nes and firs, mingled with that of blue, pink, and
yellow flowers, blossoms whose local names only served to puzzle
us,--"wee, modest, crimson-tipped flowers." The giant larkspur,
lilies-of-the-valley, and some orchids were familiar, and greeted the
senses like old friends. The juniper bushes were luxuriant, and there
were plenty of bilberries and wild strawberries in bloom. These last
berries when ripe, as we afterwards found them farther north, are a
revelation to the palate, being quite small, but of exquisite flavor,
recalling the tiny wood-strawberries of New England, which were of
such exquisite flavor and dainty aroma before we cultivated them into
monstrosities. The summer is so short here as to give the fruits and
flowers barely time to blossom, ripen, and fade, or the husbandman a
chance to gather his harvest. Vegetation is wonderfully rapid in its
growth, the sunshine being so nearly constant during the ten weeks
which intervene between seed-time and harvest. Barley grows here two
and a half inches and peas three inches in twenty-four hours, for
several consecutive days. It is an interesting fact that if the
barley-seed be brought from a warmer climate it requires to become
acclimated, and does not yield a good crop until after two or three
seasons. The flowers of the torrid and temperate zones as a rule
close their eye-lids like human beings, and sleep a third or half of
the twenty-four hours; but in Arctic regions life to these lovely
children of Nature is one long sunny period, and sleep comes only
with death and decay. It was also observed that the flowers here
assume more vivid colors and emit more fragrance during their brief
lives than in the south. The long delightful period of twilight
during the summer season is seen here in all its perfection, full of
suggestiveness and roseate loveliness, which no pen can
satisfactorily describe. There is no dew to be encountered and
avoided, no dampness. All is crystal clearness and transparency,
"gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy."

Nothing can be pleasanter or more exhilarating than driving over the
Norwegian roads among the dark pine forests or by the side of dashing
torrents and swift-gliding, seething rivers. The roads are kept in
perfect condition upon all of the regular post-routes, and one rolls
over them in the native carriole nearly as smoothly as though
navigating a lake in a well-manned boat. The little horses, almost
universally of a dun-co