Fjord was through a different route from that we had taken entering it, and was if possible even grander, the mountains in greater and higher masses, and covered with snow.

The next morning we weighed anchor with the first light, and got to sea about twelveand then was it that one really saw Norway in all its grandeur. And what a country it was! Of course there are no Mont Blancs, or Jungfraus, or Wetterhorns, but there is an enormous mass of mountains, sufficiently high to be imposing-immensely extensive, covered with snow, standing, apparently, upon a gigantic plateau of rock springing perpendicularly out of that grand element the sea. Switzerland and the Tyrol never affected my mind or feelings at all in the same manner as Norway has done. And with deep regret did I see its noble scenery fade away from my eyes: and I offered up a devout prayer that I might be able to visit its shores again.

105

CHAPTER XII.

IT

GOING HOME.

T was with great regret that I saw the fine coast of Norway vanish from my sight; not so deep, perhaps, as that of the ill-fated Queen of Scotland, as she watched her beloved France sink into the sea. She knew, young and hopeful as her disposition was, that she never, never more would return there. Now I, old, cripply, as one naturally is at past seventy-four, have registered a vow that I will go back to Norway if allowed life and strength enough to do so. I want to see something more of that grand Scandinavia—I want to get into it unencumbered with anything but a pedlar's pack, and, perhaps, a light fishingrod, and accompanied by my dog Prince. At any rate I can get a good way up by steamer. I want to look on those grand rivers, though I may not arrive, perchance, at the felicity of flogging them; I want to look at them and borrow on the imagination for what I could,

would, or might have done. If all things go right I'll make straight for Throndhjem, and there call counsel with myself on any future proceedings.

you

We are at sea, with the wind dead in our teeth, with a little siding to it. A strong sea on. Are fond of the sea in general, my gentle readers? I am particularly. It reads you, in all its states, such grand lessons. But then I profess a liking to it in its quiescent, not turbulent state, and have always had the greatest possible respect for it in a passion, rather, nay, very much, increased by my more recent experiences. I have been a good deal at sea, and reckon myself a fairish sailor for a landsman, and for years have never experienced any sensation that a stiffish glass of grog, cold and without, either good whiskey or brandy, did not very comfortably settle. If that one had not the desired effect, I always tried No. 2 of the same mixture, which never failed. Therefore I considered myself as proof cast against sea-sickness. For I have crossed from Cork to Bristol, in a head gale of wind, with 1100 pigs, 108 sheep, and 30 bullocks, and from the same port of former butter celebrity to Liverpool, in another head gale of wind ahead, with a very heavy cargo of meal

never famous even in the days of his youth for feats of activity. I do say that the necessity of performing such gymnastic feats does not add to the pleasures of a Norwegian tour. Nevertheless, only give me the chance next year, and I am game to try them again.

We retraced, in this said steamer, a very fine vessel, our steps to Bergen, and had a very hard roll of it. It blew so hard that after rolling very much we had to retrace our steps, and lay up for the night. We had sundry steamers as our companions that were forced also to put back. We started with the first light, and rolled on through what must be very beautiful in fine weather, but as ours was bad we could not see much. We then proceeded on in our course, rolling furiously when out of shelter of the land; and putting up at night, as the navigation in the dark would have been impossible.

One day was beautiful-too fine, indeedbut our progress was delightful. The effect of the light, and the mists upon the high snow hills, was very extraordinary, as we passed through the labyrinth of rocks and hills that it seemed so hard to thread. At one time we suddenly burst on a beautiful volcano. Had Etna or Erebus started out of the sea? You

rubbed your eyes, and looked and looked. No, it was only the effect of the sun playing upon the snow-covered mountains. In so intricate a passage, your safety of course depended on your pilot, his accurate knowledge of the road and the quick answering to his sign of the man at the wheel. Our pilot stood six feet three without his boots, which had very high heels -these boots reaching to his hips made him look still more gigantic. He was the fac simile of Charles the Twelfth, with very much the same costume; and you almost fancied yourself under the leading of that obstinate old monarch, and obliged to obey the behests even of his boots. Thus we proceeded, arriving at Bergen in the evening, before dark. This enabled me to see what I had not seenthe entrance by sea to that singularly beautifully-situated town.