nd feet above the sea, and descended a naked valley to the
inn of Bjoberg. The landlord received us very cordially; and as the inn
promised tolerable accommodation, he easily persuaded us to stop there
for the night. His wife wore a frightful costume, which we afterwards
found to prevail throughout all Hemsedal and Hallingdal. It consisted
simply of a band across the shoulders, above the breasts, passing around
the arms and over the back of the neck, with an immense baggy, dangling
skirt hanging therefrom to the ancles. Whether she was fat or lean,
straight or crooked, symmetrical or deformed, it was impossible to
discern, except when the wind blew. The only thing to be said in favour
of such a costume is, that it does not impede the development and
expansion of the body in any direction. Hence I would strongly recommend
its adoption to the advocates of reform in feminine dress at home. There
is certainly none of that weight upon the hips, of which they complain
in the fashionable costume. It is far more baggy, loose, and hideous
than the Bloomer, with the additional advantage of making all ages and
styles of beauty equally repulsive, while on the score of health and
convenience, there is still less to be said against it. Do not stop at
half-way measures, oh, fair reformers!

It seems incredible that, in a pastoral country like Norway, it should
be almost impossible to procure sweet milk and good butter. The cattle
are of good quality, there is no better grass in the world; and the only
explanation of the fact is to be found in the general want of
cleanliness, especially among the inhabitants of the mountain districts,
which are devoted to pasturage alone. Knowing this, one wonders the less
to see no measures taken for a supply of water in the richer
grain-growing valleys, where it is so easily procurable. At Bjoberg, for
instance, there was a stream of delicious water flowing down the hill,
close beside the inn, and four bored pine-trunks would have brought it
to the very door; but, instead of that, the landlady whirled off to the
stream in her revolving dress, to wash the dishes, or to bring us half a
pint to wash ourselves. We found water much more abundant the previous
winter in Swedish Lapland.

Leaving Bjoberg betimes, we drove rapidly down Hemsedal, enjoying the
pure delicious airs of the upper fjeld. The scenery was bleak and grey;
and even the soft pencil of the morning sun failed to impart any charm
to it, ex