12 TRAVELS OF A NATURALIST 



our faces, and we had to grin and bear it the best way we 

 could. The snow hes deep on the Fjeld, and after arriving 

 at Skogstad, at its base, the rest of our journey over the 

 heights must be done in sleighs — at least, so we are told. 



Cold were we when we arrived at Oiloe i Vand, where 

 once more we changed horses and drove off again for 

 seven English miles more to Thune. The road was 

 now truly grand, being cut out of the face of the solid cliffs 

 which rise perpendicularly from the waters of the Lille 

 Miosen. In one place the road was covered in, and on 

 looking up to see the reason of this precaution, I caught a 

 glimpse of a great mass of overhanging snow. The side 

 of the road next the loch was guarded by a strong wooden 

 railing fastened to the solid rock with iron clamps, and 

 along the face of the rock the telegraph wire was run. 

 Along this road we drove merrily, notwithstanding the 

 icy blast which blew right in our faces and curled up the 

 dark green snow water of the Lille Miosen. (The hills 

 reminded Alston of Glencoe.) 



Thune was reached about seven o'clock, after our long 

 drive of about thirty-one English miles. Very obliging 

 landlady, but a poor station. We then had truly High- 

 land fare — eggs, fladbrod, cheese, coffee — and we had a 

 Keindeer tongue boiled for our journey over the Fjeld 

 to-morrow. 



Here, at Thune, everything is bleak and bare, and 

 we have reached the region of ' Birkebelter,' far above 

 the fir-trees. The only fuel for the stove now is 

 fragments of stunted birch. 



Just behind the station-house rises a high mountain 

 clothed to its foot in deep snow, and along the base of 

 which, we believe, we drive to-morrow over the Fjeld. 



May 17. 



We left Thune on Wednesday, the 17th of May, about 



