almy odours
which filled the air, the deep blue of the distant hills and islands,
and the soft, warm colors of the houses, all belonged to the south. Only
the air, fresh without being cold, elastic, and exciting, not a
delicious opiate, was wholly northern, and when I took a swim under the
castle walls, I found that the water was northern too. It was the height
of summer, and the showers of roses in the gardens, the strawberries and
cherries in the market, show that the summer's best gifts are still
enjoyed here.

The English were off the next day with their dogs, guns, fishing tackle,
waterproofs, clay pipes, and native language, except one, who became
home-sick and went back in the next steamer. We also prepared to set out
for Ringerike, the ancient dominion of King Ring, on our way to the
Dovre-fjeld and Drontheim.

CHAPTER XXI.

INCIDENTS OF CARRIOLE TRAVEL.

It is rather singular that whenever you are about to start upon a new
journey, you almost always fall in with some one who has just made it,
and who overwhelms you with all sorts of warning and advice. This has
happened to me so frequently that I have long ago ceased to regard any
such communications, unless the individual from whom they come inspires
me with more than usual confidence. While inspecting our carrioles at
the hotel in Christiania, I was accosted by a Hamburg merchant, who had
just arrived from Drontheim, by way of the Dovre Fjeld and the Miosen
Lake. "Ah," said he, "those things won't last long. That oil-cloth
covering for your luggage will be torn to pieces in a few days by the
postillions climbing upon it. Then they hold on to your seat and rip the
cloth lining with their long nails; besides, the rope reins wear the
leather off your dashboard, and you will be lucky if your wheels and
axles don't snap on the rough roads." Now, here was a man who had
travelled much in Norway, spoke the language perfectly, and might be
supposed to know something; but his face betrayed the croaker, and I
knew, moreover, that of all fretfully luxurious men, merchants--and
especially North-German merchants--are the worst, so I let him talk and
kept my own private opinion unchanged.

At dinner he renewed the warnings. "You will have great delay in getting
horses at the stations. The only way is to be rough and swaggering, and
threaten the people--and even that won't always answer." Most likely, I
thought.--"Of course you have a supply of provisions with