The Sun.
London, England, 1868-09-04 00:00:00

A MONTH IN NORWAY.

(FROM A CORRESPONDENT.)

gix weeks ago I took flight from the burning heat
'ID higher latitudes. As I was being borne along by
the Great Northern express I found a country
not merely metaphorically, but literally burnt up.
,Acres upon acres of pasture and tillage ground, miles
upon miles of hedges lay blackened and charred.
,In the wheat fields adjoining the railway, where the early
'harvest was being gathered in, watchers stood ready to
extinguish the fire which some chance spark from the
engine would be sure to kindle. So we sped on through a
-country brown and swarthy with drought where not
actually blackened by fire, and after an hour or two spent
in visiting Lincoln Cathedral we reached Hull. The next
'morning we (my wife and I) went on board Messrs. Wilson's
steamer Argo, and after clearing out from the dock into
the Humber surveyed our vessel, her crew, and our fellow-
. 1) as senge rs. Of the first I cannot speak too highly. It has
teen my fate to make many passages to and from the
'western ports of Europe, but I never found the lines
fall in so clean and pleasant a place as the Argo. The
berths not merely looked clean with that outside hypo-
critical whiteness which so often deludes the passenger
into the belief that he will have his bed all to himself—
belief soon to be routed by the visitation of innumerable
bedfellows—but they were clean and absolutely unoccu-
pied. The fare was excellent and bountiful; the captain
the model of a courteous British sailor; and as for
the steward—who that has been to Norway has
not heard of John Smith, the best of caterers
when you are well, the most attentive of nurses
when you are sick, and always the best of tempers,
with a joke for everybody and everything? The lady pas-
sengers are no less fortunate in their attendant. In fact,
all that can make a seventy hours' voyage pleasant is to
Le found on board the Argo. We had not a very eventful
passage out. The few weak stomachs soon got over their
weakness, and on Sunday the sea was so smooth that we
all had dinner on deck, and were as merry and happy as
though there were no such thing as mal de Men But the
'brightest hours—hours which I shall never forget—were
about midnight. The sun had set, yet the gorgeous flush of
crimson and orange lingered all the night through, and
travelled round the horizon from north-west to north-east,
until about two the twilight brightened, and the deep glow
changed to a flood of golden light as the sun rose after its
brief rest, and bathed sea and rock with glory. A sun-
rise on the Italian lakes or among the Swiss moun-
tains is " a glorious birth," but it will not
compare with that long-linked succession of gorgeous
colouring that unites sunset with sunrise, and makes of
the two but one. In Norway, too, the sea reflects the
splendour of the sky. The steamer ploughs its way
through water that is not green but deep crimson, bright
orange, which breaks:into furrows of light, every furrow a
rainbow. Never shall I forget the night that we entered
Christiansand fjord. Going to one's berth was out of the
question while sea and sky were thus illuminated with
colours brighter than were ever seen in mediaeval missal.
Had I been compelled to turn homewards again without
setting foot in Norway, I should have felt that the voyage
Lad amply repaid me, so magnificent was this spectacle of
an evening and morning that the northern sun thus
combined.

Christiansand, where the steamer stops for a few hours,
is interesting to those who have never seen Norway before,
but seems tame enough if you pass it on your home-
.ward route. • The town is clean and regular, and
-the fjord is full of low rocky islands which landlocks the
harbour. We go on shore for an hour or two, and find the
people painfully English in looks and dress. The men are
very tall, as the Norwegians generally are, as much
above the English in stature as the English are above
the French. The women are proportionately tall, but
there is no special costume; and dresses and bonnets look
as if they had been bought in Oxford-street. We reach
Christiania at five on Tuesday morning, having left Hull
at ten of the previous Saturday morning. Had I written to
you direct from the Norsk capital, and given you my first
impressions, I should have painted it in very gloWing
scoloufs. But on a return thither a month later, after
seeing northern Norway, I found the place dull, and its
scenery almost poor. These things go by comparison, and
I doubt not that a stranger, landing at Christiania, and
going back to England by a different route, would eulo-
gise the place and its surroundings. And in truth they de-
serve to be eulogised, for the city is handsome, and the vici-
nity really charming, with its lake-like fjord, and its fir-clad
woods. Only, if one uses the superlative degree for
Christiania Fjord, what shall he do when he comes to the
Hardanger ? Wednesday, July 29, saw us (my wife and
myself) set off on our journey into the interior. We knew
not a word of Norsk, but we resolved not to cumber our-
selves with a " Talk " (interpreter), and the experience of
some fellow-passengers in the Argo, who did otherwise,
convinces me that we were right. Interpreters are not
the most honest of men, whether they be Northern talks,
Southern couriers, or Eastern dragomans ; and you may
be quite sure that if you indulge yourself with one he will
not be content with his regular pay, but will help himself
ti:rough the agency of innkeepers and shopkeepers. We
found that we soon learnt enough of the language to make
known our ordinary wants. The two words hole (horses)
st;•aka (immediately) were in themselves almost sufficient
to carry us through Norway. On board the steamers there
is sure to be some one of the crew who can speak English,
and in some places where English was not known German
came most opportunely to our aid.
The first day's journey was by train (our first and last)
for some forty-five miles, and then by steamer up the Lake
111j6sen. There is not much to say of either. The lake is
very large, and pretty, with the prettiness of Zurich ; but
is not worth going out of the way to see. It was on Thurs-
day that we made our first essay with carrioles. These vehi-
cles are like a nautilus shell set on wheels, and with very
long shafts. They hold hut one person, only behind there is
a shelf to which your luggage is strapped, and on which sits
the boy who looks after the horse. Every few miles—

ranging from seven to fourteen—you come to a station
where you have to change horses and carrioles, unless you
have a carriole of your own. Some delay occurs at first,
but soon you get into the way of hastening the station.
master, and by rising early you will get through fifty
miles a day comfortably. The horses are the surest-footed
animals in the world. They will rattle down all the steep
hills and never stumble. No one could be much less of a
Jehu than I was when I first took the reins
in my carriole, but I soon found that driving in Norway
was the easiest of accomplishments. Many a time I have
fallen asleep going up hill and down dale at full
pace; I have even slept on horseback, riding in a dark
night over a rough stony road. The most timid and inex-
perienced lady driver need not fear to trust herself behind
one of these horses. There is one thing that you must
not do overdrive. The Norwegians are passionately
fond of their horses, and cannot bear to see them
Mused. A few days ago an English marquis of
sporting notoriety, persisted in racing against another the
horse which he was driving. The postboy remonstrated,
and got a cut with the whip for his pains ; a second time he
remonstrated, and that time received ablow with the butt end
of the whip. Thereupon be drew out the dagger-knife which
very Norsk peasant wears, and put it to the marquis's
throat, who then instantly drew rein. Altogether, it is not
safe to reckon, upon more than five English miles an hour
out of a Norsk horse, and if stoppages are taken into
account it will be seen that fifty miles are a fair day's
journey.

For the first two days after we left the MjZisen Lake
our road lay by the side of the river Laagen (pronounced
Logen). Probably most of my readers have never heard
of this river. Yet it is about a hundred miles long, and •
in some places two or three miles broad. It runs through
the Gudbransdal, a valley of much beauty, but not more
than would be found in many a Scotch valley. It was not
until after we had left the Dovrefjeld in our rear and
begun to descend the Romsdal that the re: lly fine scenery
began. It is here that you see some of the finest moun-
tains in Norway. They are not the highest, have indeed
very little snow on them, but they are of • magnificent out-
line, sharp-pointed pinnacles, deeply-cut ridges, altogether
very noble, especially at Aak (pronounced Oak), the
place whose beauties Lady Di Beauclerk has lately com-
memorated. I fear Lady Di has spoilt Aak for travellers
who, like myself, prefer to see as little as possible of one's
fellow-countrymen. Landmark has become ambitious.
If e finds his little rustic inn always full, and_he means to
build an hotel. Ten years hence Aak will be cockneyfied
and Romsdalen will be visited every summer by Mr.
Cook and a band of tourists. For all that I cannot hold
my peace nor refrain from singing the praises of that most
beautiful valley, with its aspiring mountain peaks, and
grand waterfalls, and rushing river, and greenest of green
paitures, and fair-haired women, and stately men. If my
readers are wise, they will go there at once—within the
next year or two, I mean-before the flood of excur-
sionists overwhelms it. At Veblungnmset we took the
steamer down the Romsdalsfjord to Molde, our most
northerly point. Grander scenes than this we were
to see afterwards, but only one more beautiful.
The fjord consisted of a succession of lakes, bounded by
mountains, some pinnacles of rock, like the Romsdals-
horn, some snow-clad Alps. Here, as in many other parts
subsequently, we were struck by the low level at which
snow is found. Mountains that seemed at most but a few
hundred fe%t above the sea often had patches of snow
on their sides, and others, somewhat higher, had their
summits covered. No doubt we were deceived as
to the elevation, the mountains were really higher
than they looked. Not the less, howeirer, is it a fact that
in Norway there are vast ranges of snow-clad mountains
whose height is not more than 4,000 feet. We had a
glorious view of these from the hill that overlooks Molde.
The sun had set with its usual pomp, and the deep flush
still bathed sky and sea, when right between two mountain
tops a fresh light, cold and silvery at fire, began to glim.