ered bay, with their long
yellow hair, and big blue eyes, and broad shoulders--not to mention
broad-swords and ring-mail and battle-axes. But one does not always see
what one expects. The days of the sea-kings are gone by; and at this
moment, rowing out of one of these same sequestered bays, comes the boat
of a custom-house officer. Yes, there is no doubt whatever about it.
There he comes, a plain-looking unromantic man in a foraging-cap, with a
blue surtout and brass buttons, about as like to a sea-king as a
man-of-war is to a muffin.

Of course, the scenery is indescribable--no scenery _is_ describable.
In order that my reader may judge of the truth of this statement, I
append the following description.

There are islands round us of every shape and size--all of them more or
less barren, the greater part of their surfaces being exposed grey rock.
Here and there may be seen, as I have already hinted, small patches of
bright green, and, sparsely scattered everywhere, are little red-roofed
wooden cottages--poor enough things the most of them; others,
gaudy-looking affairs with gable-ends, white faces, and windows bordered
with green. All of these are, while I write, reflected in the water as
in a mirror, for there is not a breath of wind. Over the islands on my
left are seen more islands extending out to sea. On the right tower up
the blue hills of the interior of old Norway, and, although the weather
is excessively hot, many of these are covered with snow. Everything is
light, and transparent, and thin, and blue, and glassy, and fairy-like,
and magically beautiful, and altogether delightful! There: have you
made much of all that, good reader? If you have, be thankful, for, as I
set out by saying, description of scenery, (at least to any good
purpose), is impossible. The description of a man, however, is quite
another thing. Here is our pilot. He is a rugged man, with fair hair,
and a yellow face, and a clay-coloured chin, and a red nose. He is
small in stature, and thin, insignificant in appearance, deeply
miserable in aspect. His garments are black glazed oiled-cloth from
head to foot, and immensely too large for him, especially the waistcoat,
which is double-breasted, and seems to feel that his trousers are not a
sufficient covering for such a pair of brittle looking legs, for it
extends at least half way down to his knees. The flap of his
sou'-wester, also, comes half way down his back. He is a wonde