THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES GIFT OF Mr. Lloyd ^. :..ith Racine, Wisconsin c THE N/ERODAL A Norwegian Ramble Among the Fjords, Fjelds, Mountains and Glaciers By One of the Ramblers (J. Bishop Putnam) G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS NEW YORK AND LONDON Gbe fmicfterbocfcer press 1906 COPYRIGHT, 1904 BY G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS Published, April, 1904 Reprinted, January, 1906 Itnicfeerbocbcr press, Hew ffotl TO MY OLD FRIEND C. J. O. IN MEMORY OF MANY HAPPY CANADIAN DAYS 2216538 PREFATORY THE writer does not, for a moment, flatter himself that there is " a long felt want " for this little book, neither is he entirely oblivi- ous to the existence of many excellent and most readable volumes on Scandinavia. If, perchance, there may be any place for this little sketch, it will not be in competition with other works on Norway, for there are many such possessing a scope and a completeness for which these few pages can lay no possible claim. The purpose of this monograph if, per- chance, it have any definite purpose is in its endeavor to suggest to some of our coun- trymen who appreciate natural scenery, and whose vacations are primarily designed for rest, the many attractions offered by Norway. The route described is but a personal expe- rience, and it covers but a very small section M Prefatory of this wonderfully picturesque land. There are innumerable other routes offering equal, perhaps superior, advantages to the traveller. The majority of Americans who visit Scan- dinavia have as their aim a view of the phenomenon of the Midnight Sun and this necessitates a long sea journey, which, un- fortunately, does not always end successfully. Such travellers are apt to fail to see the strik- ing beauties of ijord, fjeld, and mountain of southwestern Norway. To him who possesses a true enthusiasm for nature in its grandeur, to the weary business man seeking for mental rest and recreation amid new surroundings, the journey across the country of the Vikings offers extraordinary attractions. Such a traveller may here find the grandest of snow-covered mountains from which tum- ble innumerable waterfalls of striking beauty, the most charming stretches of ijords or inland seas, the wildest and most desolate of fjelds, a wealth of color which in its intense brilliancy Prefatory can scarcely be matched in any other part of the world, a kindly-hearted, hospitable, and supremely honest people, and the worst cigars in the world 1 [Ytt] List of Illustrations PAGR THE N/ERODAL . . Frontispiece A VALLEY ROAD 36 A STOLKJ/ERE ..... 40 AN ATTRACTIVE POOL .... 46 THE ROMSDAL VALLEY .... 54 AANDALSNyfcS 62 THE VALLEY OF DESOLATION . . .102 A GLIMPSE OF THE KJENDALSBR/E . .no ODDE 188 LOOKING TOWARDS THE GEIRANGER FJORD, 192 APPROACHING THE LOTEFOS . . . 198 THE CHURCH OF BORGUND . . . 204 THE " GAARD " AT STALHEIM . . . 210 THE SHORES OF LAKE SPIRILLEN . .216 FAGERN/ES 220 ON THE ROAD TO LOKEN 228 [xi] Contents THE START i CHRISTIANFA 16 LESJEVyRK AND ORMEIM .... 34 AANDALSN/ES AND THE ROMSDAL FJORD . 59 MOLDE TO MEROK 76 THE GEIRANGER FJORD .... 88 MEROK AND THE GEIRANGER ROAD . .100 LOEN AND THE NORD FjORD . . .148 DOWN THE COAST 164 BERGEN AND THE HARDANGER FJORD . 173 ODDE 187 ODDE TO HIDE 198 Voss TO STALHEIM 206 TO GUDVANGEN 214 LAUREDAL AND MARISTUEN 221 A Norwegian Ramble THE START WHEN the learned LL.D. was approached by the Rambler, who was spoiling for green fields and pastures new, with the query "Why not tackle Norway?" the latter was both surprised and delighted at the ready ac- ceptance of the challenge, and to this terra incognita to both it was decided to head for a brief vacation trip. There are many volumes devoted to travels in Scandinavia, but, while many Americans have visited the country, the interest of our countrymen has principally centred in the North Cape and the Midnight Sun, and the enjoyment of a journey through the inland fjord and fjelds has been, apparently, greatly neglected by most of our travellers to Europe. [I] A Norwegian Ramble Those of our countrymen who go abroad with a desire for mountains and glaciers, as a rule, turn their steps towards Switzerland, and this very largely because Switzerland is easy to reach, because it offers commodious and fashionable hotels for the comfort of visi- tors, and because Americans in going there may always depend upon meeting with a very large contingent of their own countrymen. To those looking for fashion, crowds, and "all the delicacies of the season," the region of the Alps will always doubtless offer attrac- tions not to be found in Norway, but there is a growing number of travellers who go abroad for rest and, at least for a time, to free them- selves from the demands of "the strenuous life," and to such of these who appreciate grand and wonderfully varied scenery, who perhaps may enjoy comfort but who, for a time at least, can dispense with some of the luxuries of life, for whom crowds have no at- traction, but who welcome the exhilarations of a superb climate, to these we would like to [2] The Start offer the many delights which Norway holds forth. Especially is this the case if the visit be made in August and September, when the country is at its best, when the air and the sunshine are bracing in the extreme, and, last but perhaps not least, when the great bulk of English and German tourists are conspicuous by their absence. There are many ways of reaching Norway from America, all doubtless presenting some advantages, but the most direct and, in many ways, the pleasantest route is probably that by the Scandinavian Line from New York to Christiansand or Copenhagen. The steam- ers are large and comfortable, and while not rivalling the ocean greyhounds in speed, they are in many ways most attractive, if for no other reason than that they do not carry the crowd of passengers to be found on the faster vessels of the better known and more popular lines to England and the Continent. The Doctor and the Rambler found them- selves in August in the charming city of [3] A Norwegian Ramble Copenhagen, a city which presents to the visitor much of the brightness and chic of Paris. It is beautifully situated, wonderfully neat and clean, and contains many attractive buildings, while its water-front is exception- ally fine. Few cities in the world can boast of a more charming sight, upon a Sunday afternoon in summer, than the parks, drive- ways, and walks along its superb breakwater and quays, where the people gather in their best toggery to enjoy the outlook, the music, and the boat races. At such a time it seems as though the whole population of the city must be in the open, and a brighter and more well behaved crowd, placed in more attractive environment of park and water, it would, in- deed, be hard to find. And in this connection we must not over- look the many capital orchestras to be found in Copenhagen, for we doubt whether there are many places, of its size, in all Europe offering greater attractions in this particular or any where the mass of the population is more The Start interested in, and attentive to, the best class of music. It must be acknowledged that, just at present, there exists an extraordinary rage in both Scandinavia and Holland for American "rag-time" productions, and throughout these countries this recent introduction is received with the most distinct popular enthusiasm. But this is merely a side issue at the more popular concerts, and it must not be taken as a gauge of the musical taste of the people. Further, it must be acknowledged that many of the orchestras really impart an extraor- dinary vim and freshness to certain airs and jingles which have become very trite and worn threadbare on our side of the Atlantic. Having engaged our berth in the sleeper for Christiania, we started at nine in the evening, but not until it had been once more impressed upon us that ' ' extra baggage " (and it takes very little to reach the "extra " point) is an expensive luxury when travelling in any part of this coun- try. The Doctor prided himself on having re- duced his impedimenta to the minimum point, [5] A Norwegian Ramble and he showed but little Christian charity for the idiosyncrasies of his chum, who, in addition to a very limited supply of personal raiment, was staggering under a goodly weight of pho- tographic paraphernalia, to say nothing of tog- gery appertaining to the gentle art of fishing. But having accomplished the necessary fee- ing of porters, we found ourselves very com- fortably placed in a compartment sleeping-car whose arrangement was, in many ways, a vast improvement over our regular Pullmans. We had adjoining compartments, with a door opening between, and with the bed made "athwart ship" instead of "fore and aft. " While these arrangements are extremely attractive in many ways, at a cost of but $1.25 for each compartment, it must be acknow- ledged that the rolling stock on these railroads is by no means up to our standard, and the cars or carriages are so light in their construc- tion as to produce much noise and shaking when the train is in motion, and this is not conducive either to rest or conversation. [6] The Start In composing himself for the night the Rambler was confronted with a most pleasant reminder of the care for the comfort of the pas- senger exercised by the Scandinavian officials. Directly facing him was a sign with the le- gend "Nod Broms"in large letters. These words were the last remembrance of the eve- ning recalled by the passenger, and he kept repeating them over and over again until sleep interfered, for it was quite clear, even without any linguistic capacity, that these words meant "pleasant dreams." Nothing, indeed, could have proved more efficacious towards this end, and notwith- standing a certain realization that, during the night, there had been a good deal of noise, the Rambler awoke to acknowledge that he had been favored with a capital eight hours' rest. It was therefore a trifle aggravating nay, unchristian for the Doctor to instruct him in the morning that "Nod Broms" merely indicated the position of the brakes! At 7.30, the Doctor suddenly started up, as [7] A Norwegian Ramble we stopped at a little station, and decided, in some inscrutable manner, that this must be the place for coffee. No one exists who can give points to the learned gentleman in a lead for coffee, and the Rambler had discovered, after a very short experience, that his material happiness, if not his very life, depended upon the strictest following of the Doctor's instruc- tions in any matter pertaining to eating or drinking. So we rushed into the cafe, to find an excellent cup of coffee, which was expected to stay our appetites until breakfast at 9.30. But when this hour arrived we were indeed in a state where all conversation had stopped, and where collapse was imminent, and when we pulled up at the restaurant station and realized that we had half an hour for the im- portant function of breakfast, we both went to the attack with a grim determination to do or die for our country. It was our first experience of a railroad restaurant of this description, and we found it very interesting and instructive. As we en- [8] The Start tered the pleasant little room, expecting to find waiters to attend to our wants, we were surprised to note the total absence of a single individual of this description. However, the apartment was not empty as far as the good things of life are concerned, for a long table, down the centre of the room, fairly groaned with the weight of all manner of food and drink, both piping hot and cold. Fish, steak, chicken, partridge, potatoes, bread, butter, cheese of many varieties, tea, coffee, and beer were spread out before us in a seductive dis- play. The Doctor, on all such occasions, shows the results of a liberal education and a keen appreciation of what is going on around him, and his chum watched his methods and followed suit with great care. Seizing a plate, a knife, and fork, each trav- eller makes the tour of the table and fills his plate with such viands, and to such amount, as may meet his requirements, and the view of twenty or thirty people, all inspired by a com- mon purpose, and with intense earnestness [9] A Norwegian Ramble selecting and spearing their breakfast in this style is, at the first experience, comical in the extreme. As the individual plate is heaped up with the required condiments, it is placed on a little side table, and its owner rushes, with continued earnestness, to the other side of the room, where he helps himself to a cup of coffee or chocolate, which he carries off as an accompaniment to the provender already captured. The strenuousness upon the faces of the travellers as they thus forage for their breakfasts, and their zeal and earnestness at meals is one of the interesting peculiarities of the Scandinavian. It is not at all like the rush and excitement of an American "quick lunch," where it is incumbent upon the traveller to bolt the maximum amount of food in the minimum of time. On the contrary, the Swede or Norwegian never hastens the eat- ing part of his repast, but before he begins his meal he studies the lay of the land with the deepest solicitude depicted upon his coun- tenance, and he makes his selections (and [10] The Start they are liberal ones) with a close and keen appreciation of the importance of the occa- sion. Then he proceeds to consume his quarry leisurely and sedately, and without any show of fuss or bustle. When each passenger has thus effectively breakfasted on dishes cooked in the most ap- petizing manner, he steps up to a desk and settles his bill, amounting in our currency to the sum of thirty-five cents. The Doctor looked even more than usually contented upon our return to the train. "Did you have some of that apple butter and stewed prunes?" he asked. The Rambler, who had taken extraordinary pains to do his whole duty by everything in sight, was chagrined to ac- knowledge that he had failed in this particular, and he was chided by his chum, who said that the dish in question was food for the gods, and that it was simply a sacrilege to fail to take advantage of such opportunities. The truth is that one of the surprises that comes to even the most abstemious of travellers A Norwegian Ramble in Scandinavia, is the rapidity with which an unusual interest is developed in his food, and there is no question which so often agitates his mind as that material one of where he is to secure his next meal. So it was with no little satisfaction that we received a visit from the conductor about noon, who asked us if he should order lunch for us at the next station. The Doctor, with his most profound bow, conveyed to our visitor in the choicest Norsk that it was our earnest intention to secure the benefit of everything on the route in the line of food, and a half-hour later, as we stopped for a few minutes at a little station, an im- posing and finely uniformed official entered our compartment and handed us two covered tin boxes. Opening them, with great prompt- ness, and examining the contents, we found four fresh and most appetizing looking sand- wiches, of salmon, sardine, lamb, and cheese, a bottle of beer and a corkscrew for the same, a small bottle of gin (apparently of universal need for a Scandinavian lunch), and a glass, [12] The Start the whole being very neatly and attractively put up, and just filling the capacity of the box. This proved eminently satisfactory and, with the exception of the gin, which we found a little too foreign for our palates, we soon emptied our hampers, and the Doctor again began to cogitate as to whether we would reach Christiania in time for dinner. It has already been suggested that this gen- tleman possesses a marked linguistic ability which, unfortunately, is not shared by his chum. It had therefore been mutually agreed between the twain that the former should act as general conductor and financier of the ex- pedition. The Rambler felt it a distinct diplo- matic triumph when he had freed himself from all responsibility, and thus occupied a position to enjoy whatsoever life had to offer without the mental strain of hotel bills and pourboires. It was perhaps a little unchristian and not al- together fair for him to secretly enjoy a little episode which occurred a few minutes later. A truly magnificent official, looking like the [18] A Norwegian Ramble admiral of the fleet, appeared, and, making a profound bow, said a few words to the Doc- tor. The latter, of course clearly compre- hending the statement, and never to be outdone in politeness, rivalled our visitor in the profundity of his bow and, pointing to the two empty boxes, indicated, in choice Swedish, that the lunch had proven very acceptable and that the boxes were now empty and at the service of the commissary department of the road. This did not appear to entirely sat- isfy our visitor, who, with some dignity, tried to impress upon us that he was not a lunch- man but that he was an official of another order, and it was not until the lapse of some minutes in this opera bouffe performance that we realized our unconscious insult to the Swedish Government, as the gentleman was none other than a customs inspector who had called to assure himself that we were not smugglers! If the Doctor felt any embarrass- ment at the situation he has so developed himself in diplomacy that he failed to show it, The Start and, with an expression as though he had always known the circumstances, he pro- ceded to open his valise for investigation. For some hours we passed through a fine rolling and prosperous-looking section of Swedish farming country, the harvest of grain fully employing its entire population of men, women, and children, the first, if we could judge by a superficial view, apparently doing more than their full share of resting, while the balance of the family were busily and picturesquely engaged, with sickle and rake. At 3 P. M. we pulled into the station at Christiania, where our luggage received a pro forma examination by the Custom-house of- ficials, and we were soon comfortably estab- lished at an excellent, though perhaps unduly pretentious hotel. [15] II CHRISTIANIA THE capital of Norway is finely situated, with an excellent harbor, sea wall, and quays. It is a bright and, in many ways, a very attractive city, but withal somewhat modern in its effect, and coming, as we had, direct from the charms of Copenhagen, we were doubtless less impressed by its beauty than would otherwise have been the case. Assur- edly the general effect of the town on a bright summer afternoon, when the entire population of the capital is apparently out on the streets and promenades, is very bright and attractive. Through the main street, Karl Johans Gade, this crowd surges to and fro, turning into the pretty little park where the band is playing, and at the end of this avenue the visitor sees, over the heads of the crowd, the palace stand- ing on a considerable eminence, and present- Lie] Christiania ing quite an imposing appearance. The scene is almost lively if one may use such an expres- sion in connection with these dignified and extremely quiet Scandinavians. What is perhaps the most marked pecu- liarity noted by the visitor in watching these people, is their extraordinary and quite over- whelming politeness as shown by the hat- lifting of the entire male population. This, it seemed to us, is carried to an extent never before witnessed by us in any other land. Apparently a man may meet an acquaintance a dozen times a day, and yet it is strictly in order that, each and every time, he must en- tirely lift his hat from his head in passing. And it will not answer to make this acknowl- edgement by merely touching the hat, for, to be in good form, one must accompany the act with a profound bow. This habit, which has many attractive features, pertains to all stations in life, and is as much practised by the shop keeper and mechanic as by the so- called "400," if such exist in Norway. When [17] A Norwegian Ramble a customer enters a shop he is expected be he not a foreign barbarian to make a pro- found bow and to remove his '"head-gear" entirely while making his purchases, while this "hat act" on the part of porters and door boys in hotels becomes, in its acknowledg- ment, somewhat wearing upon the elbow of the visitor. There are two classes who are excepted from this rule the police and the military, and these always salute with great care and pre- cision, but never lift their hats even to a lady. When a visitor approaches a gen-d'arme to ask for information he invariably touches his hat before addressing the officer, and the latter quickly comes to "attention " and salutes be- fore replying to the inquiry. This habit of hat- lifting certainly presents admirable features, but the visitor is nevertheless impressed by the tremendous amount of wasted energy which is thus lost in this polite land, and it would seem as though such force properly conserved might produce a power of no little magnitude. [18] Christiania The police of both Norway and Sweden present a very attractive and military appear- ance. The men are evidently selected with great care for their size and soldierly appear- ance, and the result is a really extremely fine looking body. They are armed with short swords, and as they always walk on their beats in the middle ot the street, they are in evidence even at a distance and they can see and be seen when wanted. We hoped against hope that we might be treated to a first-class row of some kind so that we could see their method of using their weapons, but this satis- faction was denied us. Failing this, it was our good fortune to be present, at their arrival from Stockholm, of the King and Queen, when the whole police force was on duty to keep the way clear. The crowd, while large, was of a most orderly nature, but it seemed to an outsider as though the enthusiasm for the sovereign was of the most moderate and per- functory description. Another somewhat different experience was A Norwegian Ramble the arrival, by steamer, of a large party of Cook's tourists, who landed on the quay and were met by a score of barouches, presided over by jehus in white gloves, and the most magnificent of uniforms and hats. Not until all the mourners were properly seated did this funereal-looking procession start on its journey of personally conducted sightseeing, and the cortege wound its dreary way through the streets, stopping, ever and anon, until the conductor could pass from carriage to carriage and recite his monologue for the benefit of the occupants. We devoutly hoped that this was the last of such processions for the season, and happily our prayer was granted. One day in Christiania sufficed to lay out the itinerary of our trip, and early the follow- ing morning we were packed and ready to start upon our northern journey. But we had decided to leave behind us all our impedi- menta not absolutely required during the next six weeks, and we therefore "got under way " with the minimum amount of baggage, [20] Christiania although the Doctor pointed out that the avoirdupois of his chum's belongings was far in excess of his own baggage. The fact is that the learned gentleman looks with scant favor upon such insanities or inanities as either photography or fishing, and the Rambler, perhaps unhappily addicted to both these offences, did not, at the time, summon up courage to confess the number of pounds these represented in the bulk of his belongings. We took tickets for Otta, the terminus of the road running to the northwest, and we found ourselves seated in an extremely comfortable roker or smoking compartment which we had to ourselves during the entire journey. We were impressed by the fact that although we had been compelled to check two pieces of baggage no charge was made for this. The train service was certainly excellent, the day superb, and as we began to realize shortly after leaving Christiania that we were on a marked upward grade, and that our course for the next few days was to be con- [21] A Norwegian Ramble tinually rising, our spirits followed suit and we settled ourselves to the constantly chang- ing view and our cigars, with great enjoy- ment and buoyancy of spirit. At Eidsvold, forty miles from Christiania, we reached Lake Mjosen, the largest lake in Norway, being about sixty miles long. The farming country throughout this section is very picturesque and charming, and here, for the first time, we saw the Norwegian method of making hay. This was the second crop of grass and it was certainly not over four inches in height. Being so short and so light, nothing but the sharpest possible scythe can be used in cutting it, and even the smallest stones must be cleared off the field by con- stant picking. Now when the grass is cut in this wet climate, it cannot be cured in the ordinary way on the ground, but, instead of this, it is hung upon hurdles distributed over the field. These hurdles are about five feet high and every spear of grass being most carefully raked up, this is hung on the hurdles [22] Christiania by the women and children that it may get the full drying benefit of the sun and wind. Indeed the economy exercised in preserving every handful of the crop is quite marvellous to any one accustomed to the waste of our farming methods, and the meadows, when cut and raked, are as clean and neat as the best kept lawn, while the many long lines of grass-covered fences, arranged at various angles throughout the fields, remind one of regiments of infantry, in company front, ready to charge at word of command. The construction of the railroad along many of the precipitous banks bordering the lake seemed to us as being extremely fine, while the striking cloud effects over the lake and upon the distant mountains beyond, added im- mensely to the charm of the scene. But still, as has been our custom, we were more than ready for our breakfast, which was somewhat later than we considered at all orthodox, and when we reached Hamar our zealous attention to the requirements of the [28] A Norwegian Ramble hour showed distinctly that we were already beginning to accustom ourselves to the man- ners and customs of the land through which we were travelling. Here also, as a bonne bouche, we invested, to the extent of three ore, in a paper bag filled with cherries which, on the top, looked extremely fine. But, re- membering experiences in our own favored land, we took pains, after the train had started, to turn out the contents, and we were as surprised as pleased to find the fruit at the bottom of the cornucopia quite as good as that on top. It was our first taste of minor Norwegian honesty, of which more will be said later, but it was one of those things, trifling in themselves, which gave us a very pleasant impression of the common people, an impression which was more than borne out by subsequent experience. We reached Otta, the railroad terminus, at 4 P. M., and while we had no fault to find with this method of travel in Norway, it was no little satisfaction to realize that, for the [24] Christiania next few weeks, we should see no more rail- roads nor hear the whistle of the locomotive, and that our movements would not be cir- cumscribed by any hard-and-fast time-table. We welcomed Otta, therefore, with a school- boy's enthusiasm for a holiday, and with the liveliest of anticipations in regard to our new mode of travel. And the little place is delightfully situated for just such a start as we were proposing to make, consisting, as it does, of but a couple of small hotels and a dozen scattered houses presenting a singularly peaceful and inoffen- sive appearance for a railroad centre. The valley itself looked charmingly on this bright August afternoon. Shut in to the north, east, and west by hills of no mean size, it stretched away to the south, ever widening, the rail- road winding through it, from side to side, in search of the place of least resistance. Look- ing to the northwest, the direction in which we were bound, we saw that the valley rap- idly contracted at its upper end, while the [25] A Norwegian Ramble mountains became much higher and more rugged, indeed, far off to the north we could see a snow-capped peak as a cloud lifted from the top of the mountain. A jolly and active little stream ran through the centre of the valley, and along the banks of this, the farming folk were busily engaged in the har- vest, which, because of much rain, had been greatly delayed. We were soon at the inn, but a few steps from the station, and waiting for the an- nouncement of dinner. In a wonderfully short space of time this was ready for us, and we enjoyed greatly the excellent meal, and not less the capital cup of coffee served after it, in the little garden at the rear of the hotel. After our cigars it was nearly six o'clock, and we were quite ready to be introduced to our stolkjaere and start on our evening drive of twelve miles. This trap had been ordered for six o'clock, and precisely at the hour it appeared, and our luggage was taken out to be stowed in this [26] Christiania unique and most convenient of vehicles. The stolkjcere is a two-wheel pony cart, the body of which is hung very high, with a commo- dious seat for two passengers. Back of this, on a little perch it can scarcely be called a seat and with his feet hanging " overboard," so to speak, sits the driver or skydgut, Under the seat, and piled up around the driver, is the luggage, while, beneath the floor of the vehicle, is carried a large bundle of hay and a bag of oats for the pony. The "motive power" itself is hitched to the shafts, but instead of having these sup- ported by a saddle in the ordinary way, the weight of the load is borne by two metal plates on either side of the backbone of the horse, and these supports seem to serve every purpose for which they are intended, and they certainly do away with the danger of galling the animal's backbone, an accident which is often to be expected in the use of two-wheel vehicles when the regular saddle is employed. Neither is there any breeching [27] A Norwegian Ramble used in the harness, and in this respect the method pursued should be entirely satisfactory to the old lady who always "trusted in Providence until the breeching broke." The weight of the load on a down grade is also borne by these saddle plates, and the ponies themselves being intelligent and sure-footed in the extreme, stumbling on their part is very rare, even on the most lively trot down hill. At length our luggage was carefully stowed and we were glad to realize that we had lim- ited ourselves in its bulk, for it is doubtful if another ten pounds could possibly have found an abiding place. Our hotel score having been settled, we were ready to start, the Doctor, who attended to all these trouble- some financial transactions, coming out of the house just as his chum had completed his inspection of the stowage of our belongings. Now, the learned section of our expedition implicitly believes that it is incumbent upon travellers in a strange land to accommodate themselves to the customs of the country, and [2S] Christiania the Doctor was impressed with the importance of cordial politeness to all those with whom he might come in contact. So, to the astonish- ment of the Rambler, who had evidently failed in a proper appreciation of the circum- stances, he marched up to the skud, and, raising his hat, proceeded to shake hands in the most effusive way with our driver. The latter, somewhat taken aback by the warmth of the greeting, doubtless credited the ex- treme politeness of the staid and always digni- fied Doctor to our excellent dinner and capital bottle of burgundy, while his chum, in his choicest Scandinavian, ventured to point out that the act was only "an evidence of good faith, and was not necessarily for publication." Comfortably seated in the stolhjcere, and waving adieux to the Boniface of Otta, we started off in the best of spirits, and quite ready to appreciate the many delights of road travelling in Norway. If properly stowed, the weight carried on these stolhjceres is so ad- justed as to make the riding absolutely easy ; a [29] A Norwegian Ramble wide seat and a high back, just at the right angle, renders the position of the traveller most comfortable, while a substantial leather apron is provided which is very effective in the cool of the evening, and is also a protection against any but the heaviest rain. For those who crave greater safety, covered carriages are pro- vided, but these require a pair of horses, and as the driver sits in front of his passengers, his body greatly interferes with the satisfactory outlook of the traveller, the marked ad- vantage of the stolkjcere being in its passen- gers uninterrupted view of country ahead and at either side of the road. It is quite easy to realize that upon a New England country road the wear and tear of a two-wheel vehicle of this description might be somewhat fatiguing, to say the least, but, hap- pily, Norway, with great justice, prides herself upon making, and keeping in superb order, the finest stretches of roadways in the world. In all of our several hundred miles of such highway travel, on the level, or on the steep- [80] Christiania est grades ever permitted by the road engineers in this country, and on the highest mountain ranges, everywhere the same rule exists of a perfectly even grade, a wonderfully smooth surface, and the absence of even the smallest stone to jar the passenger. A very few miles was sufficient to impress this upon us, and many leagues of travel later but served to con- firm our first impressions. And what a delight was this, our first eve- ning drive! We started in a light sprinkle of rain which is perhaps almost a daily experi- ence even at this season in Norway but this was followed so quickly by the most brilliant of sunshine that it seemed almost an advan- tage in making us more appreciative of the evening beauty. Our road began to ascend almost immediately upon leaving Otta and it wound up the ever-narrowing valley, now on the right and then on the left of the little river which flowed a most irregular course through its centre, and which became more and more energetic as we proceeded. [81] A Norwegian Ramble What interested us at once was the superb character of the road building, already referred to, but which is entitled to a little fuller de- scription. Not only is the surface of all the main highways as perfect as the best park roadways in our country, but, for the security of travellers, stones, three or four feet high, are always placed on the outer edge of every road except such as run through an abso- lutely level valley. While it is true therefore that, through many of the high mountain dis- tricts, the driveway is very narrow for passing teams, and is full of the most troublesome but picturesque twists and turns, the outside edge, often hanging over a precipice of many hundred feet, is so thoroughly protected that accidents are almost impossible. Over this road, and with the mountains on either hand increasing in size and boldness, as we progressed from mile to mile, and with the beauties of the August evening growing more and more striking as the sun went down in the west, we reached Laurgaard, the first, too [32] Christiania short, stage of our journey, finding there a comfortable inn which happily harbored no guests but ourselves. Daylight being still bright, after our supper, we enjoyed a capital walk, and it was long after nine o'clock before it became too dark for tramping, and then we were quite ready to take advantage of the very comfortable sleeping quarters provided. [88] Ill LESJEWERK AND ORMEIM THE Doctor is a good deal of a philosopher and he is ready to accept, in a thor- oughly becoming and appreciative manner, what the gods provide for the traveller. Nevertheless he possesses quite distinct views on all matters pertaining to the amenities of life, and he fully believes it his duty to en- deavor to improve upon existing methods if these seem, in any particular, imperfect. It is not that he is a reformer altogether, for he considers such as having a tendency to be- come somewhat obnoxious by reason of aggressive methods. He cannot however justify a failure to exercise his responsibility in life when, by a little firm but kindly precept, he finds himself able to point out to the natives certain errors of their ways. Now one of his particular aversions is a cold coffee [84] Lesjevaerk and Ormeim cup at his morning's meal, and he insists, with kindly but strenuous emphasis, that none but those in outer darkness, and with more or less depravity, will be satisfied with such barbaric conditions. So at our breakfast he handed his cup to the waitress and informed her in his choicest Norwegian, and with his most courteous smile, that he wanted hot water put into that cup and permitted to stand there until the vessel was well warmed. The maiden took the cup and, with an expression of marked and winning intelligence, brought it back filled with piping hot coffee. This was or- dered turned out and the lesson repeated slowly, resulting in the cup being brought back half filled with hot water. Delighted with the success of his efforts the Doctor told the somewhat bewildered waitress to turn this out and fill the cup with coffee, this re- sulting in coffee being added to the partially cooled water, a condition of things which in a less resolute man would have produced [35] A Norwegian Ramble despair. Not so with the Doctor. He per- sisted, most gallantly, until he had accom- plished his purpose and he then sipped his coffee with the relish of conscious rectitude the balance of his breakfast in the meantime having become cold. This educational method was pursued throughout our entire trip, with many comical variations, but there is a rumor that many buxom Norwegian waitresses have recently gone mad. We had thirty-six miles to cover to Les- jevaerk, our next-stopping place, and our breakfast had been served, as requested, at seven o'clock. It was an exquisite morning, clear and with brilliant sunshine, but with a bracing snap to the air which made life seem really worth while and exercise distinctly in order. So, leaving our stolkjcere to follow us, we started ahead to view some rapids three miles farther up the road. But a few words are in order about this method of travelling. The rate of payment per kilometre is fixed by government regula- [36] Lesjevaerk and Ormeim tion, but if the distance between two points is twenty kilometres you pay for this number going down-hill or on the level. If however your course between these two points is up- hill you are expected to pay for thirty kilo- metres. But this is always specified at the posting inns so that there need be no shadow of a dispute, and, as noted elsewhere, never in our whole trip was there any question as to the amount properly due. Of course a pourboire is in order when your skud reaches the end of his section of your journey, but this is but a trifle and it is, apparently, always re- ceived with appreciation and a shake of the hand. Further, the traveller has nothing to do with the "baiting" of either horse or man when he stops, and no charge is made for this in your reckoning, a condition of things which greatly simplifies the settlements of the journey. The three miles' walk was invigorating in the extreme and we had a fine oppor- tunity to watch the rushing torrent of the [87] A Norwegian Ramble river before the stolkjcere reached us. The stream at this point is crossed by a bridge over which the road passes, and this bridge, as is almost universally the case in Norway, is constructed in the most thorough and picturesque manner of roughly hewn stone, its two arches, through which the wild tor- rent plunges, being of beautiful proportions. Here we noticed that the stream over which a bridge passes is always named, and this name is duly recorded on a tablet on the bridge. This custom is universal and even the most trifling of rivers is honored by these tablets, which are neatly and durably constructed of metal. Then another feature of these highways, showing the system put into their mainte- nance, impressed us greatly. Every few rods on the road, but greatly varying in their dis- tance apart, are placed high stones on end looking not unlike headstones in an old country churchyard. Upon these are clearly painted the name of the farmer in charge of [88] Lesjevserk and Ormeim this particular section and the exact length of the highway under his care. We found that, apparently, this responsibility does not rest alone with the owner of the property im- mediately adjacent to the highway, but that it is adjusted so that all farmers bear their share of work in proportion to the size of their holdings. This apportionment must certainly require no slight amount of careful calculation, but, however done, the result is, at least from the traveller's standpoint, all that could possibly be desired. Whether this method would be equally satisfactory if pursued in New York State or in Connecticut may certainly be questioned. We were still steadily rising mile by mile and the valley became narrower as we pro- gressed, while the mountains on either side gained in height, many of them being snow capped. The farms became smaller and more irregular, and the little fields sloped more and more until they reached an angle which seemed about forty-five degrees. One man was [89] A Norwegian Ramble ploughing for his winter grain and we noted, with much interest, his method of overcoming the difficulties due to the angular peculiarities of his little plot. To run a furrow directly up- hill was more than his team could accomplish; to turn the sod up-hill was also out of the question. The only way in which the work could be managed was to plough in one direc- tion only and return at the end of each furrow to his starting-point. This would seem a wondrous slow method in a country where time was of any object, and one could not but speculate whether the soil of a field thus treated for a few years must not, eventually, reach the bottom of the hill, leaving the up- per part entirely bare. There are post houses situated on these roads about every ten miles, and when journeying all day it is the invariable custom to bait once in the morning for twenty min- utes, then two hours' rest is taken at midday, while another twenty minutes' feed is given to the horse in the middle of the afternoon. [40] Lesjevaerk and Ormeim It is this considerate care of the welfare of the animal which renders possible the accom- plishing of so many miles of travel, day after day, with the same pony. These breaks of twenty minutes in travel are by no means un- pleasant, as they offer us a capital opportunity for a walk ahead, the stolkjcere overtaking us a mile or two farther on. The section through which we are pass- ing, the great Romsdal Valley, becomes wilder and more impressive in its surround- ings as we proceed, and while one is almost overwhelmed by the grandeur around him, the traveller can scarcely fail of a feeling of oppression at the hardness of nature and the extraordinary difficulties under which the poor inhabitants labor in wringing from the soil a bare existence. How they manage, from these trifling patches of barley, oats, and po- tatoes, to keep body and soul together is past comprehension, neither is it easily understood how these little plots of meadow, even under the wonderful care exercised in cutting and [41] A Norwegian Ramble harvesting every blade of grass, can furnish food for the cattle which must be cared for during the long winter months. But the zeal shown in securing enough fodder is admirable in many ways, albeit somewhat pathetic. Not only, as already stated, is every square yard of ground capable of producing grass mown twice during the season, and infinite care taken in curing the crop, but everything else that can possibly be used for fodder is saved with scrupulous economy. Thus the ash trees are shorn of all their lower leaves and branches, and as though this were not meretricious enough, the potato tops, when they reach their full growth, are also cut, and both these and the ash leaves are dried upon the hurdles in the same manner as the grass. Now the poverty which leads to such a course as this cannot but fill the mind of a foreign farmer with sadness, and recall the jingle of childhood, " Oh, potatoes they are small, over there, And they eats them tops and all, over there." [42] Lesjevaerk and Ormeim Certainly the size of the tubers in a soil which ought to produce a good crop is ridiculously small, and this is clearly due, first to the practice of using the seed over and over again in the same land, then to invariably selecting the smallest potatoes for planting, and finally, to add insult to injury, to the suicidal pro- cedure of cutting off the tops of the plants just at a time when the nutriment in these would naturally go to the enlargement of the tubers. One man whom we met had an ex- traordinary fine crop of large potatoes. In- terested in learning his method we found that he had been to America three times, that he brought new seed from there, and that, ac- cording to his own version, he "wasn't such a fool as to cut off the tops before the potatoes were fully grown." But the Doctor is not of an agricultural turn of mind, greatly preferring the study of hu- man nature to the investigation of crop meth- ods. His special and laudable interest just at present is to supply the children whom we [48] A Norwegian Ramble pass upon the road with chocolate, a plentiful stock of which he has, apparently, at his command. So, when we come to a group of youngsters, our chariot is stopped and he beckons to the best looking of the lot to draw nigh. Then the Doctor presents the child with a handful of "sweets," which she re- ceives in her right hand with dignified enthu- siasm, while the left, after dropping a pretty curtsey, she presents to her benefactor, somewhat to the latter's discomfiture, for the gentleman by no means takes kindly to a dirty paw. However, these children, though certainly brought up without any of the amenities of life, are assuredly very good-looking. Such bright and healthy complexions, such blue eyes and flaxen hair, and such sturdy and well-fed bodies are all constant surprises to us when we consider the poverty of their surroundings. The girls are often ex- ceedingly pretty, but they marry young, apparently have large families, and their [44] Lesjevaerk and Ormeim domestic cares, added to their full share of work in the fields, soon show their effects, and a good-looking woman of thirty seems to be a scarce individual throughout this agri- cultural district. We had taken somewhat more than the usual time for dinner, and we did not there- fore arrive at Lesjevaerk until quite late in the afternoon, our road having been an ascending one nearly the entire distance. This little hamlet is beautifully situated on the shores of Lesjeskogen-Vand, a picturesque and very irregular sheet of water seven miles in length. The log house or inn was occupied by two young Englishmen who were tramping and fishing through the country, and, contrary to our general experience with such gentlemen, they were exceedingly courteous to fellow- travellers. We were now at an elevation of two thou- sand feet and the mountains surrounding us were nearly all covered with snow, while the brilliant morning sunshine produced some [45] A Norwegian Ramble exquisite effects on hill and dale, the spark- ling waters of the lake, in which there were said to be trout of large size, presenting a very seductive appearance to a fisherman. After breakfast, our fellow-travellers not hav- ing appeared, the Rambler decided to try his luck and endeavor to persuade the trout of the marked virtues of the American "Par- machene Belle." He decided that this scheme should be carried out diplomatically so as to save any embarrassment, for there are two idiosyncrasies and only two with which the Doctor lacks that patience which always becomes the philosopher. One is the fad of fishing, the other that of photography. Now, realizing that his chum was addicted to both these evidences of a disordered mind, he might very properly have made unpleasant remarks as to the Rambler's intellectual deficiencies. But it is not the Doctor's way to hurt any- body's feelings by unkind remarks. Instead of this, when he sees signs of either rod or camera "going into commission " he assumes [46] Lesjevaerk and Ormeim a benign and pitying smile, which, to his fellow-traveller, is embarrassing in the ex- treme. To avoid this condition the latter hides both camera and rod, so that he may sneak off with them without the Doctor's knowledge that high crimes are about to be committed. The lake was but a few minutes' walk from the house, and a boy having been secured to row the boat and find the haunts of the trout, we started out on our little expedition. The morning was a superb one, brilliantly clear, with a sharp breeze blowing and a tempera- ture of not over forty-five, so that warm clothing seemed eminently in order in going out upon the lake. Just as we started, our two vigorous British cousins appeared, ap- parelled in their bath robes, and casting them aside, they plunged into the icy waters, with great apparent satisfaction, but while the fisherman admired their energy he did not feel impelled to imitate their example. The wind was so fresh that casting a fly [47] A Norwegian Ramble effectively was not easy, but we rowed among the innumerable islands, many of them of great irregularity and rocky beauty, test- ing here and there for a rise, and secured a few small fish. Indeed while these were nothing to boast of in the matter of size they possessed admirable fighting qualities, as is usually the case in these cold waters, and our morning's experience was delightful although the creel was somewhat light. After an admirable dinner we once again got under way at three o'clock bound for Ormeim, twenty-five miles distant, which we reached after a journey of four hours through a continuation of the delightful road, which had been increasing in boldness and rugged- ness ever since we left Laurgaard. This road continued to ascend for about ten miles, when we reached the divide, the lake itself having an outlet at either end, and we now began our descent to the great Romsdal Valley. After a mile or two the river at our left had greatly grown in speed and it was now rush- [48] Lesjevaerk and Ormeim ing, with tremendous and ever-increasing volume, to its discharge at the lower end of the valley. At a sharp turn in our downward road we had a superb view of the valley, which stretched out before us for two miles or more, appar- ently surrounded on three sides by superb and wonderfully irregular snow-covered moun- tains, while through its centre, twisting and turning in its effort to find the easiest route, rushed the mad foaming torrent of a river, its haste for an outlet being enhanced every little distance by the addition of innumera- ble streams which came over the sides of the mountains on either hand and fell, in many cases from a great height, into the valley below. We reached Ormeim at seven o'clock and there was still time enough for us to examine the surroundings before supper. The hotel is situated directly on the highway, the valley at this point being very narrow, with the mountains rising to a great height on either 4 [] A Norwegian Ramble side. Just below the house is the Rauma River, rushing through a rocky and most pic- turesque gorge of great boldness. Across the river and directly opposite the hotel is the beautiful Vaermofos falling several hundred feet into the Rauma in three equidistant and almost perpendicular streams. A little to the left rises, six thousand feet high, the strik- ing peak of Storhaetten, while to the right and down the valley, one can see but a short distance, so entirely shut in is it by the tre- mendous walls of rock which seemed to completely bar any exit in this direction. Altogether we voted that it would be very difficult to improve upon the wonderfully pic- turesque surroundings of the Ormeim Inn. This was the first house at which we had stopped where we had met any guests of the superior sex, and seeing that there were several ladies in the company, we made special efforts "to spruce up" and improve upon our somewhat travel-stained appear- ance. The Doctor is earnestly striving to [60] Lesjevaerk and Ormeim educate his chum to the fullest acceptance of the manners and customs of the country, and therefore upon entering the dining-room, in which the ladies were already seated, we endeavored to outdo each other in the pro- fundity of the bows made before taking our places, these salutations being so graciously acknowledged, especially by one charming young Danish lady, that the Rambler felt that his superior years justified him in ex- pecting the vacant seat next to her. But the Doctor possesses a really marvellous capacity for seeing and taking advantage of whatso- ever the gods provide, and his chum, to the latter's great chagrin, was, in some unac- countable manner distinctly "left" upon this occasion, his only satisfaction being in listen- ing to the animated conversation which the Doctor soon entered into with his neighbor. We found, later on, that the better class of Danes and Norwegians travel through this country to a very considerable extent, and they evidently take as keen a pleasure in the [51] A Norwegian Ramble scenery as do those who come from a greater distance. The Danes always appear to un- derstand a little English, and they use this with great heroism and with the laudable desire of cultivating pleasant social relations with their fellow-travellers, and this with an accent and a vocabulary that is often as charm- ing as it is odd. The lady in question, among other things, said: "I theenk you are an Aamericaan. It is always eesy to tell the deeference between the Eenglish and the Aamericaan. The Een- glish is so slow so obtoose do you call eet ? while the Aamericaan ees so bright and geenial." It was quite evident from the ap- pearance of the Doctor's back, which was turned throughout the entire meal upon his chum, that he was immensely well pleased in having usurped the place of the latter, and that he was determined to leave nothing un- done to foster this enviable reputation of his countrymen. Here we found an English Professor who [52] Lesjevserk and Ormeim had secured four miles of salmon-fishing rights on the Rauma, and like most English fish- ermen who affect this country his creed was, apparently, to turn a very cold shoulder on any stranger who might have the temerity even to look at the beauty of the many pools on the river. Why the alleged British dis- ciples of the genial Walton should so gen- erally act to strangers whom they may chance to meet like ill-mannered boors it is difficult to understand, but we think that all those who have come in contact with these fisher- men in Norway, will bear witness to their almost universal lack of those courtesies which seem in order, even though the stranger may not have been formally introduced and vouched for. It would appear as though these salmon fishermen, having leased certain rivers, con- sider the whole wide country as their " pre- serve " and they distinctly resent the intrusion of any other visitors whether native or for- eign. The Rambler thought (but denied him- self the pleasure of mentioning this to his [581 A Norwegian Ramble chum) that the remarks of our Danish friend at supper, in the hearing of the fisher- man, was designed to kill two birds with one stone. There was certainly one victim, as it was easy to perceive by the benign coun- tenance of the Doctor as he arose from the table; whether the other bird was even wounded may perhaps be doubted, for he belonged to that species which is "so ob- toose " don't you know. After a long and delightful night's rest to the music of the rapids under our window, than which to the writer no more soothing sound exists, we were once more ready for our further journey down the valley to Aan- dalsnaes, twenty-five miles distant, all the way down grade. The morning seemed to promise showers, but these light sprinkles and the bright sunshine following, alternate so rapidly in Norway as to take away any drawback to travel even in an open stolk- jcere. The lights and shades, the wonder- ful cloud effects, and the extraordinary manner [54] Lesjevaerk and Ormeim in which a dark and forbidding valley may suddenly be transformed by the brilliant sun- light, is fascinating in the extreme, and one rejoices that clouds, and even rain if must be, exist that such effects can thus be produced. We walked down this road for a mile or two, leaving our vehicle to follow, and when it caught up with us the valley had widened out in a charming manner at Flatmark, and after a short drive we again " footed it," while our skud baited his pony for twenty min- utes. Then at the foot of this valley we saw a narrow opening in the mountains ahead, not perceptible until we were very near by, and through this our road passes; and, follow- ing it, we find ourselves in a gorge or a series of strikingly rugged gorges which continue for five miles until we reach the level country and the outlet of the Raumaat Aandalsnaes. But what a five miles this was ! The scenery was not beautiful, it was too awe- inspiring, oppressive, almost depressing in its grandeur. The Vengetinder, the Trcedtinder, [55] A Norwegian Ramble and the Semletind, from fifty-five hundred to six thousand feet high, surround us, the sheer walls running in some places, on either side of the road, directly above our heads twenty- five hundred feet, while other walls come so close together for long distances as to produce a feeling on the part of the traveller of being crushed. Nature indeed seems in her sternest and most forbidding mood, very little vegeta- tion existing in these dark gorges and as though it were necessary to add to the op- pression of the surroundings, the clouds grew heavier and darker, and the rain began to fall. The road had been constructed by splendid engineering skill, and, for long stretches, it was carved out of the solid rock as the only way by which it could proceed, while below, now on the right and then on the left, as we crossed the stream over finely built cause- ways, ran the turbulent Rauma, which, greatly confined in the narrow gorge, had become a foaming rushing cataract of no mean dimen- sions. And as we thus travelled on, over our [56] Lesjevaerk and Ormeim twisting and turning road, on which we could never see for more than a few rods ahead, somewhat oppressed, it must be acknow- ledged, by the sternness of our surroundings, we met three old women, each with a heavy load of wood on her back, and each placidly and happily walking in the rain up this steep grade, busily employed in knitting. Notwith- standing their burdens they each favored us with a curtsey, and we could not but wonder in looking at their cheerful countenances, even though these indicated a somewhat hard life, whether they ever felt the depress- ing effect of the hard and rugged natural surroundings. But at last, not without a certain feeling of relief to the travellers, the narrow gorge widens, and to our right, apparently directly over our heads, is the wonderfully symmetrical dome of the Romsdal, standing five thousand feet, grim sentinel at the entrance to the valley, its peculiar top apparently as evenly formed as the dome of St. Paul's, while the [67] A Norwegian Ramble summits of its surrounding associates are of every imaginable form of irregularity. A few minutes later we get our first glimpse of the fjord, and as we do so we see our com- panion of so many miles, the turbulent Rauma, tired of the roaring noisy life in which it has seemed to be pursued by some demon of the mountain, finally lose its identity, and, with a final plunge, it sinks for repose into the calm and exquisite surface of the fjord. Now, as we come out once more into the open there appears one of those almost mir- aculous transformations over the face of na- ture with which Norway is so filled. Suddenly the rain ceases, the clouds open, and the gor- geous August sun shines forth to illuminate the snow on the mountain-tops and the brilliant green of the lower valley ; but it still cannot reach the deep black gorge through which we have come for miles, and this remains, in our memory, as an extraordinarily striking aspect of nature in her most impressive and forbid- ding mood. [58] IV AANDALSNjES AND THE ROMSDAL FJORD WE had come over one section of our journey, crossing Norway diagonally from southeast to northwest, and we were now at tidewater at the head of the beautiful Romsdal Fjord. Our stolkjcere and its driver had done their work well and they were now at the end of their route. The Doctor there- fore settled our account with the skud on what must have been an eminently satisfac- tory basis for the latter, for he was profuse in his handshake, the universal national method of expressing appreciation. The Doctor's face as they parted company showed that he felt guilty of too much liberality with our Jehu, and this he considers an extremely immoral proceeding upon the part of the traveller. It is more than likely therefore that the law [59] A Norwegian Ramble of averages will be applied in the future and if so our next driver may thus have his pour- boire injuriously affected. The hotel at Aandalsnaes is charmingly situated. It stands on quite an elevation immediately looking down upon the broad stretch of the fjord; on the left the view up the Romsdal Valley and to the Horn is strik- ing in the extreme, while at the rear of the hotel rises the grand peaks of the Troldstole and the Blaatind. The settlement itself is but a tiny one, just sufficient to justify the little steamer stopping on its way to Molde. But the weather this Sunday afternoon was not treating us with its usual consideration, the rain coming down with no little emphasis. Nevertheless, after dinner, a walk was con- sidered eminently in order before our steamer started at seven o'clock, so, donning our rubber coats, we took our way along the usual well built road at the edge of the fjord. We thus walked several miles, not without that feeling of satisfaction which comes to [60] The Romsdal Fjord the pedestrian in a rainstorm when he is properly dressed for the occasion. On the opposite side of this arm of the fjord, along which we were tramping, stretched a few attractive little farmhouses with their grass- grown roofs, while back of the fields, which ran to the water's edge, stood a range of high mountains of singularly irregular con- tour. So low were the clouds that these mountain-tops would sometimes be shut in and again clearly outlined against the dull sky. Suddenly about six o'clock, as we watched, an exceptionally heavy cloud closed in upon the range, the sun burst forth at our backs, the clouds lifted, and we saw that in those few minutes they had covered the mountain- tops with a new fall of snow which now sparkled in the sunshine with extraordinary brilliancy. All the opposite shore was sud- denly transformed by this brightness, and while to our right appeared a rainbow of marvellous color set against a dark back- [61] A Norwegian Ramble ground of evergreens, in the immediate fore- ground was the exquisitely colored water of the fjord, suddenly illuminated in a most striking manner by the rays of the sinking sun. The scene was one not easily forgotten, and in our whole trip it is doubtful whether any more remarkable picture was vouchsafed to us. But the jolly little steamer was lying at the wharf ready to start for Molde, and it was time that we, and our belongings, were on board. Now these fjord boats are one of the "institutions" of the country if one may borrow an Americanism. Extremely substantially built, after the general model of an ocean steamer, of from two hundred to four hundred tons burden, the after part is devoted to the cabin passengers, while the second-class travellers are assigned to the forward deck. For the comfort of the former there is provided a capital salon on the lower deck, and usually a number of comfortable staterooms, while upon the main deck is [62] The Romsdal Fjord arranged a room specially devoted to damen and also a comfortable smoking apartment, while above these again, in a charming po- sition to view the scenery, are placed tables and easy chairs in which one may enjoy, without hindrance, and in a leisurely manner, the delightful combination of coffee, cigars, and some of the finest scenic effects in the world. It is not however in the construc- tion of the boats alone that " the powers that be " have shown so much judgment and con- sideration for travellers, for the treatment of the latter is quite in keeping with the en- vironment. With meals whose character and service, as compared with similar conditions in America, are usually extraordinarily good, with phenomenal cleanliness everywhere, in- cluding the freshest of linen in the rooms and upon the tables, which are usually decorated day by day with attractive fresh flowers, and last, but by no means least, with every of- ficial on board, from the captain to the least member of the crew, apparently impressed [68] A Norwegian Ramble with the desire that every passenger should enjoy himself, it would indeed be strange if the appreciative traveller failed to feel a marked satisfaction in his surroundings. And indeed of the dignified and self-respect- ing courtesy and kindness which the stranger receives from all those with whom he comes in contact in this favored land it is impossible to speak in terms too high. The officials and the people whom one meets in village or country show to all strangers a courtesy and an anxiety to do all in their power for the welfare of the traveller, and this from absolute good nature and gentleness, and with- out the slightest taint of a mercenary mo- tive a hospitality in will and deed which is one of the marked characteristics of Norway, adding immensely to the enjoyment of the visitor. Another aspect of travelling which struck us in our first steamer experience, and which was more and more impressed upon us as we journeyed on, was the extraordinarily [64] The Romsdal Fjord quiet, dignified, and systematic manner in which all undue noise and excitement is elim- inated from this mode of travel, or indeed from any journeying through Norsk land. The boat was scheduled to start at seven o'clock and one minute before this time the little bell was struck slowly three times, and then jangled for a few moments. Then, without an order being given above an ordi- nary tone, and precisely at the hour named, the hawsers were cast off and, with a courte- ous and never-omitted hat-lifting from deck and wharf, we glided quietly away. This absence of fuss and of excitement may per- haps seem as a trifling matter. But it is really not so. To those weary of the end- less turmoil of our more nervous existence, tired of noise, of loud and emphatic orders and of the general "rush" to all things in American travel, there is a sincere pleasure in the deep restfulness of the methods of these people. One cannot but feel in examining what they have accomplished under adverse 5 [66] A Norwegian Ramble circumstances, that they really "get there" quite as effectively as those nationalities whose every action is accompanied by noise and excitement. This interesting peculiarity does not belong exclusively to travel by water. When the stranger reaches a landing-place, where the steamer is made fast with the same lack of loud orders as in starting, there may be three or four porters standing on the wharf in the interest of rival hotels. While the rivalry is, doubtless, quite as keen here as in New York for the "shekels," not one of these men ever calls out, raises his hand, or even addresses a passenger until spoken to. They simply stand in dignified silence until the visitor makes his selection, and then the favored porter takes off his hat with the utmost po- liteness, assumes charge of the passenger's belongings, and, with an absolutely dignified hospitality, strives to do everything in his power for the pleasure and the comfort of the guest. It is not that the rivals do not [66] The Romsdal Fjord want business, but that, according to the Norsk standard, it is not " good form " to be- come excited or to be officiously grasping in accomplishing their ends. One cannot but compare these methods with the "Keb, ker- ridge, keb, keb " at the Grand Central Station, and the comparison does not im- press the New Yorker with patriotic enthu- siasm. Immediately after starting we had an ex- cellent and well served supper, and then we went upon the upper deck to enjoy our cigars and the view. And what an evening it proved to be after the rain! We steamed out of the fjord to the northwest and the high shore on our left was soon shrouded in deep shadow. On the right, however, and behind us, rose a chain of mountains of very diversified form, many of the tops being covered with freshly fallen snow, and on this the sun shone with a wonderful brilliancy, tinting their outlines an exquisite pink against a deep blue sky. Farther down, where the [67] A Norwegian Ramble pines and fir made a darker background, this light turned to an extraordinary and beautiful purple, while the water of the fjord between us and the shore sparkled a most brilliant blue-green of a wonderful shade which we understand is met with nowhere else except in these fjords. The daylight lasted until after nine o'clock and the evening was so mild that we could sit on deck and enjoy every minute of the time while the little steamer made her two stops before striking across to Molde at the entrance to the fjord. Just as it became too dark to see ahead for any considerable dis- tance, we rounded a point and the lights of the little village twinkled out ahead of us, and at ten o'clock we were at the dock and start- ing to go ashore. Now there were three ladies on board with their escort, and this party was bound for the same hotel as ourselves. A porter from the house presented himself, or rather we ven- tured to introduce ourselves to him, but he [68] The Romsdal Fjord could produce but one carriage and of course the Doctor, true to his colors, had placed the ladies in this carriage, assuring them with much emphasis that " we " preferred to walk in which he took the liberty of a literary mind by talking in the editorial sense. " Come on, chum," he exclaimed in that philosophical and cheerful manner for which the learned gentleman is so well noted, "come on, I know the way and it isn't very far." His companion caught a slight accent on the " very," and he was moved to give vent to a piece of his mind at being forced to walk through an unknown settlement out into the country at this time of night. But, happily, he restrained his impetuosity, and we started, the Doctor leading, and the Rambler mildly following, but with wrath in his heart. We walked through phenomenally crooked streets which frequently proved nothing but cuts de sac, now up hill, then down, but always in the slimiest of mud, and after half an hour of this it began to be more and more certain [69] A Norwegian Ramble that the guide, counsellor, and friend of the expedition had entirely lost his bearings, if he ever had them, while every inhabitant of the town was evidently fast asleep. To add insult to injury, when we had thus been wan- dering until, to the Rambler, it seemed as though daylight must soon appear and help us out of our difficulties, and when said Ram- bler, fearful of overdoing the matter if he should venture to speak, therefore held his tongue in check by counting one hundred over and over again as he had been taught to do in Sunday School, when, under these conditions, the Doctor, in that cheerful but ad- monitory voice of his, said in the distance, " Educate yourself not to worry. Take things easy," then his fellow-traveller felt that his cup was full and overflowing and he had murder in his heart, which would have been put into instant execution had the author of all this trouble been within reach. Eventually, and after we had gone through every street of the village, which rests upon a side hill at an [70] The Romsdal Fjord angle of forty-five degrees, the Doctor quietly exclaimed: "Why, here's the hotel, just where I said it was." Its lights were wel- come for we had done what seemed to us our full limit of tramping in the mud and envel- oped in pitchy darkness. The hotel at Molde is a more pretentious affair than any we had so far found and it is designed to accommodate the considerable crowd of tourists which, in the season, fre- quents this coast resort. Happily for us, the season was practically over and we thus had an ample choice of comfortable rooms. We were favored the next day by another morning of exquisite sunshine, bright, clear, and cool, and we were delighted with the little town of Molde, and with its charming situation. The settlement stands upon a side hill directly facing the fjord, and, upon an elevation above and to the north of the town, is placed the hotel, the windows and balco- nies of which command a superb view over the settlement and out to sea, through many [71] A Norwegian Ramble islands on the west, while to the east lies the Fane Fjord, a few miles wide at this point- On the other side ot this stretches a fine range of snow-covered mountains of very striking form, while just below us is the brilliantly sparkling water of the fjord. Molde is said to offer to visitors one of the most salubrious climates in all Norway, and the vegetation, even at this late season, proved extremely attractive. It is the highest point to the north where fruit ripens, and we saw evidences of this in the many apple and pear trees in full fruit. One little house at the southern end of the town presented indeed a remarkable appearance, being literally cov- ered, on its sunny side, by a superb pear tree carefully trained over the wall, this tree reach- ing quite to the roof and absolutely loaded with fine pears not yet quite ripe. The season is here naturally very short, the latitude being about sixty-three degrees north, and there is, therefore, an odd uniformity in the time of ripening of the fruits, the most magnificent [72J The Romsdal Fjord strawbc. ries and cherries being found at the same time as that in which the pears and apples are almost fit to gather. The flowers were also particularly profuse and brilliant in coloring, the roses being especially fine and of a size and beauty rarely, if ever, seen in our dry American climate, ex- cept under glass. The walk through the village, and along the fjord, either to the east or west, is charming in the extreme, the road being lined with fine rows of ash, maple and birch, and many of these are of large size. But in this walk we were, for the first time, made aware of a dis- ease which appears as a great scourge even in this apparently much favored climate; for we passed the fine building of Reknes, a govern- ment institution for the care of consumptives. Another similar sanitarium stands at the far- ther end of the fjord, the air of Molde, both for plants and invalids, being considered es- pecially favorable. We learn that this dread- ful disease is very prevalent throughout this [78] A Norwegian Ramble country, especially among the poorer classes, and its spread is due in no small measure to the absence of all sanitary precautions upon the part of the peasants, and the air-tight condition in which they strive to keep their houses dur- ing the long winter months. Much commend- able energy is shown by the government in its attempt to inculcate a better appreciation of sanitary laws, but ignorance and conserva- tism are doubtless hard to overcome, and the government has established these sanitaria, in carefully selected locations, where the poor invalids may receive the best treatment pro- vided by modern science. The building in question is a fine one, sur- rounded by many wide piazzas protected by movable sash, and in these the patients may have the benefit of air and sunshine; while much taste has been exercised in the arrange- ment of the pleasant grounds filled with tents, pavilions, large trees, and bright flowers. Truly the government of Norway, with its very limited exchequer, has shown extraor- [74] The Romsdal Fjord dinary enterprise in this matter, and its work may stand very favorable comparison with that attempted by richer and more prosperous nations. V MOLDE TO MEROK WE left the delightfully situated Molde with regret, for it is certainly the brightest and most cheery spot we have thus far found in Norway, and we steamed away in the early afternoon for Vestnaes across the fjord. If we regretted our forced departure, this feeling was but enhanced as our little craft got well under way and out into the fjord, for we then realized, even more fully, the charm- ing situation and environment of this little settlement, snugly nestling on the hillside amid its rich growth of trees, shrubs, and flowers, and with its face to the south to se- cure every available ray of the short winter sunshine. It was but a run of an hour and a half by the capital little steamer across the Molde fjord to Vestnses, and we found this time very brief in our enjoyment of the sur- [76] Molde to Merok roundings, the afternoon being a glorious one. Very silently we ran up to the little dock at Vestnaes which juts out into the fjord at the foot of a long hill, no houses or humans be- ing visible in any direction. Our belongings were put ashore, the kindly captain of the steamer assuring us that somebody would, very shortly, appear to further us on our jour- ney. We have no doubt that, had the sug- gestion been made to him, he would have been quite ready to delay his departure until entirely assured of our safety and comfort. Now the Doctor is deeply opposed both by constitution and by-laws to haste and bustle of any description, and he possesses a deep- seated contempt for the habits of those de- praved Americans who want "to get there." Nevertheless, it was growing late in the after- noon and we had eighteen miles to travel, the first portion up to a considerable elevation; so it was decided that the financial member of the party should mount the hill, find the " sta- tion," and send down a stolkjcere for our [77] A Norwegian Ramble luggage, which latter, in the meantime, his chum would "stand by " to protect with his last breath, lest some of the old gray crows in the vicinity might be tempted to carry it off. This general plan of campaign entirely fitted in with the views of the Rambler, who was prepared to do or die rather than permit any harm to come to the disreputable looking "hold all" at his feet. So he lighted his pipe, and, stretched out upon a delightfully soft grassy bank, he felt a full sympathy for Weary Willie, and congratulated himself that his official duties were not so onerous as to prevent a thorough enjoyment of the scene spread out before him. It was a wonderfully quiet afternoon, the surface of the fjord being absolutely without a ripple at this point, but overhead there was a breeze, for occasional light and fleecy clouds passed before the sun and their shadows chased each other over the side of the moun- tains opposite. No sound could be heard in any direction, except that of the ever-lessen- [78] Molde to Merok ing one of the propellers of the steamer, now fast disappearing at the upper end of the fjord. Yes, there was one indication of animal life, for afar off came the lazy "caw-caw" of a crow which seemed to fit in well with the surroundings. But the extraordinary silence which is so nearly universal in travelling in Norway is one of the marked, and often not altogether attractive, features of the country. To those accustomed, in their rambles, to meet with animal and bird life, there is indeed a feeling of loneliness in the almost total absence of such in Norway. No robins or other road- side birds, no squirrels or chipmunks, not even a cricket, a toad, or a snake, did we see in our entire journey, for the country, certainly at this season of the year, is sadly deficient in these little inhabitants. It is not alone, however, the absence of ordinary wild life which so impresses one accustomed to tramp on American country roads; it is, indeed, quite as much the ex- [79] A Norwegian Ramble treme scarcity of the ordinary domestic ani- mals. Dogs are very few and far between, and the traveller finds, somewhat to his sur- prise, that he really misses what, in our land, is not infrequently decidedly more of a pest than a pleasure to the passer-by. Here a cat is a rarity, and the scarcity of both canine and feline is simply that nature forces these poor people to be economical, and while both dogs and cats may perhaps be ornamental, they can neither be considered as necessities, and any extra demand upon the larder, es- pecially in the winter months, is a serious matter. So also are pigs and poultry but little seen in going over these roads, and one really misses the occasional contented grunt of the former and still more the challenging crow of the rooster which is so generally to be heard in the rural districts throughout America. But while the Rambler was enjoying his pipe, his superficial meditations, and the ever- changing picture over the fjord, the stolhjcere [80] Molde to Merok had come down the hill at full gait, being presided over, this time, by a young lad, who was now finding no little difficulty in his efforts to stow our luggage, which indeed seemed like endeavoring to put a quart into a pint bottle. It was quite evident, much as the Rambler disliked to change his dolce far niente position for one of active labor, that some assistance must be given to the skud if we wished to get to our destination before dark. Our efforts were eventually crowned with success and we started up the hill again. But not, for the present, was riding to be indulged in, for there was a long stretch of up grade to be climbed, and over this it is, by a strict regulation of the " powers that be " in Norway, incumbent upon the passenger to walk. And that there may be no per- adventure about this there is placed at the bottom of every long hill a sign, which tells the weary traveller, with great distinctness and in four languages, that he is expected to "foot it" and thus relieve the overburdened 6 [81] A Norwegian Ramble horse of a portion of his load. It is a remark- able tribute to the intelligence and the educa- tion of the latter that any one of the languages used seems to be familiar to him, and when he reads one of these signs he invariably stops short, and no amount of persuasion or urg- ing can make him proceed on his way until his passengers have alighted. It is said and we are quite ready to believe everything of the intelligent Norwegian pony that if he has as a passenger a member of the superior sex, he will, sometimes, gallantly consent to pull her up the hill, but not without express- ing a full measure of protest in a peculiar grunt or groan to which these beasts are addicted when things fail to please them. But we have the strongest doubts whether any power could persuade a Norsk pony to pull a mere man up a long ascent. The Doctor, having despatched our vehicle down the hill, had started ahead upon his long climb, and we did not overtake him for sev- eral miles. While the elevation over which [88] Molde to Merok we were bound was not great, it is never- theless true that we were compelled to walk nearly the entire six miles until we reached the summit. There we found a long plateau, extending several miles, barren of trees and of all but the most meagre vegetation, cov- ered as far as the eye could reach with boul- ders of every conceivable size, and surrounded by high mountains, many of them showing snow-capped tops. The outlook was ex- tremely dreary, lonely, and forbidding, and it affected us with special emphasis because we had just come out of such a charming and quite luxurious little valley at the edge of the fjord. To add a further touch to the sur- roundings, it now began to rain and the wind to blow, cold and cutting, and we were glad enough to walk in order to keep warm. There was but one habitation to be seen, and as we approached this we were both im- pressed and pleased to find it a tiny refresh- ment inn standing all by itself in this desolate country. This was the proper place for the [83] A Norwegian Ramble afternoon "baiting" of twenty minutes, and while the passengers went inside and indulged in some excellent beer and crackers, our pony stuck his head into his bag of oats with a grunt of great satisfaction. The little hut in which we indulged in our mild refreshment was ex- tremely neat and clean, and the damsel who waited upon us, a fair and attractive Scandi- navian maiden; but even the satisfaction of reviving the spirits of weary humanity by supplying "cakes and ale " must be a doubt- ful compensation for being compelled to live among such dreary surroundings as those of the Orskogsfjeldet. The road stretches over this treeless and rocky fjeld for several miles and throughout this length the eye can easily follow its course so straight is it, and this is the only instance in our journeyings in which we encountered a piece of road of this char- acter. On one side of this highway long poles are set up at regular distances to guide the traveller through the winter's snow. A couple of miles beyond the little refresh- es] Molde to Merok ment hut our road began to descend, and from this point to our arrival at Soholtat eight o'clock, we travelled at so rapid a pace that, in the innumerable sharp twists and turns in the road, we could not help speculating as to the consequences if we should meet a team coming in the opposite direction in this nar- row highway. It seemed exceedingly probable that one or both loads of passengers would be rapidly deposited in the turbulent river a couple of hundred feet below us. But no such catastrophe occurred, and we arrived at our destination to find a capital hotel and a supper to which we were prepared to do the fullest possible justice. We found our host here an intelligent na- tive who spoke feelingly of the number of his countrymen who had emigrated to America, and especially to Minnesota. He said that while many of these were prosperous, the cli- mate did not seem to be altogether satisfac- tory to natives of Norway, and many of them returned as invalids. His only explanation of [85] A Norwegian Ramble this was that the Norwegians tried to live out West during the hot summer months clothed in the heavy garments they were accustomed to use at home, and that this had a very bad effect upon their health. He further men- tioned one instance, coming under his per- sonal knowledge, of the absurd workings of one of our immigration laws. It appears that three able Norwegian carpenters, whom he knew, arrived in New York considering them- selves as particularly fortunate in being prom- ised positions in the West, and when they were asked by the immigration official whether they had made any arrangements for work, they, not unnaturally, replied in the affirmative. Such a condition being contrary to the ridic- ulous provisions of the "contract labor law," these efficient men were promptly deported. Had they belonged to the races of middle Eu- rope, with perhaps a trifle in their pockets for immediate use, but without any trade or visible means of support, they would have been re- ceived without question, even though there [86] Molde to Merok might be every prospect that in a short time they would become paupers. Such is one of the beneficent laws which we owe to the su- preme wisdom of labor agitators. [87] VI THE GEIRANGER FJORD ANOTHER superb morning greeted us as we prepared to take the steamer for a ten-hour run through the Nord and Geiranger Fjords to Merok, our next stopping place. After breakfast we went on board a delight- fully comfortable little steamer on which we found but eight or ten first-class passengers, leaving us ample room for a day which we had looked forward to with lively anticipation. Every minute of the ten hours spent on board this steamer was filled with an enjoy- ment as delightful as it is difficult to describe. The Nord Fjord was our first experience of one of these wonderful waterways which have made Norway famous, and we soon realized that our expectations had been far short of the reality. Entering, almost at once upon our departure from Soholt, into scenery [88] The Geiranger Fjord of extraordinary boldness and interest, we found the shores, hour by hour, ever increas- ing in the height and striking irregularity of the mountains, until we reached, as the eve- ning shadows lengthened, the Geiranger at the head of the fjord, and we were sur- rounded by scenery so wonderful in its grandeur as to render any adequate descrip- tion impossible. It is frequently asked if the scenery of Nor- way compares favorably with that of Swit- zerland. Edward Spender has well spoken of the difficulty of making comparisons in this matter between the two countries, and it may perhaps be worth while to quote his words. He says: "There are fine mountains in Switzerland, but there is nowhere else in the world such a combination of mountain and ocean as in Norway; nowhere else in Europe does the snow-clad peak rise directly out of the sea; nowhere else will the traveller find that most distinguishing feature of Nor- way, the Fjord, guarded at its entrance by [89] A Norwegian Ramble a breakwater of islands; winding inland through forest-clad hills where the silver birch gleams amidst the sombre pines, and at whose feet lie the greenest of green pas- tures, dotted with quaint houses; forcing its way still farther through the ever-narrowing gorges, down whose sides plunge, at one leap, countless torrents fed from the great ice-fields overhead. Nowhere else in Europe is there such a country of waterfalls as this, cataracts of tremendous volume and force, far away up among the mountains, requiring perhaps a whole day's journey to reach them. Above all, nowhere are there such sunsets as in the country of which we are speaking. The memory of one night in Norway makes one feel how powerless language is to de- scribe the splendor of that evening glory of carmine and orange and indigo, which floods, not only the heavens, but the sea, and makes the waves beneath our keel a flash of living fire. Language cannot paint that wonderful mystic light, so exquisitely soft and tender, [90] The Geiranger Fjord which travels around the northern horizon from west to east, so that one cannot tell when night ends or day begins." The statement in feet of the height of the mountains does not convey at all an apprecia- tion of their effects if one thinks of their size in comparison with many of the great mountains of the world. But it must be remembered that most of these latter are situated far in- land and are themselves viewed from an elevation often considerable. The marked characteristic of this Norway scenery is that the traveller stands at sea level and looks up, four or five thousand feet, to the top of mountain after mountain rising often from the fjord a sheer wall a thousand feet in height. The extreme irregularity and bold- ness of the skyline, the innumerable inden- tations and turns of the fjord, the great depth of water which enables the steamer to run up close to the cliffs on either side, the striking effects produced by cloud shadows on moun- tain, valley, and water, and the extraordinary [91] A Norwegian Ramble beauty and brilliancy of the fjord's surface, all these combined to make the day a memor- able one. We had on board a German amateur pho- tographer who became so deeply impressed with the beauty of the views that he very soon exhausted all the plates he had in his holders. With that zeal peculiar to the Nor- wegian official, the mate had the deck freight removed from a hatch, opened this, and the photographer was lowered into the impro- vised "dark room " of the hold in order that he might " load up " some more plates. Ap- parently he must have been forgotten, for in the course of twenty minutes we heard a tremendous pounding and yelling proceed- ing from the dark hold, which finally brought about the release of the partially suffocated photographer. We made frequent stops during the day at little settlements nestled at the foot of steep but delightfully green valleys, closely shut in between mountains, and in these [98] The Geiranger Fjord cheerful intervals in the stern aspect of the country we saw, for the first time, one of the characteristic inventions of the Norwegian farmer. While, as a rule, the higher moun- tains throughout this section are so bold and rugged as to effectively forbid any thought of cultivation, there are occasional spots way up the mountainside upon which it is pos- sible to cut a few bundles of grass. These clearings are of such trifling area that, in any other country but this, the crop produced would not be considered worth the labor of harvesting. But not so in Norway, where every available square foot of ground is util- ized with the utmost economy and care. When the farmer has toiled up a thousand feet or more to these little oases in the rocky deserts, and has mowed the trifling crop of grass contained thereon, it is necessary, be- fore the hay can be cured, to find some method of getting it down the mountain to the valley below. A stout wire or cable is run from each one of these clearings to the 193] A Norwegian Ramble farms on the lower level, and on this wire, which is made very taut by the aid of a windlass, the grass, tied in bundles, and at- tached to a wheel or "traveller," is lowered to the valley below. The effect of these many lines running up the sides of the mountains in all directions is curious, and it is interest- ing to watch a bundle of grass start from the summit, at first a mere speck on the moun- tainside, growing larger in its rapid approach, and finally received at the lower end of the route by the farmer's wife, who, in this country, certainly does her full share of the harvest work. This method is not, however, confined exclusively to the hay crop, but is also used in lowering wood and the leaves of the ash- tree, the latter, as already noted, being gath- ered in the autumn in quantities, cured, and used for winter fodder. And it also not in- frequently happens that in some favored spots up the mountain a meadow may exist of sufficient size to furnish pasture for a cow [H] The Geiranger Fjord in the summer months and thus save the valley feeding for the late autumn. The cows, with no little difficulty, are driven up paths which seem almost impassable for man or beast and are left with an attendant in these spots for two months in summer, their milk being placed in cans and lowered each day in the same manner as the hay and wood. We enjoyed a capital dinner at two o'clock, after which excellent coffee was served at little tables on the upper deck, where, in comfortable chairs, we had an uninterrupted view of the scenery of the fjord, scenery which grew more and more strikingly pic- turesque as we journeyed onward. There were a few other passengers on board, among them a Norwegian Judge, his wife, and daughter, the latter a cultivated young lady who had some knowledge of English. In his zeal to study the spirit of the country through which he was passing, the Doctor de- voted himself, with commendable assiduity, to [86] A Norwegian Ramble conversation with the maiden, who received his advances with evident satisfaction, for the learned gentleman has, by no means, out- grown his influence over the superior sex, while the Rambler was forced to content himself with his pipe and the scenery, the marked tete-a-tete capacity of the Doctor making it quite evident that sometimes "three is a crowd." It is difficult to speak in moderation of this scenery, for each day and each hour opens up new visions of its beauty and grandeur, and especially in the afternoon lights one is sorely tempted to the use of extravagant ad- jectives. The sun shone brilliantly, yet it was frequently hidden for a few minutes behind light clouds whose shadow, passing over mountain and fjord, only served to en- hance the beauty of the scene. The air was wonderfully clear and sparkling, but so mild that, although we were travelling at a very fair speed, overcoats were not needed; the colors of the water, while constantly chang- [96] The Geiranger Fjord ing in tone, seemed to increase in richness and brilliancy as the fjord narrowed and the shadows grew longer, while the mountains each hour became more and more bold and impressive. Sometimes we found ourselves in what appeared like a little inland lake with a depth of water such that the steamer ran within a few yards of the perpendicular cliffs, and there seemed to the stranger no possible outlet to this lake. We would head for a sheer wall of granite, upon which it seemed as though we must, in a few moments, be dashed, when suddenly, with a quick turn of the helm, we would find ourselves around a new point of land and in ample water, making a straight course for a landing at the foot of an exquisite little valley, apparently closed in upon all sides by precipitate moun- tains. At each one of these landings, always effected without an order being given above the ordinary tone of the quiet and dignified Norwegian voice, those on the dock would take off their hats in saluting our captain, 7 [97] A Norwegian Ramble a courtesy which the latter never failed to acknowledge. Finally, after running up a little arm of the sea to Hellesylt, we retraced our course a couple of miles and entered the wonderful Geiranger Fjord, at the head of which is situated Merok, the end of the steamer route. It was now past seven o'clock, and the sink- ing sun made the surface of the water and the lower portion of the mountains deep in shadow. The tops of these stupendous ele- vations were still bathed in an exquisite pink, which coloring was peculiarly striking and beautiful upon the snow-capped summits. The fjord itself is so narrow that in many places a stone could easily have been thrown from the steamer to either side and struck the sheer cliffs rising a couple of thousand feet on the right and left of us. Waterfalls innumerable, many of them of large size, fell into the fjord and from such an elevation that the water seemed often to come directly from a cloud touching the mountain-top. One of [98] The Geiranger Fjord these streams, the Syv Sestre, or "seven sisters," separates at the top of a perpendicu- lar cliff and falls into the sea from a great height, in no less than seven distinct and fairly uniform outlets; but the whole Gei- ranger is filled with these streams, many of them appearing in the distance like mere streaks down the side of the mountains, to assume proportions of no mean size when seen at nearer range. As we rounded a point at about half-past eight we saw the head of the fjord, at which nestled the little hamlet of Merok, and to the right, by the last glimmer of daylight, we could make out the snow fields of the Fly- dalshorn. Once again we resigned the only carriage at the dock to the ladies and we walked up the steep ascent to the hotel, perched at a considerable elevation above the fjord. VII MEROK AND THE GEIRANGER ROAD OF all charming situations for a hotel few can possibly exceed in beauty that of the inn at Merok. The settlement itself con- sists of but a few houses directly at the landing, these being principally occupied by fishermen. Rising from this hamlet begins the road which pursues its winding way for many miles over the mountains to the southeast, and a couple of hundred feet above tide-water stands the hotel by itself, shaded by trees and brightened by many flowers, in which latter the hostess is deeply interested. Looking down from this hotel one does not see the little settlement below, this being shut in by a lower hill, but the outlook upon the brilliant surface of the fjord, apparently hemmed in on all sides, is charming in the extreme. Directly in front of the hotel runs the river Storfos, a rushing, [100] Merok and the Geiranger Road foaming, and turbulent stream of considerable power, which falls over a precipice just below, and then continues its way through the meadows in an absolutely quiet and dignified manner until it is swallowed up in the waters of the fjord. Turning now to the southward and looking up the valley we find a picture of great charm and picturesqueness. The valley itself is both narrow and short, but it is filled with bright green fields and clumps of white birch and ash, through which we catch the white flashes of the Storfos winding its way down to the sea. At the head of this little valley the mountains rise with great abrupt- ness and over this obstruction the road must find its way to the pass beyond. Standing at the hotel we see this highway winding by long loops, forward and backward, ascending very slowly but surely until it appears but a thread, and then is finally lost over the top of the divide. It was another of the perfect mornings of which the clerk of the weather has granted us [101] A Norwegian Ramble so many, and the fisherman of the party de- cided to take a cast in the Storfos where it discharges into the fjord, the Doctor in the meantime making a quite unnecessary exertion to improve his appetite for dinner by taking a row on the fjord. Going down the hill we were much interested in looking at the domes- tic grist-mills, whose motive power was fur- nished by a small but energetic stream flowing into the Storfos, these little mills apparently turning out a supply of family flour, with very little human supervision, and with quite the same zeal and attention to business as is shown by the vast machinery of the plant at Minne- apolis. These little huts, but a few feet square, are met with everywhere throughout the country, and they not only add a quaint and picturesque feature to the brooks on which they are placed, but they are interesting as showing the force of water in even the smallest of streams, and the amount that may be accomplished by its aid, automatically and with the smallest measure of personal attention. [102] Merok and the Geiranger Road We had recently come from Holland and one could not but compare the different national methods of harnessing the elements. In Holland the wind is called upon to do the major part of the work of the country, and by its aid the sea is kept from inundating the land. In Norway, however, the breezes cannot be depended upon for steady labor, nor is this necessary, for the innumerable streams and waterfalls furnish an absolutely unlimited power, which, properly directed, is equal to the task of carrying out all the work which the country has so far under- taken. But the fish. It was indeed extremely pleas- ant to sit in the stern of a little skiff and cast into the waters of the fjord, while being rowed back and forth at the mouth of the river, and while all fishermen, presumably, take kindly to frequent rises, the exquisite surroundings of the present pool and the glo- rious morning really rendered the pleasure of "killing something" of comparatively minor [108] A Norwegian Ramble importance. Nevertheless, it must be con- fessed that when a good "rise" finally came the fisherman's interest and zeal increased in no slight measure, and never has he seen trout with such fighting capacity as these of the Geiranger Fjord. They were small, never reaching a pound in weight, but their ability for jumping out of the water after being hooked was far more like the energetic action of the ouaniniche than that of any trout pre- viously handled by the same rod. Indeed when landed the general effect of the Geiran- ger trout is extremely like the ouaniniche, being much lighter in color and much more "clipper built" than our salmo fontinalis, The flesh is almost white and it is extremely delicate and sweet. But the season was far gone, and we can readily believe that the trout are plenty and of good size in July and August. While the present fisherman's bag was small he had no hesitation in acknowledging a delightful morn- ing amid as charming and picturesque sur- [104] Merok and the Geiranger Road roundings as the most grasping of sportsmen could ask for. The Doctor, also, had enjoyed himself by rowing down the fjord a couple of miles and taking a dip in the somewhat icy waters, and both travellers returned to the hotel for two o'clock dinner with ravenous appetites. To many people the frequent introduction in descriptions of travel of such vulgar episodes as those of eating and drinking is objectiona- ble, and we fear that the traveller of fair di- gestion may be a little apt to stray into the realms of materialism in this matter. It is in- deed quite possible that there may exist people whose make-up is of such a spiritual nature, that, in a foreign land, food is simply a mili- tary necessity, and any reference to the same therefore unworthy of the true lover of nature. The present travellers, it must be confessed, even with humiliation, found that their vision of the natural wonders and beauties sur- rounding them was vitally affected by the influence of a good meal, and while it would [105] A Norwegian Ramble undoubtedly show a more ethereal nature if such could be ignored, both the Doctor and the Rambler often found, to their chagrin, that views of things terrestrial and celestial de- pended, in no small measure, upon this ele- ment of substantial and regular sustenance. Their only excuse to themselves for this ma- terialistic condition was that the climate of Norway, "really, don't you know, produces such fabulous appetites." After dinner and a smoke, the fisherman was persuaded by " boots " to try his luck in a small lake a mile or two up the valley, and the same " counsellor and friend " suggested that he should act as guide. The offer was accepted, but the Doctor could not be induced to join in so frivolous an expedition, and he elected to start off to climb one of the neigh- boring mountains. We followed the road for a short distance and then took to the banks of the stream, finally bringing up at a most charming and seductive looking pool into which the stream [106] Merok and the Geiranger Road plunged from a height of twenty-five feet. This pool was about seventy-five yards across, and it was very difficult to drop a fly just be- low the eddy of the fall where the fish were supposed to be lying in wait. The fisherman finally became disgusted at his inability to reach the desired spot, and, taking off his shoes and stockings, he waded into the water, which was but a very short distance from the glacier, and was thus of a temperature de- cidedly cool, to say the least. The pool was finally "covered" and this resulted in one small trout. The secondary result of the un- dertaking was an attack of cramp in both the feet of the fisherman which required no small amount of energetic exercise to eradicate. Again the "bag" was light, but the Ram- bler returned to the hotel having greatly en- joyed his afternoon, and the exquisite effects produced by the setting sun on valley and mountain, as we tramped back to the hotel, were quite sufficient to justify the five-mile walk. [107] A Norwegian Ramble We had planned to start on our way the next morning, although the thought of tear- ing ourselves away from the beauties of Merok was not a happy one, for it was alto- gether the most attractive abiding-place in all its environment that we had, so far, experi- enced. But when we came down to break- fast we found a gale of great violence blowing over the top of the mountains and directly down the valley. So strong was the wind in the early morning that it was difficult to stand up against it, and indeed it was almost impos- sible to walk up the valley. Our host told us that under such conditions it would be dangerous to attempt to climb the mountain, and further, that our skud was afraid to start until the gale moderated. Happily, about ten o'clock, the wind seemed to shift more to the west, and we decided to risk a start. Only a few minutes were required to pack our belongings, and, while our boy was "stowing cargo," we started ahead on our climb. But first we had to bid adieu to our [108] Merok and the Geiranger Road pleasant Norwegian travelling companions, who tried to impress upon us an appreciation of the force of the gale and the difficulties which we would encounter when we reached the higher elevation. But we were firm in the impression that "we knew it all." Our friends came out to the road to wish us good luck and we had forced upon us a realizing sense of the wind's momentum, for when we stepped out on the highway we found it almost impossible to stand up against it. The Doctor, always ready to conform to native customs, had purchased for himself a Norwegian cap as worn by the skuds. Perhaps the fact that this cap was particularly becom- ing to the gentleman was an element in its use. The Rambler had started ahead, and was bucking up against the wind to the best of his ability, when, on turning, he saw his chum making an unusually profound and graceful bow to our friends. The next in- stant the gale had caught his favorite cap and it was borne down the valley towards the [109] A Norwegian Ramble fjord at a fine rate of speed. The hotel pro- prietor organized a rescuing party and, event- ually, the missing property was recovered and restored to its owner. The ascent of the mountain began a mile from the hotel, and, reaching this point, we were, for a time, under the lee, and thus in a measure protected from the force of the gale. When the ascent begins the road makes long curves and winds up the mountain in won- derfully graceful loops. These mountain roads, as before noted, are all made upon an ab- solutely even grade, therefore in going over an elevation of three or four thousand feet one has often to travel many miles to accom- plish a very trifling distance in a bee-line. But the superb engineering skill exercised in the planning and construction of these roads, the enterprise of a poor government in build- ing them so substantially and for all time, and the effective manner in which, being produced at great cost, they are kept in order so that they present for scores of miles the appear- [110] Merok and the Geiranger Road ance of the best park roads in our country, is really beyond all praise. As we toil up, apparently gaining but a few feet in elevation as we travel forward and backward, we find on many of the loops of the road where a particularly fine prospect presents itself, comfortable seats provided, these being often cut out of the solid rock, and on these the traveller may enjoy the ever- widening prospect and get his breath before making another spurt over the next loop. The road is, in many places, blasted directly out of the granite and, standing on its outer edge, one looks over a precipice rising many feet from the valley beneath. But this edge is most carefully protected from all accidents, through its entire length, by the use of heavy granite blocks, four feet high, set six or eight feet apart, producing a very striking effect as one looks either from above or below at the winding course of the road. For two hours we continued to climb, the cold wind greatly increasing in force and [in] A Norwegian Ramble impeding our progress. Finally, reaching the upper plateau, we stopped for a few minutes under the lee of a huge boulder to enjoy a farewell view of the valley of Merok which was stretched out at our feet. For a few moments the whole scene of bright green foliage, roaring torrents, snow-clad mountains and brilliant waters of the fjord sparkled gloriously in a burst of ephemeral sunshine, and then the clouds shut in again and a drizz- ling rain began, accompanied by a gale of renewed energy. Pushing against the power of the wind we tried to press our way, and while our pro- gress because of this was phenomenally slow on foot, the force of the gale was such that it frequently seemed as though the pony and stolkjcere would be carried bodily over the cliff. Once the Rambler, flattering himself that he could get "under the lee" by taking a short-cut between the ends of two loops in the road, started to climb up a faint trail among the rocks. He had not proceeded far (112] Merok and the Geiranger Road before he discovered that he had undertaken more than he had bargained for, the path being much steeper than it had appeared from below, and the boulders upon it so loosely held in place that they had an unpleasant manner of starting down upon the traveller as he crawled upward on hands and knees. One big boulder, apparently loosened by the gale, came tearing down the hill, and in very close proximity to the climber. The latter, greatly to his own relief, finally found himself once more upon the road, but he was some- what exhausted by his experience, and he welcomed, with effusion, the kindly assist- ance of his chum, who quickly came to his aid with an acceptable whiskey flask. Now we had, apparently, reached the sum- mit, after three hours of pretty hard climbing, the valley had entirely disappeared from view and we were surrounded by an extremely wild and rugged looking country. On all sides of us were mountains covered by snow reaching almost to the highway on which we 8 [118] A Norwegian Ramble travelled, while the road itself wound a very crooked course among the great boulders cov- ering the entire plain, upon which there was no sign of tree or other vegetation. And all this time, as we pushed our way onward, the gale continued with unabated force, and the rain, now driving at us almost horizontally, turned to sleet, which cut like a knife. But at last, amid this desolation, we saw ahead a little cabin and our shud yelled to us that we were half-way to our destination, and that this hut was the government station at which we were to partake of our midday meal. It is difficult to imagine a more hopelessly forbidding place than this same Djupvashytte. Surrounded on all sides by mountains whose snows reach within a hundred feet of the door, it stands absolutely alone, not only without any other habitation in sight, but without a sign of tree or grass or of humanity, except as this was indicated by the fine road over which we had travelled. Just below the house was [114] Merok and the Geiranger Road a little lake, fed by the melting snow from the mountains, but at this time the cold was so intense that it was difficult to imagine that the temperature could ever reach the melting point. We were ourselves tired after our three hours' climb and were, moreover, nearly congealed from the effects of wind and rain, but it must be confessed that the little hostelry looked so extremely uninviting that we entered it with grave misgivings. However our spirits took an upward bound when our cheerful hostess came forward to welcome us, and one glance sufficed to show that the exterior of the habitation was no criterion of its inward cheer. The main floor of the "hotel" consisted, apparently,of a dining-room attached to which, at one end, was a kitchen. At the other end was a sitting-room, about ten feet square, and a tiny bedroom. A garret above doubtless furnished the sleeping accommodations for the "staff" of the inn. But the whole [115] A Norwegian Ramble interior of the house was so clean, so bright and cheery, in comparison with the exterior desolation, that our benumbed spirits began at once to rise, and our kindly hostess, seeing our wet and shivering condition, soon had a delightful fire burning in the little room. Nat- urally our feelings quickly responded to these attentions and we began to think that, after all, life might possibly be worth while. But something was still lacking to make our hap- piness complete, and through the open door we watched with intense interest the prepar- ation of our dinner, scarcely daring to hope that this could possibly prove more than a frugal and uninviting meal. When we were notified that our repast was ready we drew up to the table, with much curiosity, to discover what this strange place would produce in the way of a menu, and our surprise was great to find ourselves seated before a table-cloth and napkins of the cleanest and most excellent quality, and to be served with a meal which would have done credit to [116] Merok and the Geiranger Road a hostelry of a hundred times greater preten- sions. First a capital steaming hot soup, then some excellent broiled trout and these must have come from a great distance, then rein- deer meat, followed by ryper or partridge. At this point in our repast we were prepared for almost any surprise, but nevertheless our breath was fairly taken away when our hostess once more came out of the kitchen, bearing aloft the chef d'aeume of the feast, an omelette souffle, which in all its requisite qualities of fluffy lightness, delicacy and rich brown color was simply phenomenal, and could not have been excelled by a "Del- monico " in any land. It, indeed, seemed to us the acme of the culinary art, and the present travellers certainly endeavored to do justice to the occasion. It should be added that in all these Norway inns one always finds a very fair assortment of wine and the excel- lent ale or ol of the country. The bottles are arranged on a side table and the traveller makes his own selection and includes the [117] A Norwegian Ramble extremely moderate cost of the same in his reckoning. On the present occasion we felt justified in the extravagance of the best bottle of Burgundy in stock, and this was so surpris- ingly good that it materially added to the satisfaction of our dinner. Then again seated before the cheery fire, we were served with a demi-tasse of ex- cellent coffee, and over this and our cigars we discussed the probable character of a meal one would be likely to obtain in New Hamp- shire amid similar environment. The regulations in driving through Nor- way provide, as already noted, for a midday rest of two hours; our time was up, it was four o'clock, and we had many miles to go before night. Looking out we saw that our driver was all ready to start and yet we found it no easy matter to tear ourselves away from our comfortable surroundings, upon which we had so recently looked with contempt, and again brave the wind and rain. But a start was finally accomplished, after we had [us] Merok and the Geiranger Road expressed our satisfaction with the treatment accorded to us at Djupvashytte. It still rained, and it still blew, as we journeyed along the road, bordering the frigid and dreary lake, the shores of which were almost entirely covered by snow and ice. The surrounding country continued a won- derfully barren and desolate waste, which nevertheless possessed a strange fascination this dark day with the clouds reaching very low and shutting out the peaks of the high mountains which surrounded us on all sides. Our course was on a downward grade for al- most the entire eighteen miles to Grotlid, where we intended to spend the night, but, notwithstanding our long and hard climb of the morning, we became so numbed with the cold in driving that we found it no slight relief to " foot it " for a large portion of the downward journey. As the afternoon began to wane the surroundings on this plateau or fjeld be- came more and more weird, forbidding, and [119] A Norwegian Ramble desolate, the boulders among which our road twisted became larger and more grotesque in form, and, again and again, we passed great rocks hanging a few yards above us, appar- ently so lightly held in position that it seemed as though but a very trifling force would be sufficient to send them crashing down upon the road. Scarcely a suggestion of vegeta- tion or of soil is met with in all this vast fjeld, but occasionally, nestled at the south side of one of the huge masses of stone which seem all ready to crush it, we see a clump of beautiful bluebells nodding their brilliant heads in the breeze and appearing extraordi- narily out of place in their environment. Above, and in all directions, stand the rugged outlines of the mountain-tops, only visible when the low-lying clouds occasionally lift and disclose their summits, most of which are covered with heavy snow, and all pre- senting the boldest and most strangely irregu- lar forms, entirely bare of trees or vegetation. After three hours in this valley of desola- [120] Merok and the Geiranger Road tion, we see ahead a low-lying house and outbuildings and we realize that we are ap- proaching Grotlid, the end of our day's journey. As we reach the inn the sun, sinking over the mountains in the west, strikes through the clouds for a few minutes and lights up the scene with a golden glow which but serves to make more weird the effect of this extraordinary valley. We were glad to reach our destination, for our day's journey had been a hard one and it was with great satisfaction that we were soon again enjoying the luxury of a good fire. The distance accomplished this day, in a direct line, was but twenty-eight miles, and yet this had taken us nine hours of pretty hard travel. The inn at Grotlid is surrounded by scenery of the same character as that through which we had been passing for so many hours, al- though the immediate environment is made a little less severe from the fact that the pro- prietor has succeeded in reclaiming a little [121] A Norwegian Ramble piece of land, and upon this, although it is plentifully sprinkled with huge boulders, he supports the precarious existence of a couple of cows. The house is a government station, and it has to be kept open the en- tire year. When one thinks of the lonely and dreary situation of this post and the length of the Norwegian winter the posi- tion of Boniface seems about as attractive as that of the keeper of a lighthouse on a barren reef. The accommodations at the Grotlid inn were certainly somewhat primitive, and as- suredly they could not be called pretentious. Nevertheless the food, while plain, is good, the beds clean and fairly comfortable, although all Norway seems to construct the latter upon the theory that no foreigner can possibly ex- ceed five feet six in stature. What becomes of the additional six inches of the average native is a mystery which the present writer has not been able to solve. It was pleasant to sit before the open [122] Merok and the Geiranger Road hearth-fire in the corner of the little waiting- room, and, while we enjoyed our cigars, watch the energetic knitting of two elderly Norwegian ladies, our fellow boarders, as they apparently discussed their day's tramp. These ladies had come up from Christiania to this high and desolate, if not dreary, place for an outing, and to secure the benefits of the mountain air which, to quote Mrs. Parting- ton, is certainly at this season filled with a full measure of "sozodont," and they were apparently devoting themselves to exercise and outdoor life with an energy which would fill with consternation American ladies of a similar age. The following morning, an hour before breakfast, with a temperature below the freezing point, the Rambler, on fishing bent, met one of these tourists a mile away from the inn taking her morning constitu- tional, with great vigor. We had asked to have our morning meal promptly at eight o'clock, as we had a long day's journey before us, and, as is always the [128] A Norwegian Ramble case in this land of precision, our coffee was served absolutely on time. We had ordered our stolkjcere to be ready at nine o'clock. The Rambler had been up at six and had tried his fly, in the stream near the house, with but indifferent success. But the morning was certainly superb and won- derfully clear; the sun rose over the mountain- top, and the temperature, which had fallen below the freezing point in the night, rose to forty-five degrees before we started upon our journey, while the air had a delightful bracing quality which made us feel as though we could accomplish many miles of tramping with keen enjoyment. While the rugged and weird surroundings looked somewhat less sombre and forbidding in the sunlight than as seen amid the clouds of the day before, these still presented an aspect which made us quite ready to push on where, perchance, some foliage and some vegetation might greet the eye, and we bade adieu to Grotlid without great regret. 1124] Merok and the Geiranger Road Upon the first mile of our journey we re- traced the road over which we had travelled the night before. Then we branched off to the west and followed a superb, and recently constructed, road leading to Hjelle. The char- acter of the country does not change except, perhaps, to become more weird and desolate; we passed a number of small lakes, partly covered with snow and ice, and a little far- ther on the road took us through a bank of snow six or eight feet high. And, as though sunshine was inappropriate amid such sur- roundings, the clouds again closed in over the mountain-tops, as they did the day before, the cold rain began to fall, and the wind started up as a miniature hurricane. After some three hours of this bucking up against wind and rain we, at last, saw ahead of us a house, the first habitation encountered during the morning. It was the Vide-Saetor Inn, and as we reached it an extraordinay trans- formation took place in the landscape, and a vision of most surprising beauty burst upon us. [125] A Norwegian Ramble The house itself stands almost directly upon the side of the road, and approaching it from the east and from a lower level it appears sur- rounded by the same desolate and forbidding country as that through which we had been travelling for the past two days. It is only when we have absolutely reached the inn that we fully realize the wonderful contrasts which Norway scenery offers to the traveller. We stand upon a high plateau overlooking a pre- cipice. Behind us is the interminable black and forbidding fjeld of desolation through which we have been journeying, while before and below us is one of the most exquisite val- leys imaginable. The rain of the morning had ceased and the sun now at midday shone brilliantly, although still occasionally obscured for a few minutes by a passing cloud. To our right and left, as far as we can see, stand two ranges of snow-clad mountains, whose form, though bold, seem less rugged and desolate than those which we had re- cently seen, for on their sides is a rich growth [126] Merok and the Geiranger Road of birch, ash, and pine, and at their base is the charming valley of Videdal. And the bright- ness and beauty of this valley filled us with delighted enthusiasm. From where we stood the road began its winding way down, making a dozen long loops ere it reached the lower level. To the right tumbled the foaming torrent of the stream which, twisting its way in search of an outlet, finally disappears as a mere line in the distance, the road crossing it many times by the substantial and picturesque bridges which the Norwegians know so well how to construct. But the brilliant green of this valley, the innumerable lines of hurdles covered with drying grass, the farmers and their families working in the meadows and looking like mere specks, but giving an air of life and pros- perity to the scene, the little turf-covered farm-houses to be picked out here and there along the road, and last, to make the picture complete, in the far distance at the foot of the [127] A Norwegian Ramble valley and to the right, jutting well out, a bold spur of mountain, at the moment in deep shadow, while just beyond, shining a most brilliant and exquisite blue, we could get a glimpse of the waters of Lake Stryns- vand, toward which we were journeying all these in this glorious September sunshine, combined to make a picture which those who saw it that day will not soon forget. We sat on the little piazza of the inn for an hour discovering fresh beauties in the view as the shadows of the clouds chased each other across the valley, but after our morning's tramp we were quite ready to do full justice to our dinner when this was announced. In all these hotels and inns thoroughly busi- ness-like and dignified methods appear to be the rule. The charges are fixed by govern- ment enactment and are uniform, so much for a room (these are practically all of a grade in any one house) and so much for each meal. A trifling fee to the maid who waits on you and with whom you usually settle your bill, [128] Merok and the Geiranger Road is received with thanks and a curtsey. It is this great dignity and self-respect which ex- ists among all the community with which the traveller comes in contact which is so ex- tremely admirable and agreeable, and so con- trary to one's experiencein travelling amongthe Latin races, where the manifest purpose of the natives is to get all they can, upon the theory that a traveller is an individual from whose purse should be extracted every available coin. In all our journeyings we have yet to see an act of dishonesty among the natives, while we have heard of several instances where the most extraordinary amount of trouble has been taken by inn-keepers and porters to reach a traveller and restore some piece of property left behind. Then again their quiet manner and absence of all bluster is at first apt to lead the visitor to assume that they are a slow and stolid people, and that it is his bounden duty to instil into their movements a little of the "strenu- ous life " so dear to the American heart. 9 [129] A Norwegian Ramble Thank Heaven there is a Norway where an American, somewhat weary of the boastful push and noisy "hustling" of both commer- cial and social existence, may look, if only for a brief time, at what these people have accom- plished in their quiet, methodical way, and in doing so may perhaps venture to question whether that strenuousness of which our worthy President is so able an exponent is, after all, the only measure of life and of progress. Because of the apparent absence of haste one is apt to think that the schedule will be delayed unless inn-keepers and drivers are energetically prodded. Nothing, however, is farther from the truth. If you start with a schedule of say five or ten hours to your next station, at the time specified you will reach your destination. You may be a little aggra- vated by the frequency with which your horse is permitted to walk in the first stage of your journey, and, in your not unnatural irri- tation, you may urge greater haste. It is quite [130] Merok and the Geiranger Road idle ; the skud, whether man or boy, knows his work better than you do, and while he is always respectful and smiling, no urging or promises of pourboire will change his gait a fraction. The schedule has been arranged by the powers that be, the skud, always carrying a watch, knows "where he is at" and you may absolutely depend upon getting in on time, but not many minutes ahead of time. Again, your driver always looks you up for orders when you appear in the morning. If you say you want to start at nine o'clock, you may depend that at this time your luggage will be stowed and the skud waiting for you. It is this same promptness and regularity in the inns which impresses one as so pleasant and so unexpected. This whole country, even in its wildest parts, is interlaced with a most excellent tele- phone system, and the ease and regularity of its use among the country people is one of the great surprises for the traveller, who is a little apt to think of this modern innovation as [181] A Norwegian Ramble belonging exclusively to more progressive countries. The advantage to the traveller of such a convenience over these long and sparsely populated districts is very great, but the cost of erection and of installation of the Norway telephone system makes one wonder how the, by no means, wealthy government could find the funds to carry out such a work. Through and over mountains uninhabited for miles, un- der the waters of fjords, and through districts so barren of all timber that the necessary poles must have been hauled many a troublesome mile, these lines are built. Miles and miles of these telephone poles have to be set on the top, or on the side, of the solid rock, to which they are fastened by iron braces or by iron straps ; in other sections it is necessary to se- cure the poles by building piers around their base, the stones for these being dressed and cemented securely, while for some miles, on one road which we travelled, the wires were supported by iron brackets fastened into the solid rock and overhanging the road cut into [132] Merok and the Geiranger Road the cliff. But the convenience of this enter- prise upon the part of the government to the traveller is great. If you start from a station at nine o'clock and expect to reach the next station, thirty miles distant, at one, you tele- phone to the latter ordering dinner at this time, and the cost of this 'phone is 25 ore or 7^ cents. When you reach your dining place you may be absolutely certain that your meal will be ready and hot, precisely at the time specified in your order. So we sat and talked on the little piazza at Vide-Saetor, while we smoked and drank our excellent cup of coffee, and some doubts were expressed as to whether, after all, American methods represented all that is desirable in life. But then, it must be confessed, we had been served with a most excellent dinner, we were smoking our last Havanas, and the view and the sunshine were both superlatively fine as we looked down the valley. Both the coffee and the method of serving the same is an admirable feature of these little inns. [188] A Norwegian Ramble Half an hour after dinner it is brought to you on the piazza, in the garden, or perhaps in some little summer-house overhanging a roar- ing torrent, and shaded by the red-berried ash and the delicate-leafed silver birch. A maid, usually of attractive appearance, and always neat, brings out a silver salver, upon which is a pot of steaming hot coffee, some jolly little cups, sugar, and delicious cream. In even the smallest and least pretentious inns this custom is adhered to, and it presents to the traveller one of the amenities of life in a manner most attractive. But there was still a large part of our day's journey before us, and while we had found few places which equalled in attraction this piazza. at Vide-Saetor, with its wonderful outlook, it was imperative that we should proceed on our way. Exercise, after our dinner and rest, was quite in order and we therefore started on foot down the road of many turnings to the valley below, leaving our stolkjcere to follow us a little later. It overtook us before we had [184] Merok and the Geiranger Road reached the lower road, for we could not re- frain from making many stops on our way to admire the ever-changing view, the details of the valley becoming more and more markedly beautiful as we descended. At one place this road is carried over the river by a superbly constructed stone bridge, or viaduct, of finely formed arches, from which you look down to the rushing torrent flowing three hundred feet below you. Getting into our vehicle once more we jogged along at a good rate, passing many charming little farms on our way. The harvest was in progress and the care with which every blade of grass and every spear of grain is preserved impresses the stranger with wonder and ad- miration. The haying here is of the second growth, the height of the grass not being over three or four inches. In our land such grass would be considered simply ridiculous for hay, but here, every stone of even the smallest size having been carefully gathered from the field, year after year, the short- [185] A Norwegian Ramble bladed but razor-like scythes cut this grass with the closeness of a well-kept lawn. It is so light, and so lacking in all substance, that one is surprised that, even the most eco- nomical of farmers can afford to gather it, but we have to remember that the winter is long, the stock must be kept alive, and every few pounds of hay, even of the lightest description, helps to this result. So the grass is raked up until it would be difficult to find a handful overlooked in the entire field, and the women and children (for all are pressed into the ser- vice) gather it and hang it to dry on hurdles or fences conveniently arranged in every meadow. For the ordinary method of curing hay by leaving it on the ground to dry would be totally futile in this damp climate, and be- cause of the limited amount of sunshine and the abnormal rainfall, these methods, which we should consider as extraordinarily expen- sive, have to be followed by the patient Nor- wegian farmer. Sometimes the grass has to be left on these hurdles for a week or more [136] Merok and the Geiranger Road before it is cured sufficiently to put under cover; then, taking advantage of a few hours of sunshine, the hay is hurried "by all hands" under shelter before another shower strikes it. The barley and oats are similarly treated, but instead of placing the sheaves on hurdles, they are fastened, one on top of the other, on poles set in the ground, the grain reaching up seven or eight feet, with the top sheaf, cleverly placed, head downward, at an angle of forty- five degrees. The heads are always turned to the south, that they may benefit by every ray of sunshine, and the top sheaf is so arranged as to shed the rain. Looking from the south, in the gloaming, at a meadow of barley thus treated, the effect is very odd and reminds one of a field filled with mammoth Indian chiefs, dressed in their war-feathers, stretching from their head nearly to the ground. It was extremely beautiful as we passed through this valley, with its greenness, its roaring stream, its fine ash and birch, and with its many prosperous-looking farm-houses [187] A Norwegian Ramble and well-fed people and cattle. So charming was the whole scene that we almost regretted reaching Hjelle at the head of the exquisite little lake, a glimpse of which we had caught from the mountain as we came out of the fjeld of desolation. The hamlet of Hjelle however, occupies a most fascinating pos- ition. In front is the brilliant Strynsvand, with its wonderfully clear water sparkling in the rays of the sinking sun, behind us lies the charming green valley through which we had just passed, backed at its upper end by the snow-capped mountains, while the irregular shaped lake itself, about twelve miles long, is flanked on either side by mountains rising four and five thousand feet above it from which tumble innumerable snow-fed torrents of no mean proportions. The whole outlook, north, east, south, and west must be striking at any time, but as we stood on the shore with the September sun sinking over the mountain on our left and throwing this in deep shadow, while the easterly side of the lake and the [138] Merok and the Geiranger Road mountain-sides, with their falls, were covered with a golden glory of color, it certainly seemed to us a picture well worth remembering. The little steamer which plies on the lake was at the dock, but it did not leave for an hour, so the happy thought struck the Doctor (he is always originating brilliant suggestions when not engaged in discussing in Norsk the politics of the country) that we should take a row-boat and be carried the seven miles which we needed to go by water before we could again pick up our road and a fresh stolk- jccre. We had no difficulty in consummating this arrangement at a very moderate expense, and first having telephoned to Vesnaes, our next abiding place, to send a stolkjcere half- way to meet us on the shores of the lake, we put our belongings aboard the comfortable little row-boat and started on our way, with two Vikings at the oars. That evening's row with its exquisite colorings, its glorious sun- set, and its views of endless waterfalls, was certainly striking in the extreme; and truly the [189] A Norwegian Ramble danger in describing the colors and the scen- ery in travelling through Norway is of be- coming extravagant, because each place the visitor reaches opens scenes and visions which present charms seemingly far beyond any of its predecessors. After a little over an hour's row we reached the shore at the terminus of the road from Vesnaes and, as usual, found our stolhjcere ready waiting for us. It was a ten-mile drive and the hour was already seven, but the day- light had not yet failed and the evening effects along the road at the border of the lake were wonderfully fine. But we now began to realize the sad fact that the days were rapidly shortening. When we started in August we had bright daylight until nine o'clock. Now, but a few weeks later, the sun had changed its schedule in a very marked degree and we began to understand, in thinking of winter in these regions, that there always appears to be a law of compensation in the methods of na- ture. If Norway is blessed with practically end- [140] Merok and the Geiranger Road less day in June and July it is soon brought to a realizing sense that it must pay for this unusual dispensation, the other side of the picture being November, December, and Jan- uary, when but four hours of sunshine and but little more of daylight are vouchsafed to its inhabitants at this particular latitude, while, of course, farther north, the natives are still more limited in their winter days. Even the brightness of the summer months does not seem altogether an unmixed bless- ing, especially for the salmon. One English fisherman in telling of his experiences men- tioned the fact that the largest fish killed by him during the past season was taken "after supper," as he expressed it. He had gone out on the river at ten o'clock to cast his fly and then fished until i A. M., at which hour he landed his big fish; then realizing that the sun would soon be up, it seemed to him in order to retrace his steps and "turn in." This method of spending the " wee sma' hours " may be eminently proper in [141] A Norwegian Ramble finishing out a ball, but it does appear a trifle severe on the rights of the poor salmon, who, it seems, should be entitled to at least a few hours of freedom from the toils of the angler. We arrived at Vesnaes at a little after eight o'clock and found there a large hotel charm- ingly situated near the head of the Nord Fjord. The house had but four guests and we thus had ample opportunity to make a selection of rooms. Indeed the absence of all crowds and all that this means of dis- comfort, especially when the crowds are made up of frigid Englishmen and boorish Germans, is one of the great advantages of September travel in Norway. The government supervision over the hotels and their arrangements is, apparently, quite rigid. In nearly all of the larger houses the rooms are provided with rope fire-escapes of decidedly peculiar construction, and carefully printed instructions are given in three langua- ges as to the manipulation of the apparatus. These are posted in every room and the legend [H2] Merok and the Geiranger Road in English concludes as follows: " You may regulate the hurry by keeping the rope under the log." There is nothing of greater import- ance to the average American traveller than to learn how "to regulate the hurry," and we were duly impressed by the instructions. While comparatively few Americans journey through this part of the country, it is fre- quented in the season by a large and, appar- ently, increasing number of English and Germans of both sexes, and the latter, since the Emperor has found the North Cape attrac- tive for his summer cruises, seem to consider Norway as " the correct thing " for their out- ings. Happily, as before noted, we have been spared much suffering from this cause, but our limited experience has made us feel some doubt of the pleasure of a trip in this particular section in midsummer. The German manner to strangers or rather such as we have seen or heard of in Norway is peculiarly and exasperatingly pushing and pugnacious. The requirements [143] A Norwegian Ramble seem to be that under no circumstances must the Teuton give way to any one, and whether it be at table, in the hall, or on the road, his appearance is as though he were always ask- ing you, with the fiercest expression of coun- tenance, "to knock a chip off his shoulder." The Englishmen or it would be fairer to say some of them, for we have met one or two notable exceptions absolutely ignore your existence in every way. It never seriously seems to occur to them, for a moment, that the world can contain anybody but them- selves who may be worthy of the slightest consideration, and no mere stranger can possibly have a right to look to them for the smallest of the ordinary courtesies between travellers. It is really interesting, as a psy- chological study, to note how far this may go, even with some of the best of our cousins, especially the fishermen, who apparently consider that having leased a salmon stream, any foreigner daring, for a moment, to put his foot into the contiguous country is guilty [144] Merok and the Geiranger Road of a personal affront to the angler. One soon learns to avoid even the attempt of a bow to one of these Britons, for such is usually received with a stony stare. But when one of our dear cousins, at meal-time, fixes his monocle and looks around helplessly for the butter or the salt which is just beyond his reach, and his neighbor ventures, perceiving his needs, to pass the needed article, his " Ah, thank you," with the rising accent on the pronoun, has such an aggravating sound that you are tempted to throw your glass of wine in his face. We doubt if any member of this class of Englishmen has ever been guilty of returning such table courtesies to a neighbor who has failed of a proper intro- duction and whose respectability has, there- fore, not been vouched for. This lofty ignoring of his fellow-beings on the part of the British disciple of the genial Walton is perhaps quite as irritating as the more active animosity of the subject of the great William. The Germans, however, do 10 [145] A Norwegian Ramble not come to Norway for the fishing, but rather to enjoy the scenery, which they, apparently, do in a whole-hearted, if somewhat noisy manner, and they are doubtless aided in their enjoyment by the universal supply of the native beer or ol, of which they consume extensive quantities even in cool weather. The requirements during the summer months must indeed be such as fairly to stagger the imagination. We met at one of these inns a Teutonic bicycler who claimed to have travelled seven thousand miles on a wheel of such ancient and heavy construction that an ordinary man would find it almost impossible to propel. The gentleman in question stood over six feet in height and weighed 250 pounds. He had that day made a run of some seventy- five miles, about half of this distance being up a steep grade. At supper he called for beer, and a bottle was duly placed before him. This did not at all meet his requirements, and before opening it, he demanded three [146] Merok and the Geiranger Road more bottles. His next neighbor made some remark about his enjoyment of ol, when the German, rising to his full height, took the bottle, placed it against his breast, and in the oddest of English asked us to look at his size and then at that of the beer, and tell him if it was possible that any sane man could suppose that one bottle was enough for him! He consumed the quartette provided with- out turning a hair. We only stayed one night at the very at- tractive house at Vesnaes, but we had a charming view, just after sunset, across the upper end of the Nord Fjord, on which this little settlement is situated. CUT] VIII LOEN AND THE NORD FJORD ANOTHER glorious morning greeted us, wonderfully clear, bright, and cold. There is, assuredly, a quality in this Nor- wegian September air that is peculiarly ex- hilarating and delightful, and the visitor who inhales it can scarcely fail to be inspired by a desire for energetic action. After a short walk along the shore and through the picturesque little hamlet we con- cluded to "charter" a row-boat to take us some seven miles up the fjord to Loen. Our craft was brought along the shore di- rectly opposite the hotel, and our luggage being soon stowed, we started on our way, the two oarsmen pulling a good stroke, as we skirted the bold and rocky bluffs of the fjord. For a mile or two in the direction we were bound, a road has been literally carved [148] Loen and the Nord Fjord out of the solid cliff, and this highway is gradually being extended to Loen, eventually to offer a superbly picturesque drive of eight or ten miles between the two points. But, like all other engineering work in Norway, this is being constructed in the best possible manner, and for all time, and the difficulties presented are such that rapid progress is scarcely possible. We could not fail, however, to congratulate ourselves, on this occasion, that the highway was not completed and that we thus had the opportunity of travelling by water over the brilliant surface of this fjord, skirting its ir- regular and picturesque shores, and enjoying, from this lower level, the striking cloud effects on the mountain-tops which surrounded us. But the Doctor, bubbling over with energy, could not longer be restrained, and we had gone but a short distance when he insisted upon the stroke oar resigning in his favor, the gallant tar, indeed, being nothing loath to take advantage of this opportunity for rest and a [149] A Norwegian Ramble comfortable pipe. About the time of this change the breeze, which had, so far, been extremely quiet, suddenly "piped up" di- rectly ahead and it was soon blowing half a gale. This situation was one which, natu- rally, brought forth piquant and horribly pointed comments from the Rambler, com- fortably stretched out in the stern, as he watched, with no slight interest, the shedding of garment after garment from the back of the lusty Doctor, until the rower, with the perspiration pouring off him, was reduced al- most to first principles, the man hired for the occasion, in the meantime, calmly devoting himself to the enjoyment of his tobacco. The Doctor is a creature of great fortitude, and he is, moreover, somewhat "sot" in his way; therefore having undertaken to row he had no intention of giving up, wind or no wind, until we reached our destination, a matter of some five miles. At last when even his energy was beginning to feel the effect of the head wind and seas, and the Rambler was [150] Loen and the Nord Fjord calmly enjoying the comfort of his third Nor- wegian cigar, we ran under the lee of a per- pendicular cliff, and in a short time we had pulled up to the little dock at Loen. Disem- barking we found ourselves in an odd little settlement at the head of one of the many arms of the fjord, the only building of any pretensions being the hotel. Walking up to this we searched a long time to discover any sign of human life about the premises or in the village. Evidently the season was over and the inhabitants were not expecting any more visitors. Finally, however, by follow- ing the sound of a soprano voice in the dis- tance we brought up at the kitchen, where we found a damsel quite ready to welcome us and give us our choice of almost any room in the house. This inn is charmingly situated on a high elevation above the rest of the settlement, and from its large piazzas one looks out directly upon the fjord, which, at this point, is quite narrow. Opposite was a picturesque range [151] A Norwegian Ramble of mountains, to the right stretched the widen- ing fjord upon which vessels of considerable size steam seventy-five miles to the sea; to the left, and quite near the hotel, a beautiful and rapid stream empties into the fjord, and, looking up a little farther, one can see this energetic little river rushing down through its rocky gorge in its haste to reach salt water. Above the river winds the picturesque road to the Loenwand, and this is backed, farther to the left, by the Lofjeld and the Auftemsfjeld, the latter standing six thousand feet above us. Verily it would be hard to find a spot with a more charming or a more varied outlook, and one can enjoyably spend hours on the piazza. commanding the broad stretch spread out be- fore the visitor, watching the ever-changing scene as the cloud-shadows rapidly follow one another over mountain, fjord, and river. Indeed while the traveller is often likely to protest that there is too great an abundance of rain to be altogether satisfactory, it cannot be denied that the picturesque delights of this [152] Loen and the Nord Fjord land of mountain, cataract, and lake are won- derfully enhanced by the clouds, which are ever present, even in the brightest of days, adding immensely to the beauty of scenery which without them would lose much of its fascination. We met at Loen some English fishermen, with all the courteous characteristics of the British sportsman, who had been trying for salmon in the charming looking pools of the Loendal, but, apparently, their luck had not proved of the best, indeed we are told that the salmon fishing this season throughout the entire country has been far from satisfactory. It was not too late after dinner to make a trip to the lake and try a cast for trout, and the Rambler started out, assisted by a small boy as a guide. The road to the Loenvand is beautiful in the extreme. It follows alongside of the river, which one moment rushes in a mad tor- rent through a narrow gorge, and a few rods farther spreads out in some of the most tempting pools imaginable. The vegetation [168] A Norwegian Ramble along this rugged road, covering the three miles to the lake, is almost luxuriant, and the groups of ash and white birch trees par- ticularly striking and beautiful. We passed a number of comfortable looking farm-houses and, on the stream, saw many picturesque little grist-mills, their water-wheels turning merrily in the torrent, which in itself is powerful enough for mighty deeds, did but the products of the country justify the har- nessing of the stream. The view of the lake, as we approach it, is striking in the extreme, indeed, it has the repu- tation of being one of the most charming bits of scenery in all Norway. It is nine miles long, of very irregular shape, and is fed by glacial torrents which rush down from the mountains surrounding it; these mountains are from five thousand to seven thousand feet in height, with outlines of remarkable rugged- ness, the northern sides being snow-clad nearly to the sides of the lake. The waters of this lake are of a beautiful peacock blue shade, [154] Loen and the Nord Fjord and the peculiar brilliancy with which the sur- face sparkles in the afternoon sunshine is striking in the extreme. We found a boat and boatman and, starting out to fish, we>had a fair measure of success for the first hour. Then suddenly a change came over the scene, a metamorphosis which can never, we think, be witnessed elsewhere with the extraordinary rapidity shown by nature in this land of strange whims. When we started the day was calm, the surface of the lake smooth, but now, in an instant, as it seemed, heavy clouds rolled up from the west, shutting out the mountain-tops which surrounded us, and with surprising rapidity a gale of such force descended upon the lake that in five minutes the surface, which before had been like a mill-pond, became so filled with huge waves that our little boat shipped many a sea and was in danger of being swamped. It took the full power of two pairs of oars to make any headway against the wind, and it was no easy matter to reach shelter under the protection of the high cliffs. [166] A Norwegian Ramble But the remarkable change in the aspect of our surroundings, the extraordinary rapidity with which the cheerful, laughing side of nature had suddenly been changed to black passion, was interesting in the extreme. However, there was no longer a possibility of fly-casting for that afternoon, and we worked our way, as carefully as possible, back to our starting place. The next day was Sunday and, the morn- ing being superb, we determined to devote the time to a trip to the great Kjendalsbrae glacier. Providing ourselves with a good lunch, we were first driven over the road travelled the day before to the foot of the lake. There we again embarked in a row-boat to reach the upper end of the lake, a distance of nine miles. We had two stout oarsmen, our boat was com- fortable, and the scenery surrounding us was said to be some of the finest in Norway, a statement not difficult to believe, as we looked up from our little craft upon mountains tow- ering six to seven thousand feet above us. [156] Loen and the Nord Fjord It was Sunday morning and we had not rowed more than a mile before we saw, in the distance, the smoke of a steamer, which, coming nearer, we found to be one of the oddest and most minute steam craft we had ever come across, from whose funnel rose a thick smoke, showing that it was being driven to its full capacity. At first we could not make out the nature of its load, but draw- ing nearer we perceived that it was not only well-filled with passengers, but behind it was strung out a long line of row-boats, many of these being filled with women and chil- dren. It seems that the business of this little tug on Sunday is to gather in a congregation from the surrounding country and transport the same to the lower end of the lake, from which point the church-goers walk a couple of miles to the meeting-house in Loen. It appeared as though the tug, with its deck-load and its heavy tow, had as much of a contract as it could well manage, and its progress was almost at a snail's pace, but every few [157] A Norwegian Ramble minutes another family would push off from the shore, and a line being thrown to the approaching boat, the weight of an additional load of eight or ten passengers would be added to the labors of the already overtaxed steamer. But the effect, against the dark background of the mountains, of this collection of well laden small boats, filled with men, women, and children in their bright holiday attire, all happy and enjoying their outing, while the little tug was energetically puffing and blowing in the vain effort to make better time, was strikingly interesting. An hour and a half through the brilliant waters of this entrancing lake, surrounded on all sides by glaciers and snow-clad mountains, brought us to its upper end. Here we dis- embarked, and taking our lunch, started on a three-mile walk to the glacier. So clear was the air, however, and so deceptive the dis- tances in this country, that the ice fields ahead did not appear over half a mile away. There is, indeed, something both in [158] Loen and the Nord Fjord the atmosphere and in the size of the moun- tains in Norway which renders it very difficult for a stranger to judge of distances, and it is often the case that a point, apparently just ahead, or a near-by mountain, is reached only after a walk whose length is an extraordinary surprise to the novice. The path which we were now on, leading up the valley, was charming in the extreme. The mountains on either side were rapidly closing in and the valley growing narrower rod by rod, while ahead and above us we could plainly see the brilliant white stretch of the glacier. September frosts had already begun to tint the woods, and the beautiful yellows and orange of the birch, 'the golden browns of the ash against the deep green of the pine and fir, and the rich reds of the mountainsides above the evergreens, which seemed to be covered with a description of heather, together presented a wealth of color which even a New England October would find it hard to rival in richness. We soon came out on the A Norwegian Ramble old bed of the glacier, which extends a mile or more, and is filled with the roughest possible collection of boulders of all sizes, carried down by the ice from the mountain above. Picking our way through these, we finally reached the foot of the glacier of Kjendalsbrae, which rises up at an angle of 45 from where we stand, stretching as far as one can see and connecting above with the great Jostedalsbrae, the largest glacier in Europe, covering an area of 350 square miles. Two large streams flow from underneath this glacier, the ice being of a beautiful green color, while the surface of the glacier carries many huge boulders, which are gradually being deposited in the stream bed as the glacier recedes. The noonday sunlight through this ice, as one stood beneath one of the overhanging spurs of the glacier, produced most strikingly beautiful effects, while an occasional cloud passing over the top of the glacier made many effective contrasts of light and shadow. [160] Loen and the Nord Fjord Seated in the sunshine under the lee of one of the huge boulders, we opened our knapsacks and enjoyed the excellent lunch prepared for us. And no one should travel in Norway without providing himself with one of these most convenient native knapsacks. They are capable of holding an extraordinary amount if well packed, and the ease with which the pedestrian can step out for a long tramp with his load thus well placed where it will be felt the least, is really quite remarkable. The changes in temperature in Scandinavia are often very rapid and it is an immense ad- vantage to the traveller to have, near at hand, a sweater, a light rubber coat or cape, and a pair of warm gloves. After an hour or more thus spent at the foot of the glacier for to climb it at this point was quite out of the question we retraced our steps among the rough boulders and down the charming little green valley, and again embarked for our return row over the lake, which, with but a slight ripple, sparkled it [ 161 ] A Norwegian Ramble brilliantly in the afternoon sunshine, a marked contrast to its tempestuous and forbidding condition of the previous day. We had in the morning driven up from the hotel to the lake, but on our return we concluded to walk down the winding road, which for a short distance was built alongside the roaring torrent, and would then take a turn away from the stream and pass through a park-like bit of woodland filled with birches of the brightest of colors, intermixed with sturdy ash and dark fir. Then we would come to a little clearing occupied by a tiny farm-house whose size made us wonder where the large family working in the fields could find an abiding-place. On one farm it was evident that three generations were hard at work cutting and curing the meagre second crop of grass. After the hay is made it has to be hauled to the barn, and as the surface of the fields is usually at an angle which will not permit of the use of a wagon, recourse has to be made to sledges on which a load consists [162] Loen and the Nord Fjord of but a few armfuls of hay. These economic operations of the hard-working Norwegian farmer are interesting to watch, because they show such painstaking energy in making the best of nature's not too liberal bounty. We arrived at the hotel at seven o'clock, just as the sun was sinking behind the moun- tains on the opposite side of the fjord, and gloriously illuminating the little valley through which we had just come, while the rushing river, as it emptied into the fjord, was very charming in its brilliancy against the dark hills beyond. Our steamer was scheduled to arrive at nine o'clock, and we sat on the piazza for an hour looking down the fjord for her lights to ap- pear around the point. Just as we made her out in the distance heading for the wharf, the moon showed herself over the top of the snow-capped mountains on our left and superbly illuminated the whole fjord. [168] IX DOWN THE COAST F7OLLOWING our luggage to the landing I we found a jolly little steamer on which we were to spend many hours through the Nord Fjord, out to sea, then among the islands of the west coast to Bergen. Extremely comfortable rooms were pro- vided for us and we were soon under way, our departure being watched by every "fellow and his best girl " in the immediate neighborhood, for it was Sunday evening, and a brilliant moonlight night. Sitting on deck as we drew away from the shore, the scene was very beautiful as the moon rose higher and higher over the absolutely quiet waters of the bay, but after an hour we found that our long day's trip had made us quite ready for sleep, and we indulged in a long night's rest. We made two stops in the fjord and then [164] Down the Coast went out to Molden which is situated on an island at the entrance of the Nord Fjord, and here we tied up at the dock until daylight, as it is not considered desirable to go outside in the darkness. Leaving Molden about 3 A. M., we started out to sea for a short distance and then ran in behind another island where a landing is made. But, during the entire night and early morning, such is the universal quietness with which these Norwegians do their work, that, notwithstanding the landing and loading of both cargoes and passengers, we were never disturbed in the slightest de- gree; the crew of the steamer doing their work with a total absence of unnecessary noise or yelling, the passengers apparently being better bred and more considerate of others than one usually finds upon our side of the water, and therefore carefully refraining, in coming into the cabin, from speaking above a whisper, so as not to disturb those already asleep. When one thinks of experiences in American "sleepers" under similar [166] A Norwegian Ramble circumstances, one is filled with surprise and admiration at the superior breeding of the travelling Norwegian. When we went on deck in the morning we were met by a somewhat disagreeable driz- zling rain, but, protected by our rubber coats, we became quite philosophical and we realized that even the most favored of Americans can scarcely expect to have brilliant sunlight every morning in this land of much rain. We were just passing out to sea between two strangely formed and bold headlands, whose sheer sides rose on either side to a tremendous height. A stiff head breeze was blowing across the North Sea and we soon began to plunge into a heavy sea which was dashing up with great force against the rocks on either side. After some buffeting we cleared this forbidding and, to the stranger, extremely dangerous looking "lee shore" and were in the open sea, our staunch little steamer dipping into the waves in a manner not altogether conducive to comfort for those of delicate sensibility. [166] Down the Coast Looking back, after a few minutes, it was almost impossible to discover the opening through which we had found exit from the fjord rocks of tremendous height and of ex- traordinary irregularity in outline seemed to have closed up behind us, offering no possible passage for even a small craft. It would be hard to exceed in grandeur this part of the coast, every mile presenting striking variety, while the effect of these huge cliffs with the surf breaking upon them was impressive in the extreme. We now turned more to the south and we were soon rolling in the trough of a sea of no mean proportions, while the temperature of the wind was such that the lee side of the smoke-stack was by far the most attractive spot on deck. A few miles on this course and suddenly we turned and headed directly for a perpendicular wall of rock against which the sea was dash- ing with tremendous force, and so close did we run to this, that it seemed as though the next minute we must be driven head on [167] A Norwegian Ramble against the cliff. One of the passengers, certainly, was deliberating with lively interest upon the consequences of such an episode, when, in a most unexpected and extraordi- nary manner, we rounded a point of rock, apparently but a few yards distant, and in an incredibly short space of time we found ourselves again in smooth water under the protecting lee of a huge promontory. These evolutions were repeated again and again for several hours and it really appeared as though our pilot was endeavoring to test how near he could run to the rocks without entire an- nihilation. In and out among the islands we steamed, now in smooth water, then in the breakers, and if there be any shore in the world of a similar character where such evolutions are possible in a heavy sea, or one more fascinating in its picturesque wildness, certainly such has never come to the know- ledge of the present writer. Indeed one of the marked peculiarities and charms of Norwegian scenery is the striking [168] Down the Coast contrasts which one encounters. Last eve- ning, in the fjord, all nature smiled, for although we were surrounded by bold and striking snow-clad mountains, at their feet lay the ex- quisitely brilliant and placid surface of the sea, into which, through the many green valleys, flowed innumerable sparkling streams, the whole being charmingly softened by the sub- dued rays of a September sun. To-day it would seem as though we were in a new land. Of vegetation there is little, of sun- shine, none at all, but in its place hang heavy and forbidding clouds which seem pecu- liarly appropriate to the stern and impressive rocks which surround us in every direction. And against these sheer precipices, dash with tremendous force and noise, the breakers from a dark and angry sea. Nothing exists to relieve the awe-inspiring grandeur of the surroundings, except the memory of nature's smile of yesterday, and even this remembrance is scarcely sufficient to overcome the oppres- sion which comes over the traveller as he [169] A Norwegian Ramble gazes at this grand but pessimistic aspect of Dame Nature. After some hours thus dodging in and out, from sea to fjord and from comparatively placid water to the heavy surf outside, we at last found ourselves entirely protected from the ocean and heading a southerly course for Bergen. In the broad waters of the fjord we saw many fishermen, at work with both nets and lines, while clusters of their little huts were passed nestled at the base of some stu- pendous cliff which protects them from the onslaughts of the western gales and surf, and before many of these little settlements were safely anchored sturdy fishing smacks quite competent to brave the heavy blows outside. Like all these Norwegian fjords, the water, throughout this entire route, is of great depth, and the steamer is quite safe in running through the narrowest of channels, and often so close to the rocks that a stone could readily be thrown from the deck to the shore. As we approached Bergen, steaming through [1TO] Down the Coast a remarkably crooked channel, between islands on the right and bold cliffs on the left, we noticed that many spurs of rock jutting out towards the sea had been painted or white- washed in a broad belt to a height of twenty or thirty feet. We at first supposed that this was in some way to indicate the channel, but, seeking further for enlightenment, we were interested and somewhat distressed to find that these landmarks (if they may be so de- signated) were designed for an entirely differ- ent and much less legitimate purpose than as aids to navigation. Indeed they were much more like the wrecker's false light to lure ves- sels to their ruin. It appears that along this particular section of coast there are very few rivers emptying into the fjord, but there are nevertheless many salmon coming in from the sea searching for a convenient stream which they can ascend for spawning purposes. So the inventive, but perhaps not very conscien- tious, Norwegian fisherman "plays it pretty low down " on the unsuspecting fish by [HI] A Norwegian Ramble painting these rocks white, which the salmon seeing from afar mistake for seductive streams up which they may push their way. Reach- ing the base of one of these rocks, which jut out into very deep water, the fish collect and compare notes as to this interference with their progress, while the sordid commercial fishermen quickly surround the unsophis- ticated fish and scoop them up with a "purse" net and the salmon are soon dis- played in the markets of Bergen. The writer has killed his salmon, with light tackle, in some of the delightful pools of east- ern Canada, he has vainly spent hours in striv- ing to persuade the Pacific salmon to rise to his fly in the estuaries of Puget Sound ; he has seen, from the same waters, tons offish takenbyspear or by mechanical device which, with astonish- ing rapidity, transfers the live fish to the sealed can, but none of these processes not even the Columbia salmon wheel appears to ap- proach, in cold-blooded villainy, this Norwe- gian method of tricking thedenizensofthedeep. [172] X BERGEN AND THE HARDANGER FJORD ROUNDING a point about three o'clock, we saw at the head of a branch fjord the charmingly situated town of Bergen, the only place of any size which we had met with since our departure from Christiania, some weeks since, and it therefore seemed like quite a metropolis. The city is finely situ- ated at the base of hills or small moun- tains which shut it in upon three sides, while it is protected on the west by a group of islands. To make a more effective harbor, however, an admirable breakwater has been constructed, and behind this were anchored a large number of vessels. The scene, this af- ternoon, was a busy one, for there were many steamers in port either loading or discharging their cargoes, while the inner basin was filled with a large number of trim and sturdy [178] A Norwegian Ramble fishing smacks, unloading their catches. The energetic activity and bustle if one may use the word in connection with anything Nor- wegian impressed us greatly after our jour- neyings through a country so remarkably free from any apparent commercial spirit. But even here we still find that Scandi- navian dignity in the reception of visitors which is so universal throughout Norway, for as our steamer was made fast to the wharf, we perceived three dignified hotel porters or runners standing in a row on the dock await- ing the landing of passengers, and doubtless each one of the three was anxious to obtain business, but, properly imbued with the spirit of the land, none of them ventured even to signal us, much less to call out the virtues of his particular hotel, and they awaited our pleasure in the selection of an abiding place. When, however, we had indicated our wishes, our special porter became our counsellor and friend, and he was ready and anxious to do everything in his power for our comfort. [174] Bergen and the Hardanger Fjord The city of Bergen possesses many attrac- tive features, and some of its old buildings are remarkably quaint and picturesque. But what the town sadly lacks is a climate or rather one might say that it possesses one exclusively its own. When we arrived it was raining hard and during our two days' stay it con- tinued this treatment with absolute uniform- ity. As this condition of things might readily exist in even the best regulated community, we were not, at first, greatly troubled, but we soon began to notice the total indiffer- ence of the natives to even the most ener- getic of downpours, and a little investigation showed us that clouds and rain were abso- lutely the orthodox thing in this extraordinary spot, where the average annual rainfall is seventy-two inches (over double that of Christiania) and where, according to general information, every day in the year contributes its full quota to this most undesirable condi- tion. Our own conviction is that were there more than 365 days in the year the clerk of [175] A Norwegian Ramble the weather in Bergen would have no diffi- culty in increasing its present record of six feet. Literally the rain falls without a day's clear intermission and it is not difficult to un- derstand the bad character which is accorded to this seaport of Norway, giving it the repu- tation of being the rainiest spot in all Europe. These weather conditions are, naturally, not entirely conducive to the happiness of the visitor, neither do they enhance the many at- tractions which, under more favorable cir- cumstances, the town certainly possesses. Nevertheless, protected by rubber coats and boots, we spent the larger part of two days in watching the busy operations along the wharves and tramping through the narrow little streets near the water's edge, many of these being lined with very Quaint old houses. One of the sights of Bergen, even in the rain, is the fish market, the inspection of which we found of much interest. On either side of one of the longest wharves, at which were tied up quite a fleet of fishing [176] Bergen and the Hardanger Fjord smacks, rows of large tanks are placed, with a gangway through the centre for the pur- chasing public. Behind these tanks stand the fishmongers, each armed with a large land- ing net, while each tank contains but a single variety of fish, in active life, and quite uncon- scious of the fate which is so soon to over- take them. The housewife, with a large basket, approaches the first tank and, peering in, examines its contents. The size or qual- ity of the fish in this not meeting her require- ments, she passes on to the next tank, in which she may, perhaps, see a cod which pleases her fancy, and, pointing it out to the salesman, the latter makes a quiet plunge with his net and presents the prize for the custom- er's inspection. The buyer takes hold of the net and satisfies herself as to the weight of its contents, then, taking the fish by the gills, she examines it with the most minute care, all the time haggling with the vendor as to the price. After a long discussion it appears impossible to come to terms, and the fish is returned to [177] A Norwegian Ramble the tank, while the canny housewife proceeds to tank after tank until she has, perhaps, gone half-way down the line before finding a fish meeting all her requirements, where, after further elaborate negotiation, a bargain is fi- nally struck, the fish delivered, and the pur- chaser goes on her way with a self-satisfied feeling that, after all, wealth is the result of a strict attention to details. On market days there may be, at any one time, a hundred such careful buyers, absolutely oblivious to the rain, so intent are they in their scrupulous anxiety to obtain the maximum amount of food for the minimum number of ore, and it is interesting to watch the zeal with which the seller enlarges upon the exceptional value of his goods while the buyer decries their alleged merits, the tanks, in the meantime, being frequently replenished by additions from the supplies remaining in the holds of the fishing smacks. To those who appreciate the value of fresh fish, certainly the market of Bergen will appeal, not only because the [ITS] Bergen and the Hardanger Fjord quarry presents, in its wriggling condition, "an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace," but also because the price demanded for the fish is so ridiculously small that it is almost impossible to realize that the would-be purchaser can haggle over the transaction. In the evening the inhabitants of Bergen show, in a different kind of interest, their absolute oblivion to any discomforts by rea- son of the incessant rain. Opposite the hotel at which we stopped is a pretty little open square in which has been placed a fairly good bronze statue of Ole Bull, who was a native of the town. Back of this square is a cafe with an orchestra whose methods, we think, would scarcely have met with the endorse- ment of the great violinist. We sat in this cafe over our cigars, and as we conscientiously strove to discover some virtue in the perform- ance of the only really poor orchestra we had heard in Scandinavia, we watched the crowd of music-loving Norwegians who promenaded [179] A Norwegian Ramble back and forth in the open square with the rain pouring down in torrents, and in mud which was of a very sloppy, not to say tenacious, quality. This crowd of young men and their best girls seemed to be greatly en- joying themselves, if one could judge by their wanderings up and down as long as the band played, while the water poured down in a solid stream from the face and the long locks of Ole Bull, giving the fine old features a most melancholy and woebegone appearance. It would appear quite evident that, rain or shine and the latter condition, we believe, rarely exists, the correct thing in Norway is to invite your best girl to attend these prom- enade concerts with you, and there were a hundred or more such couples apparently en- joying the evening under conditions which would scarcely seem attractive elsewhere. Our steamer for Odde started at 8 A.M. and we concluded to take our breakfast on board, for the Norwegians, at least in the hotels, are not early risers and a morning meal before [ISO] Bergen and the Hardanger Fjord eight o'clock is not often a success. Our luggage was placed on a hand truck, we enveloped ourselves in rubber coats and started for the wharf, where we found an attractive steamer upon which we were soon established in comfortable little staterooms. Precisely at eight o'clock the lines were cast off, and we started for the Sognefjord, picking our way among the islands to the south, and the moist town of Bergen very soon disappeared around a point of land, the interminable rain still continuing to fall on the just and unjust alike. We had been travelling but an hour when a wonderful change came over the scene. Apparently we had suddenly passed beyond the rainfall belt of Bergen, and, in place of the depressing downpour of the last few days, we were treated to the most glorious of sunshine, which brilliantly lighted up the fjord and the mountains on either side. The effect was inspiring in the extreme and it furnished us with another striking example [181] A Norwegian Ramble of those wonderful scenic contrasts in Nor- way which make the country so indescrib- ably fascinating. The route from Bergen down the coast and northeast up the Hardanger Fjord is entirely inside the headlands and in smooth water, and the trip to Odde, our destination, was scheduled to require twenty-four hours, this time giving, perhaps, some conception of the vast extent of these wonderful arms of the sea. We first passed through the broad stretch of the Kvindherreds Fjord and then, turning northeast, we entered the narrower waters of the Hardanger, which is surrounded by rugged and irregular mountains, many of them snow-capped, glistening brilliantly in the morning sun. In the Hardanger we made a number of stops at picturesquely situated little landing places. Our human passenger list was very small, but we soon began to take on board a heavy contingent of four-footed travellers, in the [182] Bergen and the Hardanger Fjord shape of cows who were being returned to their homes after a summer spent in higher latitudes. It appears that, in the farms along the fjords, the crop of grass is so valuable for hay that the owners of live stock cannot afford to use their limited meadows for pasture. So the cows are sent, in the early summer, into the neighboring mountains, where their welfare is watched over by a scetor or cowherd. In September, after the second crop of grass is cut, these cows are sent down the mountains to the nearest land- ing place, put on board the steamer, and un- loaded at their local habitation. It is an interesting sight to watch the load- ing of this stock. We took on board at the several landings about a hundred head, and the quiet and effective manner in which these troublesome creatures were handled, was most admirable. A broad band is run under each candidate and, in a moment, by the aid of a steam winch, the animal is hoisted, willy nilly, into the air and dropped into the hold, where [188] A Norwegian Ramble she and her sisters are eventually packed so closely that movement is out of the question. So calmly, and so much as a matter of course, do these cows accept this treatment, that we frequently saw the contented beast sedately chewing her cud, not at all disturbed by her experience in hanging ten or twelve feet in the air. Each cow is marked, in some mys- terious manner, so that her particular desti- nation is indicated, and, at the proper time, she is separated from her fellow-passengers, hoisted aloft again, and, with more or less grace, dropped upon the dock. At each one of the landing places stand a picturesque group of women and girls with coils of rope thrown over their arms, and, as a cow appears, suspended in mid-air, she is, at once, recognized by her special maid, who rushes forward to claim her ere she touches the dock, and, throwing her arms around the animal, she welcomes her arrival on her na- tive heath with the effusion to which a travel- ler is entitled who is returning from a foreign [184] Bergen and the Hardanger Fjord journey. These scenes are full of life and color, while everything connected with the embarkation and the landing is carried on with that extraordinary quietness and total lack of excitement so characteristic of the Norwegian. As we continued up the fjord we often ran very close to the many bold cliffs on the shore, and we found that the water through- out this entire trip is of extraordinary depth, frequently reaching from eighteen hundred to two thousand feet. To our left, several times during the afternoon, we were treated to some remarkably beautiful rainbows, the bril- liant arches spanning the side branches of the fjord and producing striking effects against the dark growth on the snow-capped moun- tains. The whole day's trip was delightful in the extreme, the sun gloriously bright and warm, and its setting brilliantly illuminating mountain, valley, and fjord with a wonderful coloring that can scarcely be matched outside of Norway. [186] A Norwegian Ramble During the night we continued to make frequent stops, and to take on and discharge live stock and other freight, but so different are the methods employed from what an American is ordinarily accustomed to that no undue noise or racket disturbed the pleas- ant slumbers of the passengers. We were greeted by another superb morn- ing as we went on deck the next day, and we found our steamer, now in the narrow Sor- fjord, heading almost due south for Odde. We were still honored by a very full quota of cows, although we noticed that many changes had been made during the night, and these four-footed passengers were being dropped off by degrees at each little landing place. [186] XI ODDE BREAKFAST, after an hour's breath of this clear frosty air, was welcome, and, shortly after, we made out in the distance the little village of Odde at the extreme head of the fjord and the end of the steamer's route. Here we found an excellent, if somewhat more pretentious hotel than we cared for, but its situation was charming, as it stood di- rectly at the head of the narrow stretch of fjord, down which it commanded a fine view. On either side of this fjord the mountains rose grim and bold, while behind the house was a superb valley through which a road, after passing the little settlement, twists and turns as it gradually ascends to a lake a couple of miles inland. To this lake we made our way, after settling ourselves at the hotel, following the well- [187] A Norwegian Ramble made highway running close alongside of a roaring cataract of a river, which discharged the waters of the lake into the fjord but a short distance to the east of the inn. This river, which is called the Aabo-Elv, has many falls and rapids, but it also contains a number of attractive looking salmon pools, and these were being energetically fished by a couple of Englishmen, who for many years had leased the waters at a price which must have appeared to the adjacent farmers as offering a far more remunerative return than could possibly be obtained from the hard work of tilling the somewhat unproductive soil. Reaching the beautiful Sandvenvand we stood for some time on the little bridge span- ning the river. Here the water rushes out of the lake with great force and the stream makes many leaps and turns before it reaches its outlet at the head of the fjord. Indeed the view from this point, either looking down the valley towards the sea, or inland over the [183] Odde lake with the glacier Buarbrae on the right, is strikingly beautiful. The Rambler had brought with him his rod and reel and he started along the shore to find a boat and an oarsman, while the Doctor con- cluded to climb the mountain on the west. A boat having been secured, the balance of the afternoon was spent in the attempt to entice the wary trout to his destruction, in which effort a choice assortment of American flies was offered for his consideration. The result, if gauged by the number of pounds avoirdupois, was certainly not record-breaking, neverthe- less the fisherman rarely remembers spending two more enjoyable hours. The boatman, who possessed a smattering of English, enlarged, as was his duty, upon the wonderful catches that were often made in this lake, which his passenger, having in other parts of the world listened to similar stories, was disposed to accept as containing a greater or less measure of truth. But the crisp air, the exquisite coloring of the water, A Norwegian Ramble the brilliant golden effect of the glacier which appeared extraordinarily close at hand, while really more than five miles away, and the glorious shades of birch and ash, which, dur- ing the last forty-eight hours, had felt the effects of the frost all these surroundings presented a fascination that no true disciple of Walton could fail to find impressive no matter how light the creel might be. Moreover, it was no slight sport to cast one's fly in the turbulent white waves of the cataract just as its icy waters plunged into the lake from the glacier, for a rise here, even of a fish weighing less than a pound, meant a trout of extraordinary fighting capacity and activity, and one which, like the ouaniniche, will jump out of water three or four times before being conquered. But alas, the afternoons were becoming sadly shortened, each day of the last two weeks losing ten minutes of sunlight. Far too short, indeed, was the exquisite after- noon light on Sandvenvand, one of the most [190] Odde beautiful sheets of water upon which it has ever been the good fortune of the Rambler to cast a fly. Indeed so difficult was it to tear oneself away from such surroundings that it was long after dark before the fisherman ar- rived at the hotel. The next morning we engaged a stolkjcere to take us to the Lotefos. First ascending the road to the Sandvenvand lake, we crossed the bridge at its outlet, and skirted the lake on its eastern side for several miles over an absolutely perfect highway, in some places running, for a considerable distance, on top of a viaduct built directly up from the lake, in others carved out of the perpendicular cliff, at great expense, and with no little engineering skill. On our right was the exquisite surface of the lake, beyond which rose the magnificent stretch of glacier, sparkling in the morning sun. To our left and, in many places, seemingly hanging over our heads, were some grand mountains, rising sheer from the lake for many hundred feet. Innumerable waterfalls, [191] A Norwegian Ramble some of great volume and height, crossed the road and emptied into the lake, and all these torrents were spanned by capitally built bridges, upon each of which was duly inscribed a tablet giving the name of the stream. And this care and accuracy is never neglected any- where throughout the country, every stream, even of the most trifling size, being considered of sufficient importance to be dignified by a full title. As we approached the head of the lake we saw one of the long wires stretching up the mountain from the valley through which we were passing, and near the top end of this wire our driver pointed out a wee bright spot which we were told was a can of milk which had started upon its downward journey and, in some way, become fast in transit. This had a very odd effect, hanging in mid-air, and its release could only be accomplished by lowering the entire line of wire. Now we came to the inlet of the lake, a charmingly picturesque and roaring river of [192] Odde great irregularity, which rushed between huge boulders, now running along sedately for a few rods, and then, with a mad tum- ble, precipitating itself into a narrow gorge, through which it roared with great effect. Indeed the skirting of the shores of this river, now on the east and then across a stone bridge to the other side, the course of the road dependent upon the law of least resist- ance for its builders, the view ahead up the rapidly narrowing valley, the extraordinary ir- regularity in the course of the rushing waters, the effective manner in which the road had been constructed so as, apparently, to present to the traveller the full characteristics of the gorges through which we passed, the fasci- nating colors of the birches and ash all these combined to make a drive through this section one of striking interest and beauty. Finally reaching the Lotefos we could readily appreciate why this has been con- sidered one of the finest waterfalls in all Nor- way. The stream, after dividing itself into [198] A Norwegian Ramble two distinct sections at the top of a high cliff to the left of the road, falls from a great height and passes under a bridge which spans the torrent just before it reaches the main river. In crossing this bridge, the traveller who is solicitous as to his clothing does not tarry, as a large amount of spray is thrown entirely over the road; but if one is some- what oblivious to moisture and is willing to stand on this bridge for a few minutes, he is repaid by a superlatively fine view of this large body of water tumbling, with great force, into the river below. Almost directly opposite the Lotefos is the Espelandsfos, a waterfall of a little different character and of less volume, but quite equal in beauty to its neighbor. It would be hard indeed to find anywhere another pair of contiguous waterfalls more strikingly pictur- esque. Here on the hillside is placed a little inn, but, owing to the lateness of the season, it was closed, and refreshments, after our long [194] Odde ride, were denied us. After an hour spent in climbing up the Lotefos cliff as far as we could, to watch the force of water as it took its first leap, we started on our return drive, which, in the afternoon sunshine, presented many charming features, while, as usual, the brilliancy of the coloring was even more striking than it had seemed in the morning. We had purposely arranged to stay over Sunday at Odde because it was here that the inhabitants are said to attend church in their bright native costumes. It was therefore a disappointment to find that, for some un- explained reason, there was to be no service on that day; and instead of the opportunity, for which we had hoped, of studying the fashions of the season, we took two delightful walks, the first over the road to the west of the Sorfjord, which gave us a fine morning view of the picturesque little settlement, the valley, and the lively current of the Aabo-Elv. Then, after dinner, we wended our way again to the lake and ascended over a trail [195] A Norwegian Ramble leading to the west and towards the glacier. The afternoon was an exquisite one, and the view from this path over lake, valley, and glacier was beautiful in the extreme. The hotel at Odde is, as already noted, a somewhat pretentious edifice, and it is de- signed to accommodate a considerable num- ber of visitors. Indeed Odde is rnuch more on the line of the regular tourist than most points which we had, so far, visited, and, in the season, we understand that the number of German and English travellers may render the place not, altogether, attractive. We were fortunate in making our visit so late that there were but half a dozen people in the house, and four of these were salmon fishermen. While the situation, and the country im- mediately surrounding Odde, are both re- markably beautiful, the present writer thinks that what perhaps impressed him the most was the display of roses in the little garden of the hotel. Odde is situated in latitude 60, [196] Odde on a line with southern Greenland, and yet the climate is so mild and so moist that cer- tain flowers grow and flourish here in the most luxurious manner. Our visit was in September, very late indeed to see the rose at its best, yet the garden display of these was striking in the extreme. Not only were the plants of extremely robust and vigorous growth, but the flowers were extraordinarily large, and of exquisite form and color of such perfection indeed as one rarely sees in open-air culture, and not often under the most favorable conditions of hothouse growth. The charming effect of this little garden, with its nearby surroundings of snow and ice, was extremely delightful, and furnished an- other marked instance of the many striking contrasts met with in journeying through Norway. XII ODDE TO EIDE OUR steamer was scheduled to start at 7 A.M., which necessitated an early cup of coffee, with the expectation of a later breakfast on board the boat. Precisely at the appointed time the steamer got under way and glided out into the fjord. The morn- ing was gray and rainy, but this did not pre- vent us from taking a position on deck to study, as we steamed down the fjord, the ex- ceptional beauty of Odde, its valley, and its boisterous river. After a comfortable break- fast we returned once more to the deck to find a delightful change in the weather, for the sun had broken through the clouds, and once more was illuminating the whole scene with all the brilliancy of a glorious September day. We made frequent stops during the morn- ing at delightful little landing places, our [198] 1H Odde to Eide principal passengers being, as before, four- footed ones, and consisting of cows being transferred from point to point to reach their winter homes. At one time we had sixty of these animals on our small craft, every availa- able foot of hold and deck being required to stow them, and so close were they packed that it was physically impossible for a human passenger, or member of the crew, to move on the main deck. But we, who were on the upper deck, could enjoy the activity of the crew in their quiet handling of their some- what troublesome cargo, and we found it very interesting to watch the picturesque groups of dairy-maids gathered at each land- ing in waiting for their four-footed friends. At Vik and Ulvik, each at the head of an arm of the main fjord, we landed the larger part of our live freight, and we rather envied them in being domiciled in such delightful spots, for these little hamlets were nestled at the bases of valleys of great beauty and of a verdure surpassingly brilliant in its greenness. [199] A Norwegian Ramble The delays caused by our somewhat excep- tional cargo prevented us from arriving at Hide, our destination, until nearly 6 P.M., two hours beyond our schedule, but we had telephoned ahead for a stolkjcere and, as usual, we were not compelled to waste a moment in unnecessary delays. Our drive was one of twenty miles to Voss, and it would evidently be long after dark before we could reach the end of our journey, for the shortening of the daylight had been very marked and somewhat saddening during the past two weeks. But the first hour of the drive was at that ideal time when every view in Norway is at its best, for while the beauties of light and shadow are always striking, in these Sep- tember evenings the frosts had clothed the fo- liage in a glory of coloring marvellously rich. Our road led, for some miles, along the shores of a lake over which the rays of the setting sun produced most brilliant effects, and ahead of us, and upon the mountains on our right, [200] Odde to Eide was a glorious display of golden birch and purple ash. Indeed, these September evening drives in Norway are indescribably beautiful in coloring and in their striking atmospheric effects, and they furnish an experience long to be remembered. One peculiar feature of the country struck us in the condition of the ash trees along the roadside, which in many cases were stripped of their foliage as though by some pestiferous insect. Investigation, however, proved that the pest was a human one, for we believe that nature has kindly failed to inflict Norway with any insect life injurious to vegetation, the favored coun- try being even free from visitations of the potato bug. The condition of these ash trees was due to the extreme scarcity of fodder for the cattle, which causes the farmers not only to take extraordinary care to preserve every spear of grass, as already described, but leads them to strip the ash trees of all the foliage which can conveniently be reached. This is carefully dried and is fed to the cows when, [201] A Norwegian Ramble in the long winter, the hay supply runs short. Just as the sun was sinking we reached the summit of the divide, a steep climb of several miles, which, as usual, we walked, making short cuts from loop to loop of the road, while our vehicle, with many rests, slowly followed. Here we reached a point of surpassing beauty. Standing on a finely con- structed stone bridge which spanned, by well proportioned arches, a roaring river beneath, we looked down the deep valley below us. To the left the sun was lighting up the birch- covered mountain with extraordinary golden radiance, while to the right the heavy green of the fir and pine was deep in shadow. Through the centre of this valley, plunging over high cliffs, twisting and turning, tum- bled the energetic and noisy river, in some points being struck by the rays of the setting sun and the spray turned into strikingly beau- tiful rainbows, while, half-way down the hill, we saw a charming little inn from whose [202] Odde to Eide roof flew a flag, and this tiny bit of red in the distance stood out charmingly against the golden yellow of the mountains beyond. When our stolkjcere reached us the twilight was closing in upon us rapidly and our last five miles were travelledin the darkness, down- hill, and at a very rapid rate of speed, which was a little disquieting occasionally, when we made sharp turns. We drove thus until nine o'clock through a heavy growth of pine and birch, without seeing a house or a light ex- cept that of the brilliant stars over our heads, while the temperature had fallen considerably below the freezing point. At last we saw ahead, and below us, the twinkling of lights and in ten minutes more we had run through the little settlement and had arrived at the hotel at Voss, quite ready for the supper provided for us. Voss is, in one way, what we were not specially looking for a railroad town, being situated at the present terminus of the railroad which has started from Bergen with the, more [208] A Norwegian Ramble or less, laudable object of crossing the country. Up to this point it has succeeded in dodging the mountains and, by taking an extraordi- narily irregular route through the valleys, it has progressed to this point, about seventy- five miles on its way eastward. But from Voss the engineering difficulties greatly in- crease, and, from a traveller's standpoint, one cannot but hope that these may be found in- surmountable, at least for many years to come. While the village of Voss is pleasantly situ- ated in an extensive and quite fertile valley, bordering upon a pretty lake, it presents few of the bold and picturesque features which we have found at other points, and, in com- parison, the place strikes one as a little tame and uninteresting. To be sure there is in the settlement an odd old house, known as the Finneloft, which is used as a kind of a museum, and which dates back to 1300. Its quaint architecture and its many curiosities and relics are interesting, but it affects the [204] Odde to Eide visitor as being a little too much of a show- place to excite exceptional admiration. But the meadows and the farms in this broad valley are by far the most prosperous looking of any we have seen, which, alas, is but faint praise. It was at Voss that the present writer had the intellectual pleasure of studying a business sign which, in a single word, read " Blikens- lagerforrstining." Its dimensions conveyed the idea of somewhat extensive business al- though it was placed over the door of a shop about twelve feet square. [806] XII! VOSS TO STALHEIM WE spent less than a day at Voss and started, at 3 P.M., for a drive to Stalheim on our way to Gudvangen and the Naerorjord. We were vouchsafed another superb afternoon for our drive of twenty-four miles, the greater part of this distance being up-hill. The first portion of our route lay alongside of a bright little lake, but through a comparatively tame country. When we reached the foot-hills for our ascent of twelve hundred feet to Stalheim it had become dark, and we thus lost much of the beauty of the approach to one of the most picturesque points in Norway. We walked the last few miles in the darkness and in a biting cold air, but under a clear sky with a most brilliant display of stars, arriving at the hotel prepared to wel- come, with enthusiasm, a fire and our supper. [206] Voss to Stalheim The house at Stalheim is an extraordinarily homely structure. Nothing, indeed, could be more forbidding and out of keeping with its magnificent natural environment, than this barnlike and hideous building. It is the first instance we have come across of the sad re- sults of "making haste" in Norway and its general effect is such as to render the visitor better than ever satisfied that "strenuous- ness" is not a Norwegian characteristic. It appears that on this particular site the hotel has been twice burnt, the last time in 1902, and such exceptional, and most unfortunate enterprise has been shown, that the present disturbing structure has been put up in about three months' time. But if the hostelry is vile from every aesthe- tic and architectural standpoint, its situation is certainly magnificent. It stands on top of a superb and almost sheer precipice of great height, overlooking one of the grandest valleys in all Norway, and down to this valley the road, over which we had come, winds its [207] A Norwegian Ramble way by many loops, disappearing finally in the distance, a mere thread. Through the centre of this valley runs a river of goodly size, fed by many waterfalls from either side, which precipitate themselves down the sides of exceedingly bold and rugged snow-capped mountains of great height. The situation is entitled to a building of a thoroughly picturesque character, and one in keeping with the environment. One can only hope that another conflagration may sweep off the present monstrosity and that the powers that be, appreciating the error of their ways, may realize that if nature abhors a vacuum she still more disapproves of such an incongruous eyesore as this barracks. The building in question is planned to ac- commodate a hundred, or more, guests, but at our visit there was but one other visitor, an Englishman who had walked many a mile through Norway, and who impressed upon us that, from his own experience, the country was far more attractive in midwinter than in [208] Voss to Stalheim summer. This particular house is not, we believe, a government station, which, per- haps, may account, in no small measure, for its deficiencies in architectural beauty, and it was just on the point of closing for the season; indeed the thought of a sojourn be- hind its very slightly constructed walls in midwinter in this climate would be by no means an attractive outlook. Quite a distance down the valley, and stand- ing at a considerably higher elevation than the hotel, we could just make out a little hut, and to this spot our English friend in- vited us to join him, saying that the view from this point was exceptionally fine and well repaid the six-mile walk. The day was simply ideal, clear, cold, and bracing, and we started off after breakfast, drinking in the invigorating air whose effect was almost intoxicating. First crossing a little valley to the west we struck a path up the mountain which led us, single file, along the edge of many steep precipices. The 14 [209] A Norwegian Ramble previous winter the old man whose hut we were about to visit met with an accident in going over this trail which nearly proved fatal. The snow was deep, the path un- trodden, and in trying to make his way along the edge of one of the cliffs the poor old fellow missed his footing, and fell (ac- cording to some accounts) a distance of two hundred feet, luckily landing in a deep drift of snow which saved his descent into the valley five hundred feet below. There he lay for several hours until a rescuing party pulled him out, more dead than alive, and since this time he has been a cripple whose movements are of great difficulty. It is said that nothing can now induce him to ap- proach the edge of the mountain, no matter how sure his footing may be. Along this path we walked for several miles, and as we ascended, view after view of extraordinary and most varied beauty pre- sented itself. Finally reaching the gaard or farm near the mountain-top we found [210] Voss to Stalheim an insignificant little hut occupied by the old man and his wife, surrounded by a clearing of a few acres of grass and oats. A wilder, a more lonely, or a more wonderfully pic- turesque spot can scarcely be imagined than this little apology for a farm perched upon the very edge of the precipice and overlook- ing a wide extent of valley, a thousand feet below, of wondrous beauty. The only live stock we could discover were a couple of cows and two goats, and the existence of these poor old people, especially through the long winter months, must indeed be a hard one, especially as the wife was appar- ently compelled to do nearly the whole of the work demanded by the little farm. While she was also evidently of a good old age neither of them seemed lacking in a fair measure of cheerfulness, and the unusual event of visi- tors was doubtless a godsend to both, even though their guests were able to exchange with them but a very limited stock of ideas. After climbing down to a plateau below the [211] A Norwegian Ramble house which commanded a superb view of the valley from which we had just come, with the hotel in the distance, from which the winding road made its sinuous way down to the lower level, we persuaded the old fellow to induce the goats to climb upon the top of the grass-covered house in order that we might obtain a "snapshot" of the scene. In this he was, at last, successful and the Ram- bler, in parting, handed him a very trifling piece of money as a douceur, and to show our appreciation of his attentions. This he looked at, with evident interest, but shook his head and gave us the unusual and somewhat start- ling information that the amount was too much for the service rendered. Being as- sured that we had been guilty of no mistake, he held the money in his left hand and after energetically kissing his right hand he gave us this to shake with great solemnity and impressement. Indulging in a refreshing drink from the bright little brook which ran past the house, [212] Voss to Stalheim we started on our downward trail, reaching the hotel in time for dinner, having immensely enjoyed our morning's experience and our five hours' walk. [218] XIV TO GUDVANGEN WE had ten miles to go to our next stop- ping place at Gudvangen, and, shortly after dinner, we started to walk down the mountain, letting the stolkjcere follow us when ready. Down this winding road was really a charming stroll, every turn in the path presenting some new and striking feature of the landscape. Half-way to the valley we crossed a very finely constructed stone bridge over a raging torrent, descending, with leaps and bounds, to the valley below. Reaching the lower level our stolkjcere overtook us, and we travelled, for several miles, over a fairly level road, the mountains on either side rapidly closing in upon us as we proceeded. For the last few miles the scenery is of won- derful grandeur and, indeed, this whole valley [214] To Gudvangen of the Naerodal presents some of the most impressive views to be found in all Norway. On our left rises, to a sheer height of thirty- six hundred feet, the Jordalsnut, while to the east is the Kilefos, a wonderful waterfall of eighteen hundred feet with a single leap of over five hundred feet; while through the valley runs the rushing water of the Naero- dals-EIv, twisting and turning, first to the east, then to the west side of the valley. Near Gudvangen we saw the evidences of a great avalanche which has changed the course of both the road and the river, and just at twilight we reached the inn where we were to await the arrival of our steamer. This little hamlet of Gudvangen is so shut in upon all sides by lofty mountains that for the three months of winter absolutely no sun is seen. The delight of its return in early March, the first day for but ten minutes, must almost atone for its long absence. The little inn is charmingly situated, directly at the head of the fjord, which here is closed in on the [215] A Norwegian Ramble east and west by lofty and rugged mountains, while at the north is a narrow opening through which the steamers run to the Sognefjord. Our boat was due to arrive at n P.M. and leave again at i A.M., and, after we had dismissed our skud and had our supper, we went out for a walk along the fjord by the brilliant starlight. It was a frosty night and, on our return, we sat before a cheerful wood fire until 10.30, when we heard in the distance the vigorous blowing of a horn, and going outside waited for the mail wagons from Bergen. Nearer and nearer down the valley sounded the postman's signal and in a few minutes three stolkjceres rushed past us at a gallop, the driver of the first tooting, with great effect, to indicate that His Majesty's mail was on time and had reached the second stage of its journey across the country. This mail is a daily event in both summer and winter, though often in the latter season it is necessary to drive out on the ice some miles to reach the steamer. [216] To Gudvangen Starting from Bergen in the afternoon the mail travels by rail to Voss, the terminus of the railroad. It is then quickly loaded on as many light siolkjceres as may be necessary and, at full speed, it is pushed forward over the divide to Gudvangen, a distance of thirty- six miles. Now, shifted to the steamer, it continues its eastern journey to Laerdal, where it is again consigned to the native two-wheel vehicle and carried thirty-six hours to the ter- minus of the railroad from Christiania, thus making its way across country in two days and a half over rail, fjord, fjeld. and mountain, and up many long and heavy climbs. The winter trips over some of these heights must be accomplished with extraordinary dif- ficulty, but we are told that it is very rare that there is any great delay in making the proper schedule. Now we hear the whistle of the steamer, and going down to the dock with our lug- gage, we see the prompt transfer of the mails; the incoming bags are quickly loaded upon [217] A Norwegian Ramble the stolkjceres and these start off at full speed upon their midnight drive to Voss. We found the steamer small but comforta- ble and possessing the same neat and natty appearance as have all the vessels on which we have travelled. On this craft, however, there were no separate rooms, but the stew- ardess made up very comfortable beds for us on the lounges of the little cabin, and being the only passengers, we had ample accom- modation. After our long walk and drive we were soon sound asleep. Our start was made promptly at one o'- clock with the usual absence of all turmoil or unnecessary noise, and just at daylight we tied up at Laerdal, the captain waking us up and telling us that we had arrived at our des- tination. Believing that this was the end of the steamer route, we sleepily turned over and told him that we would take another hour's nap. " But," we were advised in that quiet and dignified manner at which it is im- possible to take exception, "we start away [21S] To Gudvangen from here in about five minutes." Comforta- ble as we were, we had no desire to continue our sea-voyage, and hastily pulling ourselves together we were soon ashore with our bag and baggage in the dimness of a frosty Sep- tember dawn, with the steamer's lights disap- pearing in the distance, and not a house or a human being in sight. In the dim light, and in our sleepy condition, the surroundings offered an excellent opportunity for the exer- cise of a Mark Tapley philosophy which we endeavored, somewhat imperfectly, to sum- mon up, for we certainly did not, at all, know " where we were at." But while we medi- tated as to our next move, a friendly figure emerged from behind the freight-house, which figure indicated by signs that it would pro- ceed to the village and send us a stolhj&re to convey us, and our belongings, to the hotel. We enthusiastically accepted the offer, and after half an hour's delay we found ourselves knocking at the door of the hotel, which was opened by a woman in a somewhat deshabille [219] A Norwegian Ramble costume, who impressed upon us that silence was in order as there were other guests in the house. Reaching our rooms at 5 A.M. we once more strove to make up for our somewhat disturbed slumbers. [220] XV LAUREDAL AND MARISTUEN AT eight o'clock we were ready for break- fast, and the driver whom we had en- gaged appearing on time, our luggage was soon stowed, and by nine o'clock we were again under way, just as the sun came over the top of the mountain on the east. Our present route was directed to Maris- tuen, a drive of forty miles, and our road lay up a beautiful and fertile valley in which "all hands " were busily engaged in taking ad- vantage of every hour of sunshine and secur- ing the second crop of hay. Soon the valley became narrower, and we passed through many striking gorges, alongside and over streams of great force and beauty, and be- tween mountains whose sides presented the most brilliant effects of color from the frost of the preceding night. [221] A Norwegian Ramble Continuing up the irregular valley we passed Blaaflaten and Husum, and reached Haeg at an elevation of fifteen hundred feet. Here we stopped to examine the extraor- dinary architecture of the old church of Bor- gund, built in the twelfth century, which we understand is the best preserved building of its kind in Norway. With its many orna- mental peaks and gables, its curious old carv- ings, and the fact that its congregation must have worshipped in almost total darkness, it is certainly a building of unique character and of great interest to the casual visitor as well as to the antiquarian. From this point our road began to ascend rapidly, and before reaching Maristuen we had a steady climb of eight miles, which we accomplished on foot through a heavily wooded country, whose foliage was brilliantly illuminated in the afternoon sunlight and we reached the hotel at Maristuen just at sunset, when we were fairly well tired out by our walk. The house stands, all by it- [222] Lauredal and Maristuen self, on a plateau at an elevation of twenty- six hundred feet, surrounded by woods and with a superb view of the valley from which we had just ascended, the towering moun- tains quite shutting in this plateau on three sides. The hotel itself is an extensive, and not attractive, hostelry, designed to accom- modate a large number of visitors, and we confess that "in the season" we should pre- fer to pass on to the next stopping-place. Happily for us, the season had closed; and, owing to the bad weather during the summer months, this had not been, at all, a profita- ble year. Possessing extraordinarily beautiful natural advantages, this house seemed to us decidedly the least satisfactory of any we had visited in our travels. Indeed it was our only experi- ence of any lack of courtesy and hospitable attention. The next morning, immediately after break- fast, we once more took up our tramp up- ward and onward. A mile beyond the hotel [223] A Norwegian Ramble we passed out of the line of vegetation and reached a wild and desolate, but, in its bold outlines, a wonderfully picturesque country. After twelve miles of travel we reached the highest point on the road between east and west Norway at an elevation of thirty-three hundred feet. On a stretch of this wild moor, surrounded by rugged snow-capped mountains, our pony was jogging along in an entirely dignified manner, when, suddenly pricking up his ears, he shied at what seemed some imaginary evil and for half a mile he was overcome with great nervousness and excitement, quieting down at the end of this time to his ordinary methodical gait. It appears that this ner- vousness was doubtless due to the scent of either reindeer or bear, probably the former, for which we understand many of these ponies develop, for some unknown reason, great fear. We were in the region of the reindeer but had not ourselves discovered any signs of them. [224] Lauredal and Maristuen A little farther on the coloring on either side of the road was extraordinarily brilliant and beautiful. Lining the sides of the moun- tains was a growth of what seemed very much like our barberry, which from the re- cent frosty nights had turned to an extra- ordinarily bright purple. Below this, and running down to the valley ahead of us, was a superb growth of birch, the foliage of which had reached its perfection of color- ing, a golden yellow of surprising richness, set off here and there by clumps of rich brown ash, or backed by the deep green of the pine. The effect of this valley, as we started down it from the desolate fjeld at the divide, was wonderfully striking. Ten miles steadily downward and we reached the jolly little station of Skodstad, twenty-eight miles from our starting-point of the morning, and here we put in two good hours for rest and dinner, the latter being an admirable meal of soup, salmon, venison, and delicious pancakes. At three o'clock we [226] A Norwegian Ramble again started eastward, and the valley opened out with increasing beauty at every mile. On our left we soon reached the head of Vangsm- josen, a charming and dazzling lake twelve miles long, above it standing the superb Skodshorn, fifty-four hundred feet in height. The road skirting this lake presents probably the finest engineering skill of any over which we have travelled. It is literally carved out of the solid rock, and it seems, for miles, to hang over the lake, the waters of which are directly below us a couple of hundred feet. On our right rises an almost perpendicular precipice, and in order to protect the road from being overwhelmed by falling stones, a heavy roof has been, very substantially, con- structed over a long stretch of the highway. Down this road we travelled at a speed which is apt to make the passenger a trifle nervous, as we twisted and turned around extraordin- arily sharp corners, with our outer wheel perilously near the edge. But there is little or no danger, apparently, as the ponies are [226] Lauredal and Maristuen absolutely sure-footed and the drivers doubt- less thoroughly understand their business. At 6.30, at which hour, unfortunately, dark- ness comes, we reached the charming little inn at Oilo, delightfully situated in a fine meadow through which rushes the Baegna, a stream of great force, and the outlet of the lake we had just passed. And what a hospitable reception we met with at this jolly little hostelry! Our hostess was all smiles and good cheer, a roaring wood fire was quickly burning in the sitting-room, which was most gratefully appreciated after our drive of nearly forty miles, and in an incredibly short space of time we were served with a supper that, to our great surprise, was in all its appointments incomparably the best we had met with in all our journeyings. And then our rooms and our beds were most enjoyable, in marked contrast to the lack of comfort in the pretentious hotel at Maristuen, while our reckoning for really an elaborate supper, bed, light, fire, and capital breakfast footed but $1.12 [227] A Norwegian Ramble apiece. The present travellers voted that their experience had rarely, if ever, presented so much at the price, and we took great pleasure in proclaiming our sentiments in the hotel register. It was quite a wound to our feelings to tear ourselves away from the attractions of Oilo but at 9 A.M. we again started our effective little pony upon our day's journey of thirty- five miles down the valley, skirting the river for a few miles and then crossing it over a fine bridge and passing to the east of another lake, the Slidrefjord. At Loken on the border of this lake we lunched and then kept on down the beautiful valley, being again favored with a superb afternoon of bright sunshine and strikingly beautiful cloud effects. But the leaves were fast falling, and we should not again meet with any such wealth of color as that of yesterday. Before dark we reached Fagernses, where we found a house delightfully situated on the [228] Lauredal and Maristuen lake. The proprietor evidently has an eye to the picturesque, for, after supper, he took us out to a charming little log cabin which he had built for the benefit of smokers. Here we found a royal wood fire, luxurious chairs, and the decorations exceptionally attractive, consisting of a fine collection of old Nor- wegian curiosities which gave the room an exceedingly pleasant aspect. And among these seductive surroundings we sat enjoying our cigars and congratulating ourselves on our good fortune in falling among such pleasant environment. We were now directly on the route of the through mail between Bergen and Christiania and this mail passed through at 5 A.M. The present writer was somewhat taken aback, in the early morning, to have his door pushed open without the ceremony of a knock and an attractive maiden enter with a paper in her hand, which she placed on his bed and with- drew. It was the London Times of three days back, just arrived, and as we had been [229] A Norwegian Ramble without any sight of a paper for many days its appearance was perhaps a desirable though fleeting addition to our happiness. It was Sunday morning and as we started out the air was wonderfully clear but of rather biting temperature. We had about forty miles to travel before night, the last stage of our stolkjcere journey. The weather was in keep- ing with the day not a breath of wind, and scarcely a cloud in the sky, an exceptional condition as far as our experience went. All work in the fields had stopped and the farmer folk were dressed in "their best bib and tucker " to gossip and enjoy the peacefulness of the day. The first part of our drive seemed rather tame after what we had passed through, but our road soon began to rise and led us through some superb evergreen woods. Reaching the summit we started on a good pace down grade for seven or eight miles, making an extraordinary number of sharp turns on the mountainside, the road having been, in many [280] Lauredal and Maristuen places, built up upon an immense and very expensive retaining wall from the valley be- neath. Above us, in order to keep the road from being overwhelmed in winter, a large number of snow fences had been built and these doubtless caught the snow and, in a measure, protected the highway. We dined at Fjeldheim and then travelled our last twenty miles to Sorum, where we arrived at six o'clock. At this point we were to take the steamer and the train to Christiania, our starting-point. Sorum does not call for any special mention, being a pleasant but somewhat tame little hamlet, and, turning in early, we were ready for a six o'clock breakfast, and at seven were on board the little steamer and on our way down Lake Spirillen. At Heen, at the lower end of this lake, we reached the terminus of the railroad which some day it is expected will be con- tinued across the country to Voss, and taking train once more we arrived in Christiania at 7 P.M., tired but with a feeling of real regret [281] A Norwegian Ramble that our outing was over as far as the fascina- ting Norwegian fjelds and fjords were con- cerned. We had crossed the country twice, once northwest to Molde, our farthest point north, then down the coast, and in and out of the wonderful fjords, and finally southeast again through the beautiful Valders to the capital of this strangely fascinating country, and in all our journeying had never experi- enced aught from the natives but the greatest of courtesy, kindness, and hospitality. THE END Jl Selection from the Catalogue of G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS Complete Catalogues sent on application Our European Neighbours Edited by WILLIAM HARBUTT DAWSON 12. Illustrated. Each, net $1.20 By Mall 1.30 I. FRENCH LIFE IN TOWN AND COUNTRY By HANNAH LYNCH. "Miss Lynch 's pages are thoroughly interesting and suggestive. Her style, too, is not common. It is marked by vivacity without any drawback of looseness, and resembles a stream that runs strongly and evenly between walls. It is at once distinguished and useful. . . . Her five-page description Cnot dramatization) of the grasping Paris landlady is a capital piece of work. . . . Such well-finished portraits are frequent in Miss Lynch's book, which is small, inexpensive, and of a real excellence." The London. Academy. " Miss Lynch's book is particularly notable. It is the first of a series describing the home and social life of various European peoples a series long needed and sure to receive a warm welcome. Her style is frank, vivacious, entertaining, captivating, just the kind for a book which is not at all statistical, political, or contro- versial. A special excellence of her book, reminding one of Mr. Whiteing's, lies in her continual contrast of the English and the French, and she thus sums up her praises : ' The English are. admirable : the French are lovable.' "The Outlook. II GERMAN LIFE IN TOWN AND COUNTRY By W. H. DAWSON, author of "Germany and the Germans," etc. "The book is as full of correct, impartial, well-digested, and well-presented information as an egg is of meat. One can only recommend it heartily and without reserve to all who wish to gain an insight into German life. It worthily presents a great nation, now the greatest and strongest in Europe." Commercial Advertiser. III. RUSSIAN LIFE IN TOWN AND COUNTRY By FRANCIS H. E. PALMER, sometime Secretary tc H. H. Prince Droutskop-Loubetsky (Equerry to H. M. the Emperor of Russia). " We would recommend this above all other works of hs charac- ter to those seeking a clear general understanding of Russian life, character, and conditions, but who have not the leisure or inclina- tion to read more voluminous tomes. . . . It cannot be too highly recommended, for it conveys practically all that well-informed people should know of 'Our European Neighbours.' "Mail and Express. Our European Neighbours IV. DUTCH LIFE IN TOWN AND COUNTRY By P. M. HOUGH, B.A. " There is no other book which gives one so clear a picture of actual life in the Netherlands at the present date. For its accurate presentation of the Dutch situation in art, letters, learning, and politics as well as in the round of common life in town and city, this book deserves the heartiest praise." Evening Post. "Holland is always interesting, in any line of study. In this work its charm is carefully preserved. The sturdy toil of the people, their quaint characteristics, their conservative retention of old dress and customs, their quiet abstention from taking part in the great affairs of the world are clearly reflected in this faithful mirror. The illustrations are of a high grade of photographic reproductions." Washington Post. V. SWISS LIFE IN TOWN AND COUNTRY By ALFRED T. STORY, author of the " Building of the British Empire," etc. " We do not know a single compact book on the same subject in which Swiss character in all its variety finds so sympathetic and yet thorough treatment; the reason of this being that the author has enjoyed privileges of unusual intimacy with all classes, which prevented his lumping the people as a whole without distinction of racial and cantonal feeling." Nation. "There is no phase of the lives of these sturdy republicans, whether social or political, which Mr. Story does not touch upon ; and an abundance of illustrations drawn from unhackneyed sub- jects adds to the value of the book." Chicago Dial. VI. SPANISH LIFE IN TOWN AND COUNTRY By L. KIGGIN. "Illuminating in all of its chapters. She writes in thorough sympathy, born of long and intimate acquaintance with Spanish people of to-day." St. Paul Press. "The author knows her subject thoroughly and has written a most admirable volume. She writes with genuine love for the Spaniards, and with a sympathetic knowledge of their character and their method of life." Canada Methodist Review. Our European Neighbours VII. ITALIAN LIFE IN TOWN AND COUNTRY By LUIGI VILLARI. " A most interesting and instructive volume, which presents an intimate view of the social habits and manner of thought of the people of which it treats." Buffalo Express. " A book full of information, comprehensive and accurate. Its numerous attractive illustrations add to its interest and value. We are glad to welcome such an addition to an excellent series." Syracuse Herald. VIII. DANISH LIFE IN TOWN AND COUNTRY By JESSIE H. BROCHNER. " Miss Brochner has written an interesting book on a fascinat- ing subject, a book which should arouse an interest in Denmark in those who have not been there, and which can make those who know and are attracted by the country very homesick to return." Commercial Advertiser. "She has sketched with loving art the simple, yet pure and elevated lives of her countrymen, and given the reader an excellent idea of the Danes from every point of view." Chicago Tribune. IX. AUSTRO-HUNGARIAN LIFE IN TOWN AND COUNTRY By FRANCIS H. E. PALMER, author of " Russian Life in Town and Country," etc. 'No volume in this interesting series seems to us so notable or valuable as this on Austro-Hungarian life. Mr. Palmer's long resi- dence in Europe and his intimate association with men of mark, especially in their home life, has given to him a richness of experi- ence evident on every page of the book." The Outlook. "This book cannot be too warmly recommended to those who have not the leisure or the spirit to read voluminous tomes of this subject, yet we wish a clear general understanding of Austro-Hun- garian life." Hartford Times. Our European Neighbours X. TURKISH LIFE IN TOWN AND COUNTRY By L. M. J. GARNETT. "The general tone of the book is that of a careful study, the style is flowing, and the matter is presented in a bright, taking way." SI. Paul Press. "To the average mind the Turk is a little better than a blood- thirsty individual with a plurality of wives and a paucity of vir- tues. To lead this book is to be pleasantly disillusioned." Public Opinion. XI. BELGIAN LIFE IN TOWN AND COUNTRY By DEMETRIUS C. BOULGER " Mr. Boulger has given a plain, straight-forward account of the several phases of Belgian Life, the government, the court, the manufacturing centers and enterprises, the literature and science, the army, education and religion, set forth informingly." The Detroit free Press. " The book is one of real value conscientiously written, and well illustrated by good photographs." The Outlook. XII. SWEDISH LIFE IN TOWN AND COUNTRY By G. VON HEIDENSTAM. "As we read this interesting book we seem to be wandering through this land, visiting its homes and schools and churches, studying its government and farms and industries, and observing the dress and customs and amusements of its healthy and happy people. The book is delightfully written and beautifully illus- trated." Presbyterian Bannet. "In this intimate account of the Swedish people is given a more instructive view of their political and social relations than it has been the good fortune of American readers heretofore to ob- tain." Washington Even. Star.