to silence.

We drove back to Gjovik in a drenching shower, which failed to cool our
anger. On reaching the station I at once made a complaint against the
postillion, and the landlord called a man who spoke good English, to
settle the matter. The latter brought me a bill of $2 for going to
Mustad and back. Knowing that the horses belonged to farmers, who were
not to blame in the least, we had agreed to pay for their use; but I
remonstrated against paying the full price when we had not gone the
whole distance, and had not intended to go at all. "Why, then, did you
order horses for Mustad?" he asked. "I did no such thing!" I exclaimed,
in amazement. "You did!" he persisted, and an investigation ensued,
which resulted in the discovery that the Norwegian who had advised us to
go by steamer, had gratuitously taken upon himself to tell the landlord
to send us to the Randsfjord, and had given the postillion similar
directions! The latter, imagining, perhaps, that we didn't actually know
our own plans, had followed his instructions. I must say that I never
before received such an astonishing mark of kindness. The ill-concealed
satisfaction of the people at our mishap made it all the more
exasperating. The end of it was that two or three marks were taken off
the account, which we then paid, and in an hour afterwards shipped
ourselves and carrioles on board a steamer for Lillehammer. The
Norwegian who had caused all this trouble came along just before we
embarked, and heard the story with the most sublime indifference,
proffering not a word of apology, regret, or explanation. Judging from
this specimen, the King of Sweden and Norway has good reason to style
himself King of the Goths and Vandals.

I was glad, nevertheless, that we had an opportunity of seeing the
Miosen, from the deck of a steamer. Moving over the glassy pale-green
water, midway between its shores, we had a far better exhibition of its
beauties than from the land-road. It is a superb piece of water, sixty
miles in length by from two to five in breadth, with mountain shores of
picturesque and ever-varying outline. The lower slopes are farm land,
dotted with the large _gaards_, or mansions of the farmers, many of
which have a truly stately air; beyond them are forests of fir, spruce,
and larch, while in the glens between, winding groves of birch, alder,
and ash come down to fringe the banks of the lake. Wandering gleams of
sunshine, falling through the broken cloud