er, and why they did not
crow was a still greater mystery. Norway is really the land of silence.
For an inhabited country, it is the quietest I have ever seen. No wonder
that anger and mirth, when they once break through the hard ice of
Norwegian life, are so furious and uncontrollable. These inconsistent
extremes may always be reconciled, when we understand how nicely the
moral nature of man is balanced.

Our road was over a high, undulating tract for two stages, commanding
wide views of a wild wooded region, which is said to abound with game.
The range of snowy peaks behind us still filled the sky, appearing so
near at hand as to deceive the eye in regard to their height. At last,
we came upon the brink of a steep descent, overlooking the deep glen of
the Orkla, a singularly picturesque valley, issuing from between the
bases of the mountains, and winding away to the northward. Down the
frightful slant our horses plunged and in three minutes we were at the
bottom, with flower-sown meadows on either hand, and the wooded sides of
the glen sweeping up to a waving and fringed outline against the sky.
After crossing the stream, we had an ascent as abrupt, on the other
side; but half-way up stood the station of Bjaerkager, where we left our
panting horses. The fast stations were now at an end, but by paying fast
prices we got horses with less delay. In the evening, a man travelling
on foot offered to carry _forbud_ notices for us to the remaining
stations, if we would pay for his horse. We accepted; I wrote the orders
in my best Norsk, and on the following day we found the horses in
readiness everywhere.

The next stage was an inspiring trot through a park-like country,
clothed with the freshest turf and studded with clumps of fir, birch,
and ash. The air was soft and warm, and filled with balmy scents from
the flowering grasses, and the millions of blossoms spangling the
ground. In one place, I saw half an acre of the purest violet hue, where
the pansy of our gardens grew so thickly that only its blossoms were
visible. The silver green of the birch twinkled in the sun, and its jets
of delicate foliage started up everywhere with exquisite effect amid the
dark masses of the fir. There was little cultivation as yet, but these
trees formed natural orchards, which suggested a design in their
planting and redeemed the otherwise savage character of the scenery. We
dipped at last into a hollow, down which flowed one of the tributa