white
towers and red roofs rising in sharp relief against the purple
background of the islands which protect her from the sea. In colour,
form, and atmospheric effect, the picture was perfect. Norway is
particularly fortunate in the position and surroundings of her three
chief cities. Bergen bears away the palm, truly, but either of them has
few rivals in Europe.

Our road led at first over well-cultivated hills dotted with
comfortable farmhouses--a rolling, broken country enclosed by rugged and
sterile groups of hills. After some miles we turned northward into a
narrow valley running parallel to the coast line. The afternoon sun,
shining over the shoulder of the mountain-ridge on our left, illuminated
with dazzling effect the green pastures in the bosom of the valley, and
the groves of twinkling birch and sombre fir on the opposite slope. I
have never seen purer tints in the sunshine--never a softer transparency
in the shadows. The landscape was ideal in its beauty, except the
houses, whose squalor and discomfort were real. Our first station lay
off the road, on a hill. A very friendly old man promised to get us
horses as soon as possible, and his wife set before us the best fare the
house afforded--milk, oaten shingles, and bad cheese. The house was
dirty, and the aspect of the family bed, which occupied one end of the
room, merely divided by boards into separate compartments for the
parents, children and servants was sufficient to banish sleep.
Notwithstanding the poverty of the place, the old woman set a good value
upon her choice provender. The horses were soon forthcoming, and the
man, whose apparent kindness increased every moment, said to me, "Have I
not done well? Is it not very well that I have brought you horses so
soon?" I assented cheerfully, but he still repeated the same questions,
and I was stupid enough not to discover their meaning, until he added;
"I have done everything so well, that you ought to give me something for
it." The naive manner of this request made it seem reasonable, and I
gave him something accordingly, though a little disappointed, for I had
congratulated myself on finding at last a friendly and obliging
_skyds-skaffer_ (Postmaster) in Norway.

Towards evening we reached a little village on the shore of the
Osterfjord. Here the road terminated, and a water station of eighteen
miles in length lay before us. The fjords on the western coast of Norway
are narrow, shut in by lofty and ab