ich have not
yet got further north than Drontheim. In seeing these unexpected
apparitions emerge from such a wild corner of chaos I could not but
wonder at the march of modern civilisation. Pianos in Lapland, Parisian
dresses among the Lofodens, billiard-tables in Hammerfest--whither shall
we turn to find the romance of the North!

We sailed, in the lovely nocturnal sunshine, through the long,
river-like channel--the Rasksund, I believe, it is called--between the
islands of East-Vaagoe and Hindoe, the largest of the Lofodens. For a
distance of fifteen miles the strait was in no place more than a mile in
breadth, while it was frequently less than a quarter. The smooth water
was a perfect mirror, reflecting on one side the giant cliffs, with
their gorges choked with snow, their arrowy pinnacles and white lines of
falling water--on the other, hills turfed to the summit with emerald
velvet, sprinkled with pale groves of birch and alder, and dotted, along
their bases, with the dwellings of the fishermen. It was impossible to
believe that we were floating on an arm of the Atlantic--it was some
unknown river, or a lake high up among the Alpine peaks. The silence of
these shores added to the impression. Now and then a white sea-gull
fluttered about the cliffs, or an eider duck paddled across some glassy
cove, but no sound was heard: there was no sail on the water, no human
being on the shore. Emerging at last from this wild and enchanting
strait, we stood across a bay, opening southward to the Atlantic, to the
port of Steilo, on one of the outer islands. Here the broad front of the
island, rising against the roseate sky, was one swell of the most
glorious green, down to the very edge of the sea, while the hills of
East-Vaagoe, across the bay, showed only naked and defiant rock, with
summit-fields of purple-tinted snow. In splendour of coloring, the
tropics were again surpassed, but the keen north wind obliged us to
enjoy it in an overcoat.

Toward midnight, the sun was evidently above the horizon, though hidden
by intervening mountains. Braisted and another American made various
exertions to see it, such as climbing the foremast, but did not succeed
until about one o'clock, when they were favoured by a break in the
hills. Although we had daylight the whole twenty-four hours, travellers
do not consider that their duty is fulfilled unless they see the sun
itself, exactly at midnight. In the morning, we touched at Throndenaes,
o