tellect.

Soon after, my shoulders began to ache, and in process of time I felt a
sensation about the small of my back that induced the alarming belief
that the spinal marrow was boiling. Presently my wrists became cramped,
and I felt a strong inclination to pitch the oars overboard, lie down in
the bottom of the boat, and howl! But feeling that this would be
unmanly, I restrained myself. Just then my companion in sorrow began to
snore, so I awoke him, and--giving him the oars--went to sleep.

From this period everything in the history of that remarkable day became
unconnected, hazy, and confusing. I became to some extent mechanical in
my thoughts and actions. I rowed and rested, and rowed again; I ate and
sang, and even laughed. My comrade did the same, like a true Briton,
for he was game to the backbone. But the one great, grand,
never-changing idea in the day was--pull--pull--pull!

We had hoped during the course of that day to procure assistance, but we
were unsuccessful. We passed a number of fishermen's huts, but none of
the men would consent to embark with us. At last, late that night, we
reached a small farm about two-thirds of the way up the fjord, where we
succeeded in procuring another large boat with a crew of five men.
Here, also, we obtained a cup of coffee; and while we were awaiting the
arrival of the boat I lay down on the pier and had a short nap.

None but those who have toiled for it can fully appreciate the blessing
of repose. It was a clear, calm night when we resumed our boat journey.
The soft daylight threw a species of magical effect over the great
mountains and the glassy fjord, as we rowed away with steady and
vigorous strokes, and I lay down in the bow of the boat to sleep. The
end of the mast squeezed my shoulder; the edge of a cask of beef
well-nigh stove in my ribs; the corner of a box bored a hole in the nape
of my neck--yet I went off like one of the famed seven sleepers, and my
friend, although stretched out beside me in similarly unpropitious
circumstances, began to snore in less than five minutes after he laid
down.

The last sounds I heard before falling into a state of oblivion were the
voices of our fair companions joining in that most beautiful of our
sacred melodies, the "Evening Hymn," ere they lay down to rest in the
stern of the boat. Next morning at nine we arrived at the top of the
fjord, and at the end, for a time at least, of our journeying.

STORY TH