und, and the
mountains of the mainland, with their tints of pink and purple, complete
the picture. The sun was burningly hot, and the pale-green water
reflected the shores in its oily gloss; but in severe storms, I was
told, it is quite impossible to cross from one island to another, and
the different parts of the town sometimes remain for days in a state of
complete isolation. I rose very early next morning, to have a view of
Molde and the enchanting scenery of the Romsdals-fjord. The
prosperous-looking town, with its large square houses, its suburban
cottages and gardens, on the slope of a long green hill, crowned with
woods, was wholly Swiss in its appearance, but the luminous morning
vapors hovering around the Alpine peaks in the east, entirely hid them
from our view. In this direction lies the famous Romsdal, which many
travellers consider the grandest specimen of Norwegian scenery.
Unfortunately we could not have visited it without taking an entire
week, and we were apprehensive lest the fine weather, which we had now
enjoyed for twenty-four days, should come to an end before we were done
with the Bergenstift. It is almost unexampled that travellers make the
voyage from Drontheim to the Varanger Fjord and back without a cloudy
day. While we had perpetual daylight, the tourists whom we left behind
were drenched with continual rains.

Aalesund is another island port, smaller than Christiansund, but full as
picturesque. The intense heat and clearness of the day, the splendour of
the sunshine, which turned the grassy patches on the rocks into lustrous
velvet, and the dark, dazzling blue of the sea belonged rather to
southern Italy than to Norway. As we approached Bergen, however, the sky
became gradually overcast, and the evening brought us clouds and
showers. Not far from Aalesund was the castle of Rollo, the conqueror of
Normandy. All this part of the coast is Viking ground: from these fjords
went forth their piratical dragons, and hither they returned, laden with
booty, to rest and carouse in their strongholds. They were the
buccaneers of the north in their time, bold, brave, with the virtues
which belong to courage and hardihood, but coarse, cruel, and brutal.
The Viking of Scandinavian song is a splendid fellow; but his original,
if we may judge from his descendants, was a stupid, hard-headed,
lustful, and dirty giant, whom we should rather not have had for a
companion. Harold Haarfager may have learnt in Constan