas and guitars. Thus one feels that 
 their heart-felt feelings and good wishes are 
 with one whom they see moving slowly 
 away, perhaps never to tread their soil 
 again. 
 
 It is strange that a country which is vis- 
 ited by thousands of tourists never gives one 
 the impression of a place where the people 
 feed on tourists. To be approached by a 
 beggar is a curiosity, and although the 
 stores are loaded with tempting souvenirs 
 and things suitable for travelers, one is 
 never for a moment reminded of special 
 stores and prices for tourists only. I found 
 the store-keepers and their employees al- 
 ways polite and pleasant, but never insistent. 
 They seem too proud and dignified to offer 
 their wares in a persuasive way. It is 
 22$ 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 tempting indeed to purchase mementos of a 
 memorable visit before leaving Bergen, as 
 the place certainly is a paradise for sou- 
 venir hunters. Many of the shops in Ber- 
 gen afford excellent opportunities in this 
 respect; silver, gold and carved woods and 
 rare embroideries being some of the pecu- 
 liarly native products. 
 
 While in Bergen I was amused at the way 
 in which the Norwegians tie their horses, 
 when waiting in the street. A rope is fas- 
 tened to a front leg, just above the hoof and 
 the other end is tied to the front wheel of the 
 vehicle. Should the horse be very unruly, 
 two ropes are used, one upon a hind leg 
 also. Thus one can see it is not at all easy 
 for the animal to run away. The Norwe- 
 gian driver does not seem to need a whip. 
 When wishing to start the horse, instead of 
 the American way of using a lash and a 
 coarse "get up !" they purse their lips, chirp, 
 the horse raises his ears, wags his tail and 
 away we go. This was both a pleasant and 
 226 
 

 
 
 
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 a novel experience to me. When the driver 
 wanted the horse to stop, he simply talked 
 to him again, and very sweetly at that, say- 
 ing something that sounded like: "Burr-oh- 
 burriburr!" which was quite as effective as 
 dragging him back on his haunches by the 
 reins. 
 
 227 
 
A THRILLING JOURNEY: IN THE 
 KINGDOM OF GREATNESS 
 
View of Voss Railway. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 A THRILLING JOURNEY: IN THE KINGDOM 
 OF GREATNESS 
 
 SOME of the most magnificent scenic 
 views I ever witnessed were upon 
 the new railroad running from Ber- 
 gen to Christiania. Fifty or more tunnels 
 are passed during the short trip of seventy 
 English miles from Bergen to Vossevangen. 
 Still one does not mind this semi-darkness 
 at all on account of the immense effect as 
 the train emerges, and views of an enchant- 
 ing and awful character present themselves 
 to the eye of the highly astonished traveler. 
 The line is a wonderful piece of engineer- 
 ing, being at many points hewn from solid 
 rock. In some parts it overhangs and skirts 
 the picturesque fjords Sorfjord and Ost- 
 ijord. and at other points the road is liter- 
 231 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 ally hung in the air^ balanced as it were on 
 a tight rope stretched from one mountain 
 peak to another. This part of the line is 
 commonly called "The Tickler;" and tick- 
 lish, it is, to be sure. 
 
 Vossevangen is quite a little town with a 
 pretentious hotel. While stopping at this 
 place I had a beautiful drive to Breidablik, 
 some kind of an amusement place, very pic- 
 turesquely situated in a pine forest, at a con- 
 siderable elevation on the other side of the 
 lake. The air here is remarkaoly pure and 
 bracing, and odoriferous from the beautiful 
 pine forest. 
 
 The road leading from Vossevangen to 
 the famous Stalheim and the Nerodal is 
 beautiful, and as comfortable to drive on as 
 a Parisian boulevard. The scenery is most 
 pleasing, the road winding about smiling 
 lakes and big squares of birch-trees, and last 
 but not least the many magnificent water- 
 falls glittering in all the colors of the rain- 
 bow. Finally the boulevard leads us through 
 232 
 
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A Thrilling Journey 
 
 a big and solemn fir-forest and there we 
 have the climax, the grand Stalheim, closed 
 in by the awe inspiring Nerodal. 
 
 Stalheim can boast of the finest hotel in 
 the interior of Norway, having a situation 
 unsurpassed by any other in grandeur. 
 From the cosy verandas of the hotel a most 
 impressive vista is obtained of the Nerodal 
 surrounded by its towering peaks. On each 
 side of the steep cliff on which the hotel is 
 built, a frisky waterfall tumbles down into 
 the depths. The cliff is more than a thou- 
 sand feet high, and is as precipitous as a 
 modern skyscraper. To the left is seen a 
 very peculiar mountain formation, the Jor- 
 dalsnut, about two thousand feet high, and 
 to the right, another giant called Kolda- 
 fjeld. 
 
 One of the waiters at the hotel told me 
 that an Englishman "once upon a time" as- 
 cended the blunted cone of the awful Jor- 
 dalsnut, entering it from the bottom of the 
 Nerodal. Although I found many who 
 
 233 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 were familiar with the tale, I met no one 
 who actually believed in the feat. It is 
 therefore safe to say that there is no man or 
 woman now living who can claim the honor 
 of having ascended this mountain peak, so 
 here is a good opportunity for the venture- 
 some. 
 
 An hour's drive through the magnificent 
 Nerodal valley is of a most impressive and 
 stirring character. One drives along the 
 cool, greenish-blue Nerofjord with tower- 
 ing mountains rising almost four thousand 
 feet perpendicularly on both banks of the 
 ill-tempered little river. Waterfalls of a 
 most enchanting beauty dash and jump 
 down the mountain walls, and wild flowers 
 grow by the wayside. One who is not ac- 
 customed to travel in wild mountain dis- 
 tricts will certainly sit with his heart in his 
 mouth at times. Still the grandeur of it all 
 gives one an indescribable thrill, a strange 
 yearning, sweet yet horrifying. A strip of 
 blue sky is seen far, oh, so very far above 
 
 234 
 
13 
 
A Thrilling Journey 
 
 your head, but not a single sunbeam reaches 
 down into this mysterious valley. 
 
 Occasionally I was shocked by a fierce 
 rumbling thunderlike noise. The driver 
 told me "Ikke at v'dre bange" (Show no 
 fear) , that it was merely immense blocks of 
 stone tumbling from the peaks down into 
 the depths of the dale, which could hardly 
 be considered consoling. But safe and sound 
 we reached a little spot encompassed by 
 mountains, called Gudvangen. 
 
 Coming from the Nerodal, the little ham- 
 let looked cheerful and inviting to me, but in 
 winter it must be a dreadful place. At this 
 season avalanches sweep down from the 
 peaks above, shooting with terrific velocity 
 into the river below. Wherever it is possible 
 the houses are built under the shelter of 
 rocks which serve as a protection against the 
 terrible force of the air-currents. For this 
 purpose the restaurant and cafe of the hotel 
 was built around two huge boulders reach- 
 ing from the floor to the ceiling, which gives 
 
 235 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 the interior a remarkable grotto-like ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 The very name of Hardanger is music to 
 the ears of loyal Norwegians. It stands for 
 exquisite natural beauty, over which the ar- 
 tist-soul would rave and the poet be lost in 
 a spell-bound ecstasy. Every shade of 
 meaning to the word glorious is here strik- 
 ingly developed. 
 
 Here is glory befitting a paradise, wheth- 
 er it ranges from the majestic, austere, rug- 
 ged mountains to the refined culture of 
 fjord vegetation, or simply the grand en- 
 semble of the landscape at whatever point 
 of view one may choose. There is a certain 
 harmony and completeness, not to be found 
 anywhere else in the country, which is pre- 
 eminent here. 
 
 The picture is enlivened by the appear- 
 ance of the countrymen with their curious 
 dress and customs. The women in particu- 
 lar, conform to certain castes or social sta- 
 tions, which are plainly visible by their 
 236 
 
Skjervet in Eide, Har danger. 
 
A Thrilling Journey 
 
 dress. For instance, at the hotels, the maid 
 servants adopt a becoming scarlet bodice, 
 which with a cordial ? unprofessional smile, 
 adds considerably to the zest of meal service 
 or personal attendance. Married women are 
 distinguished by a scrupulously white skaut 
 or ruffled cap, which is an emblem of rigid 
 fidelity. The unmarried maids, on the con- 
 trary are bedecked in gay splendor, with 
 luxuriant auburn tresses dropping modestly 
 behind. Their faces are thus brought into 
 pretty contrast and might well tempt others 
 besides the dashing youth of the country. 
 
 A ride to the Voringfos was suggested 
 and eagerly acted upon, as it promised to be 
 a trip of considerable interest. The ascent 
 to the falls was about four miles from our 
 stopping place, the town Maabo, and but 
 for the poor condition of our saddles, the 
 trip might have been comfortable. 
 
 These difficulties were soon forgotten, 
 however, when the ride was fairly com- 
 menced. Up through the magnificent rustic 
 237 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 valley of the Eidf jord we pushed lazily and 
 almost clumsily, in remarkable contrast to 
 the smooth, easy ride along the well-kept 
 road from Vik 2 the first part of our jour- 
 ney. 
 
 At last a turn in the fjord banks brought 
 us within view of the falls, and the picture 
 was one never to be forgotten. From a 
 height of nearly two thousand feet, the tor- 
 rent dashed past us, one stream of water hav- 
 ing an abrupt drop of about five hundred 
 feet. 
 
 The day was cloudless and rather dry, so 
 the misty vapor accompanying the splash of 
 the crystal water often reflected a tiny rain- 
 bow which furnished a pretty dash of color 
 to the monotonous gray rock and dull green 
 heather. We were compelled to leave it 
 far too soon, for approaching darkness 
 threatened to make our descent a perilous 
 one. 
 
 Another notable point of interest is the 
 Skjaggedalsfos, a really fine cataract that 
 238 
 
Tvinnefossen, Voss. 
 
A Thrilling Journey 
 
 compares with the American Niagara in 
 everything but volume. Its height is con- 
 siderably greater, and the deep, mysterious 
 chasm into which it pitches headlong af- 
 fords a rebound of spray that forms a sort 
 of pointing hand, of which the descending 
 shaft is the forefinger. 
 
 This effect is most remarkable as one 
 peers forward into the chasm, after cau- 
 tiously approaching from along the gloomy 
 Ringedalsvand, guided by a low rumbling 
 as of the distant thunder on a torrid sum- 
 mer's evening. 
 
 An hour's climb distant is a twin falls, in 
 which two streams are all but joined at the 
 brink of a precipice, falling together from 
 a great height, for all the world like the act 
 of a great invisible alchemist, compounding 
 a mighty broth. 
 
 A bridge of solid ice hangs over the 
 chasm and we were venturesome enough to 
 make the climb, some six hundred feet, so as 
 to obtain a view into the abyssmal depths. 
 
 239 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 Of course it made one dizzy, and I should 
 not advise any timid fellow traveler to un- 
 dertake the venture. 
 
 One of our party essayed to risk his neck 
 on the upper side of the overhanging grotto, 
 where the sun had slightly melted the snowy 
 ice to a smooth, inclined plane. He lost 
 his footing, much to our amusement, and 
 though secured to the rest of our party by a 
 stout rope, nevertheless had a bad scare, 
 which served henceforth to restrain his rash- 
 ness. 
 
 Returning to the base of the falls we were 
 treated to the unusual sight of a double rain- 
 bow, one spectrum within another, that was 
 glorious to behold. It is a pity it could not 
 be photographed, owing to insufficient light, 
 for it would have been a rarity on a par 
 with other wonders of this remarkable 
 country. 
 
 The Fjerlands Fjord is the name of one 
 of the many winding arms sent out into the 
 ocean by the much praised Sognef jord. Sur- 
 240 
 
A Thrilling Journey 
 
 rounded as it is on both sides by tall, steep 
 but always grass-clad mountains, it does not 
 give one the cold, deserted impression that 
 some of the other mighty arms of the Sogne- 
 fjord do. Greatness and imposing power 
 have here joined hands with the placid and 
 bland to make the scene agreeable to the 
 traveler. 
 
 On the outward tour one passes several 
 towering mountain peaks of five thousand 
 feet and more, protruding from the water. 
 Part of the fjord is very narrow, and the 
 scenery, with a mighty stone Colussus on 
 each side of the little steamer, is almost of 
 an appalling character. Sometimes the boat 
 passes through long ranks of these fierce- 
 looking rocks, and it is with a sigh of relief 
 that one waves a goodbye to the last Colos- 
 sus, and makes ready for the royal reception 
 awaiting one as the fjord closes itself up in- 
 to a glittering lake. Here a beautiful dale 
 opens its hospitable arms and welcomes you 
 with the rarest varieties of flora. The dale 
 241 
 
The hand of tin- Midnight Sun 
 
 is guarded by rows of erect, sombre-looking 
 pine trees and above those is again seen a 
 rank of powerful giant peaks, clad in iey 
 armor on which the golden rays of the sun 
 are dazzlingly playing. 
 
 At the fjord's estuary is a little hamlet, 
 Mundal, with its churchj hotel and general 
 store. Tbis inviting little place is surround 
 ed by level tracts of land intersected by a 
 frisky river. Brimming with icy water di- 
 rect from the glaciers, it cuts its way cold, 
 ami deep blue over frowning rocks and smil- 
 ing fields. In the background stands the 
 threatening Josetdalsbrii. On the left the 
 Buarbra, and to the right is seen the mighty 
 ice hat of the Suphellebra. They are all 
 three most wonderful to look at, but espe- 
 cially the latter with its shimmering, glitter- 
 ing ice masses. Now and then big blocks of 
 ice tear themselves loose and fall with a ter- 
 rifying turmoil to the bottom of the dale. 
 
 The Jostedals' glacier, which has an area 
 of fourteen hundred square miles, is said to 
 242 
 
Loatefos, Hardanger. 
 
A Thrilling Journey 
 
 be the largest of its kind, not only in Nor- 
 way but entire Europe. It differs consid- 
 erably from the glaciers I have seen in 
 Switzerland. Like its big Norwegian 
 brothers it covers the whole mountain ridge, 
 forming hills and dales at its pleasure, while 
 winding spider-like arms stretch themselves 
 down into the adjacent districts. One of 
 the tremendous snow-waves reaches a height 
 of almost seven hundred feet. 
 
 Some of the glaciers are extremely diffi- 
 cult and dangerous to climb, and it is not al- 
 ways safe to place yourself too entirely in 
 the hands of a foolhardy Norwegian guide. 
 A distinguished Norwegian scientist told 
 me that he once was urged by his daring 
 guide to slide down one of the sloping hills 
 on his back in order to save time and 
 strength. The suggestion was tempting 
 enough, as the hillside looked most inviting 
 for such a toboggan slide, but he resisted 
 nevertheless and succeeded in bringing the 
 guide to abandon the idea. After the tiring 
 
 243 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 descent they discovered to their horror that 
 the alluring icy hill ended in a sixteen hun- 
 dred foot precipice. 
 
 The numerous rivers, which, at various 
 places plunge down the vertical mountain 
 crest into the sea from these fierce looking 
 snow-fields, always betray their source by 
 a cold, unpleasant vapor. 
 
 One would think that the dales and small 
 bits of cultivated land alongside the strand 
 should have a harsh climate on account of 
 the nearness to all these masses of ice and 
 snow, but far from it. The cultivated and 
 inhabited parts of Sognefjord and the adja- 
 cent dales belong, like Hardanger, to Nor- 
 way's mildest and most prolific districts. 
 Apples, pears, plums, cherries, and other 
 fruits of the most improved kind are in 
 abundance. Also walnuts, hazel-nuts and 
 chestnuts thrive and ripen here. The winter 
 season is not severe, and the summer is 
 warm, so the average temperature is about 
 the same as Central Europe. It impresses 
 244 
 
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 ^fffyP*JBB 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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A Thrilling Journey 
 
 one as something supernatural, something 
 fairy-like, to find such beautiful flora such 
 close neighbors to eternal snow. 
 
 As I proceeded on my way to Christiania, 
 over the new railroad, the train was often at 
 an elevation of fifteen hundred feet. Part 
 of the time snow was piled up above the car 
 windows, so that we passed through snow- 
 tunnels as well as those cut in the solid rock. 
 Then suddenly we would have a view of 
 fertile, flowery valleys with rivers, streams 
 and laughing brooks far below. Behind all 
 this was a background of high mountains 
 covered with pines which gave a weird and 
 wonderful effect to the picture. The gran- 
 deur of it all is far above any description. 
 
 The large observation windows, extend- 
 ing the entire length of the car, gave one a 
 full panorama. On either side could be seen 
 the granite giants towering majestically 
 thousands of feet above the inviting valley 
 below. Now a lonely streamlet flows along 
 quiet and clear down a rocky morass. Now 
 
 245 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 you are following a roaring waterfall from 
 its dizzy height. Then again a rivulet 
 bounds along merrily, on its way from some 
 distant glacier into which the suns of many 
 summers have never penetrated. And ever 
 your eye is fascinated by the golden sun- 
 beams dancing on the snowclad peaks. 
 
 The Norwegian roadside fence is pecu- 
 liar. It consists of large, flat stones set upon 
 end a foot or two apart. As one sees them, 
 often for many miles, they present a very 
 unique appearance. 
 
 What an Eldorado for those who enjoy 
 fishing these lovely mountain streams must 
 be, for trout, or the rivers for larger fish ! 
 What would the people of Norway do if the 
 supply of fish should ever become exhausted 
 is the thought that arises. It is a curious 
 sight to see the fish in immense quantities 
 hang upon sticks or racks to dry. One sees 
 hundreds of these racks as one passes 
 through many of the beautiful fjords. 
 Shrimp are very abundant and larger than 
 246 
 
A Thrilling Journey 
 
 I have ever seen in any other country, and 
 on the coast lobsters are caught in large 
 quantities, which are of a most delicious 
 flavor. 
 
 While mentioning eatables ; I must not 
 forget the Norwegian cheese. I never saw 
 nor tasted so many different kinds before. 
 Unfortunately I disliked the taste as well as 
 the looks of most of them. One kind, how- 
 ever, I learned to enjoy very much indeed. 
 It was made of goat's milk and called My- 
 sost. It is chocolate in color and of a 
 slightly sweet taste. I shall never fail to re- 
 member one of those cheeses, not only by its 
 uninviting Limberger odor, but from the 
 startling attribute it possessed of being lit- 
 erally alive! 
 
 The tables of Norway are always most 
 bountifully provided; cold meats and fish 
 are always at hand wherever you go. All 
 dishes are most beautifully garnished with 
 great regard for artistic designs in colors, 
 247 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 to make them attractive to the eye as well as 
 tempting to the appetite. 
 
 One early morning when I came down 
 for breakfast, I asked if it was ready. I re- 
 ceived the reply, that breakfast was always 
 ready. I soon came to the conclusion that it 
 was, for upon the table all the food was cold 
 and if one needed anything warm you sim- 
 ply had to wait until it was cooked. How- 
 ever I soon learned to like the Norwegian 
 cooking and service very much. 
 
 The dress of the peasants is certainly pic- 
 turesque, particularly their holiday attire. 
 It is beautifully embroidered with silk and 
 beads in the brightest possible hues. In 
 some districts rather a pretty custom pre- 
 vails by which a married woman can be dis- 
 tinguished from the maidens by a peculiar 
 kind of white headdress, much like the 
 wings of a bat. The wedding ceremony is 
 elaborately celebrated, the festivities lasting 
 three days or more. The costumes of the 
 groom and bride are very unique. Usually 
 248 
 
A Thrilling Journey 
 
 a very pretty little wedding token is given 
 to the bride. It is often a hand-worked 
 brooch of gold or silver filigree^ from which 
 long and beautiful pendants hang. Each 
 pendant indicates the value of the dower 
 which may be so many cows, sheep, calves 
 or reindeer, according to the wealth of the 
 bride's parents. 
 
 Outdoor amusements in the summer do 
 not seem to be very numerous. Perhaps 
 the reason is that the people have to work 
 hard to secure their winter supplies, during 
 the few weeks in which they can enjoy the 
 warm sun's rays. 
 
 249 
 
BACK IN CHRISTIANIA: 
 A PICNIC 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 BACK IN CHRISTIANIA : A PICNIC 
 
 IT seemed like coming home to be in 
 Christiania again, especially as I was 
 greeted at the station by a score or 
 more of my Norwegian friends whom Fru 
 H. had secretly gathered together to wel- 
 come me back to the capital. It was cer- 
 tainly a genuine surprise to me. Hardly 
 had I stepped on the platform before I was 
 encircled by a huge garland of wild flowers, 
 and thus carried away to the waiting room. 
 Here the mischievous gathering joined 
 hands, and danced Indian fashion around 
 their innocent victim singing uproariously 
 a parody on the National Hymn: 
 
 "Yes, we love with fond devotion, 
 America's your name, 
 Rising golden-casqued o'er ocean, 
 Thousand hopes for fame." 
 
 253 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 It was a wonder that we were not all 
 dragged away to the dingy dungeons of the 
 Fortress of Akershus by the railroad offi- 
 cials, but instead they joined in the merry- 
 making with loud bravos and hand clasps. 
 
 Early the next morning Fru H., her two 
 wards and half a dozen boisterous Norwe- 
 gians marched up to my hotel, singing popu- 
 lar songs and creating quite a sensation. 
 Each carried a brightly painted Niste-Kurv 
 (lunch box) on a cane over his shoulder. 
 
 When the "American Lady" had dressed 
 hurriedly, she was marched off to a little 
 steamer which ran to a beautiful summer re- 
 sort on an island about three hours' sail 
 from Christiania. 
 
 The woodclad hills adjoining the baths 
 were already crowded with people, and 
 looked to me like a great fairy-garden. As 
 if sprung from the soil itself, flower-like 
 beds of happy people were grouped about 
 beneath the leafy trees. A garden of fancy! 
 There they were in all conceivable posi- 
 
 254 
 
Back in Christiania 
 
 tions, whispering, chattering, laughing, 
 singing and calling gay greetings to each 
 other. Some affectionate couples, not able 
 to wait for the moonlight drifted about 
 hand in hand 1 shoulder to shoulder, head 
 against head, playful and happy. 
 
 How the sun shone! With what beaming 
 splendor its dazzling rays illumined this 
 Eden of cheerful youth! 
 
 Fru H.'s two wards 2 Astrid and Aagot, 
 could scarcely wait until the steamer had 
 reached the pier before putting on their 
 bathing-suits. The water seems to have a 
 certain mystic, alluring power over Norwe- 
 gians. They can hardly look at a roaring 
 waterfall without feeling a strange yearning 
 for its dangerous embrace and their fjords 
 seem to exercise the same magic power. As- 
 trid and Aagot soon were swimming about 
 like fishes, and, after a while, were seen 
 floating far out at sea, on a red barrel. The 
 barrel was rocked up and down incessantly 
 by the waves so that it was only at inter- 
 
 255 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 vals that one could catch a glimpse of the 
 girls' blue bathing caps. Their bright faces 
 gleamed teasingly in a strange mermaidish 
 way at the parties on the shore, as it might 
 seem to an onlooker. 
 
 Astride another barrel were two sturdy 
 Norwegians of our party, Astrid's brother, 
 Fritjof Moen, and his chum, Ole Anker. 
 They were both well-known yachtsmen and 
 golf champions, and not to mention other 
 distinctions, were two handscme fellows, 
 clever and plucky, blessed with frank blue 
 eyes that met the world with a calm cour- 
 age and intelligence. 
 
 "Look out, girls 1" the boys were heard 
 crying to our mermaids. 
 
 "Look out yourselves, boys!" they replied, 
 unafraid, swinging carelessly on the heav- 
 ing waters. 
 
 "Ah, there it comes!" in chorus from the 
 masculine vantage point. "There's another 
 big one! Pas pan piger!" (Look out girls!) 
 256 
 
Back in Christiania 
 
 A wave of the proportions of a moderate- 
 sized house at this moment swept down up- 
 on the barrel, and quickly and triumphantly 
 removed the young girls from their seats. 
 But they struck out fearlessly for shore, and, 
 expert swimmers as they were, reached it in 
 safety. 
 
 In the meantime Fru H, had found an 
 ideal spot for our camp, behind a big rock 
 where a giant Norwegian spruce threw her 
 sheltering branches tentlike around us. A 
 couple of flat stones were brought, on which 
 a fire was made, and soon the coffee kettle 
 was filled with crystalline spring water and 
 hung over it. Tablecloths were spread on 
 the velvety ground and niste-kurvene un- 
 packed. 
 
 No sooner were we all comfortably set- 
 tled around the cloth, than some of the 
 young men at the resort began to make their 
 way toward our sheltered spot, as though 
 the boiling coffee-kettle exercised a mag- 
 netic attraction stronger than the blue-green 
 257 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 and rather ill-tcmpcrcd surf. The newcom- 
 ers were all received with enthusiastic out- 
 hursts, hearty handshakes and familiar slaps 
 Oil the back. "Storarted!" (Bully!) "Hvor 
 morsomtl" (Gee, this is find) "Det var bra 
 dere horn!" (Mighty glad to see youl) and 
 so on and so forth. If these niste-kurvc can 
 stand the charge of such a regiment of hun- 
 gry stomachs they are wonders, I thought. 
 And wonders they proved, indeed. 
 
 At the very start, the conversation gained 
 a special interest in the introduction of a 
 woman who was just coming into public 
 notice. 
 
 This lady had arrived in Christiania with 
 a brand new religion, the infinite wonder of 
 which was, that any one could acquire that 
 most peculiar power, omniscience. She had 
 given lectures on her sensational religion 
 and the newspapers were filled with non- 
 sense about her. She talked freely and in- 
 terestingly, and her eloquence added beauty 
 to beauty already possessed, as she spoke of 
 258 
 
Back in Christiania 
 
 the various places she, in her death-like 
 sleeps, had visited. She also spoke of the 
 various colors that surround us, and from 
 which we might divine the character of a 
 man, his future, and sueh information. 
 Verily, it was a highly interesting religion, 
 or whatever you choose to eall it, and we all 
 had strange dreams or visions to relate to 
 her, gathering around to ply her with ques- 
 tions. 
 
 The majority aeeepted the strange lady 
 and her unique religion as a weleome diver- 
 sion of (he season. Others, it is true, went a 
 little beneath the surface, and, philoso- 
 phized over the possible powers of this re- 
 markable woman, but there was no fear of 
 anyone losing his good humor, or peace of 
 mind by such reflections. 
 
 This people hold, with Solomon, that 
 nothing under the sun is new. The Norwe- 
 gian youth, bred and grown in the land of 
 miracles, expects to witness something still 
 more sensational to-morrow, and obviously 
 
 259 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 considered it scarcely worth while to ex- 
 pend too much force on this phenomenon. 
 
 She was so very dignified that we all tried 
 to behave the best we could as long as she 
 honored our camp with her presence. Nev- 
 ertheless we felt a breath of relief when the 
 lady was out of sight. 
 
 "Well, now, how do you like our smart 
 Mecca, here?" I was asked by a girl from 
 Bergen, who was slow in forming her ques- 
 tion as she had to translate the words of her 
 own language before she found the expres- 
 sions she wished in English. 
 
 "Do you really want to know?" I asked. 
 
 The girl turned an inquiring face toward 
 me: "Yes, tell me, please!" 
 
 "Well, then," I said, glancing aside at a 
 girl who was caressing a head of dark tan- 
 gled hair which had placed itself uncere- 
 moniously in her lap, "I think the game is 
 hunting the hunter, on this charming hunt- 
 ing-ground of yours." 
 
 "Don't say that!" little Astrid exclaimed. 
 260 
 
Back in Christiania 
 
 "It isn't our fault, really. We simply have 
 to lure the boys by the most audacious 
 spooning to keep them from baseball, and 
 other sports, where they leave us alone." 
 
 Although young Astrid was very sincere 
 in her information, an outburst of laughter 
 followed. But another beauty put in her 
 word: 
 
 "Verily, yes. It is so. I don't know what's 
 the matter with us, but as soon as we leave 
 the town behind we simply can't help taking 
 good care of a nice fellow when we see him. 
 Maybe because nice fellows are so scare in 
 Norway." 
 
 "Oh, awfully scarce!" echoed the whole 
 feminine crowd except Fru H., who was 
 busy pouring out a dark-red liquor into 
 small glasses. This home made drink tasted 
 delicious, besides making the entire party 
 very openhearted and talkative. 
 
 "Yes," continued a pretty Christiania 
 maiden with a large overgrown look. (She 
 had not gone in bathing, and was rather 
 261 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 showily dressed for an outing.) "Yes, we 
 do enjoy doing odd things down here, that's 
 true; but I think it is because we have to 
 be so straight-laced in town that we look 
 for some sort of relief, and perhaps go to 
 the opposite extreme when roaming on the 
 shores or in the woods." 
 
 As I looked at her, I thought she did not 
 prove her opinion by her dressing, and 
 wished that the sun could have been able to 
 take a better peep at her soft white neck. 
 
 They all talked at once, each trying to 
 outdo the other. When they found me un- 
 able to understand, or were themselves un- 
 able to express their views in English, they 
 tried a smattering of various languages and 
 galloped on. 
 
 "Some old fashioned people think this 
 place too gay during the bathing season. 
 My parents, for instance, have taken a de- 
 cided stand against moonlight walking in 
 the woods, so I shall have to say bye-bye to 
 that innocent pleasure," assured another 
 262 
 
Back in Christiania 
 
 mermaid, returning from a successful dive 
 from a high rock. 
 
 "My!" exclaimed Ole Anker, who was 
 following at the girl's heels, his bathing 
 suit clinging to his heroic limbs, "You will 
 find that hard to obey." 
 
 Fritjof lazily arose on his elbow to re- 
 fill his pipe: "You women are becoming 
 more and more bold since you got that suf- 
 frage of yours, confound it!" He finished 
 his sentence with a teasing wink in his bright 
 eyes, as he threw his head back into Aagot's 
 lap and began to puff his meerschaum with 
 increased delight. 
 
 Aagot boxed his ears not too tenderly, 
 and said to me in a comical whisper, "You 
 see, a Norwegian girl tries harder to please 
 her lover and make him comfortable than 
 he does her. It isn't so in America, is it?" 
 
 "No indeed/' I assured her, "quite the 
 contrary." 
 
 "You are wrong, Aagot," said Fru H. cor- 
 263 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 recting her. "I don't want you to give our 
 guest a false idea of the relation between 
 Norwegian men and women." 
 
 "Right!" yelled Ole Anker! 
 
 "Right," echoed the voice from Aagot's 
 lap. 
 
 "No," continued Fru H., "it is not that 
 the girls try harder to please the boys than 
 the boys do them, but the girls expect more 
 of the boys than the boys of their girls." 
 
 "The same with us," I agreed. 
 
 A landscape painter, who until now had 
 kept to himself, thought that his time to put 
 in a word or two was at hand. 
 
 "This point is clear," he said, "a woman is 
 more exacting; she demands more fuss, and 
 is as a rule far more tyrannical than a man. 
 I speak about our girls, of course." 
 
 "Well, I wonder where you got that 
 knowledge from?" Fru H. exclaimed. 
 
 The girl from Bergen raised her eye- 
 brows at the painter's view. "I know one 
 thing," she began, "and that is, there are 
 264 
 
Back in Christiania 
 
 more men who are tyrannical and indiffer- 
 ent to their sweethearts, than there are girls 
 who are faithless to their lovers." 
 
 "Stop right there!" commanded Fru H. 
 with mock-sternness at the girl, though her 
 face was one pleasant smile. "Now Dr. 
 Storm," she said, turning toward the oldest 
 member of our party, "what's your opin- 
 ion?" 
 
 "My opinion is," the doctor replied with 
 a broad grin, "that you young ladies are 
 giving us so much to think about that we all 
 are losing weight over it. Now as to the 
 first subject, our glorious free life frolics — 
 isn't the reason for all this freedom to be 
 found in the fact that God's own nature 
 makes real human beings out of us all? As 
 for the other 'beau and belles' question, I 
 think after all that it isn't so much what 
 those two people do, but more what they 
 don't do, that makes or mars their happi- 
 ness, and gives real value to their compan- 
 ionship." 
 
 265 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 While Fru H. poured more of her tempt- 
 ing liquor into our glasses and proposed a 
 toast for the doctor^ some of the pretty chat- 
 terers disagreed loudly about his definition 
 and wouldn't drink to his health. Others 
 thought his opinion too involved and not to 
 the point. However, as soon as Fru H. 
 lifted her glass, commanding "Stilhed!" 
 (Silence), they all joined heartily in a 
 "long live the doctor" with the customary 
 nine roaring Norwegian hurrahs. 
 
 Fru H. tried to turn the conversation but 
 was interrupted by the girl from Bergen. 
 
 "The Norwegian men," she began, "take 
 no pride in clothes either^ and that's a seri- 
 ous fault with them. Yes it is! Look at the 
 Americans who visit our shores! They love 
 to dress well and to look like gentlemen, 
 whether they are or not. But our men, dear 
 me, they are a sight!" 
 
 "What do you think, Astrid?" asked Ole 
 Anker, who had just returned to the camp 
 after another refreshing dive. 
 
 266 
 
Back in Christiania 
 
 "Of what?" Astrid inquired. 
 
 "Of me, of course!" exclaimed the youth, 
 as he threw himself down beside her. 
 
 "Yes," urged the doctor, interested, "what 
 do you think, not of Ole Anker, but of our 
 young men of to-day?" 
 
 The girl hesitated and seemed somewhat 
 embarrassed, though she tried to look indif- 
 ferent as she at last answered with a twinkle 
 in her pretty blue eyes: 
 
 "I don't know exactly how to express it, 
 but it seems to me that the boys are growing 
 bashful in everything but baseball in the 
 summer and ski matches in the winter. I 
 have met lots of fellows who would blush at 
 the mere thought of speaking to a girl even 
 after they were introduced by the girl's 
 mother." 
 
 Ole Anker glanced at her face and then 
 looked quickly away. 
 
 The others laughed. 
 
 The girl from Bergen continued her talk 
 about clothes: 
 
 267 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 "A young unmarried fellow, may dress 
 up a little bit once in a while, but have any 
 of you girls ever seen a Norwegian husband 
 dressing up for his wife? Mighty, mighty 
 few, I dare say I" 
 
 Chorus: "Mighty, mighty few!" 
 
 Fru H. apparently did not like the char- 
 acter of the conversation nor the careless 
 positions of her wards, but she tried to make 
 the best of it in order not to spoil their plea- 
 sures, which after all were harmless enough. 
 After thinking for a while she said: 
 
 "No use talking, man is a very selfish and 
 stupid type of animal. Yes, yes, you are! 
 You simply take a woman's care, and love, 
 and dressing, her smiles, and her dancing 
 about, and all her tenderness as a matter of 
 course. Those strange creatures called men 
 take it for granted that in accepting them, 
 we have all the world can bless us with, all 1 
 that the most exacting woman on earth 
 could possibly wish for, and therefore, the 
 268 
 
Back in Christiania 
 
 stupid mopes think themselves wonders, 
 clothes or no clothes." 
 
 The doctor turned his head a little in or- 
 der to be able to look into her face. 
 
 "I wonder/' he said quietly, his features 
 relaxing into a singularly attractive smile, 
 "what form the opposite of goodness would 
 take in you, Fru H? I know you are good 
 and clever and all that, so I ask: were you 
 ever thoroughly angry?" 
 
 We all laughed at the doctor's serious 
 voice and expression. 
 
 While some of us were ready for another 
 cup of coffee, Fritjof and Ole Anker fol- 
 lowed by two other young men rushed out 
 of the camp and began to turn somersaults 
 and leap frantically about on the sands as 
 they approached the seething sea. A storm 
 had risen and the water looked more like the 
 ocean in uproar than a Norwegian fjord. 
 
 Heaven knows by what rare chance they 
 found their legs again, but still they pressed 
 on, projecting their bodies into the wrath- 
 269 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 ful water, and disappearing for a moment 
 amidst the big billows. Then 2 coming into 
 view again, they straightened themselves 
 out on the bottom i there to meet the largest 
 of the gigantic waves which the next instant 
 tumbled with its mass of foam across their 
 lithe young forms. 
 
 Astrid and Aagot had gone to the brink 
 of the fjord, and standing there with pink 
 cheeks and eyes in which the light of quick 
 appreciation shone, they appeared to me 
 like companions of some great vigil. 
 
 When the boys had again encamped 
 around the apprehensive watchers, they 
 found a certain chilliness in the air, which 
 prompted the companions to tackle Fritjof's 
 hammer, a club like affair^ which was hid- 
 den away in a crevice. This desire to warm 
 up gave rise to a friendly tussle, since Frit- 
 jof and Ole were each resolved to swing the 
 missile first. And so they tugged and tugged 
 at opposite ends of the hammer till they 
 both rolled barrel-like down the strand, 
 270 
 
Back in Christiania 
 
 with the awkwardness of a pair of frisky 
 cubs. Only the intervention of Astrid 
 could bring the tug-of-war to an end, and 
 this to the advantage of Ole, who took the 
 crude implement between both hands and 
 began to swing it round his head four or 
 five times before making the professional 
 "turn," whereupon the hammer flew 
 through the air, landing a fair distance 
 away on the sand. 
 
 The other youth then tried his skill. 
 Naturally they competed against each other, 
 Astrid and Aagot gazing at the contest with 
 a keener interest than the rest of the party, 
 and awaiting the result with impatient ea- 
 gerness. They acted as judges, too, and like 
 well-trained officials decided with skill and 
 precision any dispute that arose between the 
 contestants. 
 
 After the combat we were again ready for 
 a new meal, which was accompanied by 
 more talks about the men and women of 
 Norway. 
 
 271 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 One young girl wearing a stylish bathing 
 suit of brown silk made a charming picture. 
 
 "I know a girl," she began, "who, last 
 fall, married a wealthy mill owner. She 
 lives in a magnificent house with a lot of 
 servants. Her millionaire husband is ab- 
 sorbed in business and horse races, baseball 
 games and other folish things and can't af- 
 ford to spend much time at home, so she has 
 almost forgotten what her husband looks 
 like. If it should happen that he entered 
 his home before daybreak he would busy 
 himself the rest of the night in trying to 
 solve the problem why his little wife was not 
 perfectly happy." 
 
 In the conversation now joined an ex- 
 quisite, fairy-like creature from Trond- 
 hjem, with her nose turned up in a wonder- 
 ful insouciant fashion, her lips like a thick 
 scarlet dash, her eyes big, gray and lazy. 
 This Norwegian fairy said : 
 
 "I'll tell you what kind of a husband I 
 admire." 
 
 272 
 
Back in Christiania 
 
 We were all willing to listen. 
 
 "I like that kind of a man who looks upon 
 a woman with awe as a divinity. Such men 
 are good husbands and good fellows all 
 around. They may be brutes in their busi- 
 ness, but they are angels in their homes, 
 where their wives can wrap them around 
 their fingers if they choose. They are the 
 only really eligible men worth speaking 
 about, and the only ones who understand 
 how to dig the road to a blisful and ever- 
 lasting happiness in married life." 
 
 She crossed her legs and fell down on her 
 elbows not unlike a lazy-bodied boy. 
 
 "That's the stuff !" was the united femi- 
 nine response. 
 
 Her neighbors playfully shook hands 
 with the blushing girl, and a little lass who 
 had a face overflowing with mirth — the face 
 of a mischievous lad — cried out: 
 
 "Print it, boys, and send it straight to 
 King Haakon for his sanction." 
 
 273 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 This little lassie was the daughter of a 
 dealer in furs. She proved herself to be a 
 clever little nymph and her peculiar poses 
 were very charming. But those daughters 
 of Eve were all fascinating and delightful 
 in their garden of freedom. 
 
 Ole Anker couldn't keep his thoughts to 
 himself any longer, and so he arose with : 
 
 "Shall I tell you girlies what kind of a 
 husband you are looking for?" 
 
 "Oh, please!" 
 
 "Oh, do! 
 
 "Oh, yes!" Thus ran the chorus around 
 the fire. 
 
 "An American!" he shouted. 
 
 "An American?" They all repeated at 
 once. 
 
 "Yes, girls, you can hardly find him any- 
 where else than on the top of a skyscraper." 
 
 "Oh— oh— !" 
 
 "Stilhed!" demanded Fru H. "Go 
 ahead, Ole, bring us your man?" 
 274 
 
Back in Christiania 
 
 "You certainly shall have him," said the 
 fearless youth. 
 
 "You want a man who, in one person, is 
 as gentle as a newly born lamb and as fierce 
 as a starved lion; romantic as a moonlight 
 poet and as matter-of-fact as a successful 
 broker; a man who can make money quickly 
 and spend it at a flash on his wife, and who 
 can make more money and still more. Every 
 morning when he leaves and every night 
 when he returns he must be sure to tell his 
 wife how much he loves her. You want a 
 man who is as stupid as a cod-fish and as 
 clever as a trust-lawyer; a man who sees 
 with his wife's eyes, hears with her ears, 
 tastes with her tongue, and who hates all 
 women but his own little darling. That's 
 the man a suffragette girl of to-day wants, 
 but can't get in Norway!" 
 
 An indescribable uproar followed this 
 plain speech by our undaunted friend. Al- 
 though the other men of our party took his 
 part and tried hard to defend him, he was 
 275 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 at last carried away to a rock and tossed into 
 the cooling waves by feminine hands — a 
 punishment he didn't seem to mind, after 
 all. 
 
 A more serious conversation followed, 
 and after a while Fru H. was asked to de- 
 fine the word "love." 
 
 "Love," said she 2 "is a very peculiar sen- 
 sation, and I fear not easy to describe. Love 
 is a force of goodness, of happiness and for- 
 bearance, a force which lies deeper in our 
 soul than words can ever reach. Love is a 
 power which makes our hearts beat in an 
 unconscious eagerness to do good, to be help- 
 ful to others, to understand and to feel the 
 desires of our fellowmen. It is love that 
 makes a man ready to sacrifice himself for 
 his brethren and to take part in their work, 
 hopes, sorrows, joys. If a man is unable to 
 give his mite, he can at least give his en- 
 couragement, a word of understanding. 
 This I think is just a little morsel of what 
 is hidden in that marvelous word called 
 276 
 
Back in Christiania 
 
 love. Love one another. If we really made 
 up our minds to use this powerful soul vi- 
 bration in dealing with each other we 
 should soon discover that our neighbor also 
 possessed a similar wonderful apparatus in 
 his being." 
 
 Astrid, though she had listened, seeming- 
 ly interested^ to Fru H.'s definition of love, 
 had her eyes fastened on the little girl from 
 Trondhjem, who, tired of the serious con- 
 versation, had sneaked away from the camp, 
 and ventured out into the fjord. Astrid, 
 who knew the girl to be an inexperienced 
 swimmer, thought her race with the waves 
 foolhardy and had kept an eye on her at- 
 tempts. Fru H. had scarcely ended her 
 improvised lecture before a cry of help 
 reached us from the water, and in the same 
 instant the swimming girl was buried in a 
 mass of foaming water. But Astrid, whose 
 experienced eyes had already caught sight 
 of the danger from an approaching wave, 
 had dashed to the rescue and reached the 
 277 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 water's edge before the cry for help had 
 sounded. With amazing intrepidity and 
 presence of mind she dragged the girl from 
 death's cold embrace. And so quick was 
 she, that the swimmer was out of danger be- 
 fore the boys, awakened to action by the 
 cry, had reached the water. However, it 
 didn't take them long to overtake Astrid, 
 who with her heavy burden was working 
 and fighting her way through the angry wa- 
 ters. 
 
 "Astrid saved her life before we could 
 draw a breath!" exclaimed the boys, as soon 
 as the unsuccessful swimmer was declared 
 none the worse for her experience by the 
 doctor. 
 
 Again we had a- splendid excuse for mak- 
 ing another kettle of coffee and for drinking 
 several toasts in Fru H.'s delicious bever- 
 age, and we didn't miss one of them. 
 
 "That was bravely done, Astrid!" Ole 
 Anker burst out again and again, impetu- 
 ously clasping her hands in his. "There's 
 278 
 
Back in Christiania 
 
 no knowing what would have happened to 
 the poor girl if you hadn't rushed in as you 
 did. I never saw anything like it." It was 
 touching to look at the boy and to see the 
 love for the girl in his eyes, as he stood 
 there beside me, holding the girl's hands 
 as though they were the only pair present. 
 
 "Don't think any more of it," said the girl 
 to him and to all of us who tried to express 
 our admiration. "Any girl who under- 
 stands how to swim and dive would have 
 done the same thing." 
 
 The girl was entirely unconscious of any 
 heroism whatsoever, and was anxious to 
 make her escape from all the people now 
 streaming up to our camp, eager to see the 
 brave girl, and to drink her health in coffee 
 or whatever they could get hold of. 
 
 After the whole crowd have been feasting 
 for an hour or more Fritjof and Ole began 
 to play leap frog, in which they indulged 
 in all sorts of jumps and somersaults. Spec- 
 tators were not long in joining the sport, but 
 279 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 none of them could compare with Fritjof 
 in this peculiar game. 
 
 The full moon was scattering a dazzling 
 array of beams across the sea and out upon 
 the blue-white strand. Playfully, those sil- 
 ver bars of light danced upon the bodies of 
 the young athletes, who were untiring in 
 their efforts. 
 
 At last we were forced to leave this mem- 
 orable spot in order to catch the last boat; 
 but the merrymaking continued on the deck 
 where a dance to the tune of a handorgan 
 held full swing until the boat cast anchor 
 in the harbor of Christiania, 
 
 280 
 
NORWEGIAN YOUTH: 
 A BOAT-RACE CELEBRATION 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 NORWEGIAN YOUTH : A BOAT-RACE 
 CELEBRATION 
 
 A WEEK after the picnic, I was invit- 
 ed to take in a boat-race celebra- 
 tion at the summer residence of Fru 
 H.'s sister, Fru Anker, the hospitable 
 mother of Ole Anker. 
 
 Round about the large villa, whose bril- 
 liant lights, streaming from every window, 
 looked magnificent in the dark night, ran 
 a delightful broad piazza. This comfort- 
 able place was to-night occupied by young 
 people "hammocked," or seated in groups 
 with their coffee cups, dispensing smiles 
 and compliments to each other. The great 
 occasion for all this jubilation was a tele- 
 gram announcing the victory of Ole An- 
 ker's boat. 
 
 283 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 A bonfire was burning on the strand in 
 front of the house, its dancing flames fling- 
 ing their light far over the heaving waters. 
 Around it in an easy posture, lay other girls 
 and boys, eating sandwiches, drinking cof- 
 fee, smoking cigarettes, puffing pipes and 
 chatting contentedly in a mood of reckless 
 joy. All were very happy because of Ole's 
 victory. 
 
 Fru Anker 2 ever jovial, ever with a laugh 
 in her eye^ ran down to the young people on 
 the beach, her arms full of fireworks. 
 
 "Hurrah! Hurrah!" they all cried, sur- 
 rounding her, as happiest of the happy, she 
 delivered the fireworks to the exuberant 
 army of vigorous young hands. At last, 
 overwhelmed as they pressed in upon her, 
 she dropped the whole store upon the beach 
 with hearty laughter. Like rapacious wolves 
 they pounced upon the combustibles and 
 Piff! Pouff! Bang! Crack! went the crack- 
 ers, Roman candles, pin-wheels, and flower- 
 pots, all together. It was rather perilous 
 284 
 
Norwegian Youth 
 
 sport, Ole's big-hearted mother thought, yet 
 she laughed and shouted up to her coffee- 
 drinking guests on the piazza. 
 
 "My boy finished first! Ole won the 
 race! Hurrah! Hurrah!" And with more 
 eagerness than caution she managed to get 
 hold of one of the rockets, which she soon 
 put a match to and shot out across the sea: 
 "Hurrah for gutten mint" (Hurrah for my 
 boy.) 
 
 "Hurrah!" every one around her echoed. 
 
 As she stood there with the burning torch 
 held firmly in her hand, she might have 
 been taken for the very goddess of celebra- 
 tion. 
 
 Many guests had been invited but still 
 more came uninvited, and were just as wel- 
 come as the former. The joy of the victory 
 had also demoralized the servants of the 
 house, who unceremoniously took the night 
 off, considering such a procedure a matter 
 of course. They now mingled freely with 
 285 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 the guests, lending a hand to the festivities 
 now and then like the rest. 
 
 "Hurrah!" came suddenly from a big fir 
 tree in front of the house. Everybody looked 
 up, and in the light of the big fire on the 
 beach, Beret, the cook was seen sitting on a 
 branch of the giant tree. 
 
 "Rah! Rah! Rah!" the guests replied, 
 very much amused at the sight of the fat 
 woman swaying on the branch. 
 
 "Rah! Rah! Rah! for Norway!" Astrid 
 yelled from the shore. 
 
 "Rah! Rah! Rah!" resounded like a thou- 
 sand-tongued echo, while rockets and other 
 fireworks flew into the air by scores. 
 
 "God bless Norway!" Ole's white-haired 
 grandmother cried from her seat on the 
 piazza. 
 
 From a huge tent, raised on a rock above 
 the house, a band sounded forth "Yes, we 
 love this country." Instantly this melody 
 was in the mouths of all, ringing over the 
 land and out across the sea. 
 286 
 
Norwegian Youth 
 
 As soon as the beloved song was finished 
 the whole party, servants included, went up 
 to the dancing tent. Hand in hand, in pairs 
 or small groups, enveloped by the spirit of 
 friendship, the guests drifted on, singing 
 and humming national airs. 
 
 After an hour of enjoyable dancing, a 
 light supper was served on the lawn which 
 was lighted by dozens of tall flower-deco- 
 rated torches, which gave a touch of mystic 
 splendor to the scene. 
 
 We were all compelled to add our share 
 to the entertainment. Some told stories or 
 sang; others gave witty or comical speeches, 
 and others again recited poems or scenes 
 from famous plays. First I was forced to 
 tell something about America, and next to 
 give my true opinion of Norway. This I 
 was fortunate enough to express in Profes- 
 sor Hjalmar Hjorth Boyesen's words, a na- 
 tive of Norway. Although married to an 
 American lady and spending almost his en- 
 tire life in America, he was nevertheless a 
 287 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 good Norwegian, and it pleased the gather- 
 ing to listen to the painting of his native 
 land which I could make my own. 
 
 "NORWAY 
 
 "Winter has its icy crown 
 Pressed round Norway's temples hoary, 
 Midnight sun has showered down 
 On her head its glory. 
 
 "Time's swift waves their power broke 
 'Gainst her ancient rocks and bowlders, 
 And the sea its misty cloak 
 Flung around her shoulders. 
 
 "But when easeful Summer sinks 
 O'er the gleaming fjords and valleys, 
 Bursts the wood-lake's wintry links 
 And the lily's chalice — 
 
 "Oh, what throbbing life aglow! 
 Oh, how fair the birch and willow, 
 And the gulls that drift like snow 
 O'er rippling billow. 
 288 
 
Norwegian Youth 
 
 'Giant-like the glacier looms, 
 Seaward throws its branches mazy; 
 And on winter's bosom blooms 
 Fearlessly the daisy. 
 
 'ho! the wild, bright peaks that shine 
 Through the clouds that veil their bosom 
 At whose foot, mid birch and pine, 
 Fragile lilies blossom! 
 
 'Here it was where Frith jo f gay 
 Wooed King Bele's fair-haired daughter, 
 Here she sang the sweet, sad lay 
 Which her love had taught her. 
 
 'Hence those vikings sprung whose sword 
 Waked the South from idle dalliance, 
 Who in Vineland's rivers moored 
 Dauntlessly their galleons. 
 
 'Now, alas that age hath fled, 
 Fled the spirit that upbore it, 
 Ah, hut still doth midnight shed 
 Flaming splendor o'er it. 
 289 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 'And the fame which curbed the sea, 
 Spanned the sky with runes of fire, 
 Now but rustles tremblingly 
 Through the poefs lyre." 
 
 290 
 
AT THE NATIONAL THEATRE: 
 
 "A DOLL'S HOUSE" AND 
 
 "PEER GYNT" 
 

 r ^ 
 
 
 h. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 AT THE NATIONAL THEATRE: "A DOLL'S 
 HOUSE" AND "PEER GYNT" 
 
 THE season of the Christiania Nation- 
 al Theatre begins the latter part 
 of August^ and the first two weeks 
 are devoted to a festival of Ibsen's and 
 Bjornson's plays. 
 
 As I did not yet understand the language 
 of the country I selected from the week's 
 repertoire two plays by Ibsen that I had al- 
 ready seen in America, "A Doll's House" 
 and "Peer Gynt." In the first I had pre- 
 viously seen the Russian actress, Mile. 
 Nazimova as Nora, and in the latter play 
 admired the late Mr. Mansfield as "Peer 
 Gynt." I was anxious indeed to see the 
 Norwegian Peer Gynt and to compare him 
 with the American interpretation of the 
 
 293 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 same part, but was still more anxious to 
 make the acquaintance of Fru Dybwad, the 
 Scandinavian Duse, as she is fondly called 
 by the Norwegians. 
 
 The National Theatre is a beauiful struc- 
 ture and compares favorably with one in 
 the American metropolis, though smaller 
 and more homelike. The staging of "A 
 Doll's House" (Et Dukkehjem) and the 
 interior was quite different from what I 
 have seen in New York. Here at the Chris- 
 tiania National Theatre, the drawing room 
 scene was big and aristocratically furnished 
 in rich solid furniture. So different was this 
 setting from the poor little room in which 
 the Nazimova version of the play was ren- 
 dered, that I involuntarily took a glance at 
 my program, afraid that "Et Dugkehjem" 
 was not "A Doll's House" after all. But it 
 was, though not a pleasing melodramatic 
 farce as Nazimova's charming version in- 
 dicated, but rather a touching drama with 
 various episodes of comic relief, to lighten 
 294 
 
At the National Theatre 
 
 the depressing but intensely interesting tale. 
 
 My delightful impression of Nazimova's 
 make-up was that of a Nurnberger-doll, 
 and her portrayal of Nora lingered in my 
 memory as that of a spoiled, thoughtless lit- 
 tle girl who all of a sudden becomes cross 
 and in her anger and disappointment sud- 
 denly begins to talk like an overgrown 
 "wunder kind." As a climax she leaves the 
 room, wisely-stupid, slamming the door be- 
 hind her. It was all so charmingly doll-like, 
 that I thought it quite wonderful. This was 
 my long cherished impression of Nora and 
 the play, as given by the Russian actress. 
 But Fru Dybwadj the Norwegian exponent 
 of the part, mercilessly destroyed my idol 
 almost at her first entrance upon the stage. 
 
 Quietly but becomingly and tastefully 
 dressed in a gray suit of walking length, she 
 entered the stage chirping happily, with her 
 arms loaded with parcels containing Christ- 
 mas surprises for her dear ones. Although 
 her small feet scarcely touched the floor 
 
 295 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 and though her eyes fairly sparkled from 
 inborn childish mirth, there was neverthe- 
 less something mature about her. A certain 
 mother-bird alertness that indicated strong- 
 er than spoken words that something new 
 and big was germinating in the woman's 
 soul, something that could ripen and break 
 out without warning. This foreshadowing 
 of a great event was indicated with such a 
 gift of tense and true emotion that her 
 change in a day from a child-wife into a full 
 grown woman seemed not only possible but 
 entirely natural. When this Nora leaves 
 her home, husband and children, banging 
 the door behind her, not one in the audience 
 can be in doubt as to whether she returns 
 or not. I doubt if any spectator could be 
 found who would wish her to come back 
 and take up her wifely duties. One feels 
 that a greater and far more significant duty 
 is awaiting this woman. Her soul has out- 
 grown Mr. Egotist's "Doll's House" — not 
 296 
 
Fru Johanne Dybzvad, as Maria in Bjomson's 
 Drama "Paa Storhove." {"At Storhove.") 
 
At the National Theatre 
 
 in a night or two, but in years of quiet, si- 
 lent growth. 
 
 Nora, as created by Ibsen and portrayed 
 by Fru Dybwad, seems to me more a symbol 
 than a type. She is a bearer of a glorious 
 message to woman, a message the women of 
 Norway, through long years of suffering 
 and severe struggle, have made to come true. 
 There is no actress on the American stage 
 to-day, in my opinion, who could equal Fru 
 Dybwad's performance of this part, with 
 its impassioned oratory, in the last great 
 scene of the drama, and its tremendous ef- 
 fect of emotional sincerity. 
 
 "Peer Gynt" on the other hand, was a 
 disappointment to me. I had entered the 
 theatre with a just expectation of seeing a 
 bit of Norway composed of music and 
 drama passing in review, but nothing of the 
 kind occurred. In "Peer Gynt/' Ibsen in- 
 deed has given the Norwegian painters, ac- 
 tors and stage managers something to put 
 297 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 their very souls into^ but though he gave 
 them "champagne, they tasted it not." 
 
 The sceneries were all very pleasing, 
 many beautiful, but without that effect of 
 grandeur or originality either in choice of 
 motive or in color scheme that one might 
 have expected. There were at least two 
 most glorious settings in Mr. Mansfield's 
 production of the poem, but not a single set- 
 ting at this theatre displayed anything un- 
 usual. The only part that came up to my ex- 
 pectations was Grieg's incidental music to 
 the drama, rendered with much skill and 
 taste by a small orchestra. 
 
 Herr Christensen^ as "Peer Gynt," was 
 sympathetic and looked well, playing in a 
 key of natural boyishness; but unlike Fru 
 Dybwad in "A Doll's House," he selfishly 
 kept the character's inner life all to himself. 
 Never for a moment did he by voice or ges- 
 ture allow the slightest peep into this 
 strange hero's wonderful imagination. The 
 reason for Peer Gynt's peculiar yearning, 
 298 
 
At the National Theatre 
 
 self-delusion and egotism, as well as his 
 childish love and whimsical ideas, was not 
 for a moment even suggested by this actor. 
 He, grown of the same soil as his hero, and 
 nursed by the same tale 2 should be expected 
 to give a most interesting and true interpre- 
 tation of this remarkable character. Poor 
 staging and artificial acting throughout the 
 whole play gave me an impression as of a 
 marionette performance. 
 
 Although less youthful and fresh than the 
 Norwegian actor, Mr. Mansfield by his 
 great acting displayed in innumerable little 
 ways parts of a complex but highly interest- 
 ing human machine. 
 
 I received after all a better understanding 
 of this remarkable poem at a recital given in 
 Berlin by a Norwegian reade^ Herr Ole 
 Bang, some time ago. From his reading I 
 received an atmosphere, so to speak, which 
 the combined efforts of make-up, scenery, 
 and acting failed to convey. Although his 
 language was strange to his audience, with 
 299 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 the exception of a few explanatory notes in 
 German, he lifted them by force of a charm- 
 ing personality out of the hall into his own 
 powerful imagination. With an art entire- 
 ly unique, he carried plot, incident and 
 characters through the varying moods of his 
 interpretation, making the auditors read the 
 lines from his flexible voice, and respond 
 to the delicate expressions of a very charm- 
 ing and illuminating art. 
 
 300 
 
THE NORWEGIAN WINTER: 
 AN EXCITING SKI-MATCH 
 
Winter in Norway. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 THE NORWEGIAN WINTER : AN EXCITING 
 SKI-MATCH 
 
 THAT tourist or sportsman who never 
 saw the Norwegian winter arrayed 
 in all its glory, has missed one of 
 the most splendid sights that could ever 
 greet a lover of out-door life. 
 
 Surely many of my countrymen have 
 brought home with them from the smiling 
 lakes, the glittering fjords and the majesti- 
 cal mountains of Norway, a lasting impres- 
 sion of summertime, and the magical 
 changes from the most inclement wildness 
 to the most charming lowland scenery. But 
 how many know the enchanting charm of 
 the Norwegian winter? 
 
 With a buoyant flourish of trumpets the 
 advancing northland princess is heralded by 
 
 303 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 the luminous pages with their shimmering 
 crystal mantles blowing in the breeze. This 
 is the signal for tourists to hurriedly bid 
 Norway good-bye, and rush southward to 
 more hospitable regions. But this flourish 
 of trumpets does not frighten the natives. 
 All Norwegians love their snow. It light- 
 ens the dark days and brightens the melan- 
 choly disposition of the people. It clothes 
 the whole country in white shining gar- 
 ments; it smoothes down the coarse colors. 
 It covers the impassable gulfs and appall- 
 ing precipices, and creates harmony among 
 old and young, bringing with it the soft 
 wavy lines of landscape so beloved by every 
 Norseman. 
 
 Instead of being feared, the winter is wel- 
 comed, and instead of being dormant, the 
 people wake up to new hopes, new duties 
 and new pleasures. The enjoyable but ra- 
 ther tricky skis, so very difficult for an in- 
 experienced person to manoeuvre, are heard 
 rattling on the snow and whistling through 
 
 304 
 
,& 
 
 
 King Haakon on Ski. 
 
The Norwegian Winter 
 
 the air like the rush of mighty wings. This 
 thrilling sport is most fascinating when one 
 knows how, but till then^ it is quite the con- 
 trary, if one's neck, arms and limbs are not 
 made of indiarubber. On the glassy fjords 
 and lakes the skates are ringing, while sleds 
 in hundreds hurry down hills and mountain- 
 sides at breakneck speed. 
 
 The famous Holmenkoll ski contest is 
 Norway's greatest sporting event, and the 
 natives are justified in their pride of this 
 great winter fete. This annual national 
 meeting is not merely held as a standard 
 for ability — because no nation has attempt- 
 ed, as yet, to challenge Norway's first rank 
 in this peculiar sport, but just as certainly as 
 this ski-sport has sprung out from the soul 
 of the people, their very tradition, just so 
 sure it is that the Holmenkoll match is 
 looked upon by every Norwegian as a na- 
 tional holiday. The Holmenkoll event has 
 become the Scandinavian Olympic games. 
 Holmenkolldagen (the day of the Holmen- 
 
 305 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 koll-meeting) is a national holiday; the 
 schools are closedj as well as the stores and 
 offices. 
 
 Like a colossal human horseshoe the 
 masses stand on platforms shoulder to shoul- 
 der alongside the mountain sides to view the 
 exciting spectacle. The ever beloved King 
 and Queen are always present and so are 
 their ministers, foreign ambassadors and all 
 the influential people of the whole land. 
 Tourists and representatives of the press 
 and sporting world add a European atmos- 
 phere to the game. The snow may drift, 
 covering the thousands and thousands of 
 heads stretching eagerly outward, and the 
 severe cold may beat mercilessly on ears, 
 and noses, yet not a single discontented face 
 can be found among them all. All is har- 
 mony; and buoyant laughter is heard from 
 the beginning to the end. 
 
 Hoplobet (The Leap-Match) is the an- 
 xiously awaited climax to the game, and it 
 is sure to arouse intense admiration and en- 
 306 
 
The Norwegian Winter 
 
 thusiasm. It is difficult, not to say impos- 
 sible, for those who haven't had the rare 
 privilege to witness those Norwegian dare- 
 devils take the sky-scraper leap, reaching 
 the earth from their heavenward flight in a 
 graceful curve one hundred feet below, to 
 imagine the thrill and the beauty of this ap- 
 palling sight. How they manage to jump 
 down from such a height with those long, 
 awkward affairs on their feet without 
 breaking their necks was indeed a miracle to 
 me. Of course they are not all successful — 
 far from it — and a somersault in the air is 
 followed by both a comical and terrifying 
 snow burial. 
 
 But as a rule few serious accidents occur. 
 It is easy to understand that courage, 
 strength and nerve are the chief qualities 
 demanded in such a hazardous game, and 
 this yearly ski-running match is therefore 
 necessarily of much value to the youth of 
 Norway. 
 
 Even on Sundays and holidays, when 
 
 307 
 
The Land of the Midnight Sun 
 
 people of all classes are streaming up to 
 Christiania's ski-realm, beautiful Nord- 
 marken, that lies so refreshingly white and 
 pure above the city's fog and smoke, it is 
 not an unusual sight to see King Haakon 
 with Queen Maud and Crownprince Olav 
 enjoying themselves in the midst of their 
 loyal subjects. Love and reverence for their 
 democratic and righteous rulers are easily 
 to be read in robust and delicate faces alike, 
 and although the people try to show grace 
 and modesty it is visibly difficult for most of 
 the participants to keep their true, faithful 
 hearts from demonstrative outbursts, but 
 knowing the wish of their rulers to be 
 looked upon as comrades, they restrain their 
 feelings as much as a Norwegian royalist 
 can from a loud royal "Hurrah!" 
 
Queen Maud and Croivnprince Olav on Ski. 
 
DEC 16 
 
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